#and a wood fireplace surround. bed frame

[whattheheckfestival]

Rustic Bedroom - Bedroom

[silly-artist]

Bedroom - Beach Style Bedroom

[hatsukeii]

fragrance: by the fireplace, replica / timeskip!ushijima wakatoshi x reader

notes: pink pepper (top), chestnut accord (heart), vanilla (base)

description: embers of burning firewood, billowing smoke and flushing warmth

disclaimer(s): N/A

wc: 1.06k

warning(s): big fat super domestic makeout!!!!! slightly touchy so ig suggestive?? not sure but i think ushiwaka might be a little ooc at times oops... IDC this took THREE FUCKING REDOS im TIRED

Wakatoshi has always wanted a fireplace. The prospect of burning firewood crackling in a dimly lit room seeming like some infinitely gentle blanket is what he confesses to you in bed with his back pressed up against your chest, your hands squeezing and massaging at the knots in his shoulders.

"It would be nice, I like the smell of firewood." His head tilts back to meet your gaze, and you giggle, fingers pressing meitculously into the flesh of his back. The mattress dips when you squeeze a spot, just in the curve that connects his neck and his shoulders, as he finally loosens up with a content sigh, the tension in his body released in an instant.

"Fixed it?"

"Fixed it."

Wakatoshi smiles, leaning back into you until his entire body is sprawled on top of yours. He takes your hand, wrapped around his torso, and holds it tight against the little area of his chest that his heart occupies. His hair is a mess of olive green on your chest, disheveled as you run your other hand through it, pressing your fingers into his scalp and rubbing strands against each other between the pads of your fingertips. His heart beats steadily beneath your palm, and he sighs in satisfaction.

"What would you ever do without me?"

He breathes out a chuckle at your question, bringing your hand from his chest to his lips. His thumb plays with your knuckles, and your hand in his hair crawls down to his jaw, fingers tracing nothings into his cheek instead. You feel Wakatoshi's weight shift, rolling around to press his chest flush with your torso, his head resting in the dip of your ribcage. For somebody who wants a fireplace for the smell of firewood, he sure encapsulates it already, toasty spices and woody chestnuts filling your senses when he pulls himself up for a kiss.

Wakatoshi's father once told him what his name meant, to be young and to be sharp. Wakatoshi trains and plays with a wildfire in his eyes, smashes hits through opposing teams with blazing flames coursing through his body. Scalding passion, burning diligence, so hot that surrounding air burns away into suffocating smoke.

Yet his lips meet yours like the crackling of wood in a fireplace, nibbling at you softly like occasional sparks that fly out when things run a little too hot. The burning sting of his hands hitting leather volleyballs is nothing but a dull glow of warmth that emanates from his palms, spreading to your face from his fingers that push strands of hair from your forehead. His droning exhale sends tremors through your body, and when he parts his lips against yours, you can feel his fingers rolling and rubbing at the hem of his shirt that drapes over your frame.

Greedy, wanting more, like the radiating heat of fire that spreads across a cold room.

Your waist takes the shape of his palm when his hand slithers its way beneath your shirt, drawing circles into your skin. His knee presses into the mattress between your legs, holding himself up just enough to give your chest room to heave up and down in rhythmic rises and falls. His hand squeezes the flesh of your waist, the cold promise ring on his finger sending a jolt up your body. It pulls a sharp inhale from you, and rips a stutter from Wakatoshi's throat. The kind of stutter that begs for your lips to stay on his, and for your heart to push even harder against his own, until he's sure that they will never separate. A feverishly lovesick stutter, so much so that the heat of Wakatoshi's fire is spilling everywhere, with nothing to contain it.

When your hand joins his beneath your shirt, two rings come together with a metallic clink as your fingers meet Wakatoshi's, holding them tight between your knuckles. They follow his hand to the grooves of your ribcage, his thumb pushing gently into the underside of your chest. When he swallows the sigh of his name that escapes your lungs, Wakatoshi thinks that this must have been what he was made for. His fingers were made to swipe lines and etch shapes into your skin, his legs made to trap you in his embrace, his mouth made to press against yours for as long as you please.

He almost whines when your head pushes upwards, before detaching from him to breathe. Your other hand pulls his head towards you, his pulse pumping into your palm as you press your lips into his jaw, peppering kisses down to his neck. He hums at the sensation, lowering his body onto yours as he nuzzles his face into the pillow beside your head. Your fingers run through his hair, relishing in the softness of the strands that slip between your knuckles. His chest is flush against yours, head turning to press his nose against the side of your neck, where his mumbles send tingles down your spine as your hand shifts to hold his head close to you.

"Can't live without you. I love you."

In the darkness of your room, all that remain are Wakatoshi's soft exhales into your pulse as he drifts to sleep, one arm inside your shirt and the other laid above your head. You absentmindedly push a kiss into his head, and he shifts in his slumber, his lips curling into a serene smile. Beneath his eyelids, fleeting images of you pass by. The first time you cry out his first name instead of his last, the first time his lips learn of yours, the first time his blazing sharpness is mellowed out for something gentler. He watches you like some vintage film, shoved into the depths of his heart, not to be seen by any other eyes but his own.

"I love you too, Toshi. So much."

Wakatoshi is a wildfire, smoke and ash rising from his feet, sending people running from his blaze. You are the only person daring enough to be engulfed by his radiance, only to find that his inferno is mellow as a candle on a shelf, sweet as toasted vanilla pods, gentle as a paintbrush drawing outlines on a blank canvas. And although you're still open to getting the fireplace that Wakatoshi has always wanted, you think he's warm enough to beat out a fire any day.

author's note:

guys i really hope i did domestic ushiwaka justice because this took way too long to write up and i don't know why :( i legit had to rewrite like three whole times and i was about to smash my head into my laptop trying to keep going because im in a BLOCK it's super annoying BUT i needed ushiwaka brainrot and this was my take LOLOL

guys i love ushiwaka sm :(

anyways tags!!

@staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @hiraethwa @akaakeis @iiwaijime @fiannee @afyrian @catsoupki

ok love u guys see u next fic bye bye

[deanwinchestersbabygirll]

snowed in

-warnings// lots of fluff, LOTS OF SMUT

-a lil summery// the usual fan fiction trope, two best friends in a cabin, will they kiss.. read to find out

Dean x reader

-word count// 2623

(gif from pinterest)

"Yeah, the doors completely blocked in by the snow, I've tried pushing Sammy it's not gonna budge, yeah okay I'll call in the morning. night Sammy" you sat on the bed as you listened to the phone conversation, you and the boys were hunting a wendigo and decided to split up, you with dean and Sam with Bobby

You and Dean stumbled upon a cabin in the woods and decided to check it out incase there was any victims hiding inside, turns out the place was empty but Dean slammed the door behind him causing the snow from the roof to barricade the door stopping you both from leaving.

Dean hung up the phone and turned to you with a sigh and dropped his tense shoulders "alright so Sam and Bobby are too far out and they said the storms only gonna get worse so they're gonna come get us in the morning"  Dean said placing his phone back in his jacket pocket "crap we can't even get out to get wood for the fire, it's gonna be freezing in here!" You said already beginning to feel the chill in the air

"Yeah.. well there's some blankets on the couch so you wrap yourself up nice and tight  I'll try and see if I can find some wood around the place that will get some kind of fire going" Dean said already rummaging through the cupboards.

You shivered slightly as you wrapped the worn red blanket around you as you sat down, your knees tucked under your chin in a huddle, there was a sound of wood snapping and dean was soon walking to the couch "so good news is we've got wood, the bad news... these people no longer have cupboard doors" Dean said with a small smirk 

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, "alright get them burning Winchester I already feel my toes going numb" you exaggerated making dean chuckle "you got it sweetheart" Dean said as he kneeled down with a light and the doors.

After a half hour of Dean breaking the doors down to fit in the fireplace he had the flame going and soon there was more heat surrounding the small cabin "any better sweetheart?" Dean turned to ask, you shook your head slightly "I think I'd feel a lot warmer if you got up here beside me" you flirted 

Dean threw you a smirk over his shoulder and moved beside you and pulled your small frame closer to him and tucking you under his arm, you snuggled into him and moved to wrap the red blanket around you both, "see I'm already feeling much better" you said making Dean chuckle.

You and dean continued to cuddle and watch the fire burn for a few hours talking about past hunts before you met each other "okay so you stuck a fish in the guys car, did you ever hear what happened after, did they find it or are they still driving around smelling dead fish?" You questioned and dean threw his head back in laughter as he thought back on the cherished memory "I hope they're still driving around with it" 

You yawned as the laughter died down to a comfortable silence and dean took notice "you getting tired sweetheart?" He asked and you nodded "yeah do you know what time it is?" You questioned "1:45am, there's a bedroom down the hall why don't you go get some sleep and hopefully Sam and Bobby will be here early" you nodded with another yawn

 "what about you?" Dean shrugged "i can take the couch it's actually not too bad" Dean replied and you nodded feeling bad about him taking a dusty old couch for a bed "you sure you'll be okay?" You asked and Dean smiled pulling you in tight to him for a hug "yeah of course sweetheart, I've slept on worse" he joked and you smiled before getting up with a big stretch "night dean" you said walking towards the room exhausted "night Y/N" his voices raised slightly so you could hear him.

You awoke a few hours later in a cold sweat, fear trembled within you from the nightmare as you wondered if you should bother dean, your inner battle didn't last long before your bare feet tiptoed through the cabin to the living room the dying fire allowed enough light so you could see the older Winchester, he looked so peaceful as he slept, like he never had a worry in his life but that was far from true…

You gently tapped deans arm "dean?" You sniffled and he groaned slowly opening his eyes "hey, what's up sweetheart, everything okay?" He slurred out you shook your head before taking a deep breathe "uh not really could you stay with me please I just don't want to be alone" you said as a few tears made there way down your cheeks , Dean got up from the couch quickly and pulled you into him "of course I can, you wanna tell me what's got you so upset?" He asked wiping your tears gently from your cheeks "not really, it was just a nightmare but it felt so real" you said quietly and dean nodded as he lead you toward the bedroom.

Deans and you made your way to the bed "which side do you prefer?" He asked scratching the back of his head "I'm usually a middle of the bed kind of girl" you flirted making him smirk "well alright I can work with that" you both made your way into the cold bed and dean was already wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest 

You sighed and turn around in his arms so your facing him, he was already looking down at you "you wanna tell me what your nightmare was about sweetheart? He asked as he moved a strand of hair behind your ear, you took in a shuddering breath and closed your eyes already feeling them burn with tears

 "we were hunting a demon nest  and they had you tied up as they tortured  you to the brink of death  and when I tried to help it was like I was stuck in place and I could hear you screaming, begging for me to help… and then I woke up" you said I'm a shaky voice as you felt your tears stream down your face

"Hey it's okay baby it was just a bad dream okay? I am right here and nothing's getting me I promise" Dean reassured you as he kissed your forehead head before resting his own against yours, nose to nose as he spoke "your one of the best damn hunters I've ever known Y/N I would trust you with my life and I know you would do everything in your power to save me or Sammy and if anything ever did happen don't you dare blame yourself, I need you to promise me that" dean said quietly 

"I can't promise that Dean, Sam and you mean way to much to me to promise that " you struggled out through tears and dean sighed and held you closer "I love you Y/N, so damn much" dean said quietly his lips slightly touching yours with how close he was, you froze in his arms not expecting that to come from dean, you've been in love with him for years you thought nothing would ever happen especially with deans one night stands happening every so often, you guys flirted back and forth all the time but you took that as Dean's personality 

Dean having taken your frozen silence as rejection panicked and pulled back "forget I said anything" he said as he pulled back slightly to get out the bed, you came out of your moment of shock and grabbed his arm pulling him down to you, he looked down shocked, you grabbed his scruff covered cheeks and pulled him down to a kiss

Dean groaned against your lips as he deepened the kiss and slipped his tongue in through your lips, you let out a small moan at the sensation, you wrapped your legs around his haps your feet digging into his lower back making him press his lower body closer to you so you felt his hard shaft press against your hot core through the layers 

You pulled away from the kiss slightly and dean moved his lips down your neck sucking and kissing his way down your chest "I love you too Dean, so fucking much" you said in between pleasured gasps dean moved back up to your lips immediately getting back into the heated kiss, you fumbled with the bottom of deans shirt and tugged slightly to let him know you wanted it off 

Dean pulled back from the kiss and sat back slightly before pulling his shirt off, he pulled your own shirt over your head to be met with your bare chest as you ditched your bra for bed, his smile replicated one of a child in a candy store and he was down kissing your breasts and sucking love marks all over them before taking your nipple in his mouth, his hand tweaking and playing with the other to stimulate you 

"Oh god Dean please don't stop" you begged and held his head right your chest, Dean took your words as encouragement as he continued his movements before kissing a trail down your stomach reaching your panties as you decided against wearing your jeans to bed

Dean hooked his fingers in the waistline and he pulled them down your legs slowly, once he discarded of your panties he was back between your legs, now face to face with your pussy, he smiled as kissed your mound, you moaned feeling you get wetter by the second, "pick a number sweetheart?" He asked "three why?" You replied confused he smirked "you'll see" he said before leaning in and licking a strip up your wet pussy making you throw your head back against the pillow 

Dean began by sucking your clit into his mouth before thrusting his finger inside you immediately finding your G- spot making you scream in pleasure "please dean feels so fucking good" you slurred out, Dean chuckled against you  and added another finger, he arched them to keep hitting your G-spot and sucking your clit making you arch your back in pleasure and your hand ran through his spiked hair as you pushed him closer to you 

It wasn't long before you were seeing stars as you orgasm washed through you "holy fuck dean I'm coming!" You squealed out, Dean sped up his movements as you panted, your legs shook as you came down from your high and taking deep breathes, your break didn't last long before Dean was back on you like a starving man, eating your pussy with such ferocity it had you weighing ok the bed moaning his name like it was the only hung you knew, once again you were coming hard and dean was liking it up as he didn't stop

You grinded your hips against his face feeling your third orgasm of the night already approaching, using his free hand, dean grasped your breast in his hand squeezing as he sped up his fingers as they hit your special place over and over again, you felt the familiar knot in your stomach however, this one felt different, stronger, your breathing became more ragged as you felt your orgasm take you down "Dean!" You screamed out as felt a wetness shoot out of you

Your whole body shaking as your chants of his name contined until Dean halted his movements "that was so fucking hot baby seeing you squirt" Dean said his face soaked in you juices you giggled moving on shaky legs towards him and pulled his boxers down his legs, he helped by kicking them off the rest of the way

You gently took his big hard member in your hand smearing his pre cum around his red tip before you started to jerk him off, Dean groaned before gently pushing you back against the bed, you looked up at him confused "tonight is all about you sweetheart" dean said leaning back in to capture your lips in a heavy kiss

Dean pulled away slightly in search of a condom he kept in his wallet which was nowhere in sight  "damn it has to be out in the living room, I'll be right back sweetheart" dean rushed out before moving away, you quickly trapped him with your legs and he turned to look at you "I'm on the pill and I'm clean..." you said suggestively

Dean smirked pouncing on you, both hands grasping your shaky thighs, you moved to wrap them tightly around his bare hips and pulled him closer as you felt his hard cock press against your core, you moaned against his lips as pleasure shot through your body 

Dean heaps his hard shaft and moved his tip to press against your entrance, "please dean" you whimpered out,  dean chuckled as he gently pushed inside your dripping hole stretching your walls, you let out a shaky breath as you adjusted to his size "you okay sweetheart" dean asked as pushed all the way inside you "yeah I'm good, you can move now" you said pulling him into another kiss

Dean complied as pulled his hips all the way back before slamming back inside of you, "oh my-" you  chocked out against his lips, Dean continued to slam his hips against yours at a hard slow pace making you want to scream "faster baby please" you begged fighting your legs around him

Dean complied as he began thrusting inside of you faster, the only sound left in the room were the moans and skin slapping skin

Deans cock was repeatedly hitting your G-spot, pushing you closer and closer to your fourth orgasm of the night "you're so fucking tight baby, I'm not gonna last much longer" dean said in between thrusts "me either" you moaned out and dean moved his hand down to rub your clit making your eyes roll to the back of your head "oh my fucking god dean please don't stop!" You squealed as your scratched your nails down his back leaving deep red lines in their wake 

"I'm gonna cum again" you moaned out breathless and dean sped his hips up even more "me too baby!" Dean said and it wasn't long until your felt the knot in your stomach snap and you came all over deans cock with a scream of his name, triggering his own orgasm as his white hot seed coated your walls.

Once both of you had calmed from your highs dean gently pulled out of you making you let out a small hiss at the empty feeling , he layback down beside you both you chests rising and falling with deep exhausted breaths “that was fucking awesome baby” dean said turning to you with a smile on his face sending you into giggles “yeah it was” you leaned into give him a small peck on his kiss swollen lips before pulling away to lay your head on his chest, 

Dean wrapped his arm around your back and pulling you to rest against him “get some sleep sweetheart hopefully Sam and Bobby take there time getting to us so we can have round two in the morning” dean said  sleepily and you smiled against his chest as you already felt the heaviness of sleep pull you away along with the comforting sound of deans heart beat reminding you that he was right there with you , safe and sound. 

————————————————————————

ALL MY OWN WORK I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT TO COPY OR PUBLISH ON OTHER SITES , I.E WATTPAD, ETC, WITHOUT MESSAGING TO ASK FIRST

Hey! Long time no see, I did have a few Christmas/ new year imagines in mind when starting this account however I was just going through a really rough period of time, my dog of 14 years passed away at the beginning of January and was sick throughout Christmas so I just wanted to spend whatever time I had left with him and writing just had to be put on hold, I will be much more consistent throughout ❤️

[girlwiththepapatattoo]

you see through me what lies beyond

Fandom: Legend of Zelda

Pairings: Ganondorf/Female Reader

Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex, embarrassment, some feels, messing a bit with canon

Notes: Here, have 13k words of Ganondorf smut lmao. This was a ton of fun to write, and I hope that you all enjoy! (If anyone sees any errors, feel free to point them out!)

Read on Ao3 here!

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Awareness comes to you slowly, a drift of your senses waking, as though they were asleep for decades rather than a full night’s rest. Touch comes first: the sleek softness of silk sheets under your hands, against your fingertips, smooth against your bare legs. You weren’t wearing what you normally did to sleep, either: enfolding your form is what feels like a nightdress, also made of silk. 

Next comes your hearing. It’s raining outside, the gentle taps of water on a glass windowpane from somewhere nearby periodically drowned by the distant rumble of thunder. The crackle of a nearby fire filters in, gentle and welcoming. 

Whatever wood is in the fireplace (it can’t be a campfire, you wouldn’t be on this plush bed) is fragrant as your sense of smell returns. Other scents filter in: leather, old books, and closer to you, some sort of spice mixed with sandalwood and copper. It’s alluring, making your nostrils flare. 

Your eyes flick open. There’s only a hint of firelight coming through the almost-sheer, black drapes on the gigantic four poster bed that was most certainly not your own. 

You swallow thickly, your heart-rate picking up as you realize that, wherever you are, it’s not home.

Mattress creaking gently as you sit up, the strap to the nightgown you’ve been changed into slides down one shoulder, the soft touch making you shiver in your unease. You pull it back up and carefully ease yourself over to the edge of the bed, reaching one hand out and shifting one gauzy curtain to the side. 

Bookcases line the walls, filled with tomes that look both recent (though not modern) and ancient. Candles flicker on nearby tables, safely away from the books. What walls aren’t covered in books have tapestries hanging, depicting what looks like a desert fortress on one, a great battle on another. A plush, dark red carpet surrounds the bed, and also the giant armchair in front of the crackling fireplace. 

“Are you going to sit there all day, woman?” comes a sudden voice. You jump as you realize that there’s someone sitting in the chair. “Come here.” 

The voice is low, a bass growl, commanding your attention and action all at once. Swallowing hard once more, you stand, taking a moment as your legs wobble. 

“Ah, yes. Travel is hard on mortals without power. Your strength should return soon.” 

“...w-where am I?” you ask, more fear in your voice than you’d like. 

A soft chuckle meets your ears, and you wish you found the rumble of his voice much less attractive than you did. “I think you are smart enough to know once you see my face. Come.” 

You feel goosebumps spread over your shoulders, and not just from the sudden cold stone floor under your bare feet as you step forward. Hesitantly, you approach the great armchair, standing at a distance away that you feel fairly safe from whoever’s in it. Of course, you don’t know if he has a weapon, gun or otherwise…but you’ll take what reassurance you can get right now. 

You take a deep breath, then finally take your last step forward and turn to face the man in the chair. A gasp of disbelieving shock leaves your lips, your eyes wide in recognition. 

A massive frame fills the chair, the man before you the biggest you’ve ever seen in your life. Legs nearly as thick as your own torso are crossed comfortably at the ankles, stretched out along the carpet to warm his bare feet in front of the fire. The glint of a gold anklet shines briefly. A core thick with strength, leads up to mountainous shoulders, biceps you don’t think your fingers would meet around, distractingly strong forearms, hands that rival dinner plates in size. One hand is closed in a fist, upon which is propped a red-bearded jaw. Your eyes roam over smirking lips, a large and dignified nose, and finally the golden eyes that pierce through yours…

Ganondorf Dragmire, King of the Gerudo, Bearer of the Triforce of Power, sits before you. 

You know you’re gaping, mouth hanging open in shock. His smirk widens just a hair as his eyes roam your form. “It seems I was right. That shade of red is lovely on you.” 

You pinch yourself hard on the arm. The pain makes you hiss, and he laughs, a soft, amused rumble that you can almost feel in your skin. 

“Do you think yourself dreaming? I suppose you must. Power such as mine has no place in your world, after all.” 

“Y-You…you can’t be real,” you finally gasp. “That’s not…” 

“Possible? I assure you, little one, I am as real as you are.” The hand not pressed to his jaw lifts up a golden goblet, and he sips at the contents within, his golden stare not leaving yours. He licks a droplet of crimson wine from his lips before setting the drink down on an end table next to him. 

You suddenly feel very vulnerable, standing before such a man in nothing but a thin silk nightgown. Your hands clench nervously in the material. “W-Why am I…w-what happened to my pajamas?” 

His air turns amused, though his gaze loses little intensity. “Would you prefer I seduce you whilst you wear pink clothes with kittens on them? No, I much prefer you in something like this, something more…elegant. Sensual.” 

His words feel like a lightning bolt just hit your spine, and you feel a hot blush spread over your cheeks. “W-Wait, you–what did—”

Another rumble of laughter escapes his throat. “Oh, yes, red is certainly your color.” He shifts, sitting up and bracing his forearms on his thick thighs. Muscles ripple as he moves, one half of his torso bared from his robes, the firelight playing over darkly tanned skin. “Come here.” 

One huge finger points to a spot just before his feet. Your knees tremble at the thought of being so close to him, but you can’t make yourself move. 

His eyes glint as you stay put, and instead of getting angry like you expected, he simply chuckles. “Stunned, are you? Not an unreasonable reaction. But I am a patient man, when I wish to be.” 

“Why am I here?!” you finally blurt, before gasping and clapping your hands over your mouth. 

He laughs fully now, one massive hand splaying over his stomach in his mirth. “Oh, how adorable you are! Why do you think you’re here?” He smiles, wide, delighted, a hunger in the expression that makes you swallow. “I have lived, in one form or another, for a very long time. You pick up a few secrets of the universe when you have an awareness that spans over ten thousand years.” He leans back in his chair once more, propping his bearded cheek on his fist again. “I know there are universes, dimensions, whatever you want to call them, that are not my own. I know that some of those dimensions touch mine in some small way. You know exactly who I am…and you know exactly what you want from me.” 

