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[inkedtae]

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[inkedtae]

posting schedule

•.¸♡ welcome to my official posting schedule ♡¸.•

banners/border by dee ( @awrkives ) | last updated : 28 december 2024

i’ve been thinking about how to keep things consistent and exciting, so i’m thrilled to share my new plan with you! moving forward, i’ll be posting twice a month on thursdays. i hope this schedule makes it easy for you to keep up with my writing and gives you something to look forward to each month!

: ̗̀➛ here’s how it’ll work:

⭐︎ one thursday will be dedicated to updates for an ongoing series (right now, that’s rotten angelcake) ⭐︎ the other thursday will feature something fun and new—a one-shot, a drabble, or maybe even a little surprise treat!

please feel free to reach out anytime with questions, suggestions, or just to say hi—i absolutely love hearing from you.

thank you for all your support and for making this such a lovely space to share my stories. sending all my love to you!

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

⭐︎ please note that all titles, possible release dates, ratings, pairings, and summaries are subject to change. wanna see a fic for your bias? lemme know here. ✩

⌁ rotten angelcake ⇾ kth. | 25 january    ⤜ summary: she’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten. this is a series of drabbles following the complicated relationship between a sugar baby, sugar daddy and his corruption kink.

⌁ beneath midnight ⇾ bgc. | 31 january    ⤜ based on the railway m/v    ⤜ summary: undetermined

⌁ rotten angelcake ⇾ kth. | 13 february    ⤜ summary: she’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten. this is a series of drabbles following the complicated relationship between a sugar baby, sugar daddy and his corruption kink.

⌁ what time is it, mr fox? ⇾ kjs. | 27 february   ⤜ based on the tale of mr fox    ⤜summary: castle fox chimes thrice every night. curious as to why you’re the only one stirring awake, you decide to investigate. you regret to not doing so sooner. 

⌁ rotten angelcake ⇾ kth. | 13 march    ⤜ summary: she’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten. this is a series of drabbles following the complicated relationship between a sugar baby, sugar daddy and his corruption kink.

⌁ fic undetermined | 27 march    ⤜ summary: undetermined

please do not steal my content; this includes reposting, copying, and translating my work without my permission.

[inkedtae]

okay please don’t hate me but i think i’m in a writing slump or something! i have barely written a thing for the next rotten chapter 😭 like i have the whole thing planned in my head but words are hard sometimes and all this to say i am pushing back the posting schedule one week to give myself time to get it together and write something ! i’m really sorry 🥺💗

[inkedtae]

marked by krampus ⇾ kth. [M]

⎡he is sinister, scorching sinful souls. you are chaos, constantly craving calamity. will his darkness be the reason you discover there’s always pleasure in pain?⎦

⌁ pairing; krampus!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.)

⌁ genre; twisted christmas au, monster kink, s2l, some angst, smut, 18+

⌁ word count; 11.1k

⌁ summary; the villagers summon krampus to punish you for your misdeeds however, instead of wrath, monstrous, sultry power captivates you. what starts as fear quickly turns into desire as he claims you in ways you never expected.

⌁ warnings; dark themes: mentions/depictions of violence, harassment, arson, discrimination, blood, death, religious intervention, and blasphemy; explicit sex: hard dom!taehyung, brat-tamer!taehyung, sub!reader, brat!reader, virgin!reader, bdsm themes, sadism/masochism, exhibitionism, light masturbation (m.), prey/predator play, spit play, ruined orgasm, monster kink, size kink, praise kink, oral (m. and f. receiving), public sex unprotected sex, deep throating (his tongue), spanking, teasing, edging, biting, scratching, begging

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

༄ prefer ao3? keep reading here

༄ a huge thanks to jen ( @itaeewon ) for making this sexy ass banner for me, and my amazing beta-reader, jen ( @anobodyslove​ )

༄ please enjoy this final Taecember fic :)

Brittle cold settles into your bones, but molten heat simmers in your veins. Vengeance knows only one name—and it is yours. Flames dance in your dark eyes, the crackle and pop of the fire like a sweet melody of smouldering justice. As you gaze upon the burning wreckage of the refined oak building, a wicked smirk tugs on the corner of your plush, wine-stained lips.

You are wrath incarnated and you reap calamity.

“Filthy, wicked girl!” Sister Margaret scolds, yanking on your hair. 

You clench your jaw, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of a pained grunt.

The judgemental eyes of the village watch as the Sisters drag you down the snowy road, pulling you away from the damage you’ve caused and into the forest. Pastor Fischer leads the way. He mutters prayers under his breath and waves a bundle of incense, cleansing the air of your negative energy. 

Despite what the sacrosanct village of Dreadmere may claim, you are not hell-spawn, nor are you a beacon of evil and impurity. No, you are not a witch. And no, you did not murder your parents. Your father abandoned you before your birth. And, the week before your tenth year, your mother realised that she wouldn’t find a husband with a child latched to her side. You were relieved, for the first time in your pathetic life, when you woke to an empty house. It was cold and dark, but the air felt lighter in the absence of oppressive criticism, and violence. 

No one died, for fuck’s sake—not then and not now.

However… you may have played into the rumors in hopes that the villagers would leave you be. Even at ten, you should’ve known better than to expect this pious village wouldn’t try to exorcise you—you grew up there, after all.

The modest Sisters of Saint Nicholas’s Chapel took you in shortly after your first… outburst. For the record, Hugo Fischer got himself punched in the face when he insinuated that you were too big to fit through the school door. He also fell out the window because he tripped over his own two feet. You just happened to be walking by when it happened, muttering your favourite nursery rhyme in Latin—the devil’s tongue. It didn’t matter what you said in the end though, because Hugo was beloved and you were apparently homicidal.

And so, the Sisters claimed you as their purity project. Every day, you cooked all their meals and cleaned every corner of their church in hopes that it would instill some degree of discipline in you—spoiler: it did not. And every night, Sisters Gisila, Margaret and Mona would sit you down before the altar of Saint Nicholas to perform purity rituals. You would sit in the center of a candle-lit circle and the Sisters would pray to Saint Nicholas, begging him to save your soul. After sending you to bed—an old, broken frame abandoned in the attic—Sister Margaret would sneak into Pastor Fischer’s office, gasping and moaning in the dark. Meanwhile, Sister Mona would slip out the back door to meet his wife by the barn. 

In retrospect, you think all those prayers only further seared your wrath into your soul. You never wanted sanctity, nor did you crave religious intervention. You just wanted a life without sanctimonious fuckers imposing their hypocritical values onto you. 

Last night, you had hoped that you would finally be able to leave the village. The church would have no claim on you now that you’ve turned twenty-one. However, Pastor Fischer had different plans. Instead of meeting the Sisters by the altar, he asked you to visit his office. You sat before his dark oak desk as he stared at you with an unsettling smile.  

“You must rebuke the wickedness within you, girl,” Pastor Fischer said, raking his eyes over your full curves.“Marriage is the holiest of rituals. It will banish your demons once and for all.”

“Then why can I still see your horns, Pastor?” you asked.

You expected him to sneer more insults or curse you back to Hell, but instead he smiled in his usual charismatically devious way. 

“You know my son, don’t you?” he asked. “Hugo?”

“I’m not marrying Hugo.”

“I apologise if I gave you the impression that you have a choice, witch,” he seethed. Before you could spit an equally accurate insult back, Pastor Fischer ordered, “Strip.”

“Excuse me?”

“Stand up and strip. I need to ensure that you are physically acceptable for my Hugo,” he explained. His crystal blue eyes shamelessly devoured your curves. He stood and ushered you to do the same. You regrettably registered the tent under his robes instead.

Something within you finally snapped. That little part hidden deep in your blacked soul, festering in resentment and fury, had broken free from the chains of self-restraint. For years you’ve been making yourself smaller; cooking, cleaning, attending those stupid nightly rituals, waiting for the day you turned twenty-one. If playing the role of demon did not scare the village into leaving you alone, you thought you could perhaps pretend to be ‘saved’ long enough to be free. You endured years of watching the village pretend to be pious during the day only for the streets to be filled with moans and groans and drunken singing throughout the night. 

You’d had enough.

Holding Pastor Fischer’s gaze, you slowly stood and circled his desk. He leaned forward, already panting like the little bitch he was. You resisted the urge to cringe, stopping a mere inch away from his lips. His breath reeked of boiled cabbage and beer. As he tried to close the gap between your lips, you swiftly punched his stumpy cock. He groaned, falling to his knees instantly.

His wife walked in as you spat in his face, her features morphed into horror as she screamed.

Now, your smirk widens at the memory. His pain, her fear, the confusion of the Sisters—ugh, you miss that! The power, the satisfaction of knowing that they are terrified of you and what you can do is something you have so dearly missed. Pretending to be good has gotten you nowhere and you have been craving for the chance to torture them the same way they have been torturing you. 

So, yes—you lit their precious church on fire. And yes, you also cut the rope at the well so they could not easily put out the flames. They do not deserve a church, and they sure as Hell do not deserve Saint Nicholas’ forgiveness.

You fix your vengeful gaze upon the thick smoke rising from the burning church as they continue to drag you away. It clouds the darkening skies, and you finally find your first moment of peace in eleven years. While you may have your wrist and ankles bound with thick rope, and the Sisters may be trudging you deeper into the dense forest to accept your punishment, you do not regret a single spark of that holy fire. Their sacred church will burn to the ground for that is where it belongs. 

“We have been generous and patient,” Sister Mona says as Pastor Fischer stops at a clearing. “But you are too unholy to save.”

Sisters Margaret and Gisila groan, starting to hoist you up and tie you to the stake in the middle of the clearing. Meanwhile, Pastor Fischer finishes the last of his prayers. They have been incoherent for the most part because he was either mumbling or speaking in German. You were sure it was more of the same “please banish this evil soul” bullshit everyone always says around you until you hear his name. You do not know German as well as you know Latin, the Sisters often speak the latter, but you are certain you recognise one name—Krampus.

Fear seeps into your bones. 

You are not a worshipper, but that does not mean you are not a believer. While you may not revere Saint Nicholas like the rest of Dreadmere, you still deeply believe in his existence—and his brother’s. A Saint of a different kind, Krampus is punishment personified. There are no altars raised in his name, no hymns sung in his honour. Instead, bedtime tales of caution are shared, passages of reverence are whispered. The generational terror he inspires is devotion enough.

Well, enough for everyone else. 

The village of Dreadmere is dark and impish, thriving in impurity thanks to an annual sacrifice. On the eve of Saint Nicholas' birthday, one villager is chosen to be offered to Krampus. In return, he shall spare the village punishment for their sins. The villagers, however, have always feared sacrificing you. They worried Krampus might find you unworthy and lash out, punishing them instead.

It seems you’ve finally pushed them beyond caring.

And the thought of being sacrificed to Krampus is… You swallow thickly. All your so called outbursts have been in the name of a justice you would have otherwise been denied. You had cause, even if no one else was willing to admit it. Your parents abandoned you, the village bullied you and the worshippers of Saint Nicholas tried to brainwash you. Violence, arson, blasphemy—you did what was necessary to protect yourself, to express yourself. You’re tired of being robbed of that and you don’t regret a single curse you’ve spat or match you’ve lit. 

Still, you do not want to be sacrificed and least of all to him. You’ve heard the screams, the pleads, the crunch of bones before silence finally settles over the night. 

Pastor Fischer must see the blood drain from your face for his eyes gleam with smug satisfaction. He smiles in his usual grotesque way, all yellowish teeth and wrinkled skin. “You shall finally be punished,” he sneers. “And we shall be free from your devilry.”

“It is not my demons you should fear, Pastor,” you snap, attempting to mask your fear beneath layers of burning fury. “Your own impurities will be your undoing. A beast like Krampus can only be subdued for so long.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Sister Mona scoffs, eyes narrowed as she looks down her nose at you. The scent of her judgment is thick—strange, considering she’d just spent the last hour suffocating beneath the folds of Pastor Fischer’s wife.

“Because I am one too.”

Punishment personified, Taehyung wonders from his place in the shadows. Is that all I am to you, little nightmare?

He’s not complaining—not really, anyway. He just expected more from the Terror of Dreadmere. Where is the reverence you claim others hold for him in your sweet tone? He has devoured some of your worst abusers in the last few years and his entire existence is reduced to two words? You could’ve drawn a more vivid image of that. 

And you need to stop pretending to be so afraid. Yes, he may be a beast, but you just declared yourself one too. You’re the same girl who once set Sister Mona’s hair alight for denying you a glass of wine at supper, aren’t you? The one who punched Hugo Fischer in the face, shoved him out a window, and humiliated the pastor last night—all for little more than a laugh. And that barely scratches the surface of your transgressions. You didn’t even mention the times you poisoned the village well, leaving everyone bedridden so the roads were quiet enough to sleep undisturbed. What about your annual ritual of desecrating Nick’s altar? Is that just another little act of blasphemy that no one dares speak of? 

Don’t sell yourself short, little nightmare. You’ve never pretended to be good. You’ve simply grown more adept at hiding the fact that you’re anything but. What was it the other demons said about you? You put the dread in Dreadmere?

Oh—look at you right now! All alone and helpless, pathetically struggling against Sister Gisila’s sailing knots. Now, that’s just downright adorable. You’re shaking and Taehyung is well aware that it has nothing to do with the cold biting your delicate skin. Brimming with fury, you throw your head back and scream at the midnight sky in defiance against their judgement. Even with your hair dishevelled, clothed in a threadbare nightgown, you blaze with beauty, stirring primal heat within his beastly body in ways he never imagined possible. The worn cotton clings to your voluptuous curves, wet from being dragged through the snow. Your full chest heaves, nipples pebble from the cold, and he can even see the v-shaped outline of your crotch under the curve of your stomach.

Taehyung can feel all the blood in his body rush to his cock. He looks down at his dark pants in confusion. He’s had erections, had fucked coutless demons—even if they smelled foul and tasted even worse. But it often takes him a while to get this hard. He’s always been so embarrassed by that fact, rubbing the back of his neck when anyone tried to captivate his sexual attention. Only after hours of foreplay does his body finally catch up to the heated moment, and by then he has already finger or tongue-fucked his sexual endeavour to their breaking point. 

But here you are—bound and nearly naked. You look deliciously desperate to be free, and oh how Taehyung would love to be the one that grants you such a sweet relief. His cock throbs at the thought and he stifles a deep-chested groan. Huffing quietly, he tries to compose himself, leaning his strong forearm against the sturdy tree he’s been lurking behind.

Could…Could it be you, he wonders as his thick cock strains against his trousers. My mate?

It’s pathetic—Taehyung knows it is. He has a reputation for being a big, bad beast and yet he’s desperate for love. He is well aware of the cliché and wants to hurl at the notion as well. However, even the most devious creatures need to share their twisted desires with someone. For years, Taehyung has been searching for that person, the one that makes his stomach warm with something other than vengeful justice. And he’d be lying if he said it wouldn’t be nice to have sex with someone without burning them with his arousal or release. All the demons and Saints he managed to get hard for and finally fuck have nearly died from the searing scars his cum had left behind. Taehyung never knew why his cock was so toxic, but it turned out his brother had the same issue. When asked, Nick said some bullshit about the Saintliness of his essence and how his one true mate will be the only one able to endure it.  

Taehyung decides to think about that later as his hungry gaze trails over your body again. He takes his time, tracing every curve, fold and dip of your trembling frame. His cock throbs at the whimpering sight, feeding into his suspicions.

He needs to pull himself together. Resting his head on the tree now, he closes his eyes and inhales deeply. He tries to recall more of that conversation with Nick. There was something about scents, right? If you are his mate, you’d be attracted to his scent. He realises he’s going to have to get really close to confirm his suspicions. 

The soft whisper of rope against wood draws him out of his thoughts. He looks back at your struggling figure. You yank at the restraints again. 

If he wants to kill me, he’ll have to catch me first, you foolishly think, gorgeous face scrunched in determination.

Taehyung smirks. You’re so cute. Trying to break out of sailing knots is one thing, but thinking you can outrun a Saint is something else entirely. Ambitious does not even begin to describe you. You are ruthless, uncompromising, insatiable—everything a nightmare should be.

Rolling his shoulders back, Taehyung heavily sighs. He stands at his full seven-foot-four height, grounding his hooves into the snow. A soft crunch sounds under his weight and you snap your head towards him. The fear in your wide eyes tightens his chest. He doesn’t want to scare you, but it smells so good on you. The adrenaline laced between your scent—sweet and intoxicating, like wild cherries dripping with honey and a faint hint of smoky amber—makes his head swim. The intensity reminds him of thunderstorms and untamed forests. Not to mention, you look so beautiful terrified, bottom lip quivering, eyes watering, cheeks heating. 

Fuck—trying to control his erection is futile. One whiff of you and he’s on the verge of cumming in his pants. Taehyung cannot hold back his low groan this time, hoping that releasing it will soothe his desire.

Your fearful scent thickens in the cold air. It tastes like a dying ember and honeyed wine. Taehyung licks his lips, practically drooling already. He draws in a final, long breath and exhales slowly before finally emerging from the shadows. 

“My, my,” he growls as a smirk tugs on his lips, “what a beautiful catastrophe you are, little one.”

Your reckoning has arrived. Your fate is sealed. So, why are you suppressing a moan? Is death supposed to be this…electrifying? Is Krampus supposed to sound—to look like chaotic, carnal sex incarnated? 

Muffled crunches of snow sound beneath his heavy, hooved steps. He slowly stalks forward, standing straighter as your eyes trace his monstrous frame. He’s a respectable distance away but still manages to loom over you, imposing and commanding. His eyes are molten amber, glowing with menacing intentions. They lock with yours, a predatory gleam flickering beneath the surface. Your heart tightens in your chest as you realise it’s not just a gaze—it’s an assessment, a piercing study that makes you feel smaller, insignificant. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you’re nothing but a mere toy for his amusement.

Desperate to escape his stare, you continue to scan his face. His sharp jawline and exaggerated features twist and shift, monstrous in their definition. It’s as though his human aspects were never quite meant to exist. A perfect, pale face is tainted with the slightest ashen grey, the skin stretched tight, almost unnatural and otherworldly. Deep red streaks through his wild, messy hair, matching the untamed brutality of his demeanour. 

However,  it’s his horns that make your lips part, your own features no doubt caught between awe and terror. Massive, twisted, his horns rise from his skull, curving backward like the horns of a ram, jet-black with veins of gold and crimson pulsing through them. They seem alive, thriving on twisted power. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by the idea that they are perfect for gripping as he pounds into you, core clenching. 

Fuck—what is wrong with you? How could you think such thoughts when you are staring death in his strangely handsome face? 

His buff chest puffs out before him, as if he’s holding in a deep chuckle. You continue your examination of him at the gesture. You’re not surprised to find his body is that of an apex predator—large, strong and unbreakable. Each muscle is sculpted with precision, yet still holds the rawness of someone who has never known restraint. His chest and arms glimmer in the dim torchlight of the clearing, his skin thick and leathery in some parts. It reminds you of the hide of some ancient creature the Sisters once described. Veins pulsate beneath it, glistening like they carry a deadly current. Every step he takes reverberates, his hooves sending a sharp clatter through the frozen air. And his tail—an impossibly long, spiked thing—whips behind him, furred and lethal, a warning in itself. As if it can hear your thoughts, his tail moves slower, curling and diving around the cold air.

You swallow thickly and redirect your gaze to his hands. 

Oh, gods, those hands. They’re enormous. Ending in black claws, you don’t doubt they’re sharp enough to tear you apart with a single swipe. They glisten like obsidian in the moonlight, carrying a dark promise of pain. And yet, you cannot stop imagining what it would feel like to have your neck fisted within one of them. He wouldn’t just hold you—he’d possess you, leaving no part of you untouched. And instead of devouring you, he’d violate your very essence.

You tear your attention away from him. Looking back at the road leading to Dreadmere, you wonder if this is how it started for the villagers. Did they have unholy thoughts too when they were this close to someone that smelled so…irresistible? Did the impulse, the primal urge to fulfil their desires overwhelm them like it does for you right now? Is it something about being caught in the dead of night, nearly naked and bound, that unravels hidden cravings?

Perhaps you are simply that wicked. You can’t believe you’re even thinking this, but…maybe Pastor Fischer and the Sisters were right to try to pray your evilness away. You’re standing here, slowly losing feeling in your toes and fingers, tied, trembling and aching to be touched by a monster. Could your misdeeds have darkened your soul enough to lust after beasts? 