Your face goes sheet white, and then beet red. “W-Wait, t-that’s–” 

“Oh yes. I’ve felt your desire for me clear across worlds, my flustered little admirer,” he purrs. “Your overwhelming need for pleasure at my hands…” To your surprise, he huffs a little. “To put it frankly, it is very distracting. I have important plans to oversee, which I cannot be doing when every ten minutes I hear your desire for my mouth to–” 

“S-STOP, STOP I GET IT!” you cry, quaking in embarrassment. 

His grin is pure dark mischief. “I truly wonder if you do though.” He’s quiet a moment, just watching you stew in your mortification. You hate this, hate the fact that he’s already gotten you so riled up…

And by hate, of course, you mean love. 

“You have two options,” he suddenly says, and the tone in his voice is commanding, ordering you to listen. You couldn’t not listen if you tried. “Either I send you home, right now, to live out your boring little life, never knowing what wonders I could have shown you…” He smirks, teeth flashing for a moment in the firelight, glinting off the pronounced fang of one canine. “Or…I take you. I make you mine, little one. I fuck you so thoroughly and so well that I will ruin you for other men the rest of your life. I will prove that even your persistent daydreams pale in comparison to the real thing.” His eyes flick away from you, looking into the fire, almost dismissive of you standing there, shivering in arousal. “But the choice is yours.” 

He picks up his goblet again, sipping at the contents within, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. There’s a part of you that’s almost angry at how he can be so casual after completely turning your world upside down…after giving you such a difficult choice to make on the spot. 

“C-Could I…?” His eyes flick to you, the golden, expectant stare making you shiver for a moment before you take a deep breath and try again. “Am I allowed to ask questions?” 

“I’d be concerned if you did not,” comes the amused answer. You blink in surprised confusion, and for the first time, a hint of anger enters his eyes. “I know, from these desires of yours, that you think me more than some one-note villain. My goal may be conquering Hyrule once and for all, and I may think nothing of the pawns I use to achieve that goal, but one thing I am not, nor will I ever be, is a rapist.” His nostrils flare in his ire, one lip curling in disgust. “I may have brought you here, but I will not force you. You are free to ask questions, and you are free to say no, without fear of violence from me.” 

In spite of this bizarre situation, in spite of the man before you, you can feel your shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.” 

He flicks his hands dismissively at your words, before looking towards the flames once more. “Ask your questions.” 

“Can…” You swallow hard. “If I say yes, is there…some sort of protection we’ll use? Can you get me pregnant?” 

He chuckles, that low rumble you wish didn’t do funny things to your belly. “I have sired many children during these eons. Yes, I can get you with child, and yes, there is protection.” He opens the drawer of the end-table and draws out a small medallion on a length of soft cord. A simple golden triangle gleams in the firelight, much like his eyes do. “There’s a charm of protection on that. Wear it the entire time, and my seed will not take within you.” 

He tosses it to you, and you nearly fumble it away before securing it in your grasp. Flushing, you hold it tightly to your chest. “Thank you.” You take another deep breath. “If I…say yes…what happens after? I just go home?” 

“Yes…if that is what you wish.” He smirks, stretching out his long body again, and you fight to keep your eyes on his and not on the wonderful play of muscles under his skin. “As I said, magic does not belong in your world. If, after I make you mine, you find that you just cannot live without feeling my touch again…well, I cannot come to your home myself. As it is, it took a great deal of power to bring you here to begin with.” 

He shakes his head, though there’s an expression on his face that’s almost...curious. As if he has an academic interest in the subject. “The way that the walls of your dimension fight my sorcery is, admittedly, fascinating. I would like to study it properly someday.” 

He seems to come back to himself, his eyes focusing on you again. “After I have shown you what it will truly be like to lie with me, you may decide you wish to stay for a time. I would allow that. Truthfully, I would be amenable to having a woman at my side who is not terrified of me. How long I would want you here is still up for debate.” 

You nod slowly, your mind trying to fly into the well of possibilities. But you stop it almost before it begins: you aren’t here to be his equal, his partner. You’re here to warm his bed, to stop being…a distraction. 

Your eyes widen as it really hits you. You aren’t here because he saw something special in you, or because of some hidden talent. You’re here because you were so pathetically desperate for this man that it actually breached dimensions. Your eyes fill with tears as humiliation rises in your chest. 

Ganondorf blinks in surprise as you look away, your shoulders beginning to shake. “I…I-I’m so sorry for disturbing you,” you say, your voice thick with barely held-back sobs. “I…never knew you really…were real, and I…never wanted to annoy you. I-I’m so sorry.” 

He stares at you, before he heaves a sigh. You don’t see him move, but you hear his chair creak. Before you know it he’s swept you up into his arms. You yelp in surprise through your tears–no one’s ever picked you up like this before. “Hush,” he says, though his voice is softer and not unkind. He sits back down, setting you across his lap, and one huge hand presses to your head, forcing your cheek to rest on his chest. Were you not so upset, you’d have loved to enjoy it. 

“...I think, perhaps, I have worded something wrong,” he murmurs after a minute of silence. “I am not displeased to be the recipient of your affections, little one. On the contrary, I have been planning this night for some weeks.” His fingers, warm and surprisingly soothing, stroke gently over your cheek. “I was impressed with the depths of your affection, of how strong your feelings are. For them to reach across the dimensional veils…that is no small feat. Were you born here, I could see you being a great sorceress.” You can hear the faint smile in his voice. “In fact, were you to stay, you may yet develop magic of your own. But that is neither here nor there.” He tilts your head up with a gentle finger under your chin, and a careful thumb wipes your tears away. “No more of this, hm?” 

“So…” You swallow thickly. “So I’m not here just because I was…distracting you?” 

He laughs softly, a gentle rumble of amusement that you almost feel more than hear, like velvet over a rockslide. “No, that is far from the only reason.” He snorts in amusement. “You know who some of my past servants have been. You must remember Zant. In comparison, your attentions would have been a breath of fresh air.” 

You can’t help but laugh, and his lips twitch up faintly. He begins idly twirling a piece of your hair through his fingers, bringing a flush to your cheeks. “But I also need you to understand: beyond your affection for me, I have no idea who you are. So do not expect more feelings from me other than lust and some vague fondness. I say this not to be cruel, it is simply the truth.” 

You give a hard sniff, but you nod. “Yeah, I get it. This isn’t…” Your eyes widen. “This really isn’t one of my fantasies, you’re…you’re real and here and–” He watches with a smug smirk as your blush deepens rapidly. “A-And I’m sitting on your lap oh my god.” 

He laughs, a deeper, full-throated sound that makes you hide your face behind your hands. “You are adorable, all flustered like this. You turn such pretty colors so easily…” 

“A-Anyway!” You know he’s grinning down at you, but you forge on with your point. “Y-Yeah, so, this is real and you’re not just pixels. You’re a real person, with agency, and I…I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t wanna do just because my thoughts were um…loud.”

The look in his eyes plainly says that you couldn’t make him do anything he wouldn’t want to anyway, but he still nods to you. “I appreciate the sentiment, and return it.” He brings the lock of hair he was still toiling with to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the strands, his golden gaze still boring into your own. He sees the way your breath hitches, and it makes a soft rumble of interest emanate from his chest. “The things I want to do to you…” he all but growls, and a candle of desire bursts to life in your lower belly. 

In a flash, he’s turned you on his lap. Your back presses to his chest, the top of your head tucked up under his chin…and your legs are spread around his thighs. You gasp in surprise, at how fast that was, at how vulnerable this feels, spread wide over his closed legs, the nightgown pulling up so that most of your thighs are on display. “O-Oh, f-fuck, I–” 

He chuckles darkly, lowering his head to press his bearded cheek to yours. “What a mouth you have…” he purrs, enjoying the way that you shiver at the prickle of his facial hair. “I look forward to finding out what else it is capable of…” 

Your eyes slam shut as a wave of lust washes over you. His voice, the tone, the suggestive words…he was right: none of your fantasies are measuring up to the real thing, and the fun hasn’t even started yet! 

One huge hand splays over your belly suddenly, the warmth of him felt easily through the thin fabric. He feels your abs jump under his touch, and a pleased grin pulls at his lips. You can feel it, feel it when he smiles against your skin. 

Your body is burning already. 

“You are very sensitive…” The thumb of his free hand suddenly caresses over the top of your thigh, and a gasp bursts out of your throat without permission. He’s tall enough, his frame dwarfing yours enough that he can get a full view of the front of your body, and his grin widens to see the skin of both thighs pimpled in goosebumps. To see the juts of your hardened nipples pressing against the silk they’re hidden in. “Beautiful…oh, I am going to enjoy playing with you…” 

“I-I’m so…y-you feel so good,” you breathe, and then blush darkly as you realize what you said and turn your face away in embarrassment. 

He chuckles deeply, lifting the hand that had touched your thigh to stroke a thumb along your jawline, making you exhale hard. Then his lips press to your neck, his nose brushing over your jaw, his beard a wonderful scrape on your skin, and the sound that bursts from your throat…it isn’t like any sound you’ve ever made in your life. 

He feels you tremble on him, enjoying the way your skin flushes in arousal all the way down your chest. He presses a line of achingly slow kisses up and down the column of your throat, and with each caress of soft, warm lips your body becomes more and more impatient. 

You open your mouth to beg him to do something more, but the only thing that comes out is a desperate cry as he bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. 

You writhe on his lap, heat racing over your skin, every inch of you shivering in need at feeling his teeth in your flesh, at the almost-but-not-quite harsh pressure, at the points of his canines. They could easily break the skin…but they don’t, and the strength and control he has is just another source of arousal for you.

You can feel sweat beading in your hairline as he removes his teeth, and you shudder and whine softly as his tongue gives a lap over where he just bit. “My marks will look good on you,” he praises, caressing his nose over the side of your neck almost fondly. “I am eager to leave more…” 

“P-Please,” you gasp, unaware in the haze of your pleasure that you were wriggling your hips, trying to get some sort of friction where you most need it. 

“Hm. I want you to tell me if this gets painful for you.” 

“W-What?” 

Your legs are still spread over his thighs, your toes almost tucked behind his knees, which were pressed together this whole time. But now he pulls them apart, opening his own legs so that yours spread even wider. You gasp loudly as you feel the relatively cooler air of the room against your overheated core, against the slickness coating your underwear. He feels a shudder work its way up your spine as his legs stop.

You feel somehow even more vulnerable, the edges of the nightgown hiked up to where your legs connect to your torso. There’s a slight burn to your hips from how wide he’s spread you open, but it’s one you know will fade if you let it. You sit there shivering, panting; in all your life, you’ve never felt arousal like this before.

“How are you feeling, my beautiful one?” he rasps. You know, deep in the part of your mind that’s not completely taken with lust, that he’s affected by this too. The gravel that’s suffused his voice is evidence enough of that, even if you couldn’t feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against your backside. 

“Good,” you manage to gasp out. “I feel so good, everything’s so…so sensitive. I need…I-I need you…” 

He nuzzles once more into your neck, making you shudder on him. “And you will have me…but not quite yet. I am going to take my time with you, take you apart piece by piece…” 

His hands, his massive hands, suddenly curve over the soft skin of your thighs. His skin is calloused but warm, providing a wonderful, gentle scrape of sensation that leaves you shivering all over again. He feels your muscles jump under his touch, and he smiles once more against your neck. “I want you to tell me, lovely one, about your favorite fantasy.” 

You have to fight to push through the haze of lust enough to really understand his words, and they bring a flush of embarrassment to your face. “I-I’m sure you’ve…you’ve heard it…” 

“I have,” he replies agreeably, and he gives your thighs a gentle squeeze, enjoying the way you quiver at the sudden pressure. “But I want to hear it from you in person.” 

You swallow thickly, trying to form words, trying to make your mouth work to tell him what he wants. But you’re too overwhelmed, too embarrassed to speak the words out loud. 

He, however, has no such qualms. 

“Speechless I see…hmm, well, I can understand that. It is our first time together, and you are unused to such…lust.” His hands begin to rub slowly, softly, up and down your thighs, the roughness of his callouses making you shudder and twitch. His fingertips get closer and closer to your core with each pass. “So I shall speak the words you cannot.” 

“A-Ah, um, you really d-don’t have to,” you reply, your voice a quaking whisper.

He chuckles darkly, brushing the tip of his nose playfully down the shell of your ear. “And leave such a good idea to the recesses in your mind where your fantasies play? No, beautiful one, such…creativity should be shared.” His fingernails begin to gently scritch at your skin, and he feels your toes curl hard against his calves. 

“I have you suspended in the air, caught up in magical binds. Your legs are spread and bent, as if squatting, your hands behind your back to push those lovely tits out for my enjoyment. You are blindfolded, but not gagged, so that I may hear each sound I drag out of you. A series of three wooden cocks are taking turns pushing deep into you, guided by magic as well. One is fully smooth, one has large bumps over its surface, and one has a set of ridges. You also have a small plug in that lovely ass, which I make shift every so often just to remind you that it’s there.” 

His words come slowly, smoothly, as if reading from the morning newspaper, and listening him describing the debauchery you’ve come up with in that deep, sonorous voice is making your clit throb. 

“The entire time, I watch from a nearby seat, telling you my every thought of your body and how it’s being pleasured. And once in a while I float you over to me, so that I may drink of your pleasure, and admonish you for dripping on my pants.” 

The last part is said in a growl, and one huge hand suddenly cups you firmly between your legs. A cry tears from your throat at the sudden delicious force, and your hips buck toward his touch desperately, seeking any sort of friction you can get. 

He laughs as he gives a gentle squeeze to your mound, a smug smile tugging his lips up as you almost gurgle at the pressure where you need it the most. “Dripping indeed…we will not be able to salvage your small-clothes, my beautiful little faucet.” 

While his left hand cups you, his right begins slowly working up your body, stroking here, gripping there, until his fingers splay just under your breasts. By now, your desire has been stoked into an inferno. Your hips can’t stop rolling into his touch, though he does nothing but cup you and give a soft squeeze every so often. Your torso arches into his hand, begging without words for him to finally touch you, take your desperate body the way you need. 

You’re pretty sure that you’d do whatever he asked right now, if only he’d bring you to your peak. And with a man like Ganondorf, that’s a dangerous place to be…

The hand on your chest moves, and your face flushes darkly as he tugs the hem of the silk nightgown down, baring your flesh to his hungry gaze. “Lovely…” he purrs, and he finally, finally cups his hand around your right breast. 

You cry out his name as he gives a gentle squeeze, your achingly-hard nipple scraping against his palm, the feeling enough to have your words breaking free in a frantic ramble. “Yes yes yes please, Ganondorf, please I-AH!” 

“Unfortunately,” he says, as if you’re not losing your mind at his touch, “my magic is not suitable for telekinesis, so your fantasy cannot come true. At least, from a magical source.” He smirks, kneading your breast in his hand. “Thankfully, there are other ways to hold you in midair.” 

Quaking and whimpering in his hands, your own raise. He hadn’t said that you couldn’t touch him. So you reach behind yourself, cupping your hands eagerly around the back of his neck, trying to anchor yourself to earth, to bring the frenzied need of your body down a notch. His skin is so warm under yours, and you feel his beautiful, fiery hair gently brushing over the backs of your fingers. 

It works, though, your mind lifting a little from the haze of lust you’d been drowning in. You start to take slower breaths, trying to calm the racing of your heart. It wouldn’t do to pass out your first time with the Demon King. 

He lets you, lets you get a little of your breath back…but not for long. 

Two fingers suddenly press to your clothed folds, the drenched fabric pushing against your outer lips, and with a firm but teasing pressure, rise up your slit. At this angle, he only gets the barest hint of pressure over your clit before his fingers part, dragging back down to press over your entrance and then repeat the process. 

All your muscles, from your toes to your fingers, clench in desperate need as your hips thrust toward his teasing touch. A broken-sounding sob is wrenched from your throat, and he growls softly as your nails dig into his neck, closing his eyes to enjoy the tiny bite of pain as his fingers continue their circuit. 

Sweat drips down your spine, sticking your skin to his chest as he works your body into a frenzy. You can feel your inner-most thighs becoming absolutely drenched in your own slick, his fingers gliding easily over the ruined fabric. “I believe…you are ready for your first peak,” he purrs. “I have teased you long enough. I do not wish to be cruel…at least, not more than you can handle, anyway.” 

“P-Please, please,” you gasp. 

“So polite…” 

His hand at your core shifts, and there’s the sudden tearing of fabric as he rips your underwear away. He chuckles darkly, teeth glinting in the firelight, as he holds up the drenched, ruined scrap of cloth to examine it. “Long enough indeed…look at me.” 

That tone of voice can only be obeyed, and you turn your head, letting your eyes meet his. That golden gaze spears you, and maintaining devastating eye contact the whole time, he lifts the sodden scrap to his lips and takes a long, slow lick. You turn crimson and break the gaze to look away, but his hand leaves your breast to grip your chin, turning your face back to him. “I said, look at me, my pet,” he growls, before licking again. 

You squirm on his lap, and he growls in pleasure at both your taste bursting on his tongue, and the way your ass rubs against his cock through the thin material of his pants. You suddenly hear a rather wet sounding splat as he tosses the ruined underclothes away. “Be ready,” he rasps into your ear.

And that’s all the warning you get. A giant arm wraps fully around your middle, and without any more preamble, one thick finger slides deeply into your sloppy cunt. You scream his name, and he grunts at feeling your walls clench and grip his finger. He has to fight the urge to just slam you down onto his cock now. 

You’re more than slick enough for even a finger of his size to move easily, and so he pumps you, a slow but steady pace, the arm around your waist preventing you from moving overmuch. Your hips didn’t get the memo though, bucking towards the questing digit, but unable to get much friction from the way he’s clamped you down. 

The next time he pulls out, two fingers press back in, stretching your walls. “FUCK!” you shout, the curse involuntary. He laughs, dark and menacing as he pumps slowly back into you, and once the last set of his knuckles press to your folds, he wiggles his fingers. You sob his name, a broken prayer to your dark god as he works your body open.

And then he stops playing. 

His fingers suddenly piston in and out, a rapid pace that fills with air with the lewd squelch of your sopping walls welcoming and releasing his intrusion. His thumb presses to your clit and rubs rapid circles over the throbbing bud, and your orgasm rises so fast that you stop breathing. The pressure builds and builds in your core, an endless wind up until you feel like your body is going to break apart with its force. You lose control of your limbs, thrashing in the circle of his arm. 

And then your world explodes. 

Your vision bursts into white light, your hearing cuts out with a sharp whine, and your awareness of your own body has been reduced to nothing but the raging torrent of pleasure emanating from your cunt. You don’t hear it, but you can feel him growling against your back, the deep reverberation feeling more bestial than man. His fingers don’t stop, and he laughs in triumph as your walls squeeze him so hard that you squirt, your slick splattering along his hand and the floor at his feet. 

You don’t know how long he keeps you flying. When you come back to yourself, you’re sitting sideways on his lap, cradled in the warmth of his arms, your face nestled into his chest. Your muscles ache softly, the sort of ache you usually only feel after a long workout…and you supposed this definitely counted. “G-Gan…?” you rasp, your throat sore from screaming. 

“Ah, you’ve returned,” he says softly. One hand leaves off curling gently around your hip, and he conjures a warm cup of tea. “Here, drink. It will soothe you.” 

You peel your eyes open, and your arms shake a little as you take the cup from him, tiny in his huge hands. He keeps one finger underneath it just in case, and you sip deeply, your eyes closing again as the perfectly warm liquid slides over your sore throat. Warmth seems to cling to the affected areas in your esophagus, and you realize that in short order, your throat feels completely fine. “That’s some great tea,” you murmur as you finish it. 

He chuckles softly. “A favorite blend of mine, with a bit of healing potion mixed in.” The tea cup disappears, and he brushes a fond kiss over your forehead. “How do you feel now?” 

You flush darkly, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips even if you wanted to. “I…I feel wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.” 

He smirks faintly, a smugness to his lips that you very much would like to kiss away. “I would be very surprised if you have, my beautiful one.” 

Your blush doesn’t abate, and for the first time since you realize you were here with Ganondorf, you speak to him as if he were…normal. “You’re going to be so smug about this, aren’t you?” 

He throws his head back and laughs, a full-throated belly laugh that, despite your wanting to stay vaguely annoyed with him, has you grinning. “Oh, insufferably!” He grins, his eyes glinting in mirth as he leans down and playfully bites at your cheek. “But I do believe I’ve earned it.” 

You gasp and laugh at his bite, before pausing. His face is close to yours, his breath fanning over your jaw, warm and somehow…comforting. Here you are, sitting in the lap of the main villain from one of your favorite game series…and there’s no fear. In fact, it’s very much the opposite of fear. And that worries you, a bit. Because Ganondorf has the moniker ‘The King of Evil’ for a reason. 

He watches the happiness dim slightly in your eyes, and one thumb comes up to gently caress over your cheek. “Are you well?” 

You try for a smile. You’re not sure how successful you are. “Oh, um…yes, I’m all right.” 

He snorts, propping his bearded jaw on his fist and giving you an unimpressed look. “You are a bad liar.” 

“Yeah…” 

“What is wrong?” 

“...nothing that I think can be fixed, Ganondorf. I think talking about it would just make you angry and me frustrated…and I don’t want this night to end on a note like that.” 

His lips thin out at your answer. “That is a very diplomatic way of saying nothing at all. Perhaps instead of bedding you, I should hire you to improve public relations.” 

You scowl faintly. “Maybe you should! Maybe that way…” Like you’d predicted, frustrated tears spring to your eyes, and you slide off his lap. Your legs tremble visibly, your body still recovering from the incredible orgasm he’d given you. You pad away from him, adjusting the nightgown to cover yourself once more. 

You hear the chair creek as he stands, and after a moment his hands, warm and wonderful, come to rest on your shoulders. “...you are not of this world,” he rumbles down to you, thumbs gently rubbing circles at the base of your neck that you wish didn’t feel so good, “and as such I have no right to judge you for your opinion on me and what I do. If it were someone from this world, then yes, I would be angry. Furious even. But from what little I have gleaned, your world can see all sides of the story, not just what people are told in hushed whispers over meager fires.” You hear him sigh, and his tone becomes tight. “I…apologize for pushing. You did warn me, after all.” 

It sounds like it takes a lot for him to say the words. Honestly, you’re faintly surprised that he apologized at all. You’re softening, you can feel it, and your lips curl into a resigned, almost amused smile at your own expense. 

You turn in his hands, looking up at him and gently wrapping your own hands around his wrists. “Ganondorf…you must know that I care about you for more than what you can do for me…in bed. I do believe that your…” You fall quiet, and he can see in your eyes the uncertainty of whether or not you should continue. He gives you a gentle nudge, nodding for you to go on. You take a deep breath. “I do believe that your original goal, back in…well, I guess you’d call it the Time Era? Maybe?” You shake your head. “Shit’s complicated.” 

His lips twitch at your vulgarity. “Shit is indeed complicated,” he says wryly, and you can’t help but snort a surprised laugh. 

“Don’t make me laugh, I’m trying to be stern!” His amused smirk widens a hair, and he mimes buttoning his lips. You huff at him, then forge on. “I think your original goal was noble. You wanted a better life for your people, wanted your sisters out of the desert that’s incredibly harsh to live in. But the Power…went to your head. You lost sight of your goal, of your people, and all you wanted was more power and to rule over everything with an iron fist, and it’s just like. What’s the point of that?” Your eyes glint, and he’s surprised to see you becoming angry. “Let’s say you take over everything, rule as a tyrant, great, congrats. What then? What was your plan? Just sit on your throne, hoard the world like a dragon, be cruel for cruelty’s sake? Wouldn’t that get boring after a while? You have everything, there’s nothing left to accomplish, you can’t tell me that would make you happy!” 

He stares down at you, and there’s no emotion in his face whatsoever. It’s quiet for a long moment, before his nostrils flare and there’s an odd look to his eyes. Part of it seems to be approval, oddly enough. He seems impressed with the tenacity of your words at the very least. But the other part is a rising anger…though not, perhaps at you. “...you feel very strongly about this,” he finally murmurs. 

You flush faintly, and offer him a shrug. “Yeah, I do. I grew up with this world, Ganondorf, it’s important to me. You’re…important to me.” Your blush deepens at the confession, and you hold your hands up. “A-And I know, I remember what you said earlier. But yes, I do feel strongly about this.” 

He can’t help a soft, almost wry chuckle, before he snaps his fingers. On one of the tables nearby suddenly appears a small feast, an array of foods that’s already making your mouth water. “Let us eat. You need to recover your strength before we continue…if that is what you wish. As we eat, I will…explain something to you.” 

With a hand on your lower back, he guides you to sit at his right hand. Before you settle down into the richly stained oak chair, he smirks at you and conjures a towel for you to sit on. You flush crimson, and he chuckles darkly, before you both sit and begin to pile food onto your plate. “Partake lightly, my beauty. Too full a stomach will be…uncomfortable for you, to say the least.” 

You shiver faintly. After what he already did to you, you can only imagine…

And so you took mostly fruits and a little meat, staying away from the bread and the pastries, as much as you’d like to indulge in some carbs. You couldn’t pass up the chocolate covered strawberries though. 

Once both your plates are ready, you look at him expectantly. He sighs, lounging in the huge chair, his brow furrowed with the weight of the distant past. “The problem, beautiful one, with coming from a world that only touches mine is that you do not know each reincarnation cycle. These…games of yours, did not cover everything. But how could they? They have not been out long enough to cover the length of time I have been alive in one form or another.” 

He takes a sip of wine, looking down into the swirling burgundy depths. “I have won before.” 

Your eyes widen in shock. 

“Oh yes, I have won several times. The world was mine, to rule as I see fit. The first time, yes, I ruled as the worst tyrant any timeline has ever known.” He huffs at himself. “Even I myself am quite appalled at what I was like, back in ages long since ash. Then, I was killed. 

“The second time I won, I did things…better. I was a difficult king to live under, to be sure, but I was fair. If a petitioner came to me with an actual problem, then I would do my best to see the problem solved.” He smirks faintly. “Whether or not the petitioner appreciated the solution was another story.”

He pauses. “...then, once more I was killed.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, staring into the middle distance. “...the third time that I won is my favorite out of all my lives. I took over after minimal violence, only the royal family and their honor guards were killed. Once I was in place, I began to turn the world into a paradise. Every citizen had access to clean water, healthy food, and medical care. I opened schools that were free to all citizens. I rebuilt the infrastructure that the royal family had let go for far too long. I invested in what’s most important to the long term health of a kingdom: farmers, fishermen, builders, carpenters, and the like. I built up the arts, threw festivals on holy days.” He smiles. “I was able to bring my people out of the desert, to settle in Hyrule. And the people…grew to love me. I became the beloved king that almost everyone was loyal to. They cheered, genuinely, when I passed.” To your surprise, his lips curl up in a tender smile, and his golden eyes soften, buttery warm in the candlelight. “I met my beloved, Amara. She was the woman who ran my stables, who cared for my personal warhorse when I did not have the time. She could have easily been one of my own people…we fell in love, and I made her my Queen, and she bore me several beautiful, strong children. 

“Things were…perfect.” 

His eyes darkened. “Then the princess and the hero were reincarnated, and I was killed once more.” 

You gasp, and he glances at you, to see tears swimming in your eyes, your hands over your mouth. He sighs, reaching over and cupping a huge hand over your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear. 

“It does not matter what I do, beautiful one. I may be a tyrant, or a benevolent ruler, and the cycle will complete anyway.” 

The chair scrapes along the floor as you push away from the table, and Ganondorf makes a sound of surprise as you leap into his arms. He catches you, his eyes wide as you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into hair. “It’s not fair,” you sob. “It’s not fair! You deserve happiness too! You didn’t ask for this!” 

He blinks. He’s not sure how long it’s been since someone cried for him…He softens faintly, and he hugs you back, pressing his cheek to your hair. He doesn’t say anything as he closes his eyes, and he just lets himself enjoy your tight hug…and your empathy. 

Your tears eventually slow, before coming to a full stop. You give a hard sniff, sitting back, Ganondorf’s hands sliding along your back to cup softly over your shoulder blades. “I-I’m sorry, I…I didn’t mean to get so upset.” 

“Think nothing of it,” he murmurs, conjuring a linen handkerchief and gently wiping your face. “Yours is a tender soul.” 

You give a gentle sniffle, and then a wet laugh. “I swear, I won’t cry the whole time I’m here.” 

He chuckles softly as he cleans you up. “Do not make oaths you may not be able to keep, hm?” 

Your eyebrow quirks up at him. “Are you saying you’re gonna make me cry more?” 

His beautiful lips quirk up into a smirk. “Oftentimes after a physical release, people experience a psychological one as well. And you will be having many physical releases.” 

His voice drops down into a deep purr, full of dark humor and promise, and you can feel yourself flushing darkly. “W-Well…that’s not fair.” 

He laughs. “I never claimed to be.” He cocks his head as he considers your plate, how little you ate through his story. “Come, return to your seat. You have not eaten enough to regain your energy, my little lovely.” 

Still blushing, you slide off his lap, and take one step to go back to your seat. But his huge hand suddenly catches your arm, and he tugs you back around. You gasp, stumbling, bracing one hand against his chest as he cups the back of your head and…kisses you. 

He’s kissing you. 

His perfect, beautiful lips are on yours, soft and warm and his touch is almost…tender.

Your heart skips a beat as your eyes widen, before fluttering shut. You make a soft sound into his lips as you begin to return the kiss. He molds your lips together, slow and sensual, even if just a tiny bit out of practice. Your hands raise, cupping over his bearded jaw, and when his thumb strokes so gently over your cheek you part your lips for a sigh. 

He takes advantage immediately, his tongue stroking over your lips before dipping into your mouth. He feels you shiver hard, and he rumbles deep in his chest as his agile tongue licks against your own. 

Then, he pulls away, and you’re left dazed, staring up into his face in wonder. He grins, deeply smug and satisfied, but in his eyes is the very slightest hint of gratitude. 

“There. Now, you may eat.” He gently turns you around, and gives your rear end a pat to get you going. You let out a little squeak and quickly sit, your face red. 

It’s quiet for a while as you and Ganondorf finish your meal. Your blush fades as he concentrates on his food and not you, and you’re left dealing with the surreal feeling of having a meal with the King of Evil. It's…bizarre, and it almost makes you want to laugh. 

Then, a thought has you gasping: if The Legend of Zelda world is real, if he’s real, then what other worlds you thought were only fantasy could be real?

Unfortunately, you inhale while a piece of melon is in your mouth, and you immediately begin choking. “Hrrk!” you say eloquently. His eyes flash to you as you clutch at your throat, and his eyes widen.

“What–?!” He leans over and slaps your back, once, twice, before the melon dislodges and you’re able to swallow it. 

“Gah!” You breath deeply, the air sweet into your briefly abused lungs. “T-Thank you, f-fuck…” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, but you can see he’s trying hard not to laugh. “I see that I will have to be careful with you, if you cannot even handle a piece of melon in your mouth.” 

You squeak, scandalized. “Ganondorf!”

He does laugh now, a full-throated belly laugh. You protest and pout and finally pick up another bit of melon and throw it at his stupid, smug, beautiful face. It bounces off the tip of his nose and lands onto his own plate, where he looks down at it, bemused.

His golden eyes flash to yours, and you see a deep mischief flicker to life in their depths. “Oh? Does my little pet challenge me?”

“Uh…” is your reply. You quickly analyze his expression: no anger, no darkness (or at least, no more than there ever is), just…humor? “...maybe?” 

He smirks, picking up a grape from the nearby bowl of them and examining it. “You will not win,” he purrs, before flicking his wrist. The grape hits you square between the eyes. 

You stare at him in shock, but then a grin starts to worm it’s way across your lips. “Probably not,” you agree, reaching out and picking up a slice of cake. His eyes widen. “But it’s gonna be fun anyway!” And you throw it. It smears across his chest and a little way up his neck, and you have the urge to lick it off of him. 

But maybe later, because all hell breaks loose.

The food flies, and both of your laughter bounces off the walls with it. You’re both quickly filthy, smeared in various sauces and desserts, and though he gets you far more than you get him, he doesn’t come out of the fight undecorated. The sight of a slice of banana stuck onto one of the spikes on his diadem has you laughing so hard you fall over, and he shows no mercy, taking the opportunity to drop half a pie directly down onto your face. 

You splutter through the dessert, and he squats down, pushing the pie off your skin, his lips in a wide grin. “Surrender?” he asks, eyes sparkling in amusement as he wipes it from around your eyes. 

“Yes! Yes, I surrender,” you giggle, licking at the cherry pie filling on your lips. 

He leans down before you can get it all and kisses you deeply, suddenly, and you gasp as his tongue licks away the sweet dessert that you hadn’t gotten to yet. You moan into his mouth, opening for him and licking against his questing muscle. He growls softly, his hands cupping the sides of your head, and even upside down and covered in food his kiss is a thing of beauty. 

All too soon he pulls away, his eyes darkened with desire, and he licks his lips. “Dinner is much more delicious when I eat it off of you,” he purrs, and you flush faintly. 

But you surprise him, turning and rising up onto your knees to swipe your tongue over the cake and frosting smeared on his massive shoulder. “I could say the same,” you reply, your voice husky with desire. 

One massive arm suddenly wraps around your waist, pressing you hard against him. His other hand cups the back of your head, and he kisses you deeply once more, devouring your lips as though he’d never eaten something so decadent in his life. 

You groan loudly, kissing back, doing your best to keep up with his passion. Soon enough, he stands, bringing you with him, and begins walking. Your legs wrap around his waist for support, and he growls again, the feeling of such a dangerous sound vibrating into your chest making you whimper. 

You expect to be laid down in the bed. Instead, he walks with you through a door, and you’re dropped suddenly…into a hot bath. You surface immediately, spluttering as water pours down your body, the silken nightgown immediately sodden. You hear the rustle of fabric, and when you push the wet hair out of your face, you look up to see Ganondorf standing there…completely naked. 

Your jaw goes slack as your eyes drink in his body. Powerful muscle ripples along his limbs. His forearms, legs, chest, and crotch all sport a faint dusting of red hair on his darkly tanned skin. A gnarled scar rips through the center of his chest, looking at the very least rather uncomfortable. Many other scars mar his limbs, making him look, somehow, even more dangerous than he already does. 

Then your eyes fix on his groin, and all the moisture in your mouth heads south. 

His cock is…proportionate to his size, the head darker than the base, with two pronounced veins that run side by side on the top, along the slight upward curve. Because he’s sporting half an erection after everything that happened earlier. 

You swallow thickly. Your apprehension must have shown on your face, because he chuckles softly and wraps a huge hand around himself. “There is no need for fear, my beautiful one,” he all but purrs, golden eyes glinting. “I am well versed in sex with people smaller than me. That is, after all, most of them.” 

You want to laugh, but before you could he starts walking down into the tub. 

The tub itself is huge, inset into the floor, made out of black marble threaded with gold. If it had been any sort of different situation, you would have taken the time to marvel at its beauty. But all your attention is on the man who walks right up you, smirking deeply. 

His presence is overwhelming. You feel tiny, a speck before his mountain, and yet…the way he’s looking at you, desire beginning to burn in those golden depths once more, the appreciation of seeing the silk nightdress cling to your form…you begin to feel a little…beautiful. You’ve never been wanted before. 

Not like this. 

“Take that off,” he rumbles, almost growls. “I greatly enjoy it on you, but I will rip it off if I must.” 

Your heart is hammering with a combination of excitement and nerves, but you quickly pull the sodden, now heavy fabric off and toss it away to land with a wet splat on the floor. 

Fully naked before him for the first time, you watch as his eyes roam your form, taking their time, looking at every detail. You flush darkly under the scrutiny, your mind conjuring up all the flaws he could analyze, all the perceived imperfections in your body that you weren’t happy about, and you look away. You don’t want to watch his face fall. 

A gentle finger presses to your skin, and though his touch is almost tender, his strength cannot be denied. Your face is turned back to him, and it seems like the passion in his gaze softens a bit. “You are beautiful,” he says simply. But the conviction in his tone, the matter-of-fact way he says it, like saying ‘It’s Tuesday’ or ‘the sky is blue’...he says it as fact. Your beauty was never a question for him. 

You couldn’t stop your grateful smile if you tried. 

He smirks faintly back, then sits down and makes a motion behind you. You turn to spy soap, shampoo, and some sort of hair oil lined up neatly, along with a washcloth. “You made a mess, my little pet,” he purrs. “It is time you cleaned it.” 

Your eyes widen. Oh, to get your hands on him like this…you nod, and you bid him to lean back. He does, his eyes never leaving your face, and an amused light enters his eyes as he watches you frown at his diadem. “How do you…?”

He reaches up, and with a deft flick of his fingers (and gifting you a wonderful play of muscles in his shoulders) the diadem comes free. He sets it carefully down on the side of the tub, then looks to you expectantly. 

Your surprised by what sort of difference just removing the diadem makes. He’s always regal looking, but right now, without the gold and large topaz on his brow, he seems a little more…normal. On your level. You can’t help but lean down and brush a kiss to his bare forehead.

He blinks in surprise at the affectionate little touch, but then he smiles softly, gentle creases in the corners of his beautiful eyes. Without a word he gently wraps one arm around your hips, giving you a brief squeeze, before dropping his limb and closing his eyes, clearly expecting you to get to work. 

And so you do. You wet down his thick hair, working the shampoo through it, making sure that all the bits of food are gone. His fiery hair darkens to almost burgundy in the water, and your touch turns reverent. “You’re very beautiful too,” you murmur, stroking your fingers through his sudsy hair. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, clearly enjoying the wash and scalp massage you’re giving him. You smile, enjoying the thought of bringing him some form of pleasure. His face is relaxed, any tension gone…it makes you happy. 

You rinse his hair clean, then pick up the bottle of oil. You nibble your lip, never having used something like this before, but you figure it can’t be much different from conditioner. “Could you…I mean, I would like a comb to work this through your hair.” 

He lifts his hand and a comb appears, sturdy but also golden. “Will this suffice?” he asks, not opening his eyes. 

“Yes, that’s perfect,” you reply, gently taking it from him. You spend a good deal of time making sure the oil reaches every strand, and he’s quiet, just enjoying your ministrations. “Does this get left in for a while?” you ask softly, unsure if you’re meant to wash it out immediately. 

“Yes. I usually rinse it out once I am done with the rest of my wash,” he murmurs. 

“Okay.” You set the comb aside, twisting the mass of his hair up and out of the way. Then you pause. “Um…what about your beard? Does that get the same treatment?” 

“Yes. Go ahead.” 

You do so, using the shampoo and then the oil on his beard. No one you’ve been with had this kind of facial hair before. You found it quite intimate to take care of him like this, your heart thrumming in your chest. 

It doesn’t help that his eyes have opened, watching you work. 

Once his beard is taken care of, you grab the bar of soap and the washcloth. There’s a gentle scent to the lather, sandalwood and spices, without being overwhelming. It’s extremely pleasant, and you can’t wait to smell it on his skin. The thought makes you flush faintly, and he chuckles, curving a hand over your hip and making your blush deepen. 

“What thoughts run through your mind, my beautiful one?” he rumbles, his thumb stroking over the small of your back. 

“I-It’s just…this soap smells very nice,” you explain, dropping your gaze shyly as you start scrubbing the cake from his shoulder. “I-I’m just…expecting it to smell really good on you.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Y-Yeah.” 

He makes an approving noise. “It is adorable how flustered you get over the sensual, my little one. There is no shame in such thinking–in fact, I’m pleased that you enjoy this scent. I shall keep using it, just for you.” 

“Oh!” You flush, but you can’t stop the smile from curving your lips. “Thank you.” You swallow hard. “Y-You could…choose one you’d like on me, if you want.” 

He smirks. “What makes you think I have not already done so?” He suddenly leans forward, pressing his nose to the hollow of your throat, and inhales deeply. “Mmm…” He lets out a rumbling purr of pleasure. 

You gasp, your flesh raising in goosebumps at the touch. He hums at your touch, his other hand joining the first around your hip, gripping your curves and giving a soft squeeze. You groan, the washcloth coming to a stop on his skin, quite thoroughly distracted from your job. 

His lips brush over your pulse point, once, twice, the touches leaving you trembling. Then he pulls away, eyes flashing molten in the low candlelight. “Come on now,” he purrs, a dark delight in his voice for getting you so flustered. “You have a job to do.” 

Swallowing thickly, most of the moisture in your mouth having moved south, you start scrubbing him once more. The food stains slowly disappear as you cleanse his skin, and you can feel his gaze on you the entire time. 

The mess finally clean, he plucks the cloth from you and shifts, sitting up more fully. His arm suddenly swipes around your waist, massive and thick, and you’re pulled onto his lap with a gasp. You feel his breath puff over the side of your neck, you feel his lips brush just under your ear, and you tremble as you sit on his massive thigh. “Your turn,” he rasps, his voice rumbling into your back. 

You’re not sure you’re going to survive this. 

His huge hand cups the back of your head, and he leans you down, holding you steady as your hair dips below the water. His other hand strokes through the wet strands, getting out as much of the food particles as he can. He’s…actually shockingly gentle with you, making sure he doesn’t pull too much. The feel of your head cradled in his palm…you exhale slowly, and for the first time that wasn’t because you were boneless from an orgasm, you can feel yourself fully relax. 

He smiles as he feels the release of your tension. “Good girl,” he purrs softly, and you smile and close your eyes, trusting him to take care of you. 

And take care of you he does. He washes your hair and gives it the same oil treatment you did for him. Then he scrubs the food from your skin, rinsing you clean, and all the while you just relax into him. 

That is, until he’s finished rinsing you clean. 

The oil is washed out, the suds left floating in the water, and he carries you out of the tub. You can feel his cock, fully hard against your ass as he doesn’t even bother with a towel. He just carries you into the bedroom, still dripping, and lays you down on the edge of the bed. “G-Ganondorf, we should–”

“Quiet,” he replies, his voice commanding. You fall silent as he gently pulls your legs apart, his eyes fixed on your pussy. You flush darkly, and he can feel your thigh muscles push against his hands, as if trying to close your legs. He smirks, his gaze piercing yours for a moment. “Do you seek to deny me the sight of your desire, little one?” he asks, almost laughing. “My fingers have already been inside you, have already sent your body soaring. What is left to feel so modest about?” 

Your words are locked behind your embarrassment, and so you hide your face behind your hands instead. 

He does laugh, now, a full-throated and husky sound that dances wonderfully over your nerves. “Very well. Hide if you wish, but that will not stop me from enjoying the fruits of your body…” 

You expect him to dive right in after a statement like that, but you don’t feel anything. He just looks at you for a long moment, and though you’re hiding, you can almost feel his eyes on you. 

His thumbs press to your outer lips suddenly, and you inhale sharply at the touch. Slowly, almost tenderly, he rubs them up and down, stroking the outside of your pussy and building the flames of your desire. His skin is calloused, but it feels divine on such a sensitive spot. He rubs all the way up, caressing through the soft curls of hair, then all the way back down, and as he moves up again he gently pulls your lips apart. 

“Such sweet petals,” he purrs, now moving his touch to the insides of your outer lips. You gasp his name, and he sees your entrance twitch as you clench around nothing. “Your body wants to be filled with me…do not worry, my little beauty. We will get there.” 

He mimics his previous motions, his thumbs rubbing up, and this time the very tips of his thumbs brush ever so gently over each side of your clit. A jolt snaps against your nerves, and you cry out, bucking up against his touch. “Lay still,” he grumbles. You try your best, settle yourself back against the wet silk underneath you as his thumbs trace their way back down. 

As he draws them back up, this time you feel his skin is more slick. You’ve started leaking for him, your desire coating his thumbs and aiding in his journey, and this time his touch on your clit is less harsh and more delicious. You whimper in pleasure, your hands curling into the sheets at your side as he groans softly. 

“Your nectar smells delicious, little one. Heady, but delicate. Oh, I will enjoy drinking from your spring…” 

Your toes curl at his words, desire making your skin flush. He’s being almost poetic, and you wonder at it, wonder if this is how he becomes when he’s enjoying his lover. You definitely don’t mind. 

But then he leans forward and flutters his tongue in your folds, and your brain shuts down any thinking at all. 

This…him…is the best thing you’ve ever felt in your life. Soft, slick, thorough is his questing tongue as he laps slowly through your folds. He groans, his voice a rumble through your flesh, and your legs turn to water, your bare feet pressing to his shoulder blades. He hums at the feel and continues his slow, exquisite torture, pausing here or there to suckle on your lips, to run his nose through your damp curls. Every nerve on your cunt alights at his touch, arousal threatening to swallow you whole, and you mewl desperately, a soft, broken sound that makes his hands tighten on your thighs. You’re sure that later there will be finger-shaped bruises…but the thought simply makes you shiver. 

Your hands leave the sheets, reaching down to curl through his hair, and he groans softly, giving you a sudden soft suckle onto your clit as a reward. You cry out, your hips trying to arch off the bed, but his strength isn’t to be denied, and you stay right there. Right where he wants you. 

His clever tongue dips down now, pressing against your weeping entrance, lapping at your slick eagerly, greedily, as though you were the finest wine. He curls it up, firming it, pressing it into you centimeters at a time before pulling out, teasing you with what you could have but never giving you what you want. It swirls and licks and he groans and growls and you are melting. 

Your clit aches for him, the pressure enough to nearly reduce you to babbling pleas. Never in your life have you felt this aroused, this desperate for someone else. “Please,” you beg, your eyes hazy with lust as you look down at the god between your legs. 

His golden eyes flick to you, meeting your desire-drunk gaze, the corners crinkling in amusement…

…and then he shoves his tongue inside you as far as he can. 

You shriek wordlessly, one leg kicking out, the other heel drumming on his back. His lips are firm to your flesh, nose pressing hard to your clit, and that tongue, that tongue, is writhing deep in your channel, stroking along your walls, fucking you as his fingers did earlier. He licks at your insides, drinking down your gushing slick, and all the while his nose rubs on your clit at his motions, grinding and brushing in equal measures. You can feel your orgasm lighting deep in your belly, the swirling pleasure soaring higher and higher, and you think he’ll stop, to draw out the torture but he doesn’t, he keeps going, feeling the sudden fluttering of your walls, growling and redoubling his efforts and his sounds are muffled into your cunt as the pressure begins to crack…

You come, and you come and you come and you come and he bellows into your flesh as he feels your walls squeeze hard around his tongue.

Your body is still twitching in orgasm as he pulls his tongue out of you, and he pulls you up, your legs up around his shoulders as he looms over you. His cock is suddenly nestled between your thighs, pressed tight against your drenched cunt, and his arms wrap around your legs, squeezing them gently together. He groans deeply at your body surrounding everything but his tip, and he begins to move, dragging the underside of his cock through your slick, making the glide easier. 

He speeds up, his hips slapping against your ass, and you cry out as there’s a near constant drag on your throbbing clit. “There we go,” he all but growls, pressing his lips to the side of your calf muscle. “Drench me in you, get me nice and ready…” Then he huffs a laugh and snaps his fingers. You feel a bit of coolness at your throat, and he smirks. “Good thing one of us is not lust drunk…” 

You flush darkly. “T-Thank you for remembering,” you murmur, curling your hand around the triangle charm that’s quickly warming from your body heat. 