Just kill me, you mentally plead as your arousal pools at your core. You’ve only ever touched yourself and you’d happily die a virgin if it means you don’t have to spend another second trying to understand why you are so attracted to a demonic Saint.

“You don’t want to die yet,” he says, voice low and raspy. “We’re just getting started.”

Your eyes widen. The cold sinks deep into your bones, his voice rattling you to your core. Still, it’s the fact that he just read your fucking mind that makes your breath hitch. You wonder if he’s just that devious or if it has anything to do with the fact that he’s a celestial Saint.

“Maybe both,” he offers, smirking in a way that should be threatening, but only makes him that much more handsome.

His smirk widens. 

Shit—did he just hear that too? 

You wonder if he has been doing this the entire time. Did he catch that thing you said about his horns? What about that thought about being choked by his huge hands? Does he know you’re aching for him? 

Krampus tilts his head, drinking in your fullness. You question whether or not you still have your nightgown on at the gesture. You squirm under his sexual scrutiny, clit buzzing from the brief of friction. His golden gaze, a vibrant colour like liquid sunlight, snaps back to meet yours. You expect to find disgust within them, to suddenly be filled with the same shame you often feel around the Sisters or Pastor. You expect to be burning with rage again because you hate feeling so small, but instead you are greeted with unbidden yearning. No one has ever looked at you with such determined desire. 

His fingers twitch at his sides before curling into fists, like he’s trying to restrain himself. He clears his throat, the ragged sound resonating in the base of your stomach. Your toes curl, blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“Speak,” he demands, voice rougher than before.

And just like that your rage returns, searing your heart with contempt. Narrowing your gaze, you declare through gritted teeth, “I am not your pet.”

The spark of intrigue that flickers in his eyes wavers your resolve. You bet he likes that idea and is probably imagining it as he looks over your curves again. You can’t help your thoughts from diving into what it would be like either. He’d likely collar you like a pup, and yank on your leash when he needs your attention. You wonder if he would allow you some articles of clothing or constantly leave you bare and prepared for him. Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t killed you yet. He wants you to be his new little pet. 

A wave of discomfort sobers your salacious thoughts at the possibility that you may not be his first obsession. Does he make pets out of his other favourable sacrifices? Does he collect them for his own gluttonous pleasure? 

Your gut twists in disgust at the thought of being like the rest. You refuse to be another little human, used and abused. You will either die now on your own terms, or tear yourself free and bolt into the dark forest. Tugging on the rope, you bite back a wince as the rough material scratches against your skin. You look up at it, daring to try again when the rope rubs further against your tender wounds. 

“Is defiance a matter of pride for you,” Krampus starts, inching closer. Your attention remains on your wrists, still fighting against the restraints.

“Or,” he’s an arm’s length away now, his bulky body engulfing you in darkness, “is it just a bad habit we’ve yet to break?”

“We?” you ask with far more indignation than you know you should show. Your survival instincts must be surfacing if you suddenly want to control your lashing tongue. Somehow you find that to be the most embarrassing part of this oddly sexual interaction.

Krampus slowly brings one of his huge hands towards you. Despite your efforts, you cannot stop your bottom lip from trembling. His shadow snuffs out the dim light of the torches around the clearing, but you can still make out the outline of his claws as they near your face. You do not whimper, nor do you flinch. Instead you stay still, eyes fluttering shut as you accept your fate. You know this is the part where you cry and plead for your life, but you feel like there is no better time to go than after rejecting a Saint. More than that, you are dying from the consequences of your own hostility. You can leave this world knowing it was your doing, your choice and not the decision of the villagers.

The sudden sound of retracting claws slices through the silence. You snap your eyes open just as his hand brushes over your face. Tender, gentle, he caresses your cold skin, warming you within seconds. His thumb traces the curve of your lips then the point of your chin. You wonder if you were wrong before. Maybe he does not have a harem of humans, because he touches you like he has never been this intimately close to one. 

The amber in his eyes glows like gilded flames, dancing with delicate danger. Your skin slowly warms against the winter frost, heat gingerly radiating from his hand into your flesh.

“Do you still want to run?” Krampus asks. 

Confusion creases between your brows. He says that, like you have a choice. When he does not confirm nor deny that sentiment, you assume that he really is giving you one. Your gaze flickers towards the dark woods, towards the future that’s far from Dreadmere and the creatures of sin that inhabit it.

“I always want to run,” you confess, voice quiet but certain.

You are not stupid. You know what he is really asking. You know he is actually wondering if you rather remain under his touch. And, you know that even if you were given the chance to flee, he will chase you. You are his sacrifice afterall. Still, the mere possibility of being able to fight for yourself again, to reach for something beyond useless prayers is almost freeing in itself. If all of this does end with your death, at least you can say you tried to be something more than the village terror or a pitiful sacrifice.

Krampus nods. “Shall we discuss the terms?”

There is a lightness to his tone that unravels your anger in a way nothing ever has before. In fact, you never thought that was even possible. Your anger is only ever satiated once you’ve served your revenge. You tilt your head in confusion, only to find yourself leaning into his touch. You want to tell yourself that it was an accident but the electric buzz of your nerves  hints otherwise.

“Explain yourself,” you demand, desperate to regain a semblance of your composure.

You cannot see his face in the darkness but you know he’s grinning because you hear him breathe a chuckle. Two torches suddenly appear on either side of the sacrificial stake, illuminating his broad figure towering over you. A gasp escapes you but Krampus continues speaking like he didn’t just readjust the torches from the edges of the clearing to the center with the sheer will of his mind.

“You have terrible manners for a girl raised in a church,” he teases.

You clearly see that smile playing on his pretty lips now. It widens at your subtle, mental admission of his charm and you start to wonder if he brought the torches closer just to witness you lust after him some more.

Yes, you’re strangely attractive. Let’s move on, you mentally snap.

Amusement dances in his glowing gaze. You’d be lying if you said the sudden bloom of pride around your heart was not because you pleased him.

“The terms, my little nightmare, of your escape need to be set out before I let you go,” he finally explains. “Because once I catch you, I don’t think I will be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You gulp, all humour dissipating in your features. Heat pools in the base of your stomach at his new pet name for you, but soon frosts over upon his underlying implication. Does he still want to kill you? 

“Do you see that flag over there?” he asks, nodding towards the waving red and white flag of Dreadmere on the other side of the forest. It’s a focal point for travellers to follow the path towards the village. When you nod, he continues, “If you can make it past the village threshold, I won’t claim you.” 

Your blood chills, heart coils. Why does that thought literally suffocate you, your next breath catching at the base of your throat. Is freedom not what you wanted? 

“And if you catch me?”

A smug, yet sincere smile tugs on the corner of his lips. “You’ll have to be caught to find out, little one.”

You have never been little a day in your life. Even as a child you were bolstered with rage, contempt and an ego that made the mayor soil himself when he met you. Not to mention your voluptuous frame of curves and folds. The villagers called you greedy and foul, but if you didn’t fight for your place at the table, you wouldn’t have survived this long. And yet, this beastly Saint calls you ‘little’ and you cannot argue against it. All your animosity dwindles under his watchful gaze, leaving you feeling little.

“Do you accept these terms?” Krampus asks, stepping forward. 

You nod. 

“No, no,” he tuts through a chuckle. “You need to use your words.” 

“Yes,” you reply, tone clipped and jaw clenched.

Krampus lets his smile fully settle upon his face. Rows of sharp, white teeth gleam in the torchlight and you know it is meant to be menacing, but—you tilt your head in curiosity—you actually think it’s…endearing. It’s a genuine smile, amber eyes bright in delight.

He leans forward, his face inches from yours now. “Open your mouth,” he whispers.

The heat of his breath almost makes you whimper. 

You grip onto your annoyance and scoff, lips remaining apart out of sheer shock—or, at least that’s what you tell yourself. 

Krampus accepts the gesture all the same, slipping his long, thick tongue into your mouth. Your eyes widen, heart stops and body tenses. Slimy and warm, his tongue glides around yours, then snakes around your cheeks and teeth. For a moment (or maybe two), you rub your tongue against his and accept the sweet tang of his salvia. At first, you think it might taste metallically, like iron or something reminiscent of blood. However, as he continues to drag it around your mouth, notes of something darkly sweet and smoky—like burnt caramel or black honey—intoxicate your tastebuds.

Your eyes regrettably roll back with your head as you open your mouth further. It’s heavy and invasive, but oh so delicious. Your toes curl and core throbs, needy for the warmth of his tongue. As your heart pounds in your throat, you resist the urge to buck your hips towards him.

Krampus eventually pulls back, removing his tongue from your mouth. You immediately right your head, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your pleasure without reasonable cause. His gaze still gleams with amusement, much to your dismay. 

“What was that?” you shakily ask. 

“Sealing the deal.”

The darkness of his voice should not captivate you like this. You should rebuke it. You should spit in his face and tell him that was disgusting and violating. It’s what you would do, had it been anyone else. However, as he stares at you with those smouldering honey eyes, glistening with a cruel promise and a hunger that speaks of ruin, whatever remains of your resentful resolve crumbles, leaving only a trembling ache in its wake.

The knots around your wrist suddenly loosen. Your arms fall before you, weak from the strain, as you collapse to your knees with a grunt and muted thump. The snow seeps through your thin nightgown, ice instantly nipping at your soft skin. You should stand, roll your shoulders back and prepare to bolt. Instead, you stare at his hooves, slowly trailing your gaze up his dark trouse-clad legs and lingering around the bulge of his crotch.

He wants me too?

“I think I’ll give you a ten second head start,” he says, pulling you out of your thoughts. “And you’re already down to nine, little nightmare.”

Cunt, you mentally sneer as you stand. 

His dark laughter echoes behind you as you head towards the flag. You know you should feel scared, maybe even nauseated by the fact that you are being hunted, but the adrenaline turns terror into pleasure instead. You sprint into the shadows, unable to suppress the wicked grin carving itself across your face.

Did you know that, when you run, your body flows like liquid fire, each step a wave of hypnotic grace, as if you were made to draw predators closer?

Taehyung bites his lip, his night-vision granting him the ability to follow you through the dark woods. His cock throbs needlessly, begging for stimulation and worship. Allowing himself to get lost in the way your backside jiggles with each hurried step, he squeezes his clothed length and quietly groans.

Your heart is pounding, skipping a beat at the thought of him catching you. As he gives his cock another squeeze, Taehyung wonders if you feel the bond forming too. Is that why you continue to entertain your desires even when a louder part of you demands you hold onto your disgust? Is it his whispered words, his vicious voice? Or is it the fact that you began dripping from the taste of his wet tongue? He smiles to himself at the way your head rolled back, and eyes twitched with satisfaction. Your heart was fluttering with bliss, body arching into him and you didn’t even realise it. 

Saints, his hand is doing nothing to ease the ache of his cock—even his balls are starting to swell with want now. He can’t hold back a growl at the thought of unloading in your mouth, or all over your face or—fuck! His cock twitches. Taehyung quickly removes his hand from his crotch, refusing to cum before he catches you. 

Speaking of which—he’s definitely given you more than ten seconds. You’re halfway to the flag now and Taehyung must admit that he’s impressed. You always rise up to a challenge, but sprinting at full speed in the snow while barefoot can’t be easy for a little human like you. 

You continue to surprise me, little nightmare, Taehyung thinks, smirking at your full figure as it shrinks in the distance. He wonders if you'll still keep him guessing through the centuries you'll share together.

Rolling his shoulders back, Taehyung decides he’s given you enough false hope. He stretches his limbs, tilting his head from side to side and shaking out his hands. He then plants his hooves into the snow, drawing in a deep breath, and sprints after you. His eyes shut. He wants to challenge himself as well. Look at you—already inspiring him to be a better predator. Only the purist, most wholesome little creatures can invoke such ambition in a sadidisc Saint like himself. 

Taehyung focuses on your scent, smiling at the delicate darkness that wraps around you. You’re undeniably heady, all wet and aching to be filled by him. He doesn’t need to hear the hesitance in your steps or the way your heart beats faster at the sound of him gaining on you. He can smell your need laced between the rotten honeyed cherries and spiced embers of your scent.

“K-Krampus,” you whimper. Your humiliation and rage plague your scent with hints of charred vanilla.

Aw, do you hate how pathetic you sound for me, little one? Taehyung taunts, his sinister voice echoing in your head. 

The shuddered breath that escapes you makes him drool. He licks his lips as you groan at yourself for being so weak for him. Hey—it happens to the best of us…or maybe the worst. Either way, Taehyung is certain that you do not need to be filled with this much shame, especially when it’s obviously feigned. You have never been ashamed in your vengeful life, little nightmare, and it’s time you stop pretending once and for all. You’re just annoyed at the idea that you might be just another human for his collection. Your pride won’t let you admit that you want to be special to him, so you pretend to be ashamed by your attraction and curse at him under your breath. 

You already sound like a possessive mate, even if you don’t know it yet. Taehyung gleans at the subtle claim, eager to return the sentiment.

His amber eyes snap open. You’re two steps away and he knows you’re painfully aware of it too.. Is that why your next step falters? Do you want to be caught, to be claimed by him and his—what did you call them—enormous hands?

Taehyung lunges, the thrill of hunting, capturing his prey, finally overwhelming him. A guttural growl emits from deep within his chest, rattling you in a way you believe should be threatening but you whine in reply anyway. You don’t even fight the urge to do so, further spurring the beast within him to pounce. 

His enormous—no, he will not be letting this go any time soon—hands seize your full yet flimsy little body. He retracts his claws to prevent any real damage, but still puts some strength into his grasp, pulling you into his chest before you can make it out of your corrupt village. 

The screech you let out almost makes him cum in his trousers. Viscerally helpless, you cry out against his hold, but still curl into the warmth of his torso. Taehyung pins you on your back, shoving you into the snow. He holds your arms in place over your head with one hand and unleashes his claws to gently rake across your skin. It’s just a silent reminder of the possible danger he poses—isn’t that what you particularly enjoy about his presence? You like how big and threatening he is, don’t you, little one?

Your fragile body trembles beneath him, caught between the heat of his frame and the chill of the snow. Taehyung slowly drags a clawed, index finger down your chest, tearing through your poor excuse of a nightgown. 

Your chest heaves as you pant from both exertion and his touch. You try to convince yourself otherwise, even when you know it’s futile, but you are well aware that the way he barely scratches your skin while still effectively ripping through your clothes is making you even wetter. He bets your inner thighs are slick with your arousal and just begging to be licked clean.

“Are you going to kill me,” you whisper, afraid your sexual yearning will betray you if you speak any louder. “Or f-fuck me?” 

A string of curses loop in your head at your second fumble of your words. His hard length is pressing against your legs and you have the gall to ask him a stupid question like that. You both know that if he wanted to kill you, he would have caught you with his mouth instead of his enormous hands.

“I’m going to ruin you,” Taehyung whispers, matching your controlled tone in that dulcet voice you pretend to hate. 

That’s not an answer, you wish to reply.

Taehyung raises a brow at how you bite your tongue instead. He shakes his head at you, pushing your torn nightgown open. Your breasts heave under him, nipples taut and tantalising. One look and Taehyung cannot stop himself any more. His tail swishes behind him in anticipation as his tongue falls out of his mouth, just as slimy and warm as you noted it to be. He dips his head low, then slowly laps around your left nipple. Your skin tastes as sinfully sweet as your mouth. His cock pulsates in his trousers at the notions of smoked, dark berries and vanilla.

Your bottom lip quivers and the tiniest sigh of bliss escapes your beautiful lips. You arch your back, shoving your chest further into his face. 

He’s just warm, you try to reason with yourself. I just like it cause he’s warm. 

And wet, Taehyung can’t help adding, his deep voice slipping back in your head.

Your eyes widen, attention shifting down at him. You part your lips to tell him to stay the fuck out of your head when Taehyung swipes his tongue over your other swollen breast. He twirls it around your sensitive nipple, chuckling to himself when your toes curl and bones tremble. He can hear your heart pounding, your body begging for more. He decides to oblige for now, moving his tongue up to lick your collarbone, shoulders and neck. A trail of his salvia glistens against your skin under the pale blue light of a late December moon. You’re shimmering, all whiny and breathless. 

“What are you doing to me?” you finally find the courage to ask. Your nerves are buzzing beneath your usual mask of  defiance. 

Something warm and wholesome swells in his chest, threading between his ribs, planting roots in his heart. Your eyes flare with the intensity of an intoxicated inferno, as if you feel it too. Taehyung watches, in absolute awe, how you snuff that flame out within seconds, reminding yourself that you are one of many humans he’d claimed. Your greed for his attention only deepens the roots of that impossible warmth within him, twisting and tangling its way into every dark corner of his being. 

He decides he’s going to let that false pretense of yours dangle a little longer, seamlessly torturing you in that delicious way you try to hate but heats your core all the same. 

He meets your gaze gently, not wanting to completely break you yet. His patience is wearing thin, however. “When will you stop pretending to be revolted by this?” he growls. “You may be a virgin, little one, but you are not innocent.”

“Excuse me?” you spit, that fire reigniting in your once complacent gaze. 

Darkly chuckling, Taehyung shakes his head. He squints as if he might reconsider then replies, “No, I don’t think I will. You’re mine now, baby.”

All anger falls from your face at the term of endearment. Taehyung does not try to fight off the smile settling on his lips. He leans down and licks from your jaw, over your cheek, to your temple. He repeats the action on the other side of your face, before swiping over your lips. You part them, thinking he was going to shove his tongue in again. It wasn’t part of the plan, but since you’ve submitted so wordlessly, he decides to grant you a moment of pure pleasure. 

Your tongue is more forthcoming this time, dancing around with the tip of his. Holding his gaze, you welcome his tongue only to tug your wrists against his hand. It was an experimental tug, as if you were trying to see how distracted he might be with your mouth and if it’s enough to attempt another escape. Instead, his claws scratch at your skin, leaving shallow marks in their place. 

Taehyung’s eyes darken.

So, you thought you could trick him. You know he can hear every one of your needy thoughts, know that it was never going to work. No, no—you want to test him. You want to bait him into keeping his promise of ruin. You did not get a satisfactory answer when you asked what he would do to you and now you want to lure him into showing you exactly what he plans. 

The thought is admirable, really, little nightmare. You truly are tenacious, ambitious, luscious. If you want your punishment so badly, he will oblige—just this once.

Taehyung uses the tip of his tongue to easily flatten yours. Your brows rise at the gesture and he stops himself from laughing again, because if that surprises you, then you will melt at his next move. Testing your boundaries, Taehyung shoves his tongue as far as it can possibly go down your throat. 

Your right eye twitches at the stinging stretch against your throat. You gag, body pressing further against him. Taehyung groans from the vibrations, pulling his tongue out a bit only to shove it back in and again. Your thighs press tightly together, like you can feel the friction of the heady action between them too. Eyes watering, you fist your tiny hands and gag some more. You’re trying to moan, Taehyung realises. And it’s unnervingly arousing.

His cock strains in his pants and as you choke for the third time, drunk of the taste of his spit and the weight of his tongue. He cannot delay the inevitable any longer. He leans into the warmth of your mouth as his cock swells, orgasm shuddering through him seconds later. His trousers dampen against your legs, his sizable load spoiling them instantly. 

The sultry slits of your eyes make him groan. You think you’ve won and it’s infuriating. Taehyung, suddenly understanding your vexation and stubborn pride, huffs through his nostrils. He rolls his eyes, panting over your much too smug face, and he slowly removes his tongue from your mouth. A thick string of your mixed saliva connects your wet bottom lip to his chin. You lick your lips, breaking the connection to savour every last drop.

A vicious grin settles on his ashen face. The hand once around your wrists falls to your neck, ever so slowly squeezing your windpipe until your shallow exhales become raspy and frayed. Lust floods your gaze, replacing your previous haughtiness with a gratification that only strengthens the faint hum of your growing bond. He knows you have been thinking about this, about what his enormous hand would feel like around your throat, suffocating you oh-so sweetly. He can almost hear a whisper of gratitude tumble out with your next staggered breath. 

“Enjoying yourself now, aren’t you, little one?” 

You bite your lip, but it does very little to hold back the tremors of excitement jolting through your beautiful body. You try tensing, hoping that hyperextending your limbs will discourage them from seeking his warmth, but that doesn’t work for you either. In fact, the tight press of your thighs and clench of your core only make you want him even more. The tremors become stronger and soon enough you’re writhing beneath him.