For a split second, his expression softens, and he nods in response. 

Then he pushes your legs apart and guides his tip to your sopping entrance. The sheer size of him is so intimidating that you feel yourself tense, and he pauses. “Now, this will not do,” he rumbles, and his hands rub gently at your thighs. “You must relax for me, beautiful one. I promise, even someone of my size will not hurt as long as you stay pliable.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur, flushing darkly. “I…I’ve never had anything even half your size.” 

He smirks faintly, eyes glinting down at you, spots of gold in his shadowed face. “Do not apologize for what you feel.” He looks thoughtfully down at you, then chuckles and lowers you back down to the bed. “Well, I suppose I will just have to spend more time opening your body for me.” 

He shifts, laying down near the head of the huge mattress, and he reaches out, wrapping one hand around your bicep (his fingers meet around your arm, and a thrill runs through you once more at how deliciously small you feel). He pulls you up to him; you let out a slight laugh of exhilaration, and he smirks in amusement. He presses your back to his chest, his arm curled around your waist so he may cup and knead your tits, and his right hand slides down your thigh. 

He pulls your leg up and tucks your foot behind his knee. You feel his fingers brush over your curls, then down over your lips, wet with your own dew. You choke on a gasp as one thick finger presses deep into your sopping heat. “Relax, little one,” he all but coos into your ear, his beard scraping wonderfully against your neck. “I have you. Trust me to take care of your body, hm?” 

You shiver hard, but you take a deep breath, feeling yourself shift around his finger. You let it out slowly, and with it you work on releasing all the nervous tension in your limbs. He’s patient with you, nibbling and kissing at your ear and neck, letting you work on relaxing yourself. Only once he feels your walls are gently gripping him instead of clenching does he speak. “Good girl,” he purrs, and he makes you whimper. “Stay just like that.” 

Slowly, his finger pulls out, then pushes back in. Even just his index finger is a lot, much thicker than your own. But this is quite doable, and after only a few moments he’s moving easily in you. “Here is a second. You have taken two before, little one, you will be fine.” 

A second finger pushes in, and you groan deeply at the gentle stretch. He can feel your walls tense for a second, but he’s patient, and before too long you relax once more around him. “There you go…my good girl,” he praises, and you all but melt against him. “How do you feel, my beauty?” 

“Really good,” you murmur, and he feels you shivering gently. “I-I feel…full.” 

He hums in amusement, and you make a strangled sort of sound in the back of your throat as he suddenly wiggles his fingers in you. “Not nearly full enough…yet…” 

He works you open, slowly, playing your body like an instrument he’s familiar with, knowing just how to warm up your strings to make you sing. His fingers are slow, gentle as they rock in you, and after a few minutes of this he begins to make a scissoring motion. You gasp and clutch at him, turning your head to press your face to his chest. 

“Shh, I have you,” he soothes, giving your breast a gentle squeeze with his left hand. “You are doing so well for me, little one…” 

The praise makes you feel all warm once again. His thumb gently rubs your clit again, making you gasp his name, hips twitching. He chuckles softly, and then, on the next thrust in, he presses his ring finger in with his middle and index. 

Your heart about stops. Three of those massive digits is more than you’ve ever taken in your life. Your walls twitch and squeeze hard around his fingers. He growls, nipping down on your shoulder, his hand still for now. “So tight, my beauty…we must get you relaxed.” 

All you can feel, all you can focus on, is the feeling between your legs. You’re so full, so achingly full…you pant softly, your eyes hazy as you feel your walls squeezing him, rippling gently around his fingers. He feels you trembling against him; you feel him smile against your shoulder.

Then his thumb starts rubbing over your clit, small, soft circles, and his name gets caught in your throat as you make a strangled cry and come. There was no warning, no build up–you’re so full that the sudden pressure, the sudden hard squeeze around his digits at the touch on your clit, forces you to come. You writhe against him, each squeeze of your walls around his thick fingers prolonging your orgasm, his thumb keeping you high. He’s growling softly, and as you get lost in the haze of pleasure, he pulls his fingers out and presses the tip of his cock in. 

He growls something in a language you don’t recognize, but you know a curse when you hear one. And frankly, you agree: the stretch he’s giving you, even after preparing you like this, is incredible.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he pushes into you, inch by inch, until he bottoms out. You’re gasping his name, soft little puffs of breath, and he can feel a small bite of pain where your nails have dug into his thigh. It only makes him growl once more in approval. You feel impaled, you feel so thoroughly full of him that you don’t think you’ll ever be empty again. 

“You feel…exquisite,” he rasps, leaning down to brush his lips over the shell of your ear. “You have all of me you can fit, my little beauty…I knew you could do it…” 

“G-Ganondorf,” you gasp again. You press one hand above where he’s filling you full, and you can feel him, feel his firmness inside you. You whimper. 

“I know…do not worry, we are going to stay just like this for a little while,” he purrs, nipping playfully at your ear, at the side of your neck. “I do not want to hurt you. We must get you used to me, hm?” 

You can only nod, quivering against his chest. He makes soothing sounds as you wait, his fingers stroking over your skin, almost delicate touches that serve to make you shiver and twitch around him. But you’re relaxing, melting back into his ministrations, and slowly you feel the death grip your walls have on him easing. 

“There…that is much better, my lovely,” he praises. “Now, stay nice and still for me.”

Gently, he rocks his hips forward. It’s less of a thrust and more of a roll, but the drag he gets against your walls, the way you can almost feel those veins, feel the edges of his cock-head pressing and rubbing against you…curses fall from your mouth, and your hand scrabbles at his thigh. 

He groans your name, slowly rocking and grinding his hips into yours, until he’s pulling out an inch and pushing back in, another inch, another, and he’s speeding up, unable to resist the pull of your body on his lust. Before too long, he’s pulling out to his tip and thrusting back in, snapping his hips, and you’re crying out, his name a prayer on your lips as the pleasure scours you from the inside out. 

“Come with me,” he growls–no, commands into your ear. “You are going to come with me, lovely. Let us peak together…” His fingers find your clit once more, rubbing rapid, tight circles over the oversensitive bud. 

You shriek his name, your hips jerking, and you’re not sure if you’re trying to move towards him or away. “C-Can’t, c-can’t, ‘s too much!” 

“You can, and you will,” he growls, not letting up. He speeds up, both his fingers and his hips, fucking into you with barely controlled strength. “Come, little one, come with me!” 

You’re helpless but to obey. 

You shriek his name as you’re flung into an orgasm that once again has your vision whiting out, your hearing cutting off with a sharp whine. You lose control of your limbs, thrashing against him, as he roars at feeling your walls absolutely strangling his cock. His cum pours into you in thick waves, and you can almost feel the pulses against your walls. Your slick and his cum are fucked out of you, all but splashing over you both, and the feeling has you whining as the tail end of your orgasm begins to fade, leaving you absolutely boneless on the bed.

The only sound for long moments is the nearby gentle snapping of the fireplace, and the ragged panting from the both of you. He’s still inside you, his cock slowly softening in your walls, and when he slips out you wine softly. He chuckles, a low sound that’s still fairly breathless. “Are you…able to speak?” he asks, and you feel him shifting on the bed behind you, his massive hand curling gently over your hip. 

“Mmph,” you say in response. Your limbs feel heavy, weighed down by the force of so much pleasure in your body at once. 

“Are you in pain?” he asks, and you feel him shifting you, checking you over just in case. 

“No,” you mumble. “Well…a bit sore…but you’re huge, so…makes sense…” 

He chuckles again. “Fair enough. That will fade.” He stands, and when you peel your eyes open you’re a little gratified to see his legs wobble faintly. He notices your grin and huffs faintly. “It has been some time since I had pleasure like that, little one. Do not give me that look.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, but it’s obvious you’re trying not to laugh. 

He tries to look stern, but he can’t help the faint smile that breaks out anyway. “You are lucky I like you,” he replies, and pulls you up and into his arms. He walks into the bathroom, setting you back down into the hot water of his tub, and you flush as, for a moment, the water turns cloudy around you. He smirks, golden eyes glinting in amusement. 

He gets you cleaned up, for which you’re grateful because your limbs are still like jelly. Once you’re clean and dry, he snaps his fingers in front of his bed, and the sheets are clean. “Handy,” you murmur, your cheek pressing to his shoulder. “Literally.” 

He snorts. “Did you just seriously make a pun?” 

You grin against his skin. “Maybe.” 

“I am rethinking my fondness for you,” he grumbles, but he’s still gentle as he gets the both of you under the covers. 

“Nah, you like me,” you chirp, already feeling sleep tugging at you. 

“Hmph. Hush, my beautiful one, you need your rest.” You can hear the promise in his voice as he adds, “I am definitely not done with you…” 

Too far into slumber’s pull to answer, the last thought that crosses your mind is: Good…because neither am I.

[madaqueue]

eternally, yours

chapter 8 | patience

synopsis: 'forever' is a peculiar concept - how can something persist, unchanged, throughout time? when our bodies halt their aging, do our minds continue to evolve? do our hearts? choso was comfortable with his version of forever, one of solitary loneliness; that is, until he meets you. forced to confront the harsh realities of being human, the fragility of life, his definition of 'forever' changes as he stares down the barrel of eternity.

pairing: vampire!choso kamo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au. fluff, angst, smut. language, pet names (baby, angel, love), mentions of death/loss, blood drinking, depictions of motor vehicle accident. switch!choso, fingering, p in v (cowgirl). 18+, MDNI

word count: 5.4k

a/n: fun fact the last scene of this chapter is what inspired me to write this series hahahaha i can't believe we've already made it this far!!!! yeehaw

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You had never much cared for flowers. What was the purpose, after all? To rip something from the ground, taking away what it needs to survive, simply for your own pleasure? Melding the forces of nature to your own selfish desires?

And yet, in spring, you find yourself surrounded by bouquets, handpicked by cold fingers on Choso’s route to your apartment. Small daisies and flushed lilacs begin to fill your home, yet this time, they don’t seem to wilt quite as quickly as they had in the past. Maybe the act of his devotion, the quiet walks through heavy rain, wet soil lining the sidewalks, truly was protective after all, his love life-sustaining.

The days continue to lengthen, sun beaming through the increasingly sparse clouds. On the first truly warm day of spring, you and Choso take the opportunity and bring Megumi and Yuji into the woods, visiting the lakehouse Sukuna had offhand mentioned to his younger brother a few times. Despite their near-incessant arguing, you think they must nevertheless care about each other - after all, they couldn’t have lived this long together without something tying them together, right?

As Choso’s car pulls up the gravel driveway, the cabin blends into the surrounding trees, the wooden beams forming into an A-frame peak, stark against the blue sky overhead. Sukuna never struck you as someone who enjoyed connecting with nature, which is perhaps why everything inside is covered in a thin layer of dust, swirling in the sunlight filtering in through the windows as you open the door.

Megumi and Yuji immediately take off running, scouring to find the ideal bedroom as you and Choso haul luggage inside. “Dibs on the bunk beds!” their excited screams echo from upstairs as you make your way inside.

The first floor is utterly gorgeous, high ceilings constructed in oak planks, a fireplace tucked into the corner of the living room, overlooking the fully-stocked kitchen despite the fact that it seems like no one had visited here in years. Sturdy wooden steps lead the way upstairs, presumably where the bedrooms are situated, a large balcony overlooking the dining table.

Pulling your body into his, Choso’s arms encompass you. “Think we should let ‘em have the bunk beds?” he smirks.

“I dunno, I kinda like being on the top bunk,” you giggle, “it makes me feel tall.”

His deep laugh fills the space as footsteps pound upstairs, presumably from Megumi and Yuji racing through the unfamiliar space. Suddenly, it hits you: this feels like home. You and Choso here together, in the safety of a novel space, with your brothers playing upstairs: it’s everything you ever wanted.

Before you can complete the thought, the two boys appear before you, nearly slipping as they run down the stairs. Dressed in their swim trunks, they grab at your hands, desperately trying to pull you outside.

“C’moooon, let’s go to the lake!” Yuji whines.

“I wanna swim!” Megumi echoes, tugging at your arm.

“Give us a few minutes to get ready, okay guys?” you chuckle as Choso lugs your bags upstairs into the remaining master bedroom.

Once inside, he immediately locates the attached bathroom before stashing a small red and white cooler inside, the contents softly rustling against the foam interior. He prides himself on separating the dark parts of his life from you, hoping to avoid having your light cast upon them. Locking the door, he opens it quietly, listening for any sign of you from downstairs. His fingers wrap around the familiar plastic of a blood bag, crinkling in his grasp. Just as he lifts it to his lips, your voice calls from outside.

“Cho, I’m gonna get changed and meet the boys outside - they’re a little eager to get out there,” you laugh.

“Sounds good, be down in a minute,” he calls, desperately trying to hide the waver in his voice. 

The bag rustles in his shaky hands as he hears you rummage through the suitcases. Upon finding your swimsuit, he waits for your footsteps to fade away as you return downstairs and outside.

Finally alone, his attention returns to his meal. Just a precaution, he reasons, a way for him to ensure an internal peace today without having to worry about you seeing him for what he truly is. Fangs piercing the bag, he gulps the sanguine fluid down his throat, his body automatically relaxing as it courses through his veins.

Quickly wiping any remnants from his lips, he hides the cooler once again before digging through his suitcase and pulling on swim trunks to join you outside.

The sun shines brightly overhead, warming your skin as you saunter down the stone stairs towards Megumi and Yuji playing in the sand next to the dock. Before long, the sliding glass door from the cabin hits your ears as you turn to face Choso.

A smile immediately graces his face as he sees you, absolutely glowing under the golden hues above. His cheeks threaten to flush as his eyes trail lower over your body, perfectly outlined in your bikini. Get yourself together, he thinks to himself, shoving down his impure thoughts. But god, when he finally meets you by the beach, the scent of vanilla lingering on your skin as you stand beside him, you look absolutely tantalizing, his body suddenly uncomfortably hot.

An idea flashes across his mind despite the lust that clouds it. “Race you guys into the lake!” he shouts, garnering the attention of Megumi and Yuji who had been wrestling nearby. The patter of footsteps fills your ears as the three of them careen towards the lake, leaping off the edge of the dock. Each splash is met with a scream as the cold water hits their senses, giggles taking over in their place as the shock settles.

“I beat you!” Yuji yells.

“Nuh uh, I won!” Megumi retorts.

Choso easily picks up the boys in turn, tossing them high into the air before they land back into the water. Excited shrieks fill the tranquil forest before Choso turns to you, a devilish glimmer behind his eyes. “I don’t know who won, but I know someone who definitely lost.”

Your younger brothers giggle, dramatic “ooooh’s” leaving their throats as he hoists himself out of the water and onto the dock.

“No, no, no!” you yell, but your efforts are futile - Choso’s arms wrap around you, pulling you against his damp skin, before he tosses you into the air.

The water hits your skin, its icy tendrils covering you as you’re submerged under it. Breaching the surface, a loud splash echoes through the air before another cold wave hits you. Choso resurfaces a moment later, shaking out his dark hair and splashing you and your brothers from where you float in the lake.

It’s easy to be here with Choso, with your brothers. The sun eventually warms fatigue into your skin, drawing you all from the water and to the beach. Evening settles as Megumi and Yuji traverse into the woods to scavenge sticks for a bonfire, leaving you and Choso to collect marshmallows and chocolate from inside.

Upon reconvening, the boys dump armfulls of twigs into the fire pit before Choso pulls out a small box of matches. Flicking it against the rocks, it ignites into small sparks. There’s a momentary hesitation in his muscles as the flames glimmer against his irises, illuminating the midnight pools behind them. It’s brief, but you catch the way he tenses before tossing it into the pile, sparking the bonfire.

“Alright, s’mores time,” he weakly chuckles, an attempt to diffuse the swirl of emotions bubbling inside him.

Seating himself on the ground a few feet away, you let the boys tear open the bag of marshmallows and eat them raw as you plop down next to him, the sand digging into your thighs.

It’s just a second, he swears, but when the wood collapses under its own weight he flinches. Memories of that night flood back - the house collapsing, the smoke in his lungs. It feels like he’s choking.

But your hand rubbing along his spine tethers him, pulling him back to the surface of his memories.

“You okay?” Your voice is clear, cutting through the blackened fog in his mind.

You’re here. You’re okay. You’re safe.

Finally, he takes in a full breath of air, his ribs expanding easily. “Y-yeah, sorry,” he mutters, unable to meet your gaze. His thumbs rub together nervously before resting his head on your shoulder, dark hair still slightly damp from the lake against the t-shirt (or rather, his t-shirt) hanging loosely off your body.

Intertwining your fingers with his, you gently squeeze his hand, his skin unsurprisingly cool despite the heat of the fire nearby.

You’re here. You’re okay. You’re safe.

Before long, the boys’ screams grow quiet as they rest against each other in the sand, nearly asleep from the hours in the warm summer sun. Picking Megumi from the ground, he rests his head on your neck as Choso carries Yuji on his back up the stairs. After tucking them into their respective bunk beds, the two of you return outside.

The fire now dwindles, embers twinkling against the dark sky, your path illuminated only by the soft glow of the moon above.

Choso’s eyes cover your body as you walk past him: the plush of your thighs, the swell of your chest underneath his shirt, your hair perfectly unstyled. Again, he feels the familiar ache within his bones. He craves you.

Being out in the sun does wear on him. He’s told you before it’s like the pounding in your skull right before a headache, or the total-body soreness after running a marathon. He’s always described it as exhausting in a physical sense, but held back the more psychological strain it places on him. Maybe that’s why he’s unable to hold himself back now, as though the poison of indulgence was finally beginning to wear against his cells, the only antidote being you.

As the sand shifts beneath your feet, carrying you around the fire, he can’t resist any longer: cool hands reach out and grab your hips, pulling you into his lap. The heat of the fire absorbed into the cloth of his t-shirt, the material now warm as you rest your chest against his.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he murmurs, his voice low and gruff. Visions of you flash through his mind - you in that sinful bikini, you in nothing but his shirt, you below him, eyes closed and lips parted, mewling nothing but chants of his name.

The words, of course, go straight to your ego - unfortunately, he was just a little too fun to tease. “Oh yeah?” Rolling your hips forward slightly, you rub against his now-dry swim trunks, the material gliding beneath you. “Tell me, Cho.”

He groans your name, cheeks already flushing from the minimal stimulation. Desire builds inside him, eating away at the walls of his control. He needs you. “S-so beautiful,” he stammers as his hands snake beneath your shirt, your skin still warm beneath his palms. Trailing upwards, they grope at your perfect tits beneath the small triangles of your swimsuit top, gently kneading the supple flesh in his palms.

Feeling his cock twitch beneath you, you continue grinding against him, forcing a sharp inhale from his lungs. Burying his head into your shoulder, he weakly thrusts up into you, desperate for any source of friction. “H-hah,” he pants, “do you see what you do to me?”

The sound of your giggle is bright despite the darkness pooling around you as you trace your fingers to the back of his neck, gently carding them through his hair, currently down and cascading over his shoulders. “I dunno, Cho, I can’t see too much with those shorts still on you.”

And you don’t think you’ve ever seen him move so fast in your life. In one swift motion, he rips them down below his hips, his cock hitting his stomach before settling in the air. Saliva collects in your mouth at the sight of him, flushed pink tip and veins catching the dwindling light of the fire.

Your body, too, knows it needs him. Instinctively, your fingers trail down his chest before wrapping around his base, twitching in your palm. He’s practically shaking against you as you slowly, slowly stroke up his length.

“Much better,” you coo. Pumping your fist up, your thumb swipes below his tip, smearing the precum that had been leaking down as he shudders.

It’s sweet how little it takes to get him so needy.

“Aw, what’s wrong baby, you’re shivering - are you cold?” you tease as he begins trembling beneath you.

“Y-you - fuck - you know that’s not it,” he manages to huff out. At this point, he’s grinding up into you, his hips desperately trying to match your pace, pleading for more, more, more.

“Then what is it, Cho? C’mon baby, use your words.” A sly grin tugs at your lips - it’s just too easy. Your motions speed up, wrist twisting as you glide up and down his length, grip tightening slightly as you reach his tip, in just the way you know makes his head feel fuzzy.

“Nngh - just - shit - you’re gonna make me lose control if you keep going,” he barely chokes out, his waist bucking into the air, only held down by your weight on his lap. And he knows it, too, his thoughts beginning to cloud, already lust-drunk just from your hand.

He’s never been quite sure what it is about you that drives him so crazy, so far from his own humanity. Yet, it’s easy for you, reducing him to pure animalistic need with just your touch, sometimes just your fucking scent enough to hurl him into the depths of his own hellish desires.

His words should have been a warning, but the alarms his body sends off fall on deaf ears as your motions never slow, your own hedonism beginning to get the better of you, too. The little whines and pleas leaving his lips are too sweet, leading you further and further for just another taste.

Rubbing your thighs together, it does little to quell the warmth pooling inside you. Choso was always so collected, especially with you - maybe it was being out in the sun all day, maybe it was how you purposely wore your most revealing bikini, maybe he was just growing too taut under the ropes of his restraint - but you want to see what he’ll do, to drag him to the precipice of his control.

When your lips make contact with the skin of his neck, your teeth biting down just hard enough, that’s all it takes. With a sudden inhale, the sting of your canines attempting to pierce his flesh, the fight within him dies - he has absolutely, and utterly, lost.

The cool summer air hits your heat as he tears your swimsuit bottoms off, falling to shreds in the sand beside you. “S-shit, sorry,” he mutters into your skin, but makes no move to stop.

Then his hand hurriedly traces down your body, landing between your legs. “So fuckin’ wet,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, as his thumb roughly circles your clit. “You seriously - fuck - this turned on just from teasing me?”

Before you can respond with some sarcastic quip, one finger enters your core, then two. A moan bubbles past your lips as he curls his fingertips towards you, hitting the gummy spot inside that pulls you closer and closer and closer. “Need you to cum f’me, need it s’bad,” he slurs. Oh, he’s gone.

“C-Cho,” you whine as you come undone around his fingers.

Before you can come down from your high, he’s already moving. A low growl rumbles from his throat as he lifts you up slightly, your thoughts still too cloudy to realize what he’s doing until the stretch in your core is suddenly amplified. His tip presses past the first ring of muscles inside you as he whines. “Relax for me baby, please, need t’be inside you.”

Suddenly, his hands are on your hips, a bruisingly tight grip as he allows gravity to pull you down. When he bottoms out inside you, his head falls forward, buried into your shoulder.

“Too big, Cho, t-too big,” you cry, your body on fire from the way he completely fills you.

“It’s okay, love, y’can take it,” he coos - for your sake as much as his. “Please baby, please take it, be good for me, yeah?”

And you do - your walls perfectly meld around him, warmth enveloping and coursing through his body. It’s so, so fucking hot, sweat beginning to collect on his forehead.

Your head spins as the firm grip on your waist is suddenly being used to lift you up. With one swift motion, he drops you all the way back down his length. Up and down, each thrust knocks the wind from your lungs, soft repeats of “ah ah ah” forced from your throat each time your thighs crash against his pelvis.

“Can’t stop baby, fuck, need you,” he breathes, voice husky and dripping in desire. “Need you so bad, need you so, so bad.”

His abs flex and relax with each thrust under the slowly-ruining cloth of his t-shirt. Your skin is so soft in his grasp, his short nails digging small crescents into the plush of your hips. Your hands, meanwhile, are weakly holding onto his shoulders, yet they provide no stability whatsoever. It’s rough and desperate and exactly what he needed.

Fucking himself up on you, hoisting your entire body into the air before letting you fall back against him, your eyes roll back each time your skin crashes against his. When his hips begin to thrust up in pace, he somehow reaches impossibly deeper, tip bumping into your cervix having your jaw loosely dropping open.

“Cho, nngh, s’good,” you mindlessly babble. By this point your head is too clouded in pleasure to really process the words, letting him completely manhandle you.

“Shh, angel,” he purrs, “you’re bein’ too loud, gonna wake everybody up.” And in that sentence, a more cognisant person could tell that he’s just as gone as you are - Megumi and Yuji are fast asleep and too far away to hear you, but neither of you pay attention to that little fact right now. “Gotta - hah - quiet that pretty lil’ mouth of yours.”

Just as your lips begin to form into a faux pout, two fingers are shoved past them. The wet sound of your cunt covers the slight gags as he presses against your tongue, your taste still lingering on his skin. “T-there ya go,” he pants, “much better.”

It’s easy to forget sometimes just how strong he is, but as he easily maneuvers you up his cock like you’re weightless, it’s all too apparent. Just how much does he hold himself back?

His mind is swimming in pleasure, too afraid to lift his head from your neck for fear he would abandon any last shred of control. A sound that could only be described as a whimper leaves his lips as your tongue swirls around his digits, his motions momentarily stuttering.

It’s all too much, your walls begin to flutter around him as he ruts into you.

Parting your lips, saliva begins to collect at the corners of your mouth around his fingers as you mumble. “M’close, hah, m’gonna-”

“I know angel, I know,” he breathes. Placing featherlight kisses along your neck, only serving to further tease himself at this point, it’s a harsh contrast to the rough slapping of his balls against you. “Me too, gonna - shit - gonna fill y’up baby, yeah?”

The question is more rhetorical than anything, knowing you’re unable to answer with his fingers between your lips. Moans of your name fill the quiet air, drool beginning to dribble down your chin as he shoves further into your mouth, the arm around your waist tightening as he angles his hips ever so slightly, just enough to hit the spot inside you that sends you over the edge.

With one final thrust, you lose yourself, the waves of euphoria nearly drowning you as your body shakes in his hold. Choso follows shortly after, his cock twitching as thick ropes of cum shoot into you.

As his hips finally still, he rests both his hands on your thighs, his touch now purposefully tender. The embers behind you softly flicker across his face, concern painted on it as his eyebrows furrow, the dark tattoo along his nose stretched with his cheeks pulling down into a frown.

Did he hurt you? He’s not sure he could forgive himself if the lapse in his judgement, the weakness of his resolve, caused you any harm. He knew it was a bad idea, he tried to warn you, to hold himself back, but it’s so hard when you’re so fucking perfect. He should have been stronger, should have stopped, should have been more patient, more in control.

“Are you okay?” he pants, chest heaving as he desperately sucks in air.

All you can do is nod, pupils wide and eyes glassy as you pull his head from your shoulder. Even when he loses himself, he’s still so gentle, so careful with you. He would never hurt you, even after dragging himself to the limits of his restraint. He will always keep you safe. Placing a gentle kiss to his lips, his entire body continues to tremble beneath you as a lazy smile graces his face.

“L-love you s’much,” he slurs, still clouded in the ecstasy of your body and now comforted by the warm blanket of your wellbeing.

You giggle again, light and airy as always. “Love you too,” you breathe, pressing chaste pecks across his flushed cheeks.

Resting your forehead against his, you allow a moment to pass, the sound of waves lapping against the shore filling the peaceful darkness. Then, he easily carries you upstairs, helping you shower the sand and sin from your bodies before settling into bed. The sheets are soft against your skin before he interrupts the silence by rustling the blankets as he sits up.

One part of his body’s desires were satiated with yours, but there’s another part - a darker part - that still hungers.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he hums, gently placing his lips to your forehead.

“Where are you going?”

There’s a sweetness to your voice, an innocence he can’t ignore, something he can’t bring himself to lie to. He hesitates for a moment before crumbling.

“I…I have to feed.”

His stomach drops as the words leave his throat, the seconds before you respond dragging on into a painful eternity. Every time he mentions his past, his true nature, he expects you to hate him, to reject him, to fear him. But when you simply tilt your head, there’s no malice behind your gaze - no, just curiosity.

“Can I watch?”

It takes him aback at first. Truthfully, you aren’t sure why you ask, but you can feel the pressure he places on himself, the desire to be some perfect version of ‘human.’ It weighs on him, and you hope this can lessen some of the burden, if even just a little, for you to see him as he truly is.

“Are you…sure?”

When you nod, a soft hum of affirmation, he can’t quite place the disgust he feels inside himself. Why doesn’t he want you to see?

When he doesn’t move, the muscles of his shoulders tightening as he stands in place, you continue. “If you don’t want me to, that’s okay too-”

“No, it’s not that.” Seating himself next to you, the bed bows under his weight. Sometimes, you do forget how big he is, how strong. “It’s just…” he trails off, “I don’t want you to see me differently.”

“Cho, I would never-”

“You know I’m not human. Sometimes it’s easier to ignore than others, but I’m not. I want to be, I want it so bad, but in seeing me do this, you won’t be able to forget it ever again. When you watch this, it’ll change you, it’ll change how you view me.”

Taking in a clear breath, you rub your hand across his back in reassurance. “Maybe it will.”

His entire body tenses, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Maybe it will change how I see you - but maybe I want that. I want to see you, the real you, the true you. I’ve never been scared of you, I’ve never hated you or seen you as anything less than the love of my life. And this…this is just a part of that life.”

Dropping his gaze to his lap, his head lowers, dark locks covering his eyes. A soft puff of air escapes his lips before they curl into a hesitant smile. “Okay,” he sighs, “if you’re sure.”

Reaching your hands into his, you squeeze them. “I’m sure.”

Silently, he rises, feet softly padding to the bathroom. When he reemerges, a red and white cooler hangs from his palm. He returns to his seat next to you on the bed, opening the container and revealing dark maroon bags carefully lined up in its interior.

The translucent plastic folds under the gentle grasp of his fingertips as he brings it to his lips. Locking eyes with you, the flames of fear behind his irises dull as you smile.

“I love you,” you hum, intertwining your fingers with his. And you do.

And it’s carnal.

But not violent.

He’s patient as his fangs poke through the plastic, his eyelashes fluttering shut as he drinks. It’s surprisingly quiet, the only sound a soft crinkling as the fluid drains from the bag.

When it’s completely empty, he breathes a sigh of relief, the static hanging around his body suddenly absent. You can feel it, too, the calmness spreading over him, the wrinkles of worry smoothing out.

Setting the empty bag into the cooler, he wipes the back of his palm against his mouth, removing any last trace of blood from it.

You’re not sure what draws you to do it - perhaps it’s seeing something so personal, so private, having glimpsed into the part of himself he loathes the most - but before you know it, you’re leaning forward, your lips crashing against his.

He tenses for a moment, afraid of what you’ll think, afraid of how you’ll react, before your tongue swipes against his. Eyes fluttering closed once again, he sighs into you, lips parting as you deepen the kiss.

There’s an unmistakable metallic taste lingering, but you don’t seem to mind - it’s so perfectly him.

He’s here. He’s at peace. You love him.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

You’ve always reminded Choso of the moon. Maybe that’s why he feels so calm under its gaze, as though it were you in the sky smiling down upon him, watching over him, patiently guiding him home. Home to you.

He wants to show you how he sees you, how beautiful you are in his eyes. As perfect as the moon.

Bringing you away from the city tonight, he hopes he’s finally found a way to do it. Your back lays upon the cool grass of the field, head resting against his chest as his fingers lazily draw circles along the small of your back.

“I’ve never seen so many stars,” you hum, gaze scanning the sky. “It’s beautiful.”

In the darkness away from the light of civilization, you can make out new constellations, entire galaxies reflected in the space above you. It doesn’t make you feel small, no - you feel connected. Every atom, every second in the universe’s creation led you to this moment, to be here, with Choso, with the love of your life.

It hits you, then, just how much time he’s lived, how much of the world he’s experienced. Squeezing your arms around his torso, you pull yourself further into him.

“You know,” he begins, and even though you can’t see his smile, you can hear it, “there were a lot of theories about the stars before we understood them the way we do now, before we could see them with telescopes and technology.”

Tilting your neck, your eyes land on his face, his black irises glowing in wonder as he focuses overhead.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

He grins so softly, so endearingly excited to share pieces of his past with you.

“Well, one of them was that the darkness was a blanket over the sky. The sun was always there, but just covered up at night. The stars, then, were holes poked in the blanket that let us see the brightness through them.”

Humming, you pause for a moment. “I like that idea. It feels…safe.” Pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, he allows you to continue. “It’s nice to think that the sun is always there, always protecting everything. Even when you can’t see its light, it’s only temporary. It will always come back.”

His hands run up and down your back slowly, tickling along your spine. “It’ll always come back.”

The drive back to the city is peaceful. The wind rushes through your hair, head resting against your palm next to the open car window. Music crackles from the speakers of Choso’s car, your other hand intertwined with his over the center console.

“Do you remember what you were doing a year ago tonight?” he asks, his low voice gently breaking the comfortable silence.

You shake your head, turning your attention to him.

“You brought Megumi into the hospital - it was the first time I saw you.”

Warmth spreads across your face, heart fluttering in your chest. Your cheeks push up into a grin, overtaken in adoration. “I thought you didn’t keep track of dates, Cho.”

That sweet smile begins to spread across his face as he shrugs, eyes still focused on the road ahead to not give away his own nervousness - even after all this time, you still fluster him so easily. “I guess I met someone worth remembering them for.”

And you think you melt right there on the spot - not from the humid air rushing past you, no, but from the tenderness warming his words.

He’s here. He’s at peace. You love him.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year since we met,” you hum to yourself, your voice quiet enough to nearly be lost in the buzzing background of the summer night.

He sighs contentedly. “It’s been the best year of my life.”

With a squeeze of his hand, you giggle. “And that’s saying something, because you’ve lived a lot of them.”

“Oh, are you calling me old now?” he chuckles - a sound you think you’ll never grow tired of, a proof of his happiness.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you smirk. Settling your laughter, your gaze meets his. “I love you, Cho.”

“I love you too, angel,” he hums, the dark circles beneath his eyes seemingly lighter as they crinkle.

Suddenly, everything goes white.

The sound of metal scraping fills the silence.

Then everything hurts.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, every muscle torn and burning.

There’s the smell of smoke in the air.

Choso’s voice calls out from…somewhere. Your vision is blurry as it settles on the scene around you: his hands hooked under your shoulders as he tugs you from the car, its shape mangled around another vehicle.

“Help! Somebody fucking help,” Choso cries into the darkness, his voice hoarse from screaming.

Glancing down, his attention locks on you. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, it’s okay,” he whispers. Something cool falls on your cheek - is he…crying? He must be, but you can’t quite make it out. “Stay with me, okay? I got you.”

Stroking your cheek with his thumb, it leaves a damp trail of blood along your skin - is it yours? You can’t tell.

“Somebody do something!” He’s yelling again, you realize. You’ve never heard his voice so loud, so broken.

He’s rocking your body in his grasp, but you can’t feel it, everything is too far away. You’re sure you’d be in pain, though. You’re sure it should hurt, but you don’t feel anything.

Just as your vision begins to fade into darkness, you hear his voice one last time:

“Do you want me to save you?”

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[hometoursandotherstuff]

Wow, this is 1931 home in Winnetka, Wisconsin is impressive. 9bds, 9ba, $8.9M.

Wow, look at the carved wood walls. There's an original tile floor in the foyer, too, and a leaded glass inner door.

You know, I like the white carpet on the stairs. I wouldn't want to clean it, but it looks beautiful. This home has those bas relief ceilings, too.

Is it the way they're photographing the room to get the ceiling in, or are the ceilings low? The large sitting room has wood paneled walls to match the entrance hall, plus the same ceiling and a beautiful fireplace.

Very classy guest powder room. Black marble floor with white veining, and the marble counter on top of an antique dresser has a sink ringed in gold. The gold wallpaper ties it all in.

Comfy home office. The rounded desk looks art deco and is nestled perfectly in a triad of framed windows.

The library shelving is gorgeous. Oblong octagonal cutouts in carved shelves, and that gorgeous fireplace in the middle has a pediment with a pineapple and a black & white marble surround.

I like this light dining room. Cream and pale blue bas relief ceiling is so soft and stunning.

These cheery bright dining spaces are so pleasing. This is a breakfast room in creamy white and it gets a lot of sun from the windows to the garden.

The kitchen is a professional chef's kitchen. It begins with a large pantry done in the same cream color with large glass paned doors on the cabinets so you can see the dishware. The kitchen cabinetry looks maple and has a cute corner fireplace, black countertops and copper pots hanging over the double island.

At the top of the stairs on the 2nd level is a magnificent oval leaded glass skylight. The glass panes are opalescent. And, there's a large sitting room up here, too.

They've made a walkway between 2 area rugs in the huge primary bedroom. On one side is a lovely mahogany canopy bed that contrasts well against the white room and the other side is a sitting room.

There is a huge home office up hear with a pretty French Provincial desk and a chaise lounge.

The bath is nice, there's a separate room for the toilet, and a lovely vintage marble counter on the sink. Love the rust-colored marble on the floor.

What a lovely guest room. It's so large, there's a huge picture window between 2 full-sized canopy beds.

Down in the large basement is a rec room that looks like the ultimate man cave. Rich dark wood furniture, a red pool table with an unusual pool lamp- it's not the usual stained glass, this fixture has foxes in red waistcoats holding up electric candles - love that.

Wow, man cave indeed. That fireplace is the size of a room. You can definitely walk in there. And, look at the life-sized butler statue in the corner. Is he creepy?

The home gym looks commercial. Mirrored walls and a black ceiling make it look industrial.

Outside, the iron gate makes it look like a secret garden.

The hedges are cut in patterns.

It must cost a fortune to maintain these gardens. The property is 3.25 acres.

Is it me, or does the pool look like a fidget spinner.

I love conservatories and this one is lovely. The plants and wicker furniture really bring the outdoors in.

This is the prettiest tennis court with the trees and latticed fencing.

An elaborate play set for the children looks like it conveys.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/44-Locust-Rd-Winnetka-IL-60093/70453195_zpid/

[theink-stainedfolk]

Character Profile Tag

Thank you for the tag @drchenquill

I'll post the introduction of my love, Zaharsian Narcis Yasheria from In The Eyes of the Beholder

---

Zaharsian Narcis Yasheria

Full name: Zaharsian Narcis Yasheria

Age: 35

Sex: Male

Species: Human

Appearance: Zaharsian stands at 6'1", with a lean and commanding presence. His hazelnut brown hair, slightly tousled, the strands are always meticulously groomed. His piercing green eyes are sharp and observant, ever calculating the world around him. His face is a perfect mask of composure, with angular cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and lips that rarely curl into a genuine smile. Zaharsian's attire is refined yet understated, often dark colors accentuated with subtle embroidery that speaks of his noble lineage without drawing excessive attention. His posture is erect and deliberate, making him seem even taller and more imposing. Every movement he makes is with precision, as though every action is part of a larger scheme he’s already set into motion.

Occupation: Former Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Valrene

Family:

Son: Montaz Fairese Yasheria

Former Wife: Deceased (House of Brathor)

Pets: None

Best friend: Cardinal Nabril

Describe their room: Zaharsian’s bedroom is meticulously kept, reflecting his need for order and control. The large bed is draped with dark emerald silks, the only splash of color in an otherwise neutral-toned room. The walls are lined with mahogany shelves, holding books on strategy and philosophy. A singular painting, depicting a calm sea before a storm, hangs above the fireplace. His desk, crafted from polished wood, is always neat, with just a few carefully placed items—a silver inkwell, a stack of sealed letters, and a journal. The windows are framed with heavy drapes that can be drawn at any moment, shutting out the world. Everything about the room is practical, devoid of unnecessary luxury, just like its owner.

Items in their bag/purse:

A silver ring with the Yasheria family crest

Coded letters

A journal filled with strategic musings

A small dagger hidden in the lining of his coat

Hobbies:

Chess

Reading political treaties and histories

Writing strategic scenarios and outcomes

Favourite sport: Fencing

Abilities/talents/powers:

Master tactician and political strategist

Exceptional at reading people’s motives

Emotionally controlled and precise

Relationships:

Montaz: A strained relationship due to Zaharsian’s trauma and unresolved feelings.

Nabril: A close and trusted ally, with a deep, complex bond that goes beyond politics.

Varyon: A political figure who sparks both rivalry and intrigue.

Fears:

Vulnerability and losing control of his surroundings

The idea that his efforts may have been for nothing

Faults:

Emotionally distant and cold

Manipulative and calculating to a fault

Good points:

Highly intelligent and perceptive

Loyal to those who gain his trust

Calm under immense pressure

What they want to do more than anything else:

To maintain control of his life and legacy while navigating the intricate web of royal and political intrigue.

---

I'll tag @finickyfelix @willtheweaver @leahnardo-da-veggie @illarian-rambling @winglesswriter

@paeliae-occasionally @the-golden-comet @thecomfywriter @roarintheheavens @wyked-ao3

[hazelkjt]

knife - for the single-word fic prompt!

(It's been forever since I've written anything character related like this so it's gonna be shit and I apologize for that ;-;)

“And here is where you’ll be staying.” The Elezen man addressed Hazel, opening the door to reveal a rather sparse yet livable room. Having successfully bargained her way into becoming the apprentice of Lady Lia Amelune, Hazel was granted a place to stay in Ishgard while training under the Dragoon: a room in the Amelune household all to herself. The stone flooring was covered in spots by soft carpet, though much of the floor lay bare to see. Large stone walls surrounded her on all sides, held up with wooden pillars and support beams. There were no windows to the outside, the only light in the room coming from the candles burning on the desk and in the chandelier above, as well as the roaring fireplace off to the side. Aside from the desk the room was outfitted with a small kitchenette and a wooden dresser, clearly cut from the same kind of wood as the desk and pillars around the room. The bed was placed far in the back by the dresser, the wooden frame creaking as Hazel took a seat on the mattress.

Surveying the room from her seat Hazel couldn’t help this feeling of excitement welling in her chest, alongside something...else that she just couldn’t quite explain. Her tail slumps down next to her, the tip periodically flicking up and back down onto the sheets. She leans back and turns her attention to the Elezen employed by Lady Amelune. In spite of his formal appearance in his suit his demeanor and posture had him coming off as bored, for a lack of a better term. Shoulders slouched, legs crossed, head cocked to the side with a slight sneer on his lips. Emerald eyes locked with Hazel’s two-tone red and blue ones, not breaking contact as he opened his mouth to speak. “Once you’re settled you can speak to Lucca about renovations. Supper is in two hours, don’t be late or you won’t be getting any.” He spoke indifferently and bluntly, in perfect contrast with his calming baritone voice. 

The Auri woman glared for a split second before forcing a smile. “Thank you, I wouldn't miss it for anything.” She had tried to match his tone the best she could. Hazel leans down to pick up Floof while speaking, hugging the karakul tightly in her lap. The Elezen man chuckled lightly to himself and ran a hand through his black hair. “Very well, I’ll leave the big girl to her big new room.” To anyone listening in it would have been clear his tone was mocking. Hazel grit her teeth and clenched her fists, but otherwise simply watched as the man began walking out of the room, waving to her without so much as glancing in her direction. After he had left, Floof wrestled himself free from Hazel’s lap and bleated towards the now closed door, as if telling off the servant for being rude. Or at least that’s what Hazel chose to believe Floof was doing. “You said it.” She told her small companion, giving him a boop on the nose and removing her bag straps from her shoulders. 

Hazel took the next half an hour or so emptying the contents of her bag into her new dresser. Her parents had one back in the Steppe, but her mother forbade the family from placing anything but her book collection inside. After her clothes came various knick-knacks Hazel kept stored in the bottom of her bag. Her trusty whetstone, her diary, the pair of combs she had bought for herself and Floof, a bunch of bottles of red hair dye, as well as…

Hazel pauses as she pulls out the last item in her bag. It’s a large knife, the blade about six ilms in length. The sheathe was made of a striped hide, very worn but still in usable condition and sewn with tough leather. Dzo leather, she recalled. The same Dzo leather wrapped the grip of the knife, feeling familiar to her hands. Very, very familiar…

Hazel removes the knife from the sheathe, gazing upon the crudely carved blade of bone. It is a carving knife, her carving knife. The first one she ever made entirely on her own. The bone is a Baras fang, hunted down and killed on her own. She used the skin from that same Baras for the sheathe. The leather from the Dzo also came from her own kills, using her father’s carving knife to cut the straps and whittle the fang into shape. It was a crude knife, the blade not at all curved properly and the handle is lumpy in strange spots. But strangely, those uneven bumps and grooves feel right in her hand. No, not just right. Familiar?

Hazel noticed her vision starting to blur, tears welling in her eyes. She quickly wipes them away and lays down on the bed, holding the knife close to her chest. The ceiling was made of old and dull colored wood, a very stark contrast to the yurts of the Steppe. She blinked back a few more tears. Why was she thinking of home now, of all times? She turns on her side, bringing the knife up to her line of sight. Unconsciously she starts to wrap her tail around her legs, something she always did when she was scared. 

That’s when it hits. Hazel curls up tight into a ball, clutching the carving knife close to herself. She missed home. That’s what this aching feeling in her heart she couldn’t explain was. She missed her mother, helping her with the karakul flock and reading stories together. She missed her father, his sparring sessions and little chats they had while traveling to Reunion. She missed being an hour walk from the coastline, where the warm ocean breeze could pass through her hair as she ran headfirst to the waters. She missed getting into trouble around the tribe, accidentally burning a hole in the chief’s yurt while practicing fire dancing. She missed having mock cavalry battles on the backs of karakul with the other children. 

The crackling of the fireplace was drowned out by the sound of Hazel’s own heartbeat. Her breathing was erratic, and she clutched the knife harder and closer. Why did she ever leave? Was this really the right thing for her to do? What is she even trying to accomplish out here? What if she never gets to go back? What if her parents die before she gets to go back? Why did-

Her runaway thoughts were cut short by a loud “BAHHHH!” and a headbutt from Floof. “SON of a-” Her expletive was cut short as she rolled off the bed and onto the floor, the carving knife skittering away as her grip loosened. Hazel lay there on the ground, unable to pick herself off the floor. Her limbs wouldn’t listen to her, the beating of her heart still too loud for most sounds to break through. But while she couldn’t hear, she felt something instead. She felt the weight of a small baby lamb jumping off the bed onto her chest. Floof closed his eyes and laid down facing towards Hazel, not moving an ilm after laying down.

The two lay there for…well…Hazel isn’t sure how long it was. But over the course of that time the ringing she heard and her heartbeat became softer and quieter, until it was as if they were never there to begin with. Slowly, she reaches one hand up and begins to pet Floof, the karakul still not moving a muscle. She softly smiles at the lamb. “Thanks buddy…” She weakly forced out of her mouth. Floof simply opens his eyes in response before closing them once more. She takes a while to lay there, simply thinking while petting her companion. Slowly her vision shifts from gazing at Floof to behind him, to the carving knife on the floor, illuminated by the fireplace.

Hazel could still feel the gnawing desire to return home, lessened from earlier but still there. Memories of her time living and loving her life before keep flashing in her mind. Slowly however, the memories begin to move forward in time. Reminiscing over her deal with Calling Wind to bring her to Eorzea, her chance encounter with Nolanel and becoming his research assistant, becoming acquainted with and sparring with Yein, and now she has a place to call her own, learning about Ishgardian culture in one of the most hands-on ways possible. She smiled to herself once more, brighter this time, and moved to take Floof off of her chest. Turns out the karakul had fallen asleep on top of her, so she gently places him down on the bed to continue sleeping.