“I believe,” you still manage to start, voice raspy from the pressure of his fist. He loosens his grip to hear your sweet voice better. “You are the one enjoying yourself.” Then, as if your words were not insulting enough, you rub your legs against the wet mark around his trousers. 

Divine rage boils his blood. You are getting bolder with every stroke of his tongue. While it’s adorable watching your walls crumble, he will not tolerate disobedience. You may not be the villain of this story, little nightmare, but you have been naughty. 

It is time you face your reckoning.

Burnt leather, chilled by the frosty air and laced with hints of frankincense, intoxicates your senses. Isn’t his scent supposed to replicate the demonic divinity of his essence? You cannot understand why it rattles your nerves with such urgency. And when thickened by the musk of his arousal, the intensity reminds you of midnight storms—dark, deadly, but devastatingly beautiful.

He just came, the warmth of his load thawing your shivering legs from the snow. The glare he shoots you warns you against gloating, but you cannot help it. Perhaps it is your hubris, but your sick satisfaction that he unravelled from the sheer taste of your mouth cannot be stifled.

And you don’t want it to be. It is useless to fight against him, the previous chase proof enough. You know you only got that far because he let you. He’s the only one that un-tied the restraints, that gave you more than ten seconds to escape. Saints, if he could have killed you when he tackled you to the ground. He chose to retract his claws instead. As much as you want to be, you are not the one in control, so you might as well lean into the radiating heat of his beastly body and relish in the fact that the taste of your saliva made him cum.

Krampus growls. 

Your egoistic resolve wavers.  

His enormous hands grip onto your thick thighs. They are big, often rubbing against each other, but they look measly in his hands. Before you can even register what he has planned, Krampus pulls them apart and unleashes his tongue again. It’s long, but he still needs to dip his head lower to smother it against your heat.

A desperate cry tears from your throat, echoing into the dark night. It’s so fucking wet and weighty, lapping between your folds over and over again. Your bottom lip quivers, eyes water as tension tightens at the base of your spine. You separate your legs wider, buck your hips higher against his tongue. 

“S-Saints,” you whimper. 

Krampus chuckles, his voice vibrating against your clit. He retracts his tongue enough to suction his lips around your core.

Feels good, baby, he whispers in your mind.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut, brows creasing. Your hands, previously fisted pathetically under your spit-slick chin, fly down to his head. As you suspected, his horns are perfect for bracing yourself. You clutch onto them tightly, the power within them thumping against your cold palms. 

A low, guttural growl resonates against your core as you tighten your grip. You whine like the wounded prey you are. Your toes curl, body trembles and you feel a pressure building around your clenching hole. It begs for further stimulation, for release.

You're so close, bones stiff, muscles tense. Your heart is hammering, nerves buzzing with anticipation. 

More, more, mor—

Nothing. 

Krampus pulls away, leaving you with nothing but the cold air. Tears split from your eyes as a needy scream rips from your throat. That pressure lingering around your core dissipates. Your once hammering heart falls to your stomach, nerves frenzied and confused, yearning for that stimulation again.

“Why?” you ask, though you are certain you know the answer anyway. He was frustrated with the fact that you were so smug about his early orgasm and denying you one is his form of punishment.

The arrogant smile settling on his face confirms your thoughts.

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “That’s hardly fair,” you breathe, meeting his smouldering gaze. 

One of his hands roughly cups your crotch. He kneads his palm agonisingly slow against it as he replies, “I am the deity. I decide what is fair.”

The lethal look in his eye dares you to question his judgement. You want to tell him that is not fair either. You did not edge him or outwardly taunt him for cumming. How is it your fault that he has no self-restraint? And pulling the Saint card is bullshit. It is lazy and easy and you both know he is beyond that.

Is…is he smiling wider? Saints—is he still reading your mind?

His dark, deep laughter fills the heady space between you. Mustering every last drop of your annoyance, you try to fight off the flush of your cheeks at the sexy sound. When that doesn’t work, you focus on the minimal stimulation from the palm of his hand and pretend you're flustered over that instead.

That plan is short lived, however. In one swift motion, Krampus flips you from your back to your stomach. You turn your head and put your hands out in front of you. Still, the snow nips at your skin. You whimper from the cold as your chest presses into the ground as well. 

“This hurts,” you shout over your shoulder. 

“It hurts?” he asks, voice dripping with condescension. “Then tell me why you’re separating your legs.” 

You don’t have a dignified answer. Your swollen lips continue to quiver, body still trembles—whether against the cold or out of desperation, you're not sure. You just shift your bruised knees further apart and hope he will finally claim you the way you have always yearned to be. No one has ever wanted you, not even your own parents. 

But Krampus, the Saint of Reckoning and Redemption, does. He plays with you, gropes you, warms you and you are tired of pretending these are not things you want. You always wanted to be the one someone cheats with or sneaks out for. You always wanted to be the one people believe in and care for. If he wants to give you that, to fill your chest with something warm and wholesome, then you will allow him the chance to do so. Because even if this night ends with your death, you know you will never regret this blissful moment where you toggles pain and pleasure with such a sweetly, sadidisc Saint. 

“Krampus,” you whisper into the night, like a forgotten prayer. 

Taehyung, he corrects, slipping back into your mind. I want to hear my birth name on your delicious tongue.

Your back arches, backside perking up to his hands, kneading your round flesh. They’re rough and unforgiving, but you don’t want them any other way as you correct yourself (for the first time in your life), “Taehyung.”

He lets out a satisfied groan. You part your lips to say it again, unable to fight back a smile. But a hand comes down on your plump cheek before you can form the syllables. The smack booms like a thunderclap and you fall further into the cold ground with a surprised shriek. The pain hums against your sensitive skin and you don’t even have a chance to attempt to soothe it before he does it again.

Tears stream freely down your face as trembling sobs tumble from your lips. You gasp as the sting intensifies, fisting the snow beside you to stable yourself. The pain is burns, but fuck your core continues to sporadically clench, all the more needy. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he coos behind you, rubbing the inflicted area. “You’re such a good girl, taking your punishment so well.”

Your sobs stutter.

Good girl?

The two words together have always been lashed at you with vicious vehemence. You never even dreamed you could earn the title, believe you were bound for a life of misdeed and transgressions. But Taehyung offers them to you so fondly, like he actually admires you.

“You mean it,” you can’t stop yourself from asking. 

He hums his approval, voice so deep and daunting it sends shivers down your spine. “You’ve always been a good girl, little nightmare,” he says before pressing his lips to your still stinging cheek. “You just never had a chance to behave like one until now.” 

You suddenly do not care if you are just another human he collects, another sexual pet. You do not care if he has possibly done this with other sacrifices. His words in this moment repair the tatters of your soul and stitch together wounds you bitterly carried.

Warm erupts in your chest, spreading all the way down to the tips of your toes. Roots of comfort and security sprout from your heart, digging into your lungs and tangling around your ribs. A garden of gratification blooms in the base of your stomach and whatever contempt you once wore like a badge of honour shatters for in this moment you realise you are not unloveable, undesirable. 

You are exactly who you were always supposed to be. Rituals did not work, prayers were not answered because there was nothing about you that needed to change.

Your eyes burn with your newfound confidence, like the flames of a rising phoenix. You spare a glance at him over your shoulder and you know he is already aware of what is going on in your head. The gentle smile gracing his soft lips indicates as much. 

Still, you need to voice it.

“You are not claiming me,” you state, pushing your backside against him. “I am claiming you. And you can try running or hiding or whatever it is Saints do, but I will find you and let you use me every time.”

His smile widens.

“Tell me what you want me to do, little nightmare,” Taehyung encourages. He unbuttons his trousers. 

It’s your turn to smile. 

“I want you to fuck me, to ruin me, to posses me like the worshipper I am,” you declare, pouring every ounce of yourself into your words. “Make me yours.”

Taehyung tears his pants off, and his thick, rigid cock springs free. Your jaw goes slack—huge doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s veined and flushed, the head an angry, glistening crimson that seems to dare you to take it. The sheer weight of him has it curving slightly, a sinful masterpiece that makes your stomach tighten and your core clench involuntarily. 

You whimper, trying to imagine how much you will need to stretch to fully accommodate his girth. He must be just over four or five inches wide, and you don’t even know where to start with his length. You think that maybe if you had some experience you might have been able to see yourself accepting him. But you’re a virgin, and two of your fingers are barely the size of one of his, let alone his cock. 

He must see the horror in your eyes because he rubs your cheeks again and leans down to kiss the base of your spine.

“It will fit,” he reassures. 

“How?”

His face hardens, eyes darken with lust. “I’ll make it fit.”

Again, that’s not a real answer.

You don’t have time to argue however, for he teases the tip at your entrance. You screw your eyes tight and bite your lip, bracing yourself for the pain this will inflict.

Taehyung tsks and runs his fingers up and down your back. “Relax,” he says. “Just trust me. Can you do that, little one?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

You roll your eyes. He did that on purpose. It was extremely cute and sweet, but you refuse to voice that to him. Instead, you try to relax your muscles. 

He’s a Saint, you tell yourself. He moves torches with his mind and can read your thoughts. If he says he can make it fit, then you need to have faith in him. 

His wet tongue falls over your back, licking and swirling around your skin. You whimper quietly, allowing that warmth of it to soothe you. 

Just as a sigh of relief escapes your lips, your eyes gently shutting, Taehyung pushes himself in. He does not breach your hole right away, push, push, pushing against you until the head of it finally pops in. 

Your eyes roll back the stretch oh so blissful.

He continues to slide into your slickness, digging his fingers into your full hips hard enough to mark you. He groans quietly then drags his tongue into your wet, snow-damp hair. As if grooming your head, he laps at it, halting his hips for a second.

You shudder, tears of desperation still streaming down your face. “Keep going please.” 

And he does, moving his hips slowly

With one hand remaining on your side, he slides the other under your stomach and lifts you up to his face. He removes his tongue and presses his lips to your shoulders instead.

Your insides shift. Or at least you think they do. Your core, while still tight, seems to be more malleable, more…expandable. 

Did he just use magic to alter your pelvis in order to accommodate him?

“Yes,” Taehyung murmurs, pressing his lips to your ear. “You’re mine.”

And with that he shoves himself further into you until his weighty, full balls dangle between your thick thighs. The stretch is unbearable when he’s being this still. Need scrunches your features as you look up at him. 

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

You let out a heavy breath, shoulder slumping. You continue to clench tightly around him, no matter how relaxed his sweet gesture makes you feel.

“You’re so impatient,” he teases, smiling against your skin. 

You don’t have the chance to roll your eyes before he gives you what you have been wordlessly begging for. Shiting his hips back, Taehyung forcefully rams into you. Had he not been gripping onto your side or hooking an arm around your stomach, you would have jolted forward and right off his cock. 

A shatter cry shreds through your throat. He maintains that same force, pounding himself into you over and over again. Your hands gasp around your for something to hold onto. One of your hands finds purchase over his strong forearm while the other reaches back and grasps onto one of his horns. 

Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck (or at least tries to), growling, “Fuck!” 

You start to wonder if his horns are sensitive when you feel his sharp teeth graze your delicate skin.The whimper that trembles from your lips would have made you cringe had he not been fucking you so good. That pressure that was once building in your core before is returning and you will not let your pride ruin your orgasm for you this time.

The delicious prick of teeth into skin has you lolling your head to the side. He sinks it in deeper, coaxing an all too erotic moan from you.

Precious, little nightmare, his voice whispers into your soul. All mine. 

“Yours,” you manage to choke out between broken moans. “I’m yours, Taehyung.”

Removing his teeth from your shoulder, he licks the wound clean. You know there will still be a mark though, and plan to wear it proudly. 

Taehyung wraps both arms around your torso now. His giant body engulfs yours as he pulls you into his chest. He’s hunching over to maintain his thrusts, never relenting on their power. Your body continues to jiggle with each thrust, his big cock swelling deep inside you.

I want to do this all the time, you think to him. You don’t care if he has other humans to service. You want to fucked like this at least twice a day. 

His dark, charming presence lurks around your consciousness, caressing your healing soul. There’s no one else, he reassures. We’ll do this all the time—any time.

Your core tightens, inching closer and closer to a release. Bones rattling, muscles tensing, you can feel that warmth in the base of your stomach tangle and twist. He licks behind your ear and your clit throbs. He then trails his tongue to your lips, shoving it back in there. Your toes curl, eyes screwed shut. 

Then, as his tongue moves to the rhythm of his restless thrusts, the knots coiling in your gut snap. Your orgasm washes over you,  fogging your mind. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, moans muffle around his tongue. Clenching and unclenching spontaneously, you gush and gush all over his length. 

Maybe it’s the what of your arousal or the way you are tightening around him, but Taehyung immediately chases his own orgasm after you. He draws in and out with perfect precision, grunting over your face. With a final, deep thrust, he still his hips to unload his hot, thick load into you. 

Gasping in satisfaction, you swirl your hip back into him. His cum is so warm, so thick, it clings to your walls, making you feel impossibly full. It’s like you were made to take everything he has to offer. 

Taehyung pulls his tongue out of your mouth, and goes stiff behind you. Looking up at him, face a mess of tears and his saliva—which tastes like sweet honey left out in the sun—, you wonder why there’s a sudden shift in his demeanor. He gazes down at you, as if waiting for your features to change. 

“Taehyung?” 

He blinks then tilts his head. “You’re not in pain?” he questions. 

You bite back a smile. “Do you want me to be?”

His confused features lighten into amusement. He bends down and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is slow, deliberate, a stark contrast to the primal chaos that led you here. His lips move against your with a reverence that makes your chest ache and core tighten around him all over again. You feel him everywhere—on your skin, in your blood, burrowed deep in the marrow of your bones. It’s as though he is not just kissing your mouth but every broken and hidden part of you, filling your essence with unbound adoration and devotion. 

The night air hums with unspoken promises, thick with the lingering scent of sweat, sex, and his intoxicating musk. As Taehyung pulls you further into his, pressing your bare back to his chest, you feel it—the shift in the atmosphere, the shift in him. Something deeper, something ancient and unyielding, has taken root.

The weight of his gaze lingers, searing into you with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. As his lips ghost over your temple, you realise—this isn’t just desire. It’s something far more dangerous. It’s a silent vow, whispered into your very soul, binding you to the storm that is Taehyung.You have been marked by Krampus and there will be no turning back.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.

[bangtanswhores]

FINALLYYYSHDHD KRAMPUS AU ive been watching those vids of krampuses flirting with women and it's SOOOODBDJSKSK

[inkedtae]

ahhh why haven’t i seen those vids?! im so happy you liked this fic though and can relate to my krampus!tae obsession 😂💗

[inkedtae]

works in progress

ᡣ𐭩 banner/border by the wonderful and talented dee ( @awrkives​ )​​ ᡣ𐭩

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 please note : all titles, possible release dates, ratings, pairings, and summaries are subject to change at any point without notice. if you would like to see a particular fic, please let me know here and i will try to work it into the posting schedule.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 legend : [A] - Angst , [AU] - Alternate Universe , [F] - Fluff ,  [H] - Hybrid , [M] - Mature Content

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔  updated: 03 JANUARY 2025

𐙚  xv. rotten angelcake ⇾ kth. | [AU], [M] | january 16 ⤜ part of the rotten angelcake series ⤜ summary: undetermined

𐙚 beneath midnight ⇾ bgc. | [AU], [M] | january 30 ⤜ based on the railway m/v​ ⤜ summary: undetermined

𐙚  xvi. rotten angelcake ⇾ kth. | [AU], [M] | february 13 ⤜ part of the rotten angelcake series ⤜ summary: undetermined

𐙚 what time is it, mr fox? ⇾ kjs. | [A], [AU], [H], [M] | february 27 ⤜ based on the tale of mr fox ⤜summary: Castle Fox chimes thrice every night. curious as to why you’re the only one stirring awake, you decide to investigate. you regret to not doing so sooner. 

𐙚  xvii. rotten angelcake ⇾ kth. | [AU], [M] | march 13 ⤜ part of the rotten angelcake series ⤜ summary: undetermined

𐙚  stripped of shame ⇾ 3racha | [AU], [M] | undetermined ⤜ stripper!3racha x curvy reader (f.) ⤜ summary: you decide to host a birthday party for your friends, only they hate you. so they host their own party on the same night and broadcast it on social media. left alone, crying on your birthday, you are further humiliated when friends decide to embarrass you even more by ordering three strippers to your pity party. however, instead of mocking you, they comfort you…by fucking you—all together. 

𐙚  venomous charmer ⇾ bgc. | [AU], [M] | undetermined ⤜ based on the show, miraculous lady bug ⤜ summary: where villain!reader is in love with hero!chan and civilian!chan is in love with civilian!reader, but they are not aware they like each other. 

𐙚 drive ⇾ bgc. | [AU], [M] | undetermined ⤜ frat boy!chan x curvy!reader (f.) ⤜ summary: movies at the drive-in are so much more fun with your boyfriend around

𐙚 no one else ⇾ bgc. | [AU], [M] | undetermined ⤜ will be a series ⤜ tsundere!chan x curvy!reader (f.) ⤜ summary: undetermined

𐙚 strike and shatter me ⇾ ksj. | [AU], [M] | undetermined ⤜ zeus!seokjin x nymph!reader (f.) ⤜ summary: a dating app match sparks a passionate affair with unspoken rules. but when forbidden desire clashes with loyalty, the storm it creates is impossible to resist.

𐙚 painted prophecies ⇾ jjk. | [A], [AU], [M] | undetermined ⤜ eros!jungkook x curvy!reader (f.) ⤜ part of the tales of eros series ⤜ summary:a spark of excitement seems to be enough to vanquish your concerns… for now

𐙚 whispers of heaven ⇾ pjm. | [AU], [M] | undetermined ⤜ angel!jimin x human!reader (f.) ⤜ summary: gifted an angel earring on your nineteenth birthday, you have yet to experience another bad day. 

𐙚 only you | chapter 3 ⇾ kth. | [AU], [M] | undetermined ⤜ tsundere!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.) ⤜ summary: an expected visitor unsettles storming skies.

𐙚 vantevision ⇾ kth. | [AU], [M] | undetermined ⤜ camboy!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.) ⤜ summary: undetermined

𐙚 deep dunkin’ ⇾ jhs. | [AU], [M] | undetermined ⤜ basketball player!hoseok x curvy!reader (f.) ⤜ summary: undetermined

𐙚 all star series ⇾ jjk. | [AU], [M] | undetermined (ch. 1 will be re-written) ⤜ motorcycle racer!jungkook x racer!reader (f.) ⤜ summary: the annual international all star race selects six racers from fifteen randomly selected countries to compete for the all star trophy. When your sponsorships fall through, career hanging by a thread, you have no choice but to do whatever it takes to secure a position for the race. but, qualifying is only half the battle. tempers are high between your search for a new sponsor and a pretty busan boy. deceit and fraud lurk behind the fast lanes and roaring engines. your career is your everything; how far are you willing to go to save it? 

☆ please note that, even if i have not written and posted these fics, they are still my ideas and concepts. using or repurposing plots and titles will not be tolerated. i understand that i do not have ownership over tropes and ships. however, the general plot and concept of my ideas (and soon works) should not be poached. additionally, please do not leave any hate towards me or any fellow readers. if you think someone may have stolen a fic, idea, plot, or whatever from me, please do not leave them any hate. just let me know here ☆

[inkedtae]

song of the day : good graces - sabrina carpenter 🦋

[inkedtae]

song of the night : venus in gemini - dezi 🗡️

[inkedtae]

not a rac question, but would you ever add any more chapters to eros? i love it so much 😭

hello!! it’s okay that it’s not an rac question!! it never has to be lol

to answer your question, yes there will be, i am just kinda focused on rac rn but ill try to add it into the posting schedule soon ☺️💕

[inkedtae]

marked by krampus ⇾ kth. [M]

⎡he is sinister, scorching sinful souls. you are chaos, constantly craving calamity. will his darkness be the reason you discover there’s always pleasure in pain?⎦

⌁ pairing; krampus!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.)

⌁ genre; twisted christmas au, monster kink, s2l, some angst, smut, 18+

⌁ word count; 11.1k

⌁ summary; the villagers summon krampus to punish you for your misdeeds however, instead of wrath, monstrous, sultry power captivates you. what starts as fear quickly turns into desire as he claims you in ways you never expected.