She walks over to the knife on the floor, kneeling in front of it. She reaches down to pick it up, but as her hand gets close it begins to shake. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath she grabs the knife and stands back up. She could feel her tail wrapping around her leg again, but not as tightly this time. Looking the knife over once more, she tosses it in the air and catches it on the way back down. “Man, I really didn’t do that good of a job on this, huh?” She states out loud to herself, placing the knife back in the Baras skin sheathe and leaving it on the dresser counter. She stares at the knife for a few moments, taking in the feeling of homesickness as she does. Cracking her neck and stretching a bit, she turns away from the dresser, the feeling of excitement welling up in her heart once more. “Now, for food!” She exclaims and jogs towards the door, hoping she isn’t too late for supper.

[therealmintedmango]

Cerberus - Part Three

Genre: Werewolf/ Shifter AU; Medieval AU; Strangers-To-Lovers AU; Heavy Angst; Soulmate AU; Eventual romance/ smut

Rating: NC 18+, Explicit

Words: 7,396

Pairings: (Eventually) ot7 BTS x Human Female Reader

Warnings: Dark themes; Yandere Vibes; Death; Gore; Murder/ Killing; Dark Dreams; Wolf Centric Chapter

Tag List: (Please notify me if you wish to be added/ no longer want to be apart of the tag list!) @openup-yourmind, @deeepvibes, @xxsunny-side-upxx, @heoniebaby

Cerberus Playlist — Apple Music (Let me know if you have a good song to add to the playlist and I’ll chuck it in there!)

——————-

The hunt is on,

For it is night.

I lurk in the shadows

Under the pale moonlight.

All creatures tucked away in their beds,

Slumber taking its hold and pressing

Down, down, down.

Either a fairytale or a nightmare,

I get to decide,

For you cannot run and

you cannot hide.

Though she does not see me nor sense me,

I can see her sweat and shake,

A virgin so pure and fragile,

I dare not defile.

Not until she is heady and ready,

Shivering in my claws — it’s not too late.

For she is mine.

…Mine…

Mine…!

MINE!

I wake with a fright, my heart is beating viscously, thumping clean out of my soggy skin. I sit up, the bed frame creaking under my movements as I push the heavy sheets to the side. My body glistens, dripping in a hot-cold sweat under the moonlight that baths my room in her silver, pale glow. My nightgown is soaked, covered in my perspiration, the cream-colored silk clings to me for dear life. The hairs around my neck are plastered in place. My breaths come out in heaves, my hands shake with terror.

Shuddering at the nightmare I just had, I stare at the princes’ family portrait as my eyes adjust. There are no teeth here, nor claws—no looming figures that stalk me in the throes of the velvet night. Just seven sets of rust-colored eyes staring down at me. I tear my eyes away and stare at the tree branches outside, there is a heavy fog relaxing among the wood in an eerie cloak, blanketing the night.

I’m awake. I tell myself as I rub my face in my hands, feeling a cold night sweat occur. I am awake and I am alive and that is all that matters. I gulp, trying to regain some composure.

That nightmare was truly hellish.

Twigs snap under my bare feet, branches slice the skin on my face and arms as I race as fast as I can muster. A giant wolf or dog was chasing me deeper and deeper into the bog, the thicket of trees and vines so tall, there was no room for escape as my path came to a dead end. Its eyes a light golden color, its fur shrouded in the night as it hunted me, stalked me like I was pretty prey. The creature snarls, bearing its blinding white teeth, claws like sharp knives ready to pierce my skin raised above me as it let out this feral, ghoulish howl from the depths of its belly. It sounded like it was almost gleeful, a chorus of wailing howls surrounded me, forming a circle of terror with their sunset eyes, fangs, and ferocious sounds. I called for help, for someone to save me, but there was little to be done. Within the next instance, a whole pack of wolves smiled at me as the moon fell from the sky…then they descended upon me.

Then I awoke.

I shudder once more, a ripple of uncomfortable remembering races through my body.

My eyes sweep a glance at the fireplace, the stone hearth is dead, as it is well into the early hours of the morn, not even a peep of the sun shimmering gold and reds on the horizon. No autumn birds sing outside in their nests. All is still in the house and in the wood. I take some deep breaths and try to compose myself, still sitting in the guest room the princes’ have allowed me to reside in.

Why they are so kind and gentle to me, I shall never understand.

My tongue is dry and I long for a glass of water. I have a bell next to my bedside to call upon the staff if I need something, however I like to do things myself, much to the princes’ dismay. Besides, it is far too early to call upon someone at this hour. I shall go to the water pump outside beside the kitchen and fetch myself a glass of water. An easy feat, I tell myself as I slink out of bed.

I quickly light the long eggshell-colored candle in the holder next to my bedside, feeling the cool of the floor under my feet gives some relief to my anxious body. As quiet and gingerly as I can, I open my door and make haste for the stairs. I have been residing in this home for around a month or so and I have gotten to know these halls a fair bit. There is still an air of mystery and glamor to this house, the grounds, and the people inside the walls.

The princes’ all delight in doing various activities with me throughout the week such as poetry reading with Seokjin after breakfast on the days he isn’t taking care of his royal duties. I have noticed his voice and his demeanor change when he reads about romance, which he does not do often…he almost appears wistful. Yoongi likes to play the piano in the study with me, though he is much better than I at the instrument. It is mesmerizing to observe him play such intricate melodies.

Hoseok is particularly active. He delights in taking me for strolls any time of the day and has promised to take me hunting once the ball has come to pass. Namjoon and I discuss various books in the study's library. He has so many first editions to such classic tales—I enjoy his vast knowledge of the world. Maybe one day I will make it out there. Jimin has asked for my opinions on the gardens, though he says they are not fully ready to view and walk through yet. He brings a brand new bouquet to have in my room every fortnight which is incredibly thoughtful.

Taehyung is so fascinating to be around. He is neither too loud nor too quiet, he is neither too sharp, nor too soft. He is so many things and I believe that’s why he paints and creates many things. Jungkook is the biggest enigma out of the family. He does all the things his brothers do, but he is the most secretive by far. I suppose being one of fourteen myself, I understand you are a combination of all good things your siblings are.

Getting to know these princes’ is a touch overwhelming, but it certainly leaves me craving more from our interactions. Those amber eyes they all share bore deep into my skull at times, speaking to me in a language I can’t quite understand.

The wolf decor in the hallway to the dining room catches my eyes and I almost freeze in my tracks, the candle flame flickers as I suck in a tight breath. In my haste to procure some water and my wandering ,rabid thoughts, I have failed a few things: I do not have on the proper attire to be roaming around late at night, I don’t exactly know how to get to the water pump outside, and I haven’t realized just how eerie the castle looks shrouded in the blackness of night. I tear my eyes away from the stone wolf heads and their hollow eyes as I slink through the dining room quickly. The only sound I can hear is the slight crackling of the flame and the soft padding of my feet across the lush carpets and wooden floors.

At last I have reached the kitchens and I know the pump for the water is not far. Dawning on me, I have not seen the space where my food comes from. There are several large hearths for cooking, brick ovens, a pantry that is as long and wide as my room upstairs, cupboards filled with intricate plates and dishes that are in mint condition though they look centuries old. Dried herbs hang along the walls and the counters are so clean, I think to myself as I glide my fingertips across the cool, smooth stone surfaces. It smells of faint spices from last night’s roasted pheasant and slightly sweet from the cranberry pie that was served for dessert.

Mice are maybe quieter than I, but I secure a glass out of the cupboard—one that looks neither too fancy nor too breakable. I am a clumsy fool most of the right time. Never saying the right words or feet tripping over invisible laces.

There is a small door in the corner of the kitchen and a slim hallway one leading to a staircase upstairs to where the staff live, I assume. I gingerly press the wooden door open, fearing I have stumbled onto someone’s living chambers. The wood groans slightly as I push the latch free from its metal confines and I have come this far to give up on my conquest for water. I suck in a breath and close one eye in anticipation, mustering strength up to thrust the door open.

I feel it before I see it. The cold of the dead of night.

Before I go and do anything else brash, I quickly scan the ground around me. I see a singular brick on the ground outside and I place it between the threshold of the door, so I will not be locked out of the castle.

The darkness outside is thick, palpable. The fog is like cold, faint whispers of ghosts floating around my body. A breeze whips up and I clutch my candle close, fearing the yellow flame would be whisked away. I look for the water pump close to the house, wandering along the side of the brick and marble stone. The night air sends a wave of shivers down my spine. It turns my nipples to hard pebbles under my nightclothes. The fog is dense and the night is dark and the little hairs on the back of my neck start to raise in warning. I am determined to find some water, even though I am inching further and further away from the only door I know will grant me entrance into the house.

My body is telling me to run, run far away! Dash away like a mad person! Dash away like you did all those many moons ago!

However, the need for this water to survive is all that is keeping me stitched together at this moment.

To calm my nerves, I hum a tune I have not heard nor sung in years. A lullaby my mother used to sing to me. It’s a relaxing melody, the notes light and sweet. It usually coaxes tears to my eyes, though I cannot be swayed to dwell too much on her memory. The wind and my lullaby are the only things that my ears pick up on.

The little light from my candle finally catches the gleam from the metal pump, glimmering in the tiny glow. I have to make haste I think as I work quickly. I work in a flurry, setting the candle on the edge of the pump and placing the glass right where the water will flow out. I wish not to be out and about on this night any further. The metal groans and sputters awake, cutting the eerie silence wrapped up in the fog of the early morn with a knife. The noise sends a shutter down my spine as I continue to rouse the liquid from the mouth of the water pump. My throat is metaphorically in the middle of a barren desert, sticking to the roof of my mouth, tongue shriveling away placed behind my parched lips.

Something underfoot snaps in the wood close to me as soon as the water springs to life, filling my glass up.

The liquid spurts out, spilling everywhere, dribbling over my cold feet, my dry throat stiff and useless as I cannot even utter a simple whimper. I stop pumping, the groan of the metal pump clunking back into place with a thud. My heart is beating clean out of my chest, a black figure seems to emerge from the shadows; my nightmare is still very prevalent, swimming around in my brain as I nearly pass out from the fright of something lumbering toward me in the throes of the foggy, velvet night. My mind is doing spins, searching for the right thing to do. Do I run? Scream? Do nothing and pretend I don’t exist? Play like I am deceased? My stomach is empty, falling into pits on the frigid ground, my heart pumping blood into my ears.

It looks like a bear? It is very large and lingering, a snarl protruding out of the creature's jaws. No, a dog? I wish to vomit. The thing is stalking the tree line like a wolf—

“Y/N?”

I spin around, nearly tripping over myself, eyes blown out in shock as Taehyung's deep baritone fills the night with its earthy tone and rich timbre. He is in his night clothes, a quizzical expression on his face as he looks down upon me. The second youngest brother’s eyes flit to mine, the water pump and the tree line of the somber wood. Taehyung’s candle is raised to illuminate his strikingly handsome face in the soft golden flickering glow.

“What are you doing out here?” His amber eyes look down at my feet as a smirk dawns his lips. “You have a penchant for being barefoot, I see.”

“Prince Taehyung…” I whisper, my heart still beating rapidly, buried within my chest cavity. A blush blooms over my face. I am now acutely aware he can see straight through my silks, the cool, night air making my chest perky.

After a moment of awkward silence, the dog-creature nearly forgotten, Taehyung says, “I needed a midnight snack and there was a draft in the kitchen. I saw someone propped the kitchen door open and I heard the water being pumped so I came to investigate.” The sixth eldest prince smiles as he regales his discovery of me outside. “Let's get you inside, little bird.” He says softly, picking up my now mostly full water glass. “Hold my night clothes so I shan’t lose you in this thick fog.”

With haste, I do as he commands. Taehyung leads me back through the door of the kitchens and off to bed with a cold glass of water finally.

I miss his expression when we are outside: the way his thick brows are knitted together, eyes wild and unhinged, teeth are bared, gleaming in the glow of the candle and moonlight. This was his way of sending a silent warning to the creature hiding in the fog and tree line.

She is MINE. STAY AWAY.

-

The early morning hours, where breakfast is served and everyone is flurrying about, are some of my favorite hours here in the Bangtan brother’s castle. I enjoy watching the brothers and staff mingle and mix, the princes’ keeping each other up to date with their lives and what they are going to accomplish each day. It inspired me to rise with them, not only to dine with all seven of them, but to hear what they are working on. It reminds me of my brother’s back home. My chest aches at the thought of them, sadness and misery clutch the edges of my mind and the morning sun rays permeate the curtains in my room.

The ball they hold for their kingdom on the night of the pregnant harvest moon is fast approaching. Not only are the staff deep into preparing, but the princes are as well. Each brother is doing something exquisite and unique which I am looking forward to seeing. Seokjin and Namjoon are splitting the duties of organizing the ball, though Seokjin is focusing on the food mostly and Namjoon is strengthening ties with other kingdoms as each of the neighboring states have been invited as well. Yoongi is taking care of the music; he is out with the Royal Bangtan Orchestra most afternoons, though he always has time to sit in front of the piano with me. Hoseok is handling entertainment like jugglers, fire eaters, and palm readers, which sounds fascinating to me as I’ve never experienced anything like that. Jimin is in charge of the gardens as well as adding impressive bouquets at every table and ropes of bright flowers that line every threshold. Taehyung is taking care of displaying Bangtan’s most eloquent and opulent paintings and statues on display. He is also very concerned about the fashion choices for the ball as wigs are all the rage right now and he wants to impress the crowd with his stylish, yet sensible choices. Jungkook has a surprise happening in the evening when cocktails and dessert is presented and though I press him for information, he holds tight to his secrets, smiling like a smug dog who has just buried a giant bone in the wood for safe keeping.

I’m grateful to them. Amidst the planning and preparation for this ball, they have still kept me in the loop and connected them, nor have they cast me out of their lives. If anything, I feel more entwined with them than at the beginning of my stay. A pang of sour guilt eats at my heart as I dress for the day in a simple, yet chic light blue gown. I hope that my brothers have received an invite and are coming so I can see them again and they will take me home. It’s not that I do not enjoy the company of the princes of Bangtan. Nay. It is the loss of my own thirteen brothers that consumes me, dread prickling my senses, the thought of torture or death backing me into a corner. I feel like a rabid dog, bothering the staff about anyone calling upon me or any letters received in my name. Nothing has turned up, no matter how much I write…or worry…It seems like I am at a stalemate, losing one family and being taken in by another…

I shake my head as I reach the end of the stairs, my stomach growling desperately for food as I try to shake a bad feeling from my mind.

Although I have made it my mission to rise and not waste the precious hours of the day, due to my roaming around before dawn even set in, I overslept. Taehyung gratefully escorted me back to my room last night with my water in hand, though he looked as if he had seen a ghost and barely said anything when we were back inside the castle. I am greeted by a few lingering staff leaving the dining hall in a flurry, concern painting their expressions. It smells of bacon, eggs, mapel, and tension hanging in the air. Wrapped up in my own thoughts, I have missed the angry dialogue protruding through the air. Like a silly moth to a brilliant flame, I am entranced; I wander closer as everyone scurries away from the ruckus.

“WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO? LET THESE DEMONS WIN?! LET THEM DESTROY EVERYTHING WE HAVE BUILT UP?! IT IS UNACCEPTABLE TO LET SOMEONE DIE LIKE THAT, NAMJOON!”

I almost gasp as my fingertips ghost the door to the hall. I have never heard Seokjin speak so angrily to anyone, let alone his brother.

There is a wicked snarl and something is shattered in the room. I recoil with the noise, the shouting and glass breaking reminding me of my father. Since no one else will, I should try and stop their bickering at once I think as I push open the door. I am greeted by Namjoon’s back to me, his large body and posture was menacing. Seokjin’s hair is standing on end, lips pulled back to reveal a set of pearly white teeth. Seokjin deflates when he sees me silently walk into the room, amber eyes that were narrowed and wild locking onto mine, turning into solem orbs at the sight of me.

“WE SHOULD NOT HAVE TAKEN HER IN! SHE IS GOING TO BRING NOTHING BUT MISFORTUNE AND DEMONS INTO THIS HOUSE!” Namjoon shouts. He then turns once Seokjin looks away shamefully, nodding to me frozen behind Namjoon.

They are talking about me.

Tears well in my ducts instantly, I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying in front of the princes. My heart dies and falls into my stomach, my throat feels tight, and I desperately wish I was anywhere but here. I wish I were millions of miles away from this place and all the gloom I carry around with me.

Namjoon sags, looking terribly remorseful, lifting his hands to reach out to me. “Y/N…”

I flinch away from his outstretched hands.

“I apologize, dear princes.” I whisper the words out as I turn to leave, throat going hoarse. “I-I never realized what a burden I was here. I-I-I will leave at once!”

“No!” Seokjin and Namjoon both yell, but it was too late.

I fled out of the dining hall and into the grand entrance of the building, running outside. I let my feet guide me as salt tears blurred my vision, the bottom of my gown was ruined as it was getting stained by the mud my boots were kicking up. Me. They were arguing about me. I choked on a sob, strangling my throat. I didn’t realize I was such a burden. Of course I am. I am doing nothing but pestering them, eating their food, and staying in their home for nothing in exchange. I ran into the hedge maze winding round and round until I was so utterly lost and exhausted, I took rest at the closest gazebo I found.

Stupid! I chastise myself. Stupid girl! Of course you are a burden! Your whole life you have been a burden! You make messes and hope that someone will come along and clean it up for you!

More tears and cries fill the space in the garden as I replay the short portion of conversation I heard between the two brothers. My heart is breaking. I should have never been so reckless with their kindness. They have done more than enough for me and I should never have overstayed like I have. Though I am feeling more comfortable everyday in the Bangtan castle, this is not my home.

I watch a monarch butterfly flit and flounce through the air once my tears have ceased. The autumnal butterfly’s wings beat like it is trying to get away from something, moving frantically up and down, then side to side. It carries itself past me, turning to me briefly as if to say RUN and I have an unnerving feeling looking at the beautiful creature.

A sinister feeling crawls up my spine…The same eerie and odd one I got last night…As if I was being watched…My eyes blow wide as I quietly scan the spot I am sitting upon. There is no movement in the hedges, no autumn breeze or sway of the foliage, the garden is silent. No movement is heard from any discretion, but I feel like I am being stalked. I am isolated out here in the garden; who will save me if I am in danger? I shake my head slightly. I am no one else’s burden. I have to save myself. All the baby hairs on my body stand though I cannot bring myself to stand. I am tired physically and frozen to the spot on the shaded gazebo spot in terror. My heart is beating when I hear a slight rustle coming from behind me. Do I dare look?

A head pops out from behind a tall, lush hedge and I nearly scream. The fifth eldest amber eyes lock on to my wide orbs at his sudden appearance. Jimin is like an air elemental, I never hear him coming; he is silent, cunniling deadly, or fragrant and sweet, but he can be boisterous and whipped up into a tornado if provoked unfathomably. I have only seen him act that way to Jungkook though when they spar in a wrestling match.

“Y/N?” Jimin smiles as he sees me sitting under the gazebo. “What are you doing out here?” His golden, amber eyes really drink me in as he approaches, seeing the sorry state I find myself currently in. His eyes flick to something behind me as he takes my hand in his suddenly, pulling me promptly up, his puffy lips moving into a tight-lipped frown. Jimin’s presence calms me down immediately, though his worry still makes me slightly concerned. “Come now, you have somewhere to be soon, though it is a surprise.” He says in his feather-soft voice as he leads me away.

I give a chaste look over my shoulder to find the butterfly floating down and landing in the spot I was just in.

—

“It is a marvelous day to go to town, wouldn’t you say so, Y/N?” Seokjin says as we step out into the busy and boisterous town in the middle of the afternoon. He takes my gloved hand as I step from the royal carriage.

“It is, yes, your majesty.” I say, gingerly avoiding puddles of water or urine on the cobblestone pavement. I could not discern what was what.

Seokjin apologized profusely for the outburst I witnessed from earlier in the day. He was extremely sorry (I thought I caught a glimpse of a tear swimming in his golden eyes) and he vowed to repay me by taking me to a surprise. On the way here, I knew we were headed to the dressmaker as she lives in the south-east side of Bangtan. I easily accepted his apology for I knew how remorseful and ashamed he was for his behavior and words. Seokjin explained how they all voted to have me stay at the castle and Namjoon was really the only one against it. He was worried I would bring a kingdom of angry citizens and an army of guards to them. It was nothing more than worry and concern coloring his view of me and a potential situation I’ve put them all in. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Still, I felt more like a burden to them now more than ever.

During my stay in the Bangtan castle, I told them about some of my past and only that I’ve run from an abusive and oppressive kingdom. No lies, but not half truths. I am not ready to admit to any person that I am a murderer. That I’ve killed my own father at that…

“Paisley, will you escort Y/N inside, please? And give Madam Hwasa this to settle the payments.” Seokjin handed her a fat velvet bag full of jingling gold coins. Paisley, one of the staff I have become closer over the weeks with, has come along as our chaperone. Though, I suspect part of the reason she is here because she fancies Jongbak, the footman.

“Yes, your majesty.” She says softly as she ushers me into the dressmaker.

Madam Hwasa barely says a word as we enter. She is older than me, I gather, but not by much. She has a face that is ethereal and otherworldly, dazzling to look at, though she always seems so sad. It is as if she is waiting for a lover to return to her forlorn heart and she speaks in a meak manner. The princes have taken me to her twice now as they did not have too many spare clothes lying about fit for a woman. They say she only apprenticed for only a year before she took over for the master dress designer because she was so talented. They say her silks and fabrics have magic in them.

Paisley hands her the sack of cash and I am once again whisked away behind the dressing room curtains. She undresses me in a flash, the garments protecting me from the autumn cold are stripped from my body—my undergarments stay as I await Madam Hwasa to return. She works quickly and quietly, her small fingers working with haste in an expert fashion.

A slight chill runs down my spine down into my stockings. I feel like I am being watched again, but Paisley has stepped out of the enclosed curtain room. It’s just me, my garments, a chair, and a half-circle of mirrors. The little hairs on my neck stand at attention, the eerie, aching chill blooms throughout my body making me shiver. Jeonghan had told me that spine shivers are caused by people in the future stepping on your grave. I wrinkle my nose in disgust. What a terrible thing to think about.

I fold my arms across my chest in a protective stance, my senses are on high alert since last night. Dreams were the windows into your soul, were they not? Why was I dreaming about dogs or wolves or beasts? What about the creature last night, out in the fog, stalking the tree line? And what about those teeth, those claws….and those golden eyes—

“You have the mark of a demon.”

“Pardon me?” I turn around in shock as Madam Hwasa floats into the room behind me silently. I hadn’t even heard the curtains flutter or the floorboards. She has a cream colored garment with gold and silver gemstones in a dazzling display which swirl and cascade down the luxurious fabric. Since I’ve been here before, she knows my measurements and with her skill I doubt she’ll need any adjusting as she is excellent with her craft.

“The mark of a demon is there,” she raises a beautiful, long finger to the middle of my back, “in between your shoulder blades.”

I look down sheepishly. This is the bane of my existence, this off-colored mark that stains my skin. My mother had it too. She said it was good fortune —in the shape of tiny bird wings. Yet another thing of my skin that isn’t mine but, in fact, belongs to someone else. “Tis’ only but a birthmark, ma'am.” I mumble.

“I never noticed before.” She almost snickers. “And your clothes are filthy! You smell like those mutts!” She snaps her fingers and I place my arms straight above my head.

“Pardon me, ma’am?” I stammer as she wastes no time throwing the heavy ballgown over your shoulders. It had no sleeves and showed off my whole collarbone and the top of my chest. My eyes pop open. This was quite a daring garment, but it was beautiful, with the crystals placed so delicately and perfectly, it hugged my torso until the middle of my rib cage, fanning out in lush plumes of fabric—I looked like a fallen star. “Madam, I am sorry? I do not touch the hunting dogs per the princes’ requests—“

“You are a foolish girl if you cannot figure out what your dreams are and what I am telling you.” She snides as she ties me into the dress. Dreams? Demons? That’s twice today each has been mentioned. My tongue runs dry.

I was not only astonished by how I looked but by how Madam Hwasa was speaking to me.

Madam Hwasa clicks her tongue as she stalks me in a circle, eyes running up and down my body. “Watch out for those wolf boys. They are going to gobble you up.” Her eyes narrow, her stare catching mine like blazing fire. I am not sure she approves of what she is seeing though her fixation gives me a sense that she is challenging me.

“Madam, you are frightening me.” I whisper as I notice I was trembling. Was it anger or terror? Mortification or loathing? I wasn’t quite sure. Another woman had never spoken to me in such a manner, so direct, so merciless. “I need to go.” I look at myself in the mirror and my ducts are pricked with tears, my arms limp at my sides.

“My apologies Lady Y/N.” She clicks her tongue once more and pulls her long gaze away from mine. “You are going to be a beautiful, dangerous creature when you bloom into your full potential.”

I haven’t a clue what she means and my face twists in shock.

She calls Paisley in and they reformat me back in my original frocks and skirts. Under Madam Hwasa’s cold stare and long fingers, I feel more exposed now than when I was in that dress or standing in my undergarments. Madam Hwasa packs my ballgown and hands it to Paisley who share the unit exchange of fingers slinging over one another and long eyelashes fluttering and mouths curling up in shy smiles in the afternoon sun.

Maybe I am a demon for I don’t believe anything like that will ever happen to me. I am a burden and an annoyance. To my mother, my father, my brothers, and now the princes I live with.

Prince Seokjin steps out of the carriage and escorts Paisley and I back inside as we are whisked away from the dressmakers shop. She waves as we drive off, I see her as I am facing backwards. A cat-like grin spreads across her lips and I swear her sad eyes suddenly flash a brilliant green-yellow color.

“How did you like your outfit for the ball? Was it to your liking?” The princes asks like an eager puppy would, wide eyed and excited.

“It was very marvelous, indeed. Thank you for such a lovely dress, your majesty.” I replied in earnest because I truly felt that way.

“Nothing but the best for our little bird.” I flush at his words and Paisley looks at me out of the corner of her eye and I try not to be smitten lava with his nickname for me.

I have an uneasy feeling as Seokjin prompts Jongbak to stop for a stroll at the park in the middle of town. The park is massive and reminds me of paintings and books as it looks like it shouldn’t belong in the middle of town. There is a crystal clear river that runs through, with exquisite bridges, intimate gazebos, and lush gardens to boot.

The eldest prince sticks out his elbow for me to take as we meander through the gardens. I take it and he carries me through the park. Paisley and Jongbak stay by the carriage, no chaperone needed in such a large, populated space.

I still feel like my stomach is in knots and I am having trouble finding the words, but Seokjin’s presence is calming me down. It is hard to feel unnerved with such a fine gentleman with me though. Prince Seokjin is tall, handsome, a great conversationalist, compassionate yet he has a wit and hilarity to him that makes him all the more charming. He was the full package and I would have loved to see him when he was but a young lad. Men bow and ladies curtsy when they see him; they light up like fireflies in June under a full moon when they come upon him. He greets everyone yet keeps conversation with me, smiling. His amber orbs sparkle when he tells a tasteful joke about a gentleman caravan and I give him my full laugh from my belly, though it is undignified for me to make such a noise.

“Pardon me, your highness!” I say breathlessly, still laughing at his nonsensical story as we come to the edge of a gorgeous bridge across the river. “My apologies for producing such boisterous noise!”

“Do not fret.” He simpers down at me, the shadow from his top hat blocking the brilliant sun. “Little bird, my favorite part of my day is when I get to see you smile. You are unraveling more and more every day.”

Immediately my cheeks blaze at his words and his stare.

I remember the look Paisley and Jongbak share and for one fleeting moment, I could have sworn he looked at me with half-lidded bedroom eyes.

“Your majesty, good afternoon.” Voices like silk and honey call behind us.

I turn, breaking the hold I had on Seokjin as the prince almost stands in front of me. “Good day, ladies of Twiceland.” Nine beautiful goddess-like women in brilliant colored dresses simper, glowering down at us as they make their descent on the bridge.

“Where is your pack?” A tall one questions in blue. “Your wild and untamed brothers?”

“What brings you to our kingdom?” Seokjin ignores her being as polite as he can, though his tone is short and curt.

“Is this your ward?” One with doe-eyes and a bright pink smock coos at me. They snicker as I introduce myself much to Prince Seokjin’s dismay.

“Yes, indeed. She is a guest of Clan Bangtan and will be treated as such.” Prince Seokjin is seeming to lose his cool with these vibrant women and I can see why. They are relentless. “If you will excuse us, we were just leaving; on our way home for dinner.”

“Careful, Lady Y/N.” One with a square jaw and short hair giggles as Seokjin takes my arm as lightly as possible, ushering me away from these strange women with haste. “Be wary of beasts such as canines!” They cackle as we rush away, returning to the carriage in a strained silence that has not happened to me since my arrival in this kingdom.

My head is dizzy and my breath is coming out in short bursts. I look at Prince Seokjin and he looks like he is absolutely seething. His aura is dark, nasty hornets shaken and enclosed in a glass container.

As we make our way home, the sun setting, casting the land in a luscious orange and yellow. The castle is far from the town, rich, thick wood surrounds the grounds, encasing the large mansion in its own halo of trees and thickets. glow I hear the call of a lonesome wolf. Fear pricks at my heart and I clutch my skirts. “Everyone keeps mentioning dogs and wolves to me, your majesty. It is frightening to me.” I open once more to the prince who looks startled across from me.

I know I can trust him, I feel it in my marrow and sinew. With my whole beating heart and fizzing brain I know I can trust Seokjin.

“Little bird.” Concern colors his tone as he gingerly places his large, warm hand over mine. “Canines, specifically wolves, is our family animal.” He taps the metal wolf on his chest. “It is our crest. Canines have been intertwined for thousands of years with the family members of Bangtan. If someone says something about dogs or wolves, they are referring to us as a form of insult.”

I nod my head. That does make sense I suppose.

“Nothing will ever harm you.” He gently squeezes my hand. “I promise you. All seven of us will do everything in our power to keep you safe.”

I say nothing but give him a wry smile in which he returns with a beautiful smile that makes my heart throb, trapped in my chest.

——-

I did not go to dinner. I need to apologize to her earnestly. My outburst was childish and uncalled for. Hoseok and Yoongi reprimanded me, sparing in wolf form. Though I am the bigger out of the two, they always win. Pinning my neck just so. I shall be licking my wounds, physically and emotionally, for a long while. It wasn’t right. I let my emotions win like the terror I am. I am more calm than this. I chastise myself as I emerge from the wood. But still….I cannot help the way I feel!

My mind wanders to her lashes, her voice, the way she is soft, yet powerful. She is full of potential, a most excellent queen if she only opened her eyes a little more. Does she see that we hang on her every whim? Her every desire? If only she just picks one of us…What we wouldn’t do for her…

I find her in my study an hour after dinner should have dispersed. She has fallen asleep reading a book about wolves in my favorite red velvet armchair. I give a soft snort as I stalk closer to her quietly as not to disturb her. Her chest softly rises and falls, her cheeks flushed with sleep.

Stooping down, I inhale her scent from the top of her head. Fresh elderberry and sunflower. How badly I want to mark her. How badly I want to rub my face against her neck, tilting her head back, watching her gasp, swallowing saliva down her throat, and scent her vulnerable jugular. My amber eyes lock into her flesh as her head was tilted to the side, exposing her veins. What would it feel like? To run my lips across her flesh, feeling her pulse throb, the sharp inhale of her nostrils, the moan that escapes her breathless lips…

What would it feel like to sink his sharp wolf fangs into her, feeling the life drain from her? The blood ooze from the puncture wounds, her organs fail trapped inside her withering, frail body? To see the light leave her eyes?

Enough with these thoughts.

I scoop her up swiftly as if she was but a babe or a rag-doll and take her to her room, calling upon the maid named Paisley to undress her and prepare her for slumber.

His ears prick as she stirs. “Thank you, Namjoon.” She mumbles quietly. I don’t say a word. I shed my human form once I get to the edge of the wood. I give a cry to let the others know I will not be back this eve and only Jungkook responds.

Hyung, be safe.

It is not him the brothers should be worried about. The thing they need to worry about is safe in the castle—for the night.

———-

In my dreams that night, I am led by seven different colored wolves to a brightly colored carousel. The wolves are all friendly, large, and each smelt rather different from each other. Their fur is soft and exquisite, I run my hands across the canines as they rub their heads against mine. In my wonder, I wish to ride them, but I refrain. Their amber eyes glow with knowledge behind them and they grin wolffish, cunning smiles, revealing their sparkling, pearly fangs. They whine and pant and yip as they lead me up to the shimmering, merry fair ride in the middle of the wood.

They each jump on the slow moving platform, following some pattern, transforming into seven men in waist jackets, complete with top hats and masquerade masks upon their faces. I can’t help but feel like I know them. They call you with their howls, beckoning me with items in their hands: books, foods, flowers, sheet music, paintings, dancing shoes, and gloves. Do I know them like this? Do I want to?

Everything echoes in this space. I suddenly feel like I am suffocating, it is hard to breathe as they try to pull me onto the platform, but I pull away. I made a mistake and I need to flee. I am in danger.

I turn to go. The wolf men growl in warning and I freeze. My blood is ice, my pulse is in my ears, and I feel the seven sets of eyes upon me like they are going to gobble me up. I am prey!

WE WILL KEEP YOU SAFE. YOU ARE OURS. YOU ARE MINE! They cry in unison, an awful noise like they are wounded, shot animals.

The wolf-men lunge at me, their bodies piling on top of me, covering me as they growl and whine and snarl. Gnashing teeth and hungry claws tear me limb from limb as they pull me apart, ripping the pink muscles away under my flesh. My blood is pooling around me as I lie paralyzed in my own sticky, red mess or hair and skin, and organs.

A scream rips through my throat.

Two large, amber eyes glimmer at me from the end of my bed as a giant black wolf lays near my feet, its head slightly cocked to the side, its ears perked at attention. I faint from the frightening sight and my mind plummets back into darkness once more.

———

Part Two And A Half l Part Four

[mrs-han]

Jumin Week

Day Five: Pragma

Trigger warning: Depression and suicide mention.

You kept pulling away from him.

Every time Jumin attempted to comfort or reassure you — every time he slept in front of your door while waiting for you to open it — every time he moved to caress you, to hold you…

You always pulled away.

Jumin knew you had trauma. Something happened to you for you to behave this way, and he didn’t want to trigger a nightmarish memory for you.

So, he remained patient. He gave you the space you needed while keeping a close eye on you; making sure you were eating, drinking water, changing your clothes.

The memories of you smiling brilliantly at him, twirling carelessly only to have him catch you… dancing to your 90’s music playlist while you cooked lunch and yanked him to you…

Jumin knew you were still there. The rough patch would subside in time, and he would be there.

He would always be.

But when you didn’t respond to his rapid knocks on the guest room door, Jumin felt his control slipping from him.

“Darling?” Slamming his palm against the solid wooden door, Jumin felt himself shaking. With adrenaline, with fear — whatever it was, the rush of emotions helped him as he rammed into the door once.

Twice.

Three times over.

The door wouldn’t budge.

Jumin observed his surroundings, trying to regain a clear line of thought while his heart pounded in his chest and his breathing accelerated. Grabbing a fireplace poker within his line of sight, Jumin took the door apart piece by piece, fragments of wood planting themselves into his hands and forearms.

Through the jagged edges, Jumin reached in and fumbled for the doorknob. As soon as he felt the cold handle, he pushed down and stormed in. “Dear —”

He grew rigid in seconds. Your body lay on the bed, limbs hanging off carelessly. Without touching you, Jumin felt how cold you were because of your deathly pale hue. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck as he lunged for you, pulling you into his bleeding arms.

Water. Water would wake you.

Gathering you into his arms, Jumin ran to the bathroom and set you into the deep-seated tub. Turning the handle, he gathered as much cold water as his hands could hold and delicately splashed your face, desperately patting your cheeks.

“Darling? Darling, wake up. Wake up.”

You shot up, breathless and terrified. The fear in your eyes didn’t calm him, but at least there was still the spark of life.

“I’m here. I’m right here.” Grabbing your arms, Jumin gently shook you. “Look at me.”

“I can’t, I can’t —!”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes met with his. The underlying frustration and sadness he felt over the past few days — it was all boiling to the surface now. He dug his fingers into your pale skin, hoping to control his shaking frame. “I’ve had enough of this. I’ve given you time, I’ve given you space — look at the result. I find you in bed, lifeless. It’s obvious my methods of granting you peace haven’t worked, so I need your help now. Tell me what you need. You need to talk to me.”

You shifted, your bare foot squeaking against the tub. “Jumin —”

“Don’t tell me you don’t need help. Don’t tell me you don’t need anything. Stop lying to me.”

Tears spilled from your eyes. You knew Jumin to be overly-assertive, commanding, domineering at times… but he was never that way with you. He was always so calm, so collected. Now? He looked enraged.

It scared you enough to stammer a reply. “I, I just — I j-just, I haven’t been feeling good… m-mentally…”

Jumin’s grip on you loosened faintly. He closed his eyes, realizing he had lost his temper. But he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Lowering his head, he raked back the bangs in his face — and as his eyes met with yours again, you noticed the brimming tears.

It allowed you to release the floodgates you had held in all this time. Your small, shaky hand touched his cheek — and Jumin leaned into your palm, his tears falling instantly.

“That was the first time I heard you speak in days.”

Jumin’s trembling voice was the wrecking ball that crashed into all of your defenses.

“Ju… Jumin —”

“Stop… you need to stop shutting me out, darling.” In his eyes sparked a fierceness you readily recognized. “I can’t take it. I can’t… handle it. I’m not strong enough. All of my logical reasonings behind why you stayed in that room failed me, and I couldn’t…” Jumin reached out, his hand caressing your cheek. “I see now that I was right to worry. You haven’t eaten… darling, you haven’t eaten anything.”

As if on cue, your stomach let out a miserable growl. Jumin moved his hand from your cheek to your leg, just above your knee. “Are you trying to leave this world?”

The question sent your body quivering uncontrollably. “It wasn’t… the plan, but if it happened… I wouldn’t have been… opposed —”

Snatching you into his arms, Jumin held you to him with a firmness you had never know from him before. “No. No, you — no. I order you to stay with me.”

The demand surprised you.

“I will do anything you ask. Anything to prevent you from leaving this world. From leaving me. I will sit with you if you choose to go to counseling, I will walk with you if you need fresh air, I will sing with you as soon as you choose a song. I will do anything but leave you alone for days at a time.”

You leaned into his embrace. “I thought that, if I left, you wouldn’t have to put up with me anymore —”

“Nonsense. Nonsense. You can’t scare me away. You aren’t a toy for me to disregard. You are my wife. Anything that hurts you will hurt me, too. Anything that plagues you will plague me, too. We will endure all of life’s obstacles and prove to the stars that our love will persist above all. But you must give yourself that chance… and you must give me the chance to love you from now… all the way until.”

You closed your puffy, tear-stained eyes. “Until…?”

Jumin’s hug relaxed as he lifted your chin, kissing your unbrushed mouth. Your first instinct was to pull away, but he refused to abide.

Realization dawned on you, your husband’s much-needed kiss temporarily clearing the clouds in your head.

“Stay with me,” you breathed, lips still clashing against Jumin’s and tears merging with his. “Stay with me until.”

Jumin pulled your head back by your hair. “I promise.”

[heyharoldsboo]

Happy Valentine's day Bestie.

As gift for all your hard work here is a small snippet for your Weniver heart. I hope you like it.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Wednesday finds herself storming into Xavier’s dorm room after waiting in the quad for 30 minutes before realizing he wasn’t just running late. She hears herself muttering under her breath ways she wanted to kill him before stopping short to find him lying relaxed on his bed, still in the clothes she saw him wear this morning, a book open in his lap, eyes closed shut. 

“Xavier Thorpe. You stood me up because you fell asleep. I have tortured people for less.” She says out loud as she makes her way to the bed, dropping herself next to him and places her hand on his chest ready to shake him awake. Before she can blink an electric current runs up her spine towards her neck and throws her head back. The last thing she sees is his ceiling.

Wednesday quietly takes in her surroundings.  

Darkness. Moonlight shining through a window. A chill from the breeze outside. A melody softly playing. A cello. Warmth. Light from a fire. A fireplace surrounded by dark mahogany wood, Victorian cravings in the frame. A sigh. 

The outtake of breath grabs her attention as she snaps her head to the velvet couch that lays across from the fireplace and its occupants. A man sits in the corner as he watches the flames. The glare from the fire lights up his face and she finds herself staring at Xavier. Only it is not, not the Xavier she knows.This one looks older. It seems he still has kept his hair at its long length, the brown strands falling into his eyes. He looks soft in this light, his eyes unguarded. She watches as his eyes drift down and that is when she notices his hand movement. It runs up and down on something dark. 

Wednesday tries to adjust her eyes in the dim light and finds herself looking at more hair. Black hair. A little girl. In this older Xavier’s lap is a small child, dressed in black and white, sleeping soundlessly in his chest. He looks at the child like…. Like she was something precious, something angelic. 

“It looks like you were right, my love.” His voice rings out, breaking Wednesday concentration . She looks back up to the man only to find him staring right back at her. Directly in her eyes. “It seems she loves the cello. Just like her mother.”

Wednesday feels the rush of air flow back into her lungs as she finds herself staring back at the ceiling of Xavier’s dorm room. 

“Wednesday.” She hears as warm hands cups her shoulder with a slight squeeze. She turns to the voice to find Xaiver awake looking at her with concern under the layer of sleep still lingering on his gaze. 

“What are you doing here?” 

She tries to find her voice but she feels herself still shaken to the core from the scene she just witnessed. What was it? A dream? A fantasy? A vision? She swallows down the unsteady feeling and looks back at the boy to give him a tight lip smile. 

“You never showed up. I was waiting for approximately 30 minutes.” She finds herself answering, feeling a little more like herself as each second passes. 

“The Quad.” He replies, throwing his head back. He moves his hands away from her shoulders to his face as he rubs his eyes before running it through his hair, brushing the brown strands away from his face. “I am so sorry Wednesday. I guess I was more tired than I thought. Didn’t think I would fall asleep.”

“It’s okay.” She hears herself say and sees him look back at her. She takes a second before adding. “Did you have a good sleep?”

She watches as the corners of his lips lift up into a grin. Something flashes across his eyes, almost like recognition she would dare to say. Does that mean it was his dream she saw? Or was it a vision that she happened to stumble upon? Did he know? About her presence?

She watches as he tilts his head to the side, smiling at her with a hint of a teasing smirk and she prepares herself for what he is about to say. 

“Something tells me you already know.”

~*~*~*~*~

Love you.

BESTIEEEEE THIS IS ADORABLE ADORABLE ADORABLE

I LOVE MY GIFT <3<3<3

I NEED MOOOOORE

so so so so soft XAVIER WITH A BABYYYYYY

[joz-yyh]

Rust - Ch. 3 (Preview)

SUMMARY: A “how they got together” and “where they are now” fic in which I detail how Damian and Tardif meet and consequently fall in love. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: T (for preview only!!) The rest of the story is EXPLICIT

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant

WORD COUNT: 1,663

A/N: A little sneak peak at the morning after scene. I am plunging face first into Tardif being a baker (I am making it part of his backstory) and there’s nothing that you can do to stop me. Enjoy! ;)

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Damian wakes to the smell of something decadent, buttery and warm.

He can't place what it is, only that it makes his stomach growl with untamed hunger, but determining the cause comes secondary to rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

It's morning judging by the streaks of light that peek in through the fortified window frames and while the gaps between the boards are hardly enough to fully illuminate the room, it's an acceptable enough supply for raking in his surroundings.

As he sits up in bed, his gaze travels along the old interior walls of the cabin, an ambient cloud of dust drifting amidst the crusty air, dampening the pleasant aroma that he tries not to dwell on.

The space is furnished with minimal, barely lived-in necessities: dresser, side table, chairs and the overarching brick of the fireplace. These worn, charitable things show some signs of repair, the off-color wood of a chair leg, a scraped line of newly sealed cement. The only outstanding sense of personality in the room seems to be a cow skull nailed to the far wall, a reflection of an idiomatic landowner's taste.

"So this is what you've been working on," Damian whispers to himself, giving his thoughts more power to appreciate Tardif's vocations, "Everything was for this." 

The flagellant feels a traitorous swell of pride for his partner, truly convinced that the iron-set mask he wore was only that, a visage to hide the real man underneath. The seemingly unfeeling mercenary was capable of offering so much good to the world, of incredible feats of tenderness if only his skills had a suitable condition for it. He hoped that one day, Tardif would see this and realize it for himself.

"Hn," the surly devil grunts, an affirmation from his side of the bed, gently dozing in and out of consciousness.

So, the bounty hunter had not left him alone at his earliest convenience, but stayed throughout the entire night. This wisdom makes something unnamed coil inside of Damian’s chest, having sworn he heard the footfalls of departure during his restless fits of sleep. 

As brutal hands reach out to reclaim the flagellants' waist, urging him towards the center of the mattress, he thinks perhaps he dreamed it and nothing more.

"Tardif," Damian breathes his name in surprise, relief even, a pitch of admonished reprise clinging to his tone.

"Yer warm," the brute grumbles in a sleep-soaked voice, dragging himself into the dip of the flagellant's lap, his nose nudging against a clothed thigh since the other refuses to budge.

A chill was beginning to creep in, though Damian hardly noticed it, assuming the fire had gone out late that evening.

The blonde can't help the smile that lights up his face, warmed by the endearing sight of the bounty hunter commandeering his leg, apropos of a pillow.

The priest wants to touch, but hesitates, his scuffed hand dangling indefinitely above midnight-colored strands that have fallen out of place, fanned out across an olive-colored ear. 

He knows he shouldn't be afraid, that this gesture shouldn't feel so intimate, but it does. Tardif looks so damn untroubled laying on top of him, the strong breadth of his upper body draped and furled around his meekly clad torso.

Damian lowers his hand in a capricious spoil of indulgence, hating to disturb the beatific picture such a scene made, but unable to drive away the thought that he may never get another chance like this again. 

Tardif inclines his head, inquisitive and acknowledging and Damian pauses, waits for the man to settle deeper into his lap before stroking through his partner's hair, astonished by the softness he finds there.

The blonde makes a few passes, down and then back again, petting the strands into some semblance of order until his fingertips reach the lazy oaf's miniature ponytail. Impulsively, he unwinds the band, letting loose the full mullet of hair, carding through the sea of onyx with avid delight.

"Hrm," Tardif purrs, melting against the man with a contented smirk, "could get used to this."

Emboldened, Damian drags his nails across the shaved sides of the man's scalp, combs through the long mane with his fingers, the rugged tail of scruff ending at the raised knob of a steadfast spine.

His touch wanders then, seduced by the large tattoo on Tardif's arm, one he'd managed to overlook during his previous inspections. He can't quite make out the shapes properly, the angle and muscle contorted, but he deciphers part of it to be the axehead of the bounty hunter's beloved Widowmaker.

Tardif shifts beneath him, a little more awake now, planting a series of kisses along the terrace of scar-stricken skin near his lips. The brute's blunt teeth nip at the inseam of a jutting hip bone, causing the priest to gasp in a scandalous inhale of breath and Tardif is reminded of the hardness between his legs, erection pressed down into the sheets as he licks over a canvas of pale white, earning him a repressed whimper from the man above.