⌁ warnings; dark themes: mentions/depictions of violence, harassment, arson, discrimination, blood, death, religious intervention, and blasphemy; explicit sex: hard dom!taehyung, brat-tamer!taehyung, sub!reader, brat!reader, virgin!reader, bdsm themes, sadism/masochism, exhibitionism, light masturbation (m.), prey/predator play, spit play, ruined orgasm, monster kink, size kink, praise kink, oral (m. and f. receiving), public sex unprotected sex, deep throating (his tongue), spanking, teasing, edging, biting, scratching, begging

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

༄ prefer ao3? keep reading here

༄ a huge thanks to jen ( @itaeewon ) for making this sexy ass banner for me, and my amazing beta-reader, jen ( @anobodyslove​ )

༄ please enjoy this final Taecember fic :)

Brittle cold settles into your bones, but molten heat simmers in your veins. Vengeance knows only one name—and it is yours. Flames dance in your dark eyes, the crackle and pop of the fire like a sweet melody of smouldering justice. As you gaze upon the burning wreckage of the refined oak building, a wicked smirk tugs on the corner of your plush, wine-stained lips.

You are wrath incarnated and you reap calamity.

“Filthy, wicked girl!” Sister Margaret scolds, yanking on your hair. 

You clench your jaw, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of a pained grunt.

The judgemental eyes of the village watch as the Sisters drag you down the snowy road, pulling you away from the damage you’ve caused and into the forest. Pastor Fischer leads the way. He mutters prayers under his breath and waves a bundle of incense, cleansing the air of your negative energy. 

Despite what the sacrosanct village of Dreadmere may claim, you are not hell-spawn, nor are you a beacon of evil and impurity. No, you are not a witch. And no, you did not murder your parents. Your father abandoned you before your birth. And, the week before your tenth year, your mother realised that she wouldn’t find a husband with a child latched to her side. You were relieved, for the first time in your pathetic life, when you woke to an empty house. It was cold and dark, but the air felt lighter in the absence of oppressive criticism, and violence. 

No one died, for fuck’s sake—not then and not now.

However… you may have played into the rumors in hopes that the villagers would leave you be. Even at ten, you should’ve known better than to expect this pious village wouldn’t try to exorcise you—you grew up there, after all.

The modest Sisters of Saint Nicholas’s Chapel took you in shortly after your first… outburst. For the record, Hugo Fischer got himself punched in the face when he insinuated that you were too big to fit through the school door. He also fell out the window because he tripped over his own two feet. You just happened to be walking by when it happened, muttering your favourite nursery rhyme in Latin—the devil’s tongue. It didn’t matter what you said in the end though, because Hugo was beloved and you were apparently homicidal.

And so, the Sisters claimed you as their purity project. Every day, you cooked all their meals and cleaned every corner of their church in hopes that it would instill some degree of discipline in you—spoiler: it did not. And every night, Sisters Gisila, Margaret and Mona would sit you down before the altar of Saint Nicholas to perform purity rituals. You would sit in the center of a candle-lit circle and the Sisters would pray to Saint Nicholas, begging him to save your soul. After sending you to bed—an old, broken frame abandoned in the attic—Sister Margaret would sneak into Pastor Fischer’s office, gasping and moaning in the dark. Meanwhile, Sister Mona would slip out the back door to meet his wife by the barn. 

In retrospect, you think all those prayers only further seared your wrath into your soul. You never wanted sanctity, nor did you crave religious intervention. You just wanted a life without sanctimonious fuckers imposing their hypocritical values onto you. 

Last night, you had hoped that you would finally be able to leave the village. The church would have no claim on you now that you’ve turned twenty-one. However, Pastor Fischer had different plans. Instead of meeting the Sisters by the altar, he asked you to visit his office. You sat before his dark oak desk as he stared at you with an unsettling smile.  

“You must rebuke the wickedness within you, girl,” Pastor Fischer said, raking his eyes over your full curves.“Marriage is the holiest of rituals. It will banish your demons once and for all.”

“Then why can I still see your horns, Pastor?” you asked.

You expected him to sneer more insults or curse you back to Hell, but instead he smiled in his usual charismatically devious way. 

“You know my son, don’t you?” he asked. “Hugo?”

“I’m not marrying Hugo.”

“I apologise if I gave you the impression that you have a choice, witch,” he seethed. Before you could spit an equally accurate insult back, Pastor Fischer ordered, “Strip.”

“Excuse me?”

“Stand up and strip. I need to ensure that you are physically acceptable for my Hugo,” he explained. His crystal blue eyes shamelessly devoured your curves. He stood and ushered you to do the same. You regrettably registered the tent under his robes instead.

Something within you finally snapped. That little part hidden deep in your blacked soul, festering in resentment and fury, had broken free from the chains of self-restraint. For years you’ve been making yourself smaller; cooking, cleaning, attending those stupid nightly rituals, waiting for the day you turned twenty-one. If playing the role of demon did not scare the village into leaving you alone, you thought you could perhaps pretend to be ‘saved’ long enough to be free. You endured years of watching the village pretend to be pious during the day only for the streets to be filled with moans and groans and drunken singing throughout the night. 

You’d had enough.

Holding Pastor Fischer’s gaze, you slowly stood and circled his desk. He leaned forward, already panting like the little bitch he was. You resisted the urge to cringe, stopping a mere inch away from his lips. His breath reeked of boiled cabbage and beer. As he tried to close the gap between your lips, you swiftly punched his stumpy cock. He groaned, falling to his knees instantly.

His wife walked in as you spat in his face, her features morphed into horror as she screamed.

Now, your smirk widens at the memory. His pain, her fear, the confusion of the Sisters—ugh, you miss that! The power, the satisfaction of knowing that they are terrified of you and what you can do is something you have so dearly missed. Pretending to be good has gotten you nowhere and you have been craving for the chance to torture them the same way they have been torturing you. 

So, yes—you lit their precious church on fire. And yes, you also cut the rope at the well so they could not easily put out the flames. They do not deserve a church, and they sure as Hell do not deserve Saint Nicholas’ forgiveness.

You fix your vengeful gaze upon the thick smoke rising from the burning church as they continue to drag you away. It clouds the darkening skies, and you finally find your first moment of peace in eleven years. While you may have your wrist and ankles bound with thick rope, and the Sisters may be trudging you deeper into the dense forest to accept your punishment, you do not regret a single spark of that holy fire. Their sacred church will burn to the ground for that is where it belongs. 

“We have been generous and patient,” Sister Mona says as Pastor Fischer stops at a clearing. “But you are too unholy to save.”

Sisters Margaret and Gisila groan, starting to hoist you up and tie you to the stake in the middle of the clearing. Meanwhile, Pastor Fischer finishes the last of his prayers. They have been incoherent for the most part because he was either mumbling or speaking in German. You were sure it was more of the same “please banish this evil soul” bullshit everyone always says around you until you hear his name. You do not know German as well as you know Latin, the Sisters often speak the latter, but you are certain you recognise one name—Krampus.

Fear seeps into your bones. 

You are not a worshipper, but that does not mean you are not a believer. While you may not revere Saint Nicholas like the rest of Dreadmere, you still deeply believe in his existence—and his brother’s. A Saint of a different kind, Krampus is punishment personified. There are no altars raised in his name, no hymns sung in his honour. Instead, bedtime tales of caution are shared, passages of reverence are whispered. The generational terror he inspires is devotion enough.

Well, enough for everyone else. 

The village of Dreadmere is dark and impish, thriving in impurity thanks to an annual sacrifice. On the eve of Saint Nicholas' birthday, one villager is chosen to be offered to Krampus. In return, he shall spare the village punishment for their sins. The villagers, however, have always feared sacrificing you. They worried Krampus might find you unworthy and lash out, punishing them instead.

It seems you’ve finally pushed them beyond caring.

And the thought of being sacrificed to Krampus is… You swallow thickly. All your so called outbursts have been in the name of a justice you would have otherwise been denied. You had cause, even if no one else was willing to admit it. Your parents abandoned you, the village bullied you and the worshippers of Saint Nicholas tried to brainwash you. Violence, arson, blasphemy—you did what was necessary to protect yourself, to express yourself. You’re tired of being robbed of that and you don’t regret a single curse you’ve spat or match you’ve lit. 

Still, you do not want to be sacrificed and least of all to him. You’ve heard the screams, the pleads, the crunch of bones before silence finally settles over the night. 

Pastor Fischer must see the blood drain from your face for his eyes gleam with smug satisfaction. He smiles in his usual grotesque way, all yellowish teeth and wrinkled skin. “You shall finally be punished,” he sneers. “And we shall be free from your devilry.”

“It is not my demons you should fear, Pastor,” you snap, attempting to mask your fear beneath layers of burning fury. “Your own impurities will be your undoing. A beast like Krampus can only be subdued for so long.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Sister Mona scoffs, eyes narrowed as she looks down her nose at you. The scent of her judgment is thick—strange, considering she’d just spent the last hour suffocating beneath the folds of Pastor Fischer’s wife.

“Because I am one too.”

Punishment personified, Taehyung wonders from his place in the shadows. Is that all I am to you, little nightmare?

He’s not complaining—not really, anyway. He just expected more from the Terror of Dreadmere. Where is the reverence you claim others hold for him in your sweet tone? He has devoured some of your worst abusers in the last few years and his entire existence is reduced to two words? You could’ve drawn a more vivid image of that. 

And you need to stop pretending to be so afraid. Yes, he may be a beast, but you just declared yourself one too. You’re the same girl who once set Sister Mona’s hair alight for denying you a glass of wine at supper, aren’t you? The one who punched Hugo Fischer in the face, shoved him out a window, and humiliated the pastor last night—all for little more than a laugh. And that barely scratches the surface of your transgressions. You didn’t even mention the times you poisoned the village well, leaving everyone bedridden so the roads were quiet enough to sleep undisturbed. What about your annual ritual of desecrating Nick’s altar? Is that just another little act of blasphemy that no one dares speak of? 

Don’t sell yourself short, little nightmare. You’ve never pretended to be good. You’ve simply grown more adept at hiding the fact that you’re anything but. What was it the other demons said about you? You put the dread in Dreadmere?

Oh—look at you right now! All alone and helpless, pathetically struggling against Sister Gisila’s sailing knots. Now, that’s just downright adorable. You’re shaking and Taehyung is well aware that it has nothing to do with the cold biting your delicate skin. Brimming with fury, you throw your head back and scream at the midnight sky in defiance against their judgement. Even with your hair dishevelled, clothed in a threadbare nightgown, you blaze with beauty, stirring primal heat within his beastly body in ways he never imagined possible. The worn cotton clings to your voluptuous curves, wet from being dragged through the snow. Your full chest heaves, nipples pebble from the cold, and he can even see the v-shaped outline of your crotch under the curve of your stomach.

Taehyung can feel all the blood in his body rush to his cock. He looks down at his dark pants in confusion. He’s had erections, had fucked coutless demons—even if they smelled foul and tasted even worse. But it often takes him a while to get this hard. He’s always been so embarrassed by that fact, rubbing the back of his neck when anyone tried to captivate his sexual attention. Only after hours of foreplay does his body finally catch up to the heated moment, and by then he has already finger or tongue-fucked his sexual endeavour to their breaking point. 

But here you are—bound and nearly naked. You look deliciously desperate to be free, and oh how Taehyung would love to be the one that grants you such a sweet relief. His cock throbs at the thought and he stifles a deep-chested groan. Huffing quietly, he tries to compose himself, leaning his strong forearm against the sturdy tree he’s been lurking behind.

Could…Could it be you, he wonders as his thick cock strains against his trousers. My mate?

It’s pathetic—Taehyung knows it is. He has a reputation for being a big, bad beast and yet he’s desperate for love. He is well aware of the cliché and wants to hurl at the notion as well. However, even the most devious creatures need to share their twisted desires with someone. For years, Taehyung has been searching for that person, the one that makes his stomach warm with something other than vengeful justice. And he’d be lying if he said it wouldn’t be nice to have sex with someone without burning them with his arousal or release. All the demons and Saints he managed to get hard for and finally fuck have nearly died from the searing scars his cum had left behind. Taehyung never knew why his cock was so toxic, but it turned out his brother had the same issue. When asked, Nick said some bullshit about the Saintliness of his essence and how his one true mate will be the only one able to endure it.  

Taehyung decides to think about that later as his hungry gaze trails over your body again. He takes his time, tracing every curve, fold and dip of your trembling frame. His cock throbs at the whimpering sight, feeding into his suspicions.

He needs to pull himself together. Resting his head on the tree now, he closes his eyes and inhales deeply. He tries to recall more of that conversation with Nick. There was something about scents, right? If you are his mate, you’d be attracted to his scent. He realises he’s going to have to get really close to confirm his suspicions. 

The soft whisper of rope against wood draws him out of his thoughts. He looks back at your struggling figure. You yank at the restraints again. 

If he wants to kill me, he’ll have to catch me first, you foolishly think, gorgeous face scrunched in determination.

Taehyung smirks. You’re so cute. Trying to break out of sailing knots is one thing, but thinking you can outrun a Saint is something else entirely. Ambitious does not even begin to describe you. You are ruthless, uncompromising, insatiable—everything a nightmare should be.

Rolling his shoulders back, Taehyung heavily sighs. He stands at his full seven-foot-four height, grounding his hooves into the snow. A soft crunch sounds under his weight and you snap your head towards him. The fear in your wide eyes tightens his chest. He doesn’t want to scare you, but it smells so good on you. The adrenaline laced between your scent—sweet and intoxicating, like wild cherries dripping with honey and a faint hint of smoky amber—makes his head swim. The intensity reminds him of thunderstorms and untamed forests. Not to mention, you look so beautiful terrified, bottom lip quivering, eyes watering, cheeks heating. 

Fuck—trying to control his erection is futile. One whiff of you and he’s on the verge of cumming in his pants. Taehyung cannot hold back his low groan this time, hoping that releasing it will soothe his desire.

Your fearful scent thickens in the cold air. It tastes like a dying ember and honeyed wine. Taehyung licks his lips, practically drooling already. He draws in a final, long breath and exhales slowly before finally emerging from the shadows. 

“My, my,” he growls as a smirk tugs on his lips, “what a beautiful catastrophe you are, little one.”

Your reckoning has arrived. Your fate is sealed. So, why are you suppressing a moan? Is death supposed to be this…electrifying? Is Krampus supposed to sound—to look like chaotic, carnal sex incarnated? 

Muffled crunches of snow sound beneath his heavy, hooved steps. He slowly stalks forward, standing straighter as your eyes trace his monstrous frame. He’s a respectable distance away but still manages to loom over you, imposing and commanding. His eyes are molten amber, glowing with menacing intentions. They lock with yours, a predatory gleam flickering beneath the surface. Your heart tightens in your chest as you realise it’s not just a gaze—it’s an assessment, a piercing study that makes you feel smaller, insignificant. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you’re nothing but a mere toy for his amusement.

Desperate to escape his stare, you continue to scan his face. His sharp jawline and exaggerated features twist and shift, monstrous in their definition. It’s as though his human aspects were never quite meant to exist. A perfect, pale face is tainted with the slightest ashen grey, the skin stretched tight, almost unnatural and otherworldly. Deep red streaks through his wild, messy hair, matching the untamed brutality of his demeanour. 

However,  it’s his horns that make your lips part, your own features no doubt caught between awe and terror. Massive, twisted, his horns rise from his skull, curving backward like the horns of a ram, jet-black with veins of gold and crimson pulsing through them. They seem alive, thriving on twisted power. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by the idea that they are perfect for gripping as he pounds into you, core clenching. 

Fuck—what is wrong with you? How could you think such thoughts when you are staring death in his strangely handsome face? 

His buff chest puffs out before him, as if he’s holding in a deep chuckle. You continue your examination of him at the gesture. You’re not surprised to find his body is that of an apex predator—large, strong and unbreakable. Each muscle is sculpted with precision, yet still holds the rawness of someone who has never known restraint. His chest and arms glimmer in the dim torchlight of the clearing, his skin thick and leathery in some parts. It reminds you of the hide of some ancient creature the Sisters once described. Veins pulsate beneath it, glistening like they carry a deadly current. Every step he takes reverberates, his hooves sending a sharp clatter through the frozen air. And his tail—an impossibly long, spiked thing—whips behind him, furred and lethal, a warning in itself. As if it can hear your thoughts, his tail moves slower, curling and diving around the cold air.

You swallow thickly and redirect your gaze to his hands. 

Oh, gods, those hands. They’re enormous. Ending in black claws, you don’t doubt they’re sharp enough to tear you apart with a single swipe. They glisten like obsidian in the moonlight, carrying a dark promise of pain. And yet, you cannot stop imagining what it would feel like to have your neck fisted within one of them. He wouldn’t just hold you—he’d possess you, leaving no part of you untouched. And instead of devouring you, he’d violate your very essence.

You tear your attention away from him. Looking back at the road leading to Dreadmere, you wonder if this is how it started for the villagers. Did they have unholy thoughts too when they were this close to someone that smelled so…irresistible? Did the impulse, the primal urge to fulfil their desires overwhelm them like it does for you right now? Is it something about being caught in the dead of night, nearly naked and bound, that unravels hidden cravings?

Perhaps you are simply that wicked. You can’t believe you’re even thinking this, but…maybe Pastor Fischer and the Sisters were right to try to pray your evilness away. You’re standing here, slowly losing feeling in your toes and fingers, tied, trembling and aching to be touched by a monster. Could your misdeeds have darkened your soul enough to lust after beasts? 

Just kill me, you mentally plead as your arousal pools at your core. You’ve only ever touched yourself and you’d happily die a virgin if it means you don’t have to spend another second trying to understand why you are so attracted to a demonic Saint.

“You don’t want to die yet,” he says, voice low and raspy. “We’re just getting started.”

Your eyes widen. The cold sinks deep into your bones, his voice rattling you to your core. Still, it’s the fact that he just read your fucking mind that makes your breath hitch. You wonder if he’s just that devious or if it has anything to do with the fact that he’s a celestial Saint.

“Maybe both,” he offers, smirking in a way that should be threatening, but only makes him that much more handsome.

His smirk widens. 

Shit—did he just hear that too? 

You wonder if he has been doing this the entire time. Did he catch that thing you said about his horns? What about that thought about being choked by his huge hands? Does he know you’re aching for him? 

Krampus tilts his head, drinking in your fullness. You question whether or not you still have your nightgown on at the gesture. You squirm under his sexual scrutiny, clit buzzing from the brief of friction. His golden gaze, a vibrant colour like liquid sunlight, snaps back to meet yours. You expect to find disgust within them, to suddenly be filled with the same shame you often feel around the Sisters or Pastor. You expect to be burning with rage again because you hate feeling so small, but instead you are greeted with unbidden yearning. No one has ever looked at you with such determined desire. 

His fingers twitch at his sides before curling into fists, like he’s trying to restrain himself. He clears his throat, the ragged sound resonating in the base of your stomach. Your toes curl, blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“Speak,” he demands, voice rougher than before.

And just like that your rage returns, searing your heart with contempt. Narrowing your gaze, you declare through gritted teeth, “I am not your pet.”

The spark of intrigue that flickers in his eyes wavers your resolve. You bet he likes that idea and is probably imagining it as he looks over your curves again. You can’t help your thoughts from diving into what it would be like either. He’d likely collar you like a pup, and yank on your leash when he needs your attention. You wonder if he would allow you some articles of clothing or constantly leave you bare and prepared for him. Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t killed you yet. He wants you to be his new little pet. 

A wave of discomfort sobers your salacious thoughts at the possibility that you may not be his first obsession. Does he make pets out of his other favourable sacrifices? Does he collect them for his own gluttonous pleasure? 

Your gut twists in disgust at the thought of being like the rest. You refuse to be another little human, used and abused. You will either die now on your own terms, or tear yourself free and bolt into the dark forest. Tugging on the rope, you bite back a wince as the rough material scratches against your skin. You look up at it, daring to try again when the rope rubs further against your tender wounds. 

“Is defiance a matter of pride for you,” Krampus starts, inching closer. Your attention remains on your wrists, still fighting against the restraints.

“Or,” he’s an arm’s length away now, his bulky body engulfing you in darkness, “is it just a bad habit we’ve yet to break?”

“We?” you ask with far more indignation than you know you should show. Your survival instincts must be surfacing if you suddenly want to control your lashing tongue. Somehow you find that to be the most embarrassing part of this oddly sexual interaction.

Krampus slowly brings one of his huge hands towards you. Despite your efforts, you cannot stop your bottom lip from trembling. His shadow snuffs out the dim light of the torches around the clearing, but you can still make out the outline of his claws as they near your face. You do not whimper, nor do you flinch. Instead you stay still, eyes fluttering shut as you accept your fate. You know this is the part where you cry and plead for your life, but you feel like there is no better time to go than after rejecting a Saint. More than that, you are dying from the consequences of your own hostility. You can leave this world knowing it was your doing, your choice and not the decision of the villagers.

The sudden sound of retracting claws slices through the silence. You snap your eyes open just as his hand brushes over your face. Tender, gentle, he caresses your cold skin, warming you within seconds. His thumb traces the curve of your lips then the point of your chin. You wonder if you were wrong before. Maybe he does not have a harem of humans, because he touches you like he has never been this intimately close to one. 

The amber in his eyes glows like gilded flames, dancing with delicate danger. Your skin slowly warms against the winter frost, heat gingerly radiating from his hand into your flesh.

“Do you still want to run?” Krampus asks. 

Confusion creases between your brows. He says that, like you have a choice. When he does not confirm nor deny that sentiment, you assume that he really is giving you one. Your gaze flickers towards the dark woods, towards the future that’s far from Dreadmere and the creatures of sin that inhabit it.

“I always want to run,” you confess, voice quiet but certain.

You are not stupid. You know what he is really asking. You know he is actually wondering if you rather remain under his touch. And, you know that even if you were given the chance to flee, he will chase you. You are his sacrifice afterall. Still, the mere possibility of being able to fight for yourself again, to reach for something beyond useless prayers is almost freeing in itself. If all of this does end with your death, at least you can say you tried to be something more than the village terror or a pitiful sacrifice.

Krampus nods. “Shall we discuss the terms?”

There is a lightness to his tone that unravels your anger in a way nothing ever has before. In fact, you never thought that was even possible. Your anger is only ever satiated once you’ve served your revenge. You tilt your head in confusion, only to find yourself leaning into his touch. You want to tell yourself that it was an accident but the electric buzz of your nerves  hints otherwise.

“Explain yourself,” you demand, desperate to regain a semblance of your composure.

You cannot see his face in the darkness but you know he’s grinning because you hear him breathe a chuckle. Two torches suddenly appear on either side of the sacrificial stake, illuminating his broad figure towering over you. A gasp escapes you but Krampus continues speaking like he didn’t just readjust the torches from the edges of the clearing to the center with the sheer will of his mind.

“You have terrible manners for a girl raised in a church,” he teases.

You clearly see that smile playing on his pretty lips now. It widens at your subtle, mental admission of his charm and you start to wonder if he brought the torches closer just to witness you lust after him some more.

Yes, you’re strangely attractive. Let’s move on, you mentally snap.

Amusement dances in his glowing gaze. You’d be lying if you said the sudden bloom of pride around your heart was not because you pleased him.

“The terms, my little nightmare, of your escape need to be set out before I let you go,” he finally explains. “Because once I catch you, I don’t think I will be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You gulp, all humour dissipating in your features. Heat pools in the base of your stomach at his new pet name for you, but soon frosts over upon his underlying implication. Does he still want to kill you? 

“Do you see that flag over there?” he asks, nodding towards the waving red and white flag of Dreadmere on the other side of the forest. It’s a focal point for travellers to follow the path towards the village. When you nod, he continues, “If you can make it past the village threshold, I won’t claim you.” 

Your blood chills, heart coils. Why does that thought literally suffocate you, your next breath catching at the base of your throat. Is freedom not what you wanted? 

“And if you catch me?”

A smug, yet sincere smile tugs on the corner of his lips. “You’ll have to be caught to find out, little one.”

You have never been little a day in your life. Even as a child you were bolstered with rage, contempt and an ego that made the mayor soil himself when he met you. Not to mention your voluptuous frame of curves and folds. The villagers called you greedy and foul, but if you didn’t fight for your place at the table, you wouldn’t have survived this long. And yet, this beastly Saint calls you ‘little’ and you cannot argue against it. All your animosity dwindles under his watchful gaze, leaving you feeling little.

“Do you accept these terms?” Krampus asks, stepping forward. 

You nod. 

“No, no,” he tuts through a chuckle. “You need to use your words.” 

“Yes,” you reply, tone clipped and jaw clenched.

Krampus lets his smile fully settle upon his face. Rows of sharp, white teeth gleam in the torchlight and you know it is meant to be menacing, but—you tilt your head in curiosity—you actually think it’s…endearing. It’s a genuine smile, amber eyes bright in delight.

He leans forward, his face inches from yours now. “Open your mouth,” he whispers.

The heat of his breath almost makes you whimper. 

You grip onto your annoyance and scoff, lips remaining apart out of sheer shock—or, at least that’s what you tell yourself. 

Krampus accepts the gesture all the same, slipping his long, thick tongue into your mouth. Your eyes widen, heart stops and body tenses. Slimy and warm, his tongue glides around yours, then snakes around your cheeks and teeth. For a moment (or maybe two), you rub your tongue against his and accept the sweet tang of his salvia. At first, you think it might taste metallically, like iron or something reminiscent of blood. However, as he continues to drag it around your mouth, notes of something darkly sweet and smoky—like burnt caramel or black honey—intoxicate your tastebuds.

Your eyes regrettably roll back with your head as you open your mouth further. It’s heavy and invasive, but oh so delicious. Your toes curl and core throbs, needy for the warmth of his tongue. As your heart pounds in your throat, you resist the urge to buck your hips towards him.

Krampus eventually pulls back, removing his tongue from your mouth. You immediately right your head, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your pleasure without reasonable cause. His gaze still gleams with amusement, much to your dismay. 

“What was that?” you shakily ask. 

“Sealing the deal.”

The darkness of his voice should not captivate you like this. You should rebuke it. You should spit in his face and tell him that was disgusting and violating. It’s what you would do, had it been anyone else. However, as he stares at you with those smouldering honey eyes, glistening with a cruel promise and a hunger that speaks of ruin, whatever remains of your resentful resolve crumbles, leaving only a trembling ache in its wake.

The knots around your wrist suddenly loosen. Your arms fall before you, weak from the strain, as you collapse to your knees with a grunt and muted thump. The snow seeps through your thin nightgown, ice instantly nipping at your soft skin. You should stand, roll your shoulders back and prepare to bolt. Instead, you stare at his hooves, slowly trailing your gaze up his dark trouse-clad legs and lingering around the bulge of his crotch.

He wants me too?

“I think I’ll give you a ten second head start,” he says, pulling you out of your thoughts. “And you’re already down to nine, little nightmare.”

Cunt, you mentally sneer as you stand. 

His dark laughter echoes behind you as you head towards the flag. You know you should feel scared, maybe even nauseated by the fact that you are being hunted, but the adrenaline turns terror into pleasure instead. You sprint into the shadows, unable to suppress the wicked grin carving itself across your face.

Did you know that, when you run, your body flows like liquid fire, each step a wave of hypnotic grace, as if you were made to draw predators closer?

Taehyung bites his lip, his night-vision granting him the ability to follow you through the dark woods. His cock throbs needlessly, begging for stimulation and worship. Allowing himself to get lost in the way your backside jiggles with each hurried step, he squeezes his clothed length and quietly groans.

Your heart is pounding, skipping a beat at the thought of him catching you. As he gives his cock another squeeze, Taehyung wonders if you feel the bond forming too. Is that why you continue to entertain your desires even when a louder part of you demands you hold onto your disgust? Is it his whispered words, his vicious voice? Or is it the fact that you began dripping from the taste of his wet tongue? He smiles to himself at the way your head rolled back, and eyes twitched with satisfaction. Your heart was fluttering with bliss, body arching into him and you didn’t even realise it. 

Saints, his hand is doing nothing to ease the ache of his cock—even his balls are starting to swell with want now. He can’t hold back a growl at the thought of unloading in your mouth, or all over your face or—fuck! His cock twitches. Taehyung quickly removes his hand from his crotch, refusing to cum before he catches you. 

Speaking of which—he’s definitely given you more than ten seconds. You’re halfway to the flag now and Taehyung must admit that he’s impressed. You always rise up to a challenge, but sprinting at full speed in the snow while barefoot can’t be easy for a little human like you. 

You continue to surprise me, little nightmare, Taehyung thinks, smirking at your full figure as it shrinks in the distance. He wonders if you'll still keep him guessing through the centuries you'll share together.

Rolling his shoulders back, Taehyung decides he’s given you enough false hope. He stretches his limbs, tilting his head from side to side and shaking out his hands. He then plants his hooves into the snow, drawing in a deep breath, and sprints after you. His eyes shut. He wants to challenge himself as well. Look at you—already inspiring him to be a better predator. Only the purist, most wholesome little creatures can invoke such ambition in a sadidisc Saint like himself. 

Taehyung focuses on your scent, smiling at the delicate darkness that wraps around you. You’re undeniably heady, all wet and aching to be filled by him. He doesn’t need to hear the hesitance in your steps or the way your heart beats faster at the sound of him gaining on you. He can smell your need laced between the rotten honeyed cherries and spiced embers of your scent.

“K-Krampus,” you whimper. Your humiliation and rage plague your scent with hints of charred vanilla.

Aw, do you hate how pathetic you sound for me, little one? Taehyung taunts, his sinister voice echoing in your head. 

The shuddered breath that escapes you makes him drool. He licks his lips as you groan at yourself for being so weak for him. Hey—it happens to the best of us…or maybe the worst. Either way, Taehyung is certain that you do not need to be filled with this much shame, especially when it’s obviously feigned. You have never been ashamed in your vengeful life, little nightmare, and it’s time you stop pretending once and for all. You’re just annoyed at the idea that you might be just another human for his collection. Your pride won’t let you admit that you want to be special to him, so you pretend to be ashamed by your attraction and curse at him under your breath. 

You already sound like a possessive mate, even if you don’t know it yet. Taehyung gleans at the subtle claim, eager to return the sentiment.

His amber eyes snap open. You’re two steps away and he knows you’re painfully aware of it too.. Is that why your next step falters? Do you want to be caught, to be claimed by him and his—what did you call them—enormous hands?

Taehyung lunges, the thrill of hunting, capturing his prey, finally overwhelming him. A guttural growl emits from deep within his chest, rattling you in a way you believe should be threatening but you whine in reply anyway. You don’t even fight the urge to do so, further spurring the beast within him to pounce. 

His enormous—no, he will not be letting this go any time soon—hands seize your full yet flimsy little body. He retracts his claws to prevent any real damage, but still puts some strength into his grasp, pulling you into his chest before you can make it out of your corrupt village. 

The screech you let out almost makes him cum in his trousers. Viscerally helpless, you cry out against his hold, but still curl into the warmth of his torso. Taehyung pins you on your back, shoving you into the snow. He holds your arms in place over your head with one hand and unleashes his claws to gently rake across your skin. It’s just a silent reminder of the possible danger he poses—isn’t that what you particularly enjoy about his presence? You like how big and threatening he is, don’t you, little one?

Your fragile body trembles beneath him, caught between the heat of his frame and the chill of the snow. Taehyung slowly drags a clawed, index finger down your chest, tearing through your poor excuse of a nightgown. 

Your chest heaves as you pant from both exertion and his touch. You try to convince yourself otherwise, even when you know it’s futile, but you are well aware that the way he barely scratches your skin while still effectively ripping through your clothes is making you even wetter. He bets your inner thighs are slick with your arousal and just begging to be licked clean.

“Are you going to kill me,” you whisper, afraid your sexual yearning will betray you if you speak any louder. “Or f-fuck me?” 

A string of curses loop in your head at your second fumble of your words. His hard length is pressing against your legs and you have the gall to ask him a stupid question like that. You both know that if he wanted to kill you, he would have caught you with his mouth instead of his enormous hands.

“I’m going to ruin you,” Taehyung whispers, matching your controlled tone in that dulcet voice you pretend to hate. 

That’s not an answer, you wish to reply.

Taehyung raises a brow at how you bite your tongue instead. He shakes his head at you, pushing your torn nightgown open. Your breasts heave under him, nipples taut and tantalising. One look and Taehyung cannot stop himself any more. His tail swishes behind him in anticipation as his tongue falls out of his mouth, just as slimy and warm as you noted it to be. He dips his head low, then slowly laps around your left nipple. Your skin tastes as sinfully sweet as your mouth. His cock pulsates in his trousers at the notions of smoked, dark berries and vanilla.

Your bottom lip quivers and the tiniest sigh of bliss escapes your beautiful lips. You arch your back, shoving your chest further into his face. 

He’s just warm, you try to reason with yourself. I just like it cause he’s warm. 

And wet, Taehyung can’t help adding, his deep voice slipping back in your head.

Your eyes widen, attention shifting down at him. You part your lips to tell him to stay the fuck out of your head when Taehyung swipes his tongue over your other swollen breast. He twirls it around your sensitive nipple, chuckling to himself when your toes curl and bones tremble. He can hear your heart pounding, your body begging for more. He decides to oblige for now, moving his tongue up to lick your collarbone, shoulders and neck. A trail of his salvia glistens against your skin under the pale blue light of a late December moon. You’re shimmering, all whiny and breathless. 

“What are you doing to me?” you finally find the courage to ask. Your nerves are buzzing beneath your usual mask of  defiance. 

Something warm and wholesome swells in his chest, threading between his ribs, planting roots in his heart. Your eyes flare with the intensity of an intoxicated inferno, as if you feel it too. Taehyung watches, in absolute awe, how you snuff that flame out within seconds, reminding yourself that you are one of many humans he’d claimed. Your greed for his attention only deepens the roots of that impossible warmth within him, twisting and tangling its way into every dark corner of his being. 

He decides he’s going to let that false pretense of yours dangle a little longer, seamlessly torturing you in that delicious way you try to hate but heats your core all the same. 

He meets your gaze gently, not wanting to completely break you yet. His patience is wearing thin, however. “When will you stop pretending to be revolted by this?” he growls. “You may be a virgin, little one, but you are not innocent.”

“Excuse me?” you spit, that fire reigniting in your once complacent gaze. 

Darkly chuckling, Taehyung shakes his head. He squints as if he might reconsider then replies, “No, I don’t think I will. You’re mine now, baby.”

All anger falls from your face at the term of endearment. Taehyung does not try to fight off the smile settling on his lips. He leans down and licks from your jaw, over your cheek, to your temple. He repeats the action on the other side of your face, before swiping over your lips. You part them, thinking he was going to shove his tongue in again. It wasn’t part of the plan, but since you’ve submitted so wordlessly, he decides to grant you a moment of pure pleasure. 

Your tongue is more forthcoming this time, dancing around with the tip of his. Holding his gaze, you welcome his tongue only to tug your wrists against his hand. It was an experimental tug, as if you were trying to see how distracted he might be with your mouth and if it’s enough to attempt another escape. Instead, his claws scratch at your skin, leaving shallow marks in their place. 

Taehyung’s eyes darken.

So, you thought you could trick him. You know he can hear every one of your needy thoughts, know that it was never going to work. No, no—you want to test him. You want to bait him into keeping his promise of ruin. You did not get a satisfactory answer when you asked what he would do to you and now you want to lure him into showing you exactly what he plans. 

The thought is admirable, really, little nightmare. You truly are tenacious, ambitious, luscious. If you want your punishment so badly, he will oblige—just this once.

Taehyung uses the tip of his tongue to easily flatten yours. Your brows rise at the gesture and he stops himself from laughing again, because if that surprises you, then you will melt at his next move. Testing your boundaries, Taehyung shoves his tongue as far as it can possibly go down your throat. 

Your right eye twitches at the stinging stretch against your throat. You gag, body pressing further against him. Taehyung groans from the vibrations, pulling his tongue out a bit only to shove it back in and again. Your thighs press tightly together, like you can feel the friction of the heady action between them too. Eyes watering, you fist your tiny hands and gag some more. You’re trying to moan, Taehyung realises. And it’s unnervingly arousing.

His cock strains in his pants and as you choke for the third time, drunk of the taste of his spit and the weight of his tongue. He cannot delay the inevitable any longer. He leans into the warmth of your mouth as his cock swells, orgasm shuddering through him seconds later. His trousers dampen against your legs, his sizable load spoiling them instantly. 

The sultry slits of your eyes make him groan. You think you’ve won and it’s infuriating. Taehyung, suddenly understanding your vexation and stubborn pride, huffs through his nostrils. He rolls his eyes, panting over your much too smug face, and he slowly removes his tongue from your mouth. A thick string of your mixed saliva connects your wet bottom lip to his chin. You lick your lips, breaking the connection to savour every last drop.

A vicious grin settles on his ashen face. The hand once around your wrists falls to your neck, ever so slowly squeezing your windpipe until your shallow exhales become raspy and frayed. Lust floods your gaze, replacing your previous haughtiness with a gratification that only strengthens the faint hum of your growing bond. He knows you have been thinking about this, about what his enormous hand would feel like around your throat, suffocating you oh-so sweetly. He can almost hear a whisper of gratitude tumble out with your next staggered breath. 

“Enjoying yourself now, aren’t you, little one?” 

You bite your lip, but it does very little to hold back the tremors of excitement jolting through your beautiful body. You try tensing, hoping that hyperextending your limbs will discourage them from seeking his warmth, but that doesn’t work for you either. In fact, the tight press of your thighs and clench of your core only make you want him even more. The tremors become stronger and soon enough you’re writhing beneath him.

“I believe,” you still manage to start, voice raspy from the pressure of his fist. He loosens his grip to hear your sweet voice better. “You are the one enjoying yourself.” Then, as if your words were not insulting enough, you rub your legs against the wet mark around his trousers. 

Divine rage boils his blood. You are getting bolder with every stroke of his tongue. While it’s adorable watching your walls crumble, he will not tolerate disobedience. You may not be the villain of this story, little nightmare, but you have been naughty. 

It is time you face your reckoning.

Burnt leather, chilled by the frosty air and laced with hints of frankincense, intoxicates your senses. Isn’t his scent supposed to replicate the demonic divinity of his essence? You cannot understand why it rattles your nerves with such urgency. And when thickened by the musk of his arousal, the intensity reminds you of midnight storms—dark, deadly, but devastatingly beautiful.

He just came, the warmth of his load thawing your shivering legs from the snow. The glare he shoots you warns you against gloating, but you cannot help it. Perhaps it is your hubris, but your sick satisfaction that he unravelled from the sheer taste of your mouth cannot be stifled.

And you don’t want it to be. It is useless to fight against him, the previous chase proof enough. You know you only got that far because he let you. He’s the only one that un-tied the restraints, that gave you more than ten seconds to escape. Saints, if he could have killed you when he tackled you to the ground. He chose to retract his claws instead. As much as you want to be, you are not the one in control, so you might as well lean into the radiating heat of his beastly body and relish in the fact that the taste of your saliva made him cum.

Krampus growls. 

Your egoistic resolve wavers.  

His enormous hands grip onto your thick thighs. They are big, often rubbing against each other, but they look measly in his hands. Before you can even register what he has planned, Krampus pulls them apart and unleashes his tongue again. It’s long, but he still needs to dip his head lower to smother it against your heat.

A desperate cry tears from your throat, echoing into the dark night. It’s so fucking wet and weighty, lapping between your folds over and over again. Your bottom lip quivers, eyes water as tension tightens at the base of your spine. You separate your legs wider, buck your hips higher against his tongue. 

“S-Saints,” you whimper. 

Krampus chuckles, his voice vibrating against your clit. He retracts his tongue enough to suction his lips around your core.

Feels good, baby, he whispers in your mind.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut, brows creasing. Your hands, previously fisted pathetically under your spit-slick chin, fly down to his head. As you suspected, his horns are perfect for bracing yourself. You clutch onto them tightly, the power within them thumping against your cold palms. 

A low, guttural growl resonates against your core as you tighten your grip. You whine like the wounded prey you are. Your toes curl, body trembles and you feel a pressure building around your clenching hole. It begs for further stimulation, for release.

You're so close, bones stiff, muscles tense. Your heart is hammering, nerves buzzing with anticipation. 

More, more, mor—

Nothing. 