Suddenly, an impromptu alarm sounds and Damian jolts, startled by incessant mechanical ringing.

"What is that infernal noise? One of your traps," Damian asks, only partially irritated by the interruption.

"Muffins are done," Tardif says, pulling himself away with a despondent sigh.

“Muffins," Damian echoes, dubious, as if he's never heard the term before in his life.

"Hn," the bounty hunter grunts, getting up from the bed to attend to the blaring device. "Ye want to try one?"

Damian doesn't answer, torn by the indecision of what to say, already missing the firm tether of the man's bulk, the way such a confident, solid weight added to his form, made it better.

He watches on as the mercenary pads into the kitchen, still shirtless, having the decency to adjust the fit of his trousers.

A full-view of his chiseled back is on display, revealing more arrangements of ink-set designs (the blonde catches a glimpse of wings, beaks and talons), before he turns the corner and they fade into obscurity again.

The priest's curiosity has him skittering in pursuit, earnestly hoping to behold the etchings in their entirety, but once Tardif packs himself into the nook of the cupboards, he keeps a respectable distance.

The bounty hunter pretends not to notice Damian's excitement, preferring not to draw attention to it lest the man conceal it for some prude religious practice so, he carries on with his task, turning off the small, but no less noisy egg timer. 

He opens the oven, reaching for a customary towel rag to wrap his hand in as he pulls out the tray, pleased that the cornmeal hadn't crisped too much around the edges.

Baked confections fill the blonde's senses, the sight of their fluffy, golden mounds a delectable appeal, the unfinished canvas of tattoos momentarily forgotten.

"Makes your mouth water, doesn't it," Tardif remarks, eyeing him with a knowing, sidelong glance and a prideful smirk. 

Damian's heart skips a beat at this guilty pang of truth, his face flushing all the more when he realizes he's still missing his cowl.

"How did you learn such things," Damian asks, brows knotting into complex ridges as he marvels over the saporous muffins.

"My mother was a baker," the bounty hunter says wistfully, melancholy ripe in his voice.

Damian picks up on the usage of past tense – "was" – he said, "was" and a burst of sympathy consumes him, emphatic to partner's loss. Whomever this woman was in life, the two of them must’ve been very close for her memory to provoke such an intense fit of longing.

The flagellant’s arms wrap around him from behind, a swathe of warmth meant to purge him of his grief.

“I am sorry,” he whispers beneath the shell of his partner's ear, placing a comforting kiss against a tanned shoulder, hoping the man would find solace in this small gesture.

“Don’t be. Nothing ye could have done to change it,” Tardif huffs, trying to expel the bitter tragedy from his mind.

"Could …," Damian schools his tone, about to retract his words, but cautiously continues, "could you teach … me?"

“To bake,” the brute asks, both flabbergasted and amused, craning his neck toward the blonde, one daft eyebrow raised.

"Y-yes," Damian answers, thinking back to his brash lesson with Tardif's grappling hook. "but do not feel any obligation. I understand if you–"

Tardif tenses up, his jaw locked, muscles rigid and Damian silently reprimands himself for having brought it up.

For one brief instant, he'd seen how peaceful Tardif looked, his deep affection for this humble craft reaching back into a time before he'd built a castle wall around his heart and foolishly, selfishly, Damian thought he could scale the barrier and break through it onto the other side.

It seems the flagellant has swayed too far from his path, his flail forgotten amidst the disarray of the bedroom, a transgression that needed to be paid for in blood.

"Forgive me, for asking," Damian sighs, woefully repentant, his hold going slack, "I only wished to bring us closer."

The bounty hunter sets the tray aside on the counter along with the rag, his shoulders relaxing by fractions. "How 'bout ye just try one for now," he suggests.

Slowly, the brute twists around, facing the flagellant head-on, the priest accommodating the switch with concerned red eyes, perplexed by the growing intensity of callous hands on his hips.

"Gotta give 'em a few minutes to cool, first," Tardif tells him, reversing their positions in less than a blink.

The huntsman has him pressed up against the edge of the countertop, his well-built arms a sturdy buttress, boxing him in, blocking his escape, not that Damian would want to.

"Thinkin' I could try ye in the meantime," the bounty hunter says.

It's a husky, soliciting suggestion, his mismatched eyes half-lidded with a vicious, predatory glint.

{End Preview}

[illuveterian-archives]

Tale Of The Last Illuveterian - Part 4

When I woke I found myself to be in seemingly the exact same spot and position I had passed out in. However, the area around me looked entirely different. My blood no longer covered the floor, which now appeared to be made of a dark polished wood. There was now a large woven rug beneath me, providing some cushion. To my left was a small coffee table, which looked to be hand crafted and also polished. To my right was a raised hearth of nested fitted stones. They blended out into what was now a wall maybe of a combination of wood and stone. It had no windows. Within the hearth a decent fire flickered. It was considerably small for the room provided to it. High on the wall above the fireplace was a large portrait. A painting I hadn’t seen in a long time. Sunni and I were sitting together in a large armchair, while our siblings and parents stood around and behind us.

In front of me I could see a large oaken door, it was ornate and had gold detailings. I propped myself up carefully and made my way to my feet. I was still in my gown which remained stained crimson. I checked where I had been injured and sighed as each one was fully healed over. I began looking more around at my new surroundings. Directly opposite the oak door on the far wall were some double doors, both of which had windows on them. I made my way to look out to maybe get some semblance of where I was. In the corner by the doors was an old grand piano, I had to walk around it partially to get to the doors.

“This is a little too far out.” I commented to myself as I placed a hand on the key cover. Much to my surprise it then moved on its own to be pushed completely into the corner, leaving the walkway clear. I stared at it for a good few minutes before continuing to make my way to the doors.

Outside the windows I could see a short porch with a swing and a cover. It seemed to wrap around towards the right and I couldn’t see where it ended. Beyond the porch I could see the endless white void. So I was exactly where I had passed out. This house had just crafted itself within the void. I turned back to the fireplace and where I had been on the floor was now filled with a few pieces of leather furniture. A couch, two chairs, and a loveseat. Opposite the fireplace was a tall staircase, above it a small balcony with two doors on it. The stairs came straight down for several steps before rotating to the right, where it met the floor. Examining them further, they also appeared hand crafted and polished, like the coffee table. There were distinct carve marks on each step and large posts which seemed to each be entire tree trunks marked each point in the turn. It had a rail all the way up which was carefully detailed. 

The walkway at the base of the stairs went further away from the living room with one branch off. The break off walkway went behind and under the staircase. It seemed to wrap back to the living room. There were more stairs immediately beneath the ones leading to the indoor balcony, leading down into the floor, curving in the same direction so I couldn’t see what all was down there. I went back to the main path.

Just a bit further there was a small nook out to the right. There was a large table with each seat already set. Once more the table and the chairs each appeared hand made. And further along was a really large kitchen which contained just about everything. I remember staring at it for several minutes just taking all of it in. Eventually I broke myself away to go see what was up the stairs. Once I was on the balcony I turned to look back over the whole of the living area. I was now at the same height as the painting and when I looked at it, my eyes instinctually met my mother’s. I quickly looked away and made my way beyond the doors. 

On the other side was a massive bedroom. In the center was a bed I could only call “huge”. It looked at the very least king sized but it was definitely bigger. The frame itself, like almost every other piece of furniture, was visually handmade, and there was a thick comforter draped all the way to the floor on either side. Star patterns sewn in against a deep purple.. To the left came a shock. Against the far left wall, in a corner, there was a large bathtub. It appeared to be built into the room as it had its own walls and steps leading up to the edge. I decided to ignore that for now. 

Over to the right was something I didn’t expect in the slightest. There was a large triangular window, following the roof line on one side. Outside the window I could see trees and sky. Like the window sat on a mountain cliff. Which of course didn’t make a lick of sense at first because the two doors downstairs just led out to the void of this pocket dimension. Putting too much thought into it made me dizzy so I made my way back to the center of the room. I sat on the end of the bed, still in that gown.

“I need new clothes,” I said aloud to myself, and to my surprise a door appeared near the bathtub. That was something I definitely had to work to get used to. I stood back up and walked to the new door. Beyond it was a considerably large walk in closet. Why every room ended up being so big I do not know, at the time they were quite overwhelming but I’ve adjusted since then.

I picked out some jeans, a button down, and sweater to wear, along with a pair of tennis shoes. I chose not to question how they all fit so well. I looked into the mirror on one of the walls to make sure it looked okay. I believe that was the first time I ever picked out my own clothing, and I was quite proud of it. I was curious how it would look if I tied my hair back. It had become about medium length. However as I held back a small pony tail with my hand all the scars on my forehead became fully visible. I let the hair fall back to cover it.

I made my way back downstairs and over to one of the only two places I hadn’t yet checked. The ornate door in the living room. I had no interest in going down to the basement yet. I pushed down the knob and pulled it open. Outside that door was dense forest. I stepped out and looked back. The door was against an outstandingly massive tree. Redwood. I couldn’t see anything behind the tree to indicate a house of any sort. And the door was seemingly swinging into the trunk itself. With the limited knowledge that I had at that point it didn’t make a lick of sense to me, so I just went back inside and sat on the couch facing the fire which still burned in the hearth.

I sat there for hours, I think, I can’t be certain. I had put myself into something called “soul space”. Which is essentially just my species’ way of disassociating. We withdraw ourselves from our bodies into this room within our minds. When we do this our eyes seem to “catch fire” and visually look like small suns. Which, given my species’ origin, makes sense, I suppose. It’s sort of a physical space we can exist within. Twins share a soul space from birth. So, I now try to avoid it if possible, but occasionally I check, just to make sure she’s not there. The silence is absolutely maddening. I sat in soul space on that couch for a long time.

Once I came out of it, I had decided that I would go to bed then, and when I woke up I would go to find Atticus and Virginia. I wanted to see them again, and let them know I was okay. I went back up the stairs and climbed into bed. The comforter was heavy and the mattress soft. I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow and It was the first actually good sleep I had gotten in years. 

When I woke up it looked like mid afternoon according to the window, however I can never be sure exactly where it’s showing unless it’s a widely recognisable location. I was still wearing the clothing I had put on from the closet, aside from the tennis shoes which I slipped back on. Yawned and stretched to wake myself up before making my way back downstairs. I didn’t know where they were, but I knew I had to find the Millers. That was my first mission, and I was determined to complete it no matter the costs.

I went into the kitchen. Breakfast would come first. I hadn’t eaten in well over a year at that point and I could use the energy boost. On the peninsula island was a bowl of fruit: apples, bananas, and oranges. I picked up an apple and carried it to the sink, washing it off before taking a bite. A red delicious. When I turned back to the peninsula there was something new that definitely wasn’t there just moments prior. It was a newspaper dated September 29th, 1938. The top fold front page story title read in bold: “Horrible car accident kills 2.” As I stared at it I noticed another of the pages seemed to be dog-eared. I finished the apple and tossed the core in a trashcan. It promptly vanished entirely. Lifting the newspaper I unfolded it and flipped to the marked page, brows furrowed. The top of that page read “Obituaries”. There were only two names on it.

Atticus Miller, 28, 1910-1938

Virginia Miller, 25, 1913-1938

I was frozen. That couldn’t be right. They were always so careful, what happened? The front page story. Shakily I closed the newspaper to read it.

HORRIBLE CAR ACCIDENT KILLS 2: On Monday, September 26, a Ford Coup careened off the side of Cadillac Summit Road and caught fire at the bottom of a small valley between the peaks, killing the two occupants later identified by their dental records as Atticus and Virginia Miller. It is unknown as to the cause of the crash, however speculation suggests car issues or drunkenness as the road was in good condition for driving.

I couldn’t read any further. The paper fell from my hands and I collapsed to my knees. That wasn’t an accident. They had been killed because of me. Their death was on my hands. It was my fault. I yelled out to nobody, overwhelmed with despair. They were all I could have had. And now I was left with nothing.

That was when an entirely new emotion washed over me, something I wasn’t used to for sure. Rage. They were all going to pay. Each and every single one of them. I stood from the floor, my face was neutral but anger coursed through me. That rage lasted for at most a minute before I came to my senses. I was still angry, that was certain, but that was overwhelmed by mostly sadness. The rage didn’t feel like me at all. I left the newspaper on the counter and went into the living room. 

On the coffee table there were two things, another newspaper, and an open 1946 calendar which had two dates circled in red. The first date circled was November 3rd, and in the box was written “escape”. The next date was November 12th, which read “today”. Since I had initially woken up the day before I concluded that meant I was unconscious on the floor for 8 days.

The Newspaper, which was dated November 11th’s front page header read: “Investigation Causes Saint Neumann’s Asylum Closure. Staff Arrested.” I read on.

On Monday, November 4th, an investigation was sparked into the Saint Neumann’s Asylum after a manhunt raised suspicion. Many patients have seemingly vanished from the hospital’s grounds with little searching done in years past, but after one particular patient’s escape on Sunday evening, many staff rounded up local men to track down the patient. The hospital’s reasoning for such a search out of nowhere was that the escaped patient was incredibly dangerous to both himself and the public, though they wouldn’t release his name or where he could be. Police searched the nearby woods and-

I put the paper back down. I already knew what went on within those walls. A smile crossed my face as tears fell. At least I did one good thing.

[tru-3-beauty]

Misfortune Chapter 3

I felt a lot of softness around me, which is weird because my bed and sheets have never been this soft.  Whatever is going on can wait. I have never felt this level of comfort in all my life.

It is best not to think about it too much and enjoy this rare joy of pleasant softness.  It feels like I am in a cocoon made of clouds.  Now, this is something I would not mind staying in for the rest of my life.  I truly believe nothing can get me to wake up and get me out of this snuggly tropical paradise.

"Come on, my big strong hunk, it is time to get up."  A soft voice whispered into my ear.

Now, that caused me to wake up with a start.  I looked over, and lying beside me was a woman I did not know.  When I saw her, I yelped and tumbled out of the bed I was sharing with this strange woman.

"Are you okay, dear?" She asked in a worried tone.  As I get off the floor, I look at her better.  All I can think is she is the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen.

On top of her head is platinum blonde hair that cascades down her back.  Big blue eyes that can put sapphires to shame.  Her oval-shaped face has no blemishes to ruin her milky white skin.  The sheer red nightie barely reaching her thighs shows off her incredible double-D breasts and perfectly toned body.

"Who are you?" I ask while wondering what the hell is happening.

"Don't be silly, sweetie.  I am your wife, Kamilla.  Remember?" She stated that I was joking around with her.

"Wife?" I let out a squeaky whisper.  How on earth did I score this bomb cell as a wife?  It does not make any sense.  That is when I notice that I am not in my bedroom.  I don’t believe I am in my apartment anymore as well.

First is the bed, a large four-poster king-sized bed.  Dark brown mahogany wood made the bed frame, with leaves edged in an exquisite design at the head.  In the center of the headboard was "Baethan+Kamilla," written in calligraphy.  The foot of the frame was my last name, "Roberts," written in the same way, basically making up the entire foot of the bed frame.  Golden silk sheets with a thick red blanket on top covered the bed.  The blanket had golden lines decorated on the sides.

I took a look around and saw that the room was enormous.  A lit fireplace was on the opposite side of the room where the bed was.  Couches and chairs surround a coffee table—giant painted portraits of Kamilla and me.  A few looked like we were in romantic settings, and one looked like we were getting married.  The decorations and furniture were all matching with each other.

"Come on, Dear.  It is time for breakfast." She says while getting out of bed and wearing a short silk red robe.

Just then, I heard a knock at the large double doors.

"It is open!" Kamilla calls out like she already knows who is behind the doors.  Then, two Mexican maids walked in, and they were wearing what a lot of people consider to be French maid uniforms.  They are leaving nothing to the imagination.

They were holding two sets of clothes.  It seems like one is for me, and the other is for my "wife."

"Thank you.  You may go now." Kamilla said to them in such a formal way.  The two maids handed us the clothes and bowed deeply before me.  I could see the top of their breasts.  And the view was magnificent.  I could already feel my pants getting tighter.  As they left, I couldn't help but stare at their backsides until they left.

If I didn't have a boner, I have one now.  I wanted to scream to the heavens.  What is going on?  My head is in such a whirl.  So much so that I never heard Kamilla call my name.

"Baethan.  Do you need help getting dressed?"  She said as I finally snapped out of whatever stupor I was in.  I see that she is only in her bra and panties.  Yep, all my blood rushed to the lower head.  She stares at it and giggles.

"It seems breakfast will have to wait until I care for your little problem." She said seductively, and I already know where this is going.

30 MINUTES LATER

I have never been so satisfied.  Kamilla sure knows how to please a man.  I wonder if those Mexicans will do a threesome with me, and Kamilla can watch.  I am optimistic they will all agree to my offer.  Right now, my attention is on this beautifully fancy breakfast before me.

In front of me was Caviar Butter on a toasted bagel and Lobster scrambled eggs.  I am astonished, especially how even the dining room is so elegant that I don't care about the details.  Kamilla is sitting right next to me in a plunging neckline red dress. At the same time, I was in a golden Armani suit that made me look and feel like a million bucks.  As she was enjoying her meal, I couldn't help but ask her a question.

"Hey Hun, what are our plans for today?" I ask with a lot of curiosity, for I still do not know what is happening.  I want answers, and I am tired of all that is going on around me.

"Dearie, you don't have much on your agenda today.  Although you have company coming over, you want me to 'entertain' them in front of you." She says with a blush dusted on top of her cheekbones.  That strongly hints at what she means by "entertain," I cannot wait to see that show.

"Don't I have a job to go to?  A 9-5?" I asked her so I could get a better idea of what was going on around here.

"You do not have to go anywhere, Baethan.  All we must do is stay here and have fun all day and night." She says with such enthusiasm over the whole idea.

"But how can we afford everything here and live like this?" I ask, feeling very confused about it all.

"You do not need to worry about that.  Everything is taken care of." She tells me like it was nothing.  Ok, I need to get to the bottom of this. I could contact that Pluto guy or whatever his name is.  He better tell me what is going on and where I am.  I'll call him after breakfast.  No way am I going to let this go to waste.

I had to make an excuse to the wife to have some privacy with this guy.  She will not care since she only wants to please me.

"Hey, I am going back to the room.  I need to make an important call with an old friend.  Why don't you finish cleaning up the table without me." I told her.  Kamilla smiles and nods while shooing me away with her hands.

That was all the convincing I needed as I returned to what looked like a guest bedroom.  It is almost similar to the bedroom but smaller and less personalized, with a different color scheme.

"Okay, I need to calm down and think about how to contact that Pluto guy," I say as I try not to freak out.

"It is a lot easier than you think." A voice calls out from behind, causing me to almost jump out of my skin.  I turn around and see that guy who I talked to yesterday.

“Pluto.  What is going on here? And where the hell am I?” I ask while letting out all the frustration and confusion building up inside.

“First off, my name is Plutus.  Second, you are where you always wanted to be.  Treated like royalty, married to a woman who will spread her legs at your command, your harem, and riches without working for it.” He states to me in a way that makes my brain feel fuzzy.

“How is that possible?” I ask as I shake off that weird feeling.  All of this can not be real.

“Does it matter?  All you can do now is enjoy all your heart's desires forever.  And nothing will ever stop you or take your newly required lavish lifestyle.”  He tells me, and my head is getting fuzzy again.

He has a point.  I can do what I want now.  I can indulge in all of this.  I don’t have to worry about anything anymore.

“You are right, Plutus.  You gave me a new chance to live out my best life.  You are the best man.  Thanks for everything.” I tell him with so much enthusiasm.  I leave the room and head back to the dining room.  I will start with a bit of fantasy with two of the maids while my wife watches.  It will be an opener for the main event with the company that will come over.

Today will be the start of the rest of my life.

Read more of this:

Misfortune: original

Misfortune Chapter 1

Misfortune Chapter 2

Misfortune Chapter 4

Misfortune Chapter 5

[bedbreakfastoregon]

Oregon Bed and Breakfast: Where Comfort Meets Adventure

Oregon Bed and Breakfast: Where Comfort Meets Adventure

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Indulge in a soothing soak in the outdoor hot tub, where you can soothe your muscles while gazing up at the star-studded sky. The clear, dark skies of Oregon provide some of the best stargazing opportunities in the country, and there's nothing quite like the peacefulness of a quiet evening spent under the stars.

Inside, the common areas are equally inviting. The cozy living room, with its stone fireplace and comfortable seating, is the perfect place to gather with fellow travelers or simply enjoy a quiet evening by the fire. A selection of board games, books, and movies are available for your entertainment, ensuring that even on rainy days, you'll find plenty to do.

Farm-to-Table Dining Experience

One of the highlights of staying at the Oregon Bed and Breakfast is the farm-to-table dining experience. Breakfast is a true delight, featuring a variety of homemade dishes prepared with fresh, local ingredients. From fluffy pancakes topped with Oregon's famous marionberries to savory omelets filled with seasonal vegetables, the menu is designed to showcase the best of the region's produce.

Many of the ingredients used in the kitchen are sourced directly from the inn's own garden, where herbs, vegetables, and fruits are grown organically. The innkeepers take great pride in their garden and are always happy to give guests a tour, sharing tips on sustainable gardening practices and the joys of growing your own food.

In addition to breakfast, the inn offers picnic baskets for guests heading out on a day of adventure. These thoughtfully prepared meals are perfect for enjoying in the great outdoors, whether you're picnicking by a mountain lake or taking a break on a scenic hike. And for those who prefer to dine in, the inn can arrange for a private, candlelit dinner, served in the comfort of your room or in a secluded spot on the property.

Immersing in Local Culture

Beyond the natural beauty and outdoor activities, Oregon is rich in culture and history. The Oregon Bed and Breakfast is a gateway to exploring the local heritage, from the historic towns and villages to the vibrant arts scene.

A short drive from the inn, you'll find charming small towns like Hood River and Bend, where you can stroll through art galleries, browse local boutiques, and sample craft beers at one of the many microbreweries. These towns are also home to numerous festivals and events throughout the year, celebrating everything from music and art to food and wine.

For history buffs, the region offers a fascinating glimpse into Oregon's past. Visit the nearby Oregon Trail Interpretive Center to learn about the pioneers who journeyed westward in search of a better life. The center's exhibits and living history demonstrations bring the story of the Oregon Trail to life, providing a deeper understanding of the challenges and triumphs of the early settlers.

Sustainable Travel

At the Oregon Bed and Breakfast, sustainability is a core value. The inn is committed to minimizing its environmental impact through eco-friendly practices such as energy-efficient lighting, water conservation, and waste reduction. Guests are encouraged to participate in these efforts, with recycling bins provided in each room and information on how to reduce energy use during their stay.

The inn also supports local conservation initiatives, working with organizations dedicated to preserving Oregon's natural landscapes and wildlife. By choosing to stay at the Oregon Bed and Breakfast, you are not only enjoying a memorable vacation but also contributing to the protection of the environment.

A Memorable Experience Awaits

Whether you're seeking a peaceful retreat in nature or an adventure-filled getaway, the Oregon Bed and Breakfast offers the best of both worlds. With its comfortable accommodations, stunning surroundings, and endless opportunities for exploration, it's the perfect destination for travelers who want to experience all that Oregon has to offer.

Looking for places to stay in Sumpter Oregon? Perhaps you're searching for Sumpter Oregon lodging? Or maybe you typed in b&b near me while planning your trip? Look no further! Book your stay today at Sumpter Bed and Breakfast and discover why so many guests return year after year. Whether you're planning a romantic weekend, a family vacation, or a solo journey, you'll find that the Oregon Bed and Breakfast is a place where comfort truly meets adventure, making it one of the best places to stay in Oregon. Whether you're after a vacation rental by owner in Oregon or seeking the charm of a b&b in Oregon, this is your perfect escape.

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