Krampus pulls away, leaving you with nothing but the cold air. Tears split from your eyes as a needy scream rips from your throat. That pressure lingering around your core dissipates. Your once hammering heart falls to your stomach, nerves frenzied and confused, yearning for that stimulation again.

“Why?” you ask, though you are certain you know the answer anyway. He was frustrated with the fact that you were so smug about his early orgasm and denying you one is his form of punishment.

The arrogant smile settling on his face confirms your thoughts.

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “That’s hardly fair,” you breathe, meeting his smouldering gaze. 

One of his hands roughly cups your crotch. He kneads his palm agonisingly slow against it as he replies, “I am the deity. I decide what is fair.”

The lethal look in his eye dares you to question his judgement. You want to tell him that is not fair either. You did not edge him or outwardly taunt him for cumming. How is it your fault that he has no self-restraint? And pulling the Saint card is bullshit. It is lazy and easy and you both know he is beyond that.

Is…is he smiling wider? Saints—is he still reading your mind?

His dark, deep laughter fills the heady space between you. Mustering every last drop of your annoyance, you try to fight off the flush of your cheeks at the sexy sound. When that doesn’t work, you focus on the minimal stimulation from the palm of his hand and pretend you're flustered over that instead.

That plan is short lived, however. In one swift motion, Krampus flips you from your back to your stomach. You turn your head and put your hands out in front of you. Still, the snow nips at your skin. You whimper from the cold as your chest presses into the ground as well. 

“This hurts,” you shout over your shoulder. 

“It hurts?” he asks, voice dripping with condescension. “Then tell me why you’re separating your legs.” 

You don’t have a dignified answer. Your swollen lips continue to quiver, body still trembles—whether against the cold or out of desperation, you're not sure. You just shift your bruised knees further apart and hope he will finally claim you the way you have always yearned to be. No one has ever wanted you, not even your own parents. 

But Krampus, the Saint of Reckoning and Redemption, does. He plays with you, gropes you, warms you and you are tired of pretending these are not things you want. You always wanted to be the one someone cheats with or sneaks out for. You always wanted to be the one people believe in and care for. If he wants to give you that, to fill your chest with something warm and wholesome, then you will allow him the chance to do so. Because even if this night ends with your death, you know you will never regret this blissful moment where you toggles pain and pleasure with such a sweetly, sadidisc Saint. 

“Krampus,” you whisper into the night, like a forgotten prayer. 

Taehyung, he corrects, slipping back into your mind. I want to hear my birth name on your delicious tongue.

Your back arches, backside perking up to his hands, kneading your round flesh. They’re rough and unforgiving, but you don’t want them any other way as you correct yourself (for the first time in your life), “Taehyung.”

He lets out a satisfied groan. You part your lips to say it again, unable to fight back a smile. But a hand comes down on your plump cheek before you can form the syllables. The smack booms like a thunderclap and you fall further into the cold ground with a surprised shriek. The pain hums against your sensitive skin and you don’t even have a chance to attempt to soothe it before he does it again.

Tears stream freely down your face as trembling sobs tumble from your lips. You gasp as the sting intensifies, fisting the snow beside you to stable yourself. The pain is burns, but fuck your core continues to sporadically clench, all the more needy. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he coos behind you, rubbing the inflicted area. “You’re such a good girl, taking your punishment so well.”

Your sobs stutter.

Good girl?

The two words together have always been lashed at you with vicious vehemence. You never even dreamed you could earn the title, believe you were bound for a life of misdeed and transgressions. But Taehyung offers them to you so fondly, like he actually admires you.

“You mean it,” you can’t stop yourself from asking. 

He hums his approval, voice so deep and daunting it sends shivers down your spine. “You’ve always been a good girl, little nightmare,” he says before pressing his lips to your still stinging cheek. “You just never had a chance to behave like one until now.” 

You suddenly do not care if you are just another human he collects, another sexual pet. You do not care if he has possibly done this with other sacrifices. His words in this moment repair the tatters of your soul and stitch together wounds you bitterly carried.

Warm erupts in your chest, spreading all the way down to the tips of your toes. Roots of comfort and security sprout from your heart, digging into your lungs and tangling around your ribs. A garden of gratification blooms in the base of your stomach and whatever contempt you once wore like a badge of honour shatters for in this moment you realise you are not unloveable, undesirable. 

You are exactly who you were always supposed to be. Rituals did not work, prayers were not answered because there was nothing about you that needed to change.

Your eyes burn with your newfound confidence, like the flames of a rising phoenix. You spare a glance at him over your shoulder and you know he is already aware of what is going on in your head. The gentle smile gracing his soft lips indicates as much. 

Still, you need to voice it.

“You are not claiming me,” you state, pushing your backside against him. “I am claiming you. And you can try running or hiding or whatever it is Saints do, but I will find you and let you use me every time.”

His smile widens.

“Tell me what you want me to do, little nightmare,” Taehyung encourages. He unbuttons his trousers. 

It’s your turn to smile. 

“I want you to fuck me, to ruin me, to posses me like the worshipper I am,” you declare, pouring every ounce of yourself into your words. “Make me yours.”

Taehyung tears his pants off, and his thick, rigid cock springs free. Your jaw goes slack—huge doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s veined and flushed, the head an angry, glistening crimson that seems to dare you to take it. The sheer weight of him has it curving slightly, a sinful masterpiece that makes your stomach tighten and your core clench involuntarily. 

You whimper, trying to imagine how much you will need to stretch to fully accommodate his girth. He must be just over four or five inches wide, and you don’t even know where to start with his length. You think that maybe if you had some experience you might have been able to see yourself accepting him. But you’re a virgin, and two of your fingers are barely the size of one of his, let alone his cock. 

He must see the horror in your eyes because he rubs your cheeks again and leans down to kiss the base of your spine.

“It will fit,” he reassures. 

“How?”

His face hardens, eyes darken with lust. “I’ll make it fit.”

Again, that’s not a real answer.

You don’t have time to argue however, for he teases the tip at your entrance. You screw your eyes tight and bite your lip, bracing yourself for the pain this will inflict.

Taehyung tsks and runs his fingers up and down your back. “Relax,” he says. “Just trust me. Can you do that, little one?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

You roll your eyes. He did that on purpose. It was extremely cute and sweet, but you refuse to voice that to him. Instead, you try to relax your muscles. 

He’s a Saint, you tell yourself. He moves torches with his mind and can read your thoughts. If he says he can make it fit, then you need to have faith in him. 

His wet tongue falls over your back, licking and swirling around your skin. You whimper quietly, allowing that warmth of it to soothe you. 

Just as a sigh of relief escapes your lips, your eyes gently shutting, Taehyung pushes himself in. He does not breach your hole right away, push, push, pushing against you until the head of it finally pops in. 

Your eyes roll back the stretch oh so blissful.

He continues to slide into your slickness, digging his fingers into your full hips hard enough to mark you. He groans quietly then drags his tongue into your wet, snow-damp hair. As if grooming your head, he laps at it, halting his hips for a second.

You shudder, tears of desperation still streaming down your face. “Keep going please.” 

And he does, moving his hips slowly

With one hand remaining on your side, he slides the other under your stomach and lifts you up to his face. He removes his tongue and presses his lips to your shoulders instead.

Your insides shift. Or at least you think they do. Your core, while still tight, seems to be more malleable, more…expandable. 

Did he just use magic to alter your pelvis in order to accommodate him?

“Yes,” Taehyung murmurs, pressing his lips to your ear. “You’re mine.”

And with that he shoves himself further into you until his weighty, full balls dangle between your thick thighs. The stretch is unbearable when he’s being this still. Need scrunches your features as you look up at him. 

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

You let out a heavy breath, shoulder slumping. You continue to clench tightly around him, no matter how relaxed his sweet gesture makes you feel.

“You’re so impatient,” he teases, smiling against your skin. 

You don’t have the chance to roll your eyes before he gives you what you have been wordlessly begging for. Shiting his hips back, Taehyung forcefully rams into you. Had he not been gripping onto your side or hooking an arm around your stomach, you would have jolted forward and right off his cock. 

A shatter cry shreds through your throat. He maintains that same force, pounding himself into you over and over again. Your hands gasp around your for something to hold onto. One of your hands finds purchase over his strong forearm while the other reaches back and grasps onto one of his horns. 

Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck (or at least tries to), growling, “Fuck!” 

You start to wonder if his horns are sensitive when you feel his sharp teeth graze your delicate skin.The whimper that trembles from your lips would have made you cringe had he not been fucking you so good. That pressure that was once building in your core before is returning and you will not let your pride ruin your orgasm for you this time.

The delicious prick of teeth into skin has you lolling your head to the side. He sinks it in deeper, coaxing an all too erotic moan from you.

Precious, little nightmare, his voice whispers into your soul. All mine. 

“Yours,” you manage to choke out between broken moans. “I’m yours, Taehyung.”

Removing his teeth from your shoulder, he licks the wound clean. You know there will still be a mark though, and plan to wear it proudly. 

Taehyung wraps both arms around your torso now. His giant body engulfs yours as he pulls you into his chest. He’s hunching over to maintain his thrusts, never relenting on their power. Your body continues to jiggle with each thrust, his big cock swelling deep inside you.

I want to do this all the time, you think to him. You don’t care if he has other humans to service. You want to fucked like this at least twice a day. 

His dark, charming presence lurks around your consciousness, caressing your healing soul. There’s no one else, he reassures. We’ll do this all the time—any time.

Your core tightens, inching closer and closer to a release. Bones rattling, muscles tensing, you can feel that warmth in the base of your stomach tangle and twist. He licks behind your ear and your clit throbs. He then trails his tongue to your lips, shoving it back in there. Your toes curl, eyes screwed shut. 

Then, as his tongue moves to the rhythm of his restless thrusts, the knots coiling in your gut snap. Your orgasm washes over you,  fogging your mind. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, moans muffle around his tongue. Clenching and unclenching spontaneously, you gush and gush all over his length. 

Maybe it’s the what of your arousal or the way you are tightening around him, but Taehyung immediately chases his own orgasm after you. He draws in and out with perfect precision, grunting over your face. With a final, deep thrust, he still his hips to unload his hot, thick load into you. 

Gasping in satisfaction, you swirl your hip back into him. His cum is so warm, so thick, it clings to your walls, making you feel impossibly full. It’s like you were made to take everything he has to offer. 

Taehyung pulls his tongue out of your mouth, and goes stiff behind you. Looking up at him, face a mess of tears and his saliva—which tastes like sweet honey left out in the sun—, you wonder why there’s a sudden shift in his demeanor. He gazes down at you, as if waiting for your features to change. 

“Taehyung?” 

He blinks then tilts his head. “You’re not in pain?” he questions. 

You bite back a smile. “Do you want me to be?”

His confused features lighten into amusement. He bends down and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is slow, deliberate, a stark contrast to the primal chaos that led you here. His lips move against your with a reverence that makes your chest ache and core tighten around him all over again. You feel him everywhere—on your skin, in your blood, burrowed deep in the marrow of your bones. It’s as though he is not just kissing your mouth but every broken and hidden part of you, filling your essence with unbound adoration and devotion. 

The night air hums with unspoken promises, thick with the lingering scent of sweat, sex, and his intoxicating musk. As Taehyung pulls you further into his, pressing your bare back to his chest, you feel it—the shift in the atmosphere, the shift in him. Something deeper, something ancient and unyielding, has taken root.

The weight of his gaze lingers, searing into you with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. As his lips ghost over your temple, you realise—this isn’t just desire. It’s something far more dangerous. It’s a silent vow, whispered into your very soul, binding you to the storm that is Taehyung.You have been marked by Krampus and there will be no turning back.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.

[inkedtae]

thank you so much for reading !! im so glad you liked it 🥺💗

[yoonia]

— Dia’s tumblr wrapped 2024 

I know it’s super late for me to share this, but just as many would say, it’s better late than never. Thank you so much for the lovely people who tagged me to do this: @beomcoups, @shadowkoo, @kingofbodyrolls ♡

2024 started off smoothly…until it didn’t. The final quarter of the year has always been a hard time for me and it wasn’t that much different this year. As you can probably notice that I’ve been mostly absent ever since the end of October and I deeply apologise for that. I also regret not planning things properly and for not keeping up with my goals this year but that only means that I'll be dragging my WIP list towards the next year.

Thank you so much for everyone who has been there for me this year, and those of you who have stuck by me despite my inconsistencies. I really appreciate your presence on my blog, whether it’s through your likes and kudos, your reblogs, your comments and replies on my contents, and the kind words you sent me through my ask box. You guys have made it worthwhile for me to be here even after all these years, and I don’t think I can thank you enough for that. Here’s to mark the end of our wild journey through 2024 and enter the new year of 2025. 

OVERALL FIC STATS 2024

Number of fics posted: 4 (four) one-shots, 2 (two) ongoing series, 3 (three) ficlets

Number of fics revamped: 2 (two) completed fics, 2 (two) ongoing series

Number of words written: 448,057 words (dang, no wonder I felt so burned out lol)

Number of fics in progress: 32 (oh, boy…) 

FIRST FIC OF 2024

❥ A Christmas Fix 01 & 02 —  posted Jan 31st & Feb 1st | 1,926 & 1,226 notes

My thoughts: This was…quite a journey. It’s been a while since I wrote a rom-com story and I was pleased to have been given the chance to write this idea through a collab. The final outcome wasn’t too disappointing either, since I enjoyed writing it and reading it afterwards. I’m glad everyone loved this story as well.

MOST POPULAR FIC OF 2024

❥ The Stand-In (Revamped version) — posted Aug 13th | 4,267 notes

My thoughts: Okay, yeah…I cheated a little. But to be fair, this fic did get a lot of notes this year before and after the revamping process. I loved this story so much that I felt like it deserved a major makeover and I’m glad I managed to do it this year.

LONGEST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Bedroom Hymns — series, ongoing, last updated Sept 9th | 50k++ words | I’m too lazy to open each chapter to count the notes I’m so sorry lol

My thoughts: I know…I know, I need to update this one again. I had to take a break from this series because this fic literally became my main focus this year that a lot of my WIPs kept getting pushed back just so I could finish more of this. I had to stop at some point to finally set free my WIPs. I have to admit that I also lost my motivation to write this due to the lack of notes and responses that I got with each update no matter how much time I spent working on it (tacky, I know…but it is what it is). I still love and enjoy writing this, so more chapters are coming. I can see this fic becoming my main focus again in 2025 until I’m done with it.

LAST FIC OF 2024

❥ The Forsaken II: Tears of the Sea — posted Oct 24th | 712 notes

My thoughts: Holy hell…this fic. Who would’ve thought that I’d be revisiting siren!Taehyung this year after…3 years?? Thank you, whoever it was that sent this during my birthday event. I never expected to write a full fic for this to continue the original story and to answer a lot of your questions, but I’m glad I did! 

Honorable mention: 

❥ Our Imperfections — posted Oct 30th | 92 notes

My thoughts: This was the last thing I actually released before I dipped into the void but I couldn’t count this as a fic as this was considered a ficlet or, in a more common term, a drabble.

PERSONAL FAVOURITE FIC OF 2024

❥ Blooming Wallflowers — posted Sept 25th | 927 notes

My thoughts: I had one of those rare moments where I found myself enjoying the writing process of a story so much that things simply kept flowing until it became a full story. This one went twice the size planned (and commissioned) but I have no regrets. At all.

Honorable mention: 

❥ Maps (revamped version) — series, completed, posted Sept 6th, 7th, & 11th | 1,4k++ notes (again, I’m too lazy to open each chapter lol)

My thoughts: I initially planned to release something else for DPR Ian’s birthday this year. But then I started revamping the graphics for his old fics instead and decided to revamp the whole series while I had the chance. This one has always been my fave work that I wrote for Christian, so diving back into this to do a makeover and give it a major upgrade felt absolutely fulfilling. 

2024 SPECIAL EVENT

❥ 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: yoonia’s 2024 birthday bash

My thoughts: Once again, I can’t thank you guys enough for joining this small event of mine. I promise that I’ll have another event in 2025 so please stay tuned! (see you in March!) 

Fave reads of 2024

I have to admit that I haven’t been doing a lot of fic reading this year. But I’m happy that I got to dive back into reading some fanfics during my birthday event and found some lovely gems that I truly enjoyed

The Taste of Sin by @shadowkoo

Vignette: Duty by @cybrsan

The Athlete by @beomcoups

A Lover's Redemption by @writtenwhalien

Dandelion by @shina913

The Wood by @sailoryooons

Minted by @kithtaehyung

Mr. & Mrs. Yoon by @monamipencil

On The Ropes by @raplinesmoon

Top Ten Tracks of 2024

Loved — B.I

People — Agust D

Make You Mine — Black Violet

Gemini — Cheyenne 

Close To Me — Mamie, Eloy, Trippy Bass

HUH?! — Agust D feat. J-hope

Love — Lana Del Rey 

Reasons — COTIS 

Watch Me Burn — Michelle Morrone 

Die First — Nessa Barrett  

GOALS FOR 2025

Write more. Tackle more WIPs each month. 

Finally finish my old abandoned WIPs (About Time, Blood Moon Rising and the Shifters Series, Chance Encounter) 

Finish writing and officially release my original stories/novel as a web-series

Try to do better with planning and scheduling and keeping up with them

Finish revamping Carousel and release the novel version on Ream

Read more. Both published books and released fics

Focus more on my personal health, mental and physical 

Start job hunting again

I know I’m late for this, so I’m passing this over to the writers who are tagged on the list above (if you haven’t done this yet) and also tagging a few who come across my mind right now (only if you want to!): @ressjeon @lo1k-diamonds @pars-ley @minisugakoobies @inkedtae

And also tagging randomly anyone who feels inspired to create their own tumblr wrapped! 

[inkedtae]

seeing your name on my dash always makes me smile~ i have missed you so much dear dia 🥺💕🌷🫶🏼

[inkedtae]

ᥫ᭡bee's tumblr wrapped (2024)ᥫ᭡

it took me embarrassingly long to make this banner.... anyway a special thanks to dia ( @yoonia ) for tagging me to do this ! i didn't do much writing this year but i wanna do this so imma do it lol

this year kinda fucked me sideways multiple times. it took months of therapy and lots of courage to sit myself down and reconnect with not only my writing, but myself. i have been feeling so lost but diving back into passions like writing has given me the confidence i needed to find my direction again. i still have no idea where i am supposed to be or what i am meant to do. but, right now, it feels like at least i know which way i am going, and that's forward.

thank you so much to everyone who has continued to read, comment, reblog, like, and interact with me and my work. i don't think i deserve any of it and it's incredibly surreal that i still got asks about my fics and series. i can't believe that a lot of these fics were not only read once, but twice. like that's fucking insane to me. so thank you so much. and thank you to everyone behind the scene who has supported me from banners to reading things over. jen ( @anobodyslove ) is the most wonderful, sweet, beautiful person i have ever had the pleasure of connecting with. from late night editing to long walks talking about every and any thing, you are my favourite human and i love you!

okay, okay, enough sappiness!! let's dive in!

₊˚✧ OVERALL STATS ✧˚₊‧

: ̗̀➛ fics published: 9 : ̗̀➛ series completed: 1 : ̗̀➛ series ongoing: 4 : ̗̀➛ words written: 122,258 : ̗̀➛ fics to be published: 24 (i don't wanna talk about it...)

‎‧₊˚✧ FIRST FIC OF 2024 | published : february 17 ✧˚₊‧

: ̗̀➛ xi. rotten angelcake ⇾ kth. | s2l, ceo au, sugar daddy au | 16.5k

retrospection: ahh my first attempt at returning to tumblr after a long unplanned hiatus. if you were ever curious on what kind of headspace i was in, this fic is the perfect explanation. the rotten angelcake series has been my form of self-indulgence and journaling since the very first chapter. however, i completely threw myself into this chapter of the series. all my anger, frustration, regret, confusion, sadness was poured into this chapter. it's so emotionally charged and personal, i almost didn't post it. i haven't even looked at it again before this moment and that was just to retrieve the link lol it's just carrying a very dark part of my life that i have been trying to pull myself out of. but, while it does hold so much for me, i do not regret writing or publishing it. it's all part of the self-healing process ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

‎‧₊˚✧ LONGEST FIC OF 2024 | published : october 3 ✧˚₊‧

: ̗̀➛ the underground ⇾ bgc. | strangers to lovers, boxer au, dark themes | 29.1 k |

retrospection: oof this fic! so i wrote this for channie's b-day and one of my favourite chantober rituals, especially for his b-day, is to write the most unhinged, dark story. i have never been able to get the idea of boxer, mafia boss!chan ruining me in front of his friends out of my head, so i wrote about it. i lowkey wish i could make it a series or add an epilogue but i vowed to finish my ongoing series first before starting another one. it's just such a fun fic with a lot of grittiness. i don't think the nearly 30k words was enough either tbh but it will have to do for now ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

‎‧₊˚✧ PERSONAL FAVOURITE FIC OF 2024 | published : october 17 ✧˚₊‧

: ̗̀➛ between roar and whisper ⇾ bgc. | hogwarts au, pwp, e2l | 9.4k |

retrospection: this was probably the easiest to write because there was very little worldbuilding required and i got to focus on the sexual tension between these two "enemies". it was short, sweet, to the point, and the smut was so fucking hot—ugh! i need slytherin!chan to make me cockdumb too! i don't think i will ever be over this fic and i kinda wanna write an epilogue for it too but i will stop myself because i am already overcommitted ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆

‎‧₊˚✧ LAST FIC OF 2024 | published : december 31 ✧˚₊‧

: ̗̀➛ marked by krampus ⇾ kth. | twisted christmas au, monster kink, s2l | 11.1k |

retrospection: okay i just finished this fic yesterday so i don't know how much real introspection i can truly muster but i will do my best. as the last fic of taecember, as well as the year, i decided to indulge in my very big, very embarrassing monster kink. i was kind of focused on that which meant that the worldbuilding for this fic was not my best. i could have done better...anyway! this may be the final fic for 2024 but it will not be the final monster au i write ᡣ • . • 𐭩 ♡

‎‧₊˚✧ HONOURABLE MENTION | published : november 1 ✧˚₊‧

: ̗̀➛ elixir of the damned ⇾ bgc. | vampire au, s2l | 19.5k |

retrospection: this fic was written as the last fic of chantober, but it had been in my drafts for about two years. now i obviously do not know bang chan in real life, but he seems to wear his heart on his sleeve and is very forthcoming about his struggles on camera. so this fic was heavily inspired but the sentiments of sadness and wistfulness, about missing his family in australia. i remembered this v-live where he was back home and he was doing his chan's room (which omg i miss so much) in his old room. and the room had become his little brothers. and i just couldn't stop thinking about what that must feel like. just imagine walking back into a familiar room and it looks the same, like the layout is exactly how you left it, but all the stuff in there does not belong to you. how uncanny must that have felt? to tiptoe around a room that was once yours? idk it just inspired his character in this fic and i hope that i was able to capture that well enough ૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა

‧₊˚✧ SPECIAL EVENTS OF 2024 | published : november 1 ✧˚₊‧

: ̗̀➛ chantober 2024 & taecember 2024

retrospection: god, i love bias months so much—even though they wreck me by the end. being able to fully express my love and devotion to my biases just makes me feel so full and happy. it's like even if my day might be shitty, it's okay because i have something to work towards and look forward to. i also have the chance to celebrate both chan, and taehyung with you, which is always so exciting and fun! i literally cannot wait to do it all over again in 2025 ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

‧₊˚✧ TOP TRACKS OF 2024 ✧˚₊‧

𐙚 hurt — newjeans 𐙚 espresso — sabrina carpenter 𐙚 i like it — stray kids 𐙚 red lights (bang chan, hyunjin) — stray kids 𐙚 venus fly trap — marina 𐙚 work — ateez 𐙚 perfect night — le sserafim 𐙚 chk chk boom — stray kids 𐙚 mon amour — gemini 𐙚 na — hwasa

‧₊˚✧ GOALS FOR 2025 ✧˚₊‧

𐙚 stick to my posting schedule !! (writing two fics a month) 𐙚 properly plan ahead for bias months (i'm literally the worst at this) 𐙚 finish the rotten angelcake series 𐙚 breathe... (sometimes i forget that i just need to take a minute and breathe)

many thanks again to dia for tagging me, this was really fun ♡︎ i wanna tag jen ( @anobodyslove ) , dee (@awrkives ) , ghost ( @ghxstwrites ) , lixie ( @bunnliix ) , minerva ( @yourlocaljonghoe ) , and stardust ( @skzdust ). there's no pressure to do this !!

♡¸.•' happy new year lovelies '•.¸♡

[inkedtae]

taecember 2024

↳ special thanks to jen ( @itaeewon ) for making this year's wonderful banner 🤍

Welcome to Taecember!

The year might be coming to an end, but my love for Kim Taehyung is eternal.

I’ve been absent for most of this year and all of last, trying to find myself again. I didn’t feel like I was good enough as a writer and needed time to work through personal challenges. But throughout it all, I found myself craving Taehyung.

With him in the military, it’s been hard to keep him close, even in my thoughts—especially when there’s so little news or updates about him. His online presence, both as part of BTS and individually, was always so familiar and charismatic. Hearing him sing or watching his unhinged, playful moments with his members felt like being cocooned in a thick woollen blanket on a snowy winter night in front of a crackling fire—the pinnacle of warmth and comfort. Since the moment he left, I’ve been craving that sense of solace, finding it only in fleeting moments when he posts or when a new photo surfaces.

No words can truly describe how much I’ve missed him. From his deep voice to his mischievous smile and those kind, expressive eyes that somehow hold so much power—it’s been impossible to shake this yearning. I miss his competitive streak over something as small as a gift card and the passion in his voice when he speaks about his members or ARMY.

I’ve felt the BTS-shaped void in their absence—not just in the industry but in the hearts of ARMY too. Reconnecting with other BTS writers was hard, and I often felt isolated. But with the release of pre-recorded videos and occasional updates, I’ve slowly started to find my confidence again.

So, while he continues his mandatory military service, I want to dedicate this space to celebrating our man, our husband: Mr. Kim Taehyung!

As per Taecember ritual, my blog will be all about Taehyung. From weekly fics to photos, posts, and everything in between, it’s going to be a month-long celebration of him. Weekly chapters of Rotten Angelcake will go live every Monday, and I’ll be sharing a special fic on his birthday as well. If you’d like to join in beyond just reading, feel free to send any Taehyung-related content my way! I’ll also be following the tag #taecember 2024 for all your posts. Please join me in celebrating, the one and only, Kim Taehyung!

Happy Taecember!

❥ xii. rotten angelcake ⟶ december 2nd ↳ ongoing series, sugar daddy au, s2l

❥ xiii. rotten angelcake ⟶ december 11th ↳ ongoing series, sugar daddy au, s2l

❥ xiv. rotten angelcake ⟶ december 16th ↳ ongoing series, sugar daddy au, s2l

❥ marked by krampus ⟶ december 31st ↳ dark themes, twisted christmas au, monster kink

updated : december 31st

[inkedtae]

Happy Taecember!

We've reached the end of yet another bias month! I feel like I blinked and landed on the thirty-first day lol

Soooooo..... shall we recap?

I wrote four fics in total, celebrating the one and only, Kim Taehyung. After a quick poll and some feedback, I decided to post three chapters of Rotten Angelcake and a one-shot in honour of his birthday.

I was shaking in my boots with every Rotten update. Readers of that series have been waiting for almost two or three years for these two characters to kiss and I was worried I was going to let them down. I think my fear of disappointing everyone (which was 100% self-inflicted), made me lose some of my momentum and resulted in some late posts. I still got them out within the posting week, however. The feedback always kept me going as well, and I still find it so surreal that even after all this time, there are still some readers dedicated to the story and eager to follow along with their relationship.

The final one-shot was also late, but not due to nerves. I just did not manage my time very well.... BUT! Marked by Krampus still went live within the year so I did not fuck up too bad. I have such a HUGE monster kink and wanted to explore it in this twisted christmas au. I've been thinking about Krampus!Taehyung for a couple of years now and bringing that image to life was such a great way to wrap up Taecember and celebrate my love, Taehyung!

Last Taecember, I was eighteen or twenty days late to start it (I think?) and was only able to post one (?) fic which was Tae's b-day fic, Lurking in the Dark. I think that, even if I was one day late for the last three posts this month, I can still call this Taecember a success. I know I have so much to improve on, like managing my time and schedule better, but I still do not regret a single fic or second of this month.

I miss Taehyung. Like really miss him :( I know ARMYs have been missing him too and so I hope this month you were able to find a little comfort in these stories, a reminder of how much he inspires us, and a spark of excitement for everything he has yet to share with us.

Thank you for celebrating with me—see you next Taecember! 💜

[inkedtae]

marked by krampus ⇾ kth. [M]

⎡he is sinister, scorching sinful souls. you are chaos, constantly craving calamity. will his darkness be the reason you discover there’s always pleasure in pain?⎦

⌁ pairing; krampus!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.)

⌁ genre; twisted christmas au, monster kink, s2l, some angst, smut, 18+

⌁ word count; 11.1k

⌁ summary; the villagers summon krampus to punish you for your misdeeds however, instead of wrath, monstrous, sultry power captivates you. what starts as fear quickly turns into desire as he claims you in ways you never expected.

⌁ warnings; dark themes: mentions/depictions of violence, harassment, arson, discrimination, blood, death, religious intervention, and blasphemy; explicit sex: hard dom!taehyung, brat-tamer!taehyung, sub!reader, brat!reader, virgin!reader, bdsm themes, sadism/masochism, exhibitionism, light masturbation (m.), prey/predator play, spit play, ruined orgasm, monster kink, size kink, praise kink, oral (m. and f. receiving), public sex unprotected sex, deep throating (his tongue), spanking, teasing, edging, biting, scratching, begging

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༄ please enjoy this final Taecember fic :)

Brittle cold settles into your bones, but molten heat simmers in your veins. Vengeance knows only one name—and it is yours. Flames dance in your dark eyes, the crackle and pop of the fire like a sweet melody of smouldering justice. As you gaze upon the burning wreckage of the refined oak building, a wicked smirk tugs on the corner of your plush, wine-stained lips.

You are wrath incarnated and you reap calamity.

“Filthy, wicked girl!” Sister Margaret scolds, yanking on your hair. 

You clench your jaw, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of a pained grunt.

The judgemental eyes of the village watch as the Sisters drag you down the snowy road, pulling you away from the damage you’ve caused and into the forest. Pastor Fischer leads the way. He mutters prayers under his breath and waves a bundle of incense, cleansing the air of your negative energy. 

Despite what the sacrosanct village of Dreadmere may claim, you are not hell-spawn, nor are you a beacon of evil and impurity. No, you are not a witch. And no, you did not murder your parents. Your father abandoned you before your birth. And, the week before your tenth year, your mother realised that she wouldn’t find a husband with a child latched to her side. You were relieved, for the first time in your pathetic life, when you woke to an empty house. It was cold and dark, but the air felt lighter in the absence of oppressive criticism, and violence. 

No one died, for fuck’s sake—not then and not now.

However… you may have played into the rumors in hopes that the villagers would leave you be. Even at ten, you should’ve known better than to expect this pious village wouldn’t try to exorcise you—you grew up there, after all.

The modest Sisters of Saint Nicholas’s Chapel took you in shortly after your first… outburst. For the record, Hugo Fischer got himself punched in the face when he insinuated that you were too big to fit through the school door. He also fell out the window because he tripped over his own two feet. You just happened to be walking by when it happened, muttering your favourite nursery rhyme in Latin—the devil’s tongue. It didn’t matter what you said in the end though, because Hugo was beloved and you were apparently homicidal.

And so, the Sisters claimed you as their purity project. Every day, you cooked all their meals and cleaned every corner of their church in hopes that it would instill some degree of discipline in you—spoiler: it did not. And every night, Sisters Gisila, Margaret and Mona would sit you down before the altar of Saint Nicholas to perform purity rituals. You would sit in the center of a candle-lit circle and the Sisters would pray to Saint Nicholas, begging him to save your soul. After sending you to bed—an old, broken frame abandoned in the attic—Sister Margaret would sneak into Pastor Fischer’s office, gasping and moaning in the dark. Meanwhile, Sister Mona would slip out the back door to meet his wife by the barn. 

In retrospect, you think all those prayers only further seared your wrath into your soul. You never wanted sanctity, nor did you crave religious intervention. You just wanted a life without sanctimonious fuckers imposing their hypocritical values onto you. 

Last night, you had hoped that you would finally be able to leave the village. The church would have no claim on you now that you’ve turned twenty-one. However, Pastor Fischer had different plans. Instead of meeting the Sisters by the altar, he asked you to visit his office. You sat before his dark oak desk as he stared at you with an unsettling smile.  

“You must rebuke the wickedness within you, girl,” Pastor Fischer said, raking his eyes over your full curves.“Marriage is the holiest of rituals. It will banish your demons once and for all.”

“Then why can I still see your horns, Pastor?” you asked.

You expected him to sneer more insults or curse you back to Hell, but instead he smiled in his usual charismatically devious way. 

“You know my son, don’t you?” he asked. “Hugo?”

“I’m not marrying Hugo.”

“I apologise if I gave you the impression that you have a choice, witch,” he seethed. Before you could spit an equally accurate insult back, Pastor Fischer ordered, “Strip.”

“Excuse me?”

“Stand up and strip. I need to ensure that you are physically acceptable for my Hugo,” he explained. His crystal blue eyes shamelessly devoured your curves. He stood and ushered you to do the same. You regrettably registered the tent under his robes instead.

Something within you finally snapped. That little part hidden deep in your blacked soul, festering in resentment and fury, had broken free from the chains of self-restraint. For years you’ve been making yourself smaller; cooking, cleaning, attending those stupid nightly rituals, waiting for the day you turned twenty-one. If playing the role of demon did not scare the village into leaving you alone, you thought you could perhaps pretend to be ‘saved’ long enough to be free. You endured years of watching the village pretend to be pious during the day only for the streets to be filled with moans and groans and drunken singing throughout the night. 

You’d had enough.

Holding Pastor Fischer’s gaze, you slowly stood and circled his desk. He leaned forward, already panting like the little bitch he was. You resisted the urge to cringe, stopping a mere inch away from his lips. His breath reeked of boiled cabbage and beer. As he tried to close the gap between your lips, you swiftly punched his stumpy cock. He groaned, falling to his knees instantly.

His wife walked in as you spat in his face, her features morphed into horror as she screamed.

Now, your smirk widens at the memory. His pain, her fear, the confusion of the Sisters—ugh, you miss that! The power, the satisfaction of knowing that they are terrified of you and what you can do is something you have so dearly missed. Pretending to be good has gotten you nowhere and you have been craving for the chance to torture them the same way they have been torturing you. 

So, yes—you lit their precious church on fire. And yes, you also cut the rope at the well so they could not easily put out the flames. They do not deserve a church, and they sure as Hell do not deserve Saint Nicholas’ forgiveness.

You fix your vengeful gaze upon the thick smoke rising from the burning church as they continue to drag you away. It clouds the darkening skies, and you finally find your first moment of peace in eleven years. While you may have your wrist and ankles bound with thick rope, and the Sisters may be trudging you deeper into the dense forest to accept your punishment, you do not regret a single spark of that holy fire. Their sacred church will burn to the ground for that is where it belongs. 

“We have been generous and patient,” Sister Mona says as Pastor Fischer stops at a clearing. “But you are too unholy to save.”

Sisters Margaret and Gisila groan, starting to hoist you up and tie you to the stake in the middle of the clearing. Meanwhile, Pastor Fischer finishes the last of his prayers. They have been incoherent for the most part because he was either mumbling or speaking in German. You were sure it was more of the same “please banish this evil soul” bullshit everyone always says around you until you hear his name. You do not know German as well as you know Latin, the Sisters often speak the latter, but you are certain you recognise one name—Krampus.

Fear seeps into your bones. 

You are not a worshipper, but that does not mean you are not a believer. While you may not revere Saint Nicholas like the rest of Dreadmere, you still deeply believe in his existence—and his brother’s. A Saint of a different kind, Krampus is punishment personified. There are no altars raised in his name, no hymns sung in his honour. Instead, bedtime tales of caution are shared, passages of reverence are whispered. The generational terror he inspires is devotion enough.

Well, enough for everyone else. 

The village of Dreadmere is dark and impish, thriving in impurity thanks to an annual sacrifice. On the eve of Saint Nicholas' birthday, one villager is chosen to be offered to Krampus. In return, he shall spare the village punishment for their sins. The villagers, however, have always feared sacrificing you. They worried Krampus might find you unworthy and lash out, punishing them instead.

It seems you’ve finally pushed them beyond caring.

And the thought of being sacrificed to Krampus is… You swallow thickly. All your so called outbursts have been in the name of a justice you would have otherwise been denied. You had cause, even if no one else was willing to admit it. Your parents abandoned you, the village bullied you and the worshippers of Saint Nicholas tried to brainwash you. Violence, arson, blasphemy—you did what was necessary to protect yourself, to express yourself. You’re tired of being robbed of that and you don’t regret a single curse you’ve spat or match you’ve lit. 

Still, you do not want to be sacrificed and least of all to him. You’ve heard the screams, the pleads, the crunch of bones before silence finally settles over the night. 

Pastor Fischer must see the blood drain from your face for his eyes gleam with smug satisfaction. He smiles in his usual grotesque way, all yellowish teeth and wrinkled skin. “You shall finally be punished,” he sneers. “And we shall be free from your devilry.”

“It is not my demons you should fear, Pastor,” you snap, attempting to mask your fear beneath layers of burning fury. “Your own impurities will be your undoing. A beast like Krampus can only be subdued for so long.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Sister Mona scoffs, eyes narrowed as she looks down her nose at you. The scent of her judgment is thick—strange, considering she’d just spent the last hour suffocating beneath the folds of Pastor Fischer’s wife.

“Because I am one too.”

Punishment personified, Taehyung wonders from his place in the shadows. Is that all I am to you, little nightmare?

He’s not complaining—not really, anyway. He just expected more from the Terror of Dreadmere. Where is the reverence you claim others hold for him in your sweet tone? He has devoured some of your worst abusers in the last few years and his entire existence is reduced to two words? You could’ve drawn a more vivid image of that. 

And you need to stop pretending to be so afraid. Yes, he may be a beast, but you just declared yourself one too. You’re the same girl who once set Sister Mona’s hair alight for denying you a glass of wine at supper, aren’t you? The one who punched Hugo Fischer in the face, shoved him out a window, and humiliated the pastor last night—all for little more than a laugh. And that barely scratches the surface of your transgressions. You didn’t even mention the times you poisoned the village well, leaving everyone bedridden so the roads were quiet enough to sleep undisturbed. What about your annual ritual of desecrating Nick’s altar? Is that just another little act of blasphemy that no one dares speak of? 

Don’t sell yourself short, little nightmare. You’ve never pretended to be good. You’ve simply grown more adept at hiding the fact that you’re anything but. What was it the other demons said about you? You put the dread in Dreadmere?

Oh—look at you right now! All alone and helpless, pathetically struggling against Sister Gisila’s sailing knots. Now, that’s just downright adorable. You’re shaking and Taehyung is well aware that it has nothing to do with the cold biting your delicate skin. Brimming with fury, you throw your head back and scream at the midnight sky in defiance against their judgement. Even with your hair dishevelled, clothed in a threadbare nightgown, you blaze with beauty, stirring primal heat within his beastly body in ways he never imagined possible. The worn cotton clings to your voluptuous curves, wet from being dragged through the snow. Your full chest heaves, nipples pebble from the cold, and he can even see the v-shaped outline of your crotch under the curve of your stomach.

Taehyung can feel all the blood in his body rush to his cock. He looks down at his dark pants in confusion. He’s had erections, had fucked coutless demons—even if they smelled foul and tasted even worse. But it often takes him a while to get this hard. He’s always been so embarrassed by that fact, rubbing the back of his neck when anyone tried to captivate his sexual attention. Only after hours of foreplay does his body finally catch up to the heated moment, and by then he has already finger or tongue-fucked his sexual endeavour to their breaking point. 

But here you are—bound and nearly naked. You look deliciously desperate to be free, and oh how Taehyung would love to be the one that grants you such a sweet relief. His cock throbs at the thought and he stifles a deep-chested groan. Huffing quietly, he tries to compose himself, leaning his strong forearm against the sturdy tree he’s been lurking behind.

Could…Could it be you, he wonders as his thick cock strains against his trousers. My mate?

It’s pathetic—Taehyung knows it is. He has a reputation for being a big, bad beast and yet he’s desperate for love. He is well aware of the cliché and wants to hurl at the notion as well. However, even the most devious creatures need to share their twisted desires with someone. For years, Taehyung has been searching for that person, the one that makes his stomach warm with something other than vengeful justice. And he’d be lying if he said it wouldn’t be nice to have sex with someone without burning them with his arousal or release. All the demons and Saints he managed to get hard for and finally fuck have nearly died from the searing scars his cum had left behind. Taehyung never knew why his cock was so toxic, but it turned out his brother had the same issue. When asked, Nick said some bullshit about the Saintliness of his essence and how his one true mate will be the only one able to endure it.  

Taehyung decides to think about that later as his hungry gaze trails over your body again. He takes his time, tracing every curve, fold and dip of your trembling frame. His cock throbs at the whimpering sight, feeding into his suspicions.

He needs to pull himself together. Resting his head on the tree now, he closes his eyes and inhales deeply. He tries to recall more of that conversation with Nick. There was something about scents, right? If you are his mate, you’d be attracted to his scent. He realises he’s going to have to get really close to confirm his suspicions. 

The soft whisper of rope against wood draws him out of his thoughts. He looks back at your struggling figure. You yank at the restraints again. 

If he wants to kill me, he’ll have to catch me first, you foolishly think, gorgeous face scrunched in determination.

Taehyung smirks. You’re so cute. Trying to break out of sailing knots is one thing, but thinking you can outrun a Saint is something else entirely. Ambitious does not even begin to describe you. You are ruthless, uncompromising, insatiable—everything a nightmare should be.

Rolling his shoulders back, Taehyung heavily sighs. He stands at his full seven-foot-four height, grounding his hooves into the snow. A soft crunch sounds under his weight and you snap your head towards him. The fear in your wide eyes tightens his chest. He doesn’t want to scare you, but it smells so good on you. The adrenaline laced between your scent—sweet and intoxicating, like wild cherries dripping with honey and a faint hint of smoky amber—makes his head swim. The intensity reminds him of thunderstorms and untamed forests. Not to mention, you look so beautiful terrified, bottom lip quivering, eyes watering, cheeks heating. 

Fuck—trying to control his erection is futile. One whiff of you and he’s on the verge of cumming in his pants. Taehyung cannot hold back his low groan this time, hoping that releasing it will soothe his desire.

Your fearful scent thickens in the cold air. It tastes like a dying ember and honeyed wine. Taehyung licks his lips, practically drooling already. He draws in a final, long breath and exhales slowly before finally emerging from the shadows. 

“My, my,” he growls as a smirk tugs on his lips, “what a beautiful catastrophe you are, little one.”

Your reckoning has arrived. Your fate is sealed. So, why are you suppressing a moan? Is death supposed to be this…electrifying? Is Krampus supposed to sound—to look like chaotic, carnal sex incarnated? 

Muffled crunches of snow sound beneath his heavy, hooved steps. He slowly stalks forward, standing straighter as your eyes trace his monstrous frame. He’s a respectable distance away but still manages to loom over you, imposing and commanding. His eyes are molten amber, glowing with menacing intentions. They lock with yours, a predatory gleam flickering beneath the surface. Your heart tightens in your chest as you realise it’s not just a gaze—it’s an assessment, a piercing study that makes you feel smaller, insignificant. If you didn’t know any better, you would think you’re nothing but a mere toy for his amusement.

Desperate to escape his stare, you continue to scan his face. His sharp jawline and exaggerated features twist and shift, monstrous in their definition. It’s as though his human aspects were never quite meant to exist. A perfect, pale face is tainted with the slightest ashen grey, the skin stretched tight, almost unnatural and otherworldly. Deep red streaks through his wild, messy hair, matching the untamed brutality of his demeanour. 

However,  it’s his horns that make your lips part, your own features no doubt caught between awe and terror. Massive, twisted, his horns rise from his skull, curving backward like the horns of a ram, jet-black with veins of gold and crimson pulsing through them. They seem alive, thriving on twisted power. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by the idea that they are perfect for gripping as he pounds into you, core clenching. 

Fuck—what is wrong with you? How could you think such thoughts when you are staring death in his strangely handsome face? 

His buff chest puffs out before him, as if he’s holding in a deep chuckle. You continue your examination of him at the gesture. You’re not surprised to find his body is that of an apex predator—large, strong and unbreakable. Each muscle is sculpted with precision, yet still holds the rawness of someone who has never known restraint. His chest and arms glimmer in the dim torchlight of the clearing, his skin thick and leathery in some parts. It reminds you of the hide of some ancient creature the Sisters once described. Veins pulsate beneath it, glistening like they carry a deadly current. Every step he takes reverberates, his hooves sending a sharp clatter through the frozen air. And his tail—an impossibly long, spiked thing—whips behind him, furred and lethal, a warning in itself. As if it can hear your thoughts, his tail moves slower, curling and diving around the cold air.

You swallow thickly and redirect your gaze to his hands. 

Oh, gods, those hands. They’re enormous. Ending in black claws, you don’t doubt they’re sharp enough to tear you apart with a single swipe. They glisten like obsidian in the moonlight, carrying a dark promise of pain. And yet, you cannot stop imagining what it would feel like to have your neck fisted within one of them. He wouldn’t just hold you—he’d possess you, leaving no part of you untouched. And instead of devouring you, he’d violate your very essence.

You tear your attention away from him. Looking back at the road leading to Dreadmere, you wonder if this is how it started for the villagers. Did they have unholy thoughts too when they were this close to someone that smelled so…irresistible? Did the impulse, the primal urge to fulfil their desires overwhelm them like it does for you right now? Is it something about being caught in the dead of night, nearly naked and bound, that unravels hidden cravings?

Perhaps you are simply that wicked. You can’t believe you’re even thinking this, but…maybe Pastor Fischer and the Sisters were right to try to pray your evilness away. You’re standing here, slowly losing feeling in your toes and fingers, tied, trembling and aching to be touched by a monster. Could your misdeeds have darkened your soul enough to lust after beasts? 

Just kill me, you mentally plead as your arousal pools at your core. You’ve only ever touched yourself and you’d happily die a virgin if it means you don’t have to spend another second trying to understand why you are so attracted to a demonic Saint.

“You don’t want to die yet,” he says, voice low and raspy. “We’re just getting started.”

Your eyes widen. The cold sinks deep into your bones, his voice rattling you to your core. Still, it’s the fact that he just read your fucking mind that makes your breath hitch. You wonder if he’s just that devious or if it has anything to do with the fact that he’s a celestial Saint.

“Maybe both,” he offers, smirking in a way that should be threatening, but only makes him that much more handsome.

His smirk widens. 

Shit—did he just hear that too? 

You wonder if he has been doing this the entire time. Did he catch that thing you said about his horns? What about that thought about being choked by his huge hands? Does he know you’re aching for him? 

Krampus tilts his head, drinking in your fullness. You question whether or not you still have your nightgown on at the gesture. You squirm under his sexual scrutiny, clit buzzing from the brief of friction. His golden gaze, a vibrant colour like liquid sunlight, snaps back to meet yours. You expect to find disgust within them, to suddenly be filled with the same shame you often feel around the Sisters or Pastor. You expect to be burning with rage again because you hate feeling so small, but instead you are greeted with unbidden yearning. No one has ever looked at you with such determined desire. 

His fingers twitch at his sides before curling into fists, like he’s trying to restrain himself. He clears his throat, the ragged sound resonating in the base of your stomach. Your toes curl, blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“Speak,” he demands, voice rougher than before.

And just like that your rage returns, searing your heart with contempt. Narrowing your gaze, you declare through gritted teeth, “I am not your pet.”

The spark of intrigue that flickers in his eyes wavers your resolve. You bet he likes that idea and is probably imagining it as he looks over your curves again. You can’t help your thoughts from diving into what it would be like either. He’d likely collar you like a pup, and yank on your leash when he needs your attention. You wonder if he would allow you some articles of clothing or constantly leave you bare and prepared for him. Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t killed you yet. He wants you to be his new little pet. 

A wave of discomfort sobers your salacious thoughts at the possibility that you may not be his first obsession. Does he make pets out of his other favourable sacrifices? Does he collect them for his own gluttonous pleasure? 

Your gut twists in disgust at the thought of being like the rest. You refuse to be another little human, used and abused. You will either die now on your own terms, or tear yourself free and bolt into the dark forest. Tugging on the rope, you bite back a wince as the rough material scratches against your skin. You look up at it, daring to try again when the rope rubs further against your tender wounds. 

“Is defiance a matter of pride for you,” Krampus starts, inching closer. Your attention remains on your wrists, still fighting against the restraints.

“Or,” he’s an arm’s length away now, his bulky body engulfing you in darkness, “is it just a bad habit we’ve yet to break?”

“We?” you ask with far more indignation than you know you should show. Your survival instincts must be surfacing if you suddenly want to control your lashing tongue. Somehow you find that to be the most embarrassing part of this oddly sexual interaction.

Krampus slowly brings one of his huge hands towards you. Despite your efforts, you cannot stop your bottom lip from trembling. His shadow snuffs out the dim light of the torches around the clearing, but you can still make out the outline of his claws as they near your face. You do not whimper, nor do you flinch. Instead you stay still, eyes fluttering shut as you accept your fate. You know this is the part where you cry and plead for your life, but you feel like there is no better time to go than after rejecting a Saint. More than that, you are dying from the consequences of your own hostility. You can leave this world knowing it was your doing, your choice and not the decision of the villagers.

The sudden sound of retracting claws slices through the silence. You snap your eyes open just as his hand brushes over your face. Tender, gentle, he caresses your cold skin, warming you within seconds. His thumb traces the curve of your lips then the point of your chin. You wonder if you were wrong before. Maybe he does not have a harem of humans, because he touches you like he has never been this intimately close to one. 

The amber in his eyes glows like gilded flames, dancing with delicate danger. Your skin slowly warms against the winter frost, heat gingerly radiating from his hand into your flesh.

“Do you still want to run?” Krampus asks. 

Confusion creases between your brows. He says that, like you have a choice. When he does not confirm nor deny that sentiment, you assume that he really is giving you one. Your gaze flickers towards the dark woods, towards the future that’s far from Dreadmere and the creatures of sin that inhabit it.

“I always want to run,” you confess, voice quiet but certain.

You are not stupid. You know what he is really asking. You know he is actually wondering if you rather remain under his touch. And, you know that even if you were given the chance to flee, he will chase you. You are his sacrifice afterall. Still, the mere possibility of being able to fight for yourself again, to reach for something beyond useless prayers is almost freeing in itself. If all of this does end with your death, at least you can say you tried to be something more than the village terror or a pitiful sacrifice.

Krampus nods. “Shall we discuss the terms?”

There is a lightness to his tone that unravels your anger in a way nothing ever has before. In fact, you never thought that was even possible. Your anger is only ever satiated once you’ve served your revenge. You tilt your head in confusion, only to find yourself leaning into his touch. You want to tell yourself that it was an accident but the electric buzz of your nerves  hints otherwise.

“Explain yourself,” you demand, desperate to regain a semblance of your composure.

You cannot see his face in the darkness but you know he’s grinning because you hear him breathe a chuckle. Two torches suddenly appear on either side of the sacrificial stake, illuminating his broad figure towering over you. A gasp escapes you but Krampus continues speaking like he didn’t just readjust the torches from the edges of the clearing to the center with the sheer will of his mind.

“You have terrible manners for a girl raised in a church,” he teases.

You clearly see that smile playing on his pretty lips now. It widens at your subtle, mental admission of his charm and you start to wonder if he brought the torches closer just to witness you lust after him some more.

Yes, you’re strangely attractive. Let’s move on, you mentally snap.

Amusement dances in his glowing gaze. You’d be lying if you said the sudden bloom of pride around your heart was not because you pleased him.

“The terms, my little nightmare, of your escape need to be set out before I let you go,” he finally explains. “Because once I catch you, I don’t think I will be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You gulp, all humour dissipating in your features. Heat pools in the base of your stomach at his new pet name for you, but soon frosts over upon his underlying implication. Does he still want to kill you? 

“Do you see that flag over there?” he asks, nodding towards the waving red and white flag of Dreadmere on the other side of the forest. It’s a focal point for travellers to follow the path towards the village. When you nod, he continues, “If you can make it past the village threshold, I won’t claim you.” 

Your blood chills, heart coils. Why does that thought literally suffocate you, your next breath catching at the base of your throat. Is freedom not what you wanted? 

“And if you catch me?”

A smug, yet sincere smile tugs on the corner of his lips. “You’ll have to be caught to find out, little one.”

You have never been little a day in your life. Even as a child you were bolstered with rage, contempt and an ego that made the mayor soil himself when he met you. Not to mention your voluptuous frame of curves and folds. The villagers called you greedy and foul, but if you didn’t fight for your place at the table, you wouldn’t have survived this long. And yet, this beastly Saint calls you ‘little’ and you cannot argue against it. All your animosity dwindles under his watchful gaze, leaving you feeling little.

“Do you accept these terms?” Krampus asks, stepping forward. 

You nod. 

“No, no,” he tuts through a chuckle. “You need to use your words.” 

“Yes,” you reply, tone clipped and jaw clenched.

Krampus lets his smile fully settle upon his face. Rows of sharp, white teeth gleam in the torchlight and you know it is meant to be menacing, but—you tilt your head in curiosity—you actually think it’s…endearing. It’s a genuine smile, amber eyes bright in delight.

He leans forward, his face inches from yours now. “Open your mouth,” he whispers.

The heat of his breath almost makes you whimper. 

You grip onto your annoyance and scoff, lips remaining apart out of sheer shock—or, at least that’s what you tell yourself. 

Krampus accepts the gesture all the same, slipping his long, thick tongue into your mouth. Your eyes widen, heart stops and body tenses. Slimy and warm, his tongue glides around yours, then snakes around your cheeks and teeth. For a moment (or maybe two), you rub your tongue against his and accept the sweet tang of his salvia. At first, you think it might taste metallically, like iron or something reminiscent of blood. However, as he continues to drag it around your mouth, notes of something darkly sweet and smoky—like burnt caramel or black honey—intoxicate your tastebuds.

Your eyes regrettably roll back with your head as you open your mouth further. It’s heavy and invasive, but oh so delicious. Your toes curl and core throbs, needy for the warmth of his tongue. As your heart pounds in your throat, you resist the urge to buck your hips towards him.

Krampus eventually pulls back, removing his tongue from your mouth. You immediately right your head, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your pleasure without reasonable cause. His gaze still gleams with amusement, much to your dismay. 

“What was that?” you shakily ask. 

“Sealing the deal.”

The darkness of his voice should not captivate you like this. You should rebuke it. You should spit in his face and tell him that was disgusting and violating. It’s what you would do, had it been anyone else. However, as he stares at you with those smouldering honey eyes, glistening with a cruel promise and a hunger that speaks of ruin, whatever remains of your resentful resolve crumbles, leaving only a trembling ache in its wake.

The knots around your wrist suddenly loosen. Your arms fall before you, weak from the strain, as you collapse to your knees with a grunt and muted thump. The snow seeps through your thin nightgown, ice instantly nipping at your soft skin. You should stand, roll your shoulders back and prepare to bolt. Instead, you stare at his hooves, slowly trailing your gaze up his dark trouse-clad legs and lingering around the bulge of his crotch.

He wants me too?

“I think I’ll give you a ten second head start,” he says, pulling you out of your thoughts. “And you’re already down to nine, little nightmare.”

Cunt, you mentally sneer as you stand. 

His dark laughter echoes behind you as you head towards the flag. You know you should feel scared, maybe even nauseated by the fact that you are being hunted, but the adrenaline turns terror into pleasure instead. You sprint into the shadows, unable to suppress the wicked grin carving itself across your face.

Did you know that, when you run, your body flows like liquid fire, each step a wave of hypnotic grace, as if you were made to draw predators closer?

Taehyung bites his lip, his night-vision granting him the ability to follow you through the dark woods. His cock throbs needlessly, begging for stimulation and worship. Allowing himself to get lost in the way your backside jiggles with each hurried step, he squeezes his clothed length and quietly groans.

Your heart is pounding, skipping a beat at the thought of him catching you. As he gives his cock another squeeze, Taehyung wonders if you feel the bond forming too. Is that why you continue to entertain your desires even when a louder part of you demands you hold onto your disgust? Is it his whispered words, his vicious voice? Or is it the fact that you began dripping from the taste of his wet tongue? He smiles to himself at the way your head rolled back, and eyes twitched with satisfaction. Your heart was fluttering with bliss, body arching into him and you didn’t even realise it. 

Saints, his hand is doing nothing to ease the ache of his cock—even his balls are starting to swell with want now. He can’t hold back a growl at the thought of unloading in your mouth, or all over your face or—fuck! His cock twitches. Taehyung quickly removes his hand from his crotch, refusing to cum before he catches you. 

Speaking of which—he’s definitely given you more than ten seconds. You’re halfway to the flag now and Taehyung must admit that he’s impressed. You always rise up to a challenge, but sprinting at full speed in the snow while barefoot can’t be easy for a little human like you. 

You continue to surprise me, little nightmare, Taehyung thinks, smirking at your full figure as it shrinks in the distance. He wonders if you'll still keep him guessing through the centuries you'll share together.

Rolling his shoulders back, Taehyung decides he’s given you enough false hope. He stretches his limbs, tilting his head from side to side and shaking out his hands. He then plants his hooves into the snow, drawing in a deep breath, and sprints after you. His eyes shut. He wants to challenge himself as well. Look at you—already inspiring him to be a better predator. Only the purist, most wholesome little creatures can invoke such ambition in a sadidisc Saint like himself. 

Taehyung focuses on your scent, smiling at the delicate darkness that wraps around you. You’re undeniably heady, all wet and aching to be filled by him. He doesn’t need to hear the hesitance in your steps or the way your heart beats faster at the sound of him gaining on you. He can smell your need laced between the rotten honeyed cherries and spiced embers of your scent.

“K-Krampus,” you whimper. Your humiliation and rage plague your scent with hints of charred vanilla.

Aw, do you hate how pathetic you sound for me, little one? Taehyung taunts, his sinister voice echoing in your head. 

The shuddered breath that escapes you makes him drool. He licks his lips as you groan at yourself for being so weak for him. Hey—it happens to the best of us…or maybe the worst. Either way, Taehyung is certain that you do not need to be filled with this much shame, especially when it’s obviously feigned. You have never been ashamed in your vengeful life, little nightmare, and it’s time you stop pretending once and for all. You’re just annoyed at the idea that you might be just another human for his collection. Your pride won’t let you admit that you want to be special to him, so you pretend to be ashamed by your attraction and curse at him under your breath. 

You already sound like a possessive mate, even if you don’t know it yet. Taehyung gleans at the subtle claim, eager to return the sentiment.

His amber eyes snap open. You’re two steps away and he knows you’re painfully aware of it too.. Is that why your next step falters? Do you want to be caught, to be claimed by him and his—what did you call them—enormous hands?

Taehyung lunges, the thrill of hunting, capturing his prey, finally overwhelming him. A guttural growl emits from deep within his chest, rattling you in a way you believe should be threatening but you whine in reply anyway. You don’t even fight the urge to do so, further spurring the beast within him to pounce. 

His enormous—no, he will not be letting this go any time soon—hands seize your full yet flimsy little body. He retracts his claws to prevent any real damage, but still puts some strength into his grasp, pulling you into his chest before you can make it out of your corrupt village. 

The screech you let out almost makes him cum in his trousers. Viscerally helpless, you cry out against his hold, but still curl into the warmth of his torso. Taehyung pins you on your back, shoving you into the snow. He holds your arms in place over your head with one hand and unleashes his claws to gently rake across your skin. It’s just a silent reminder of the possible danger he poses—isn’t that what you particularly enjoy about his presence? You like how big and threatening he is, don’t you, little one?

Your fragile body trembles beneath him, caught between the heat of his frame and the chill of the snow. Taehyung slowly drags a clawed, index finger down your chest, tearing through your poor excuse of a nightgown. 

Your chest heaves as you pant from both exertion and his touch. You try to convince yourself otherwise, even when you know it’s futile, but you are well aware that the way he barely scratches your skin while still effectively ripping through your clothes is making you even wetter. He bets your inner thighs are slick with your arousal and just begging to be licked clean.

“Are you going to kill me,” you whisper, afraid your sexual yearning will betray you if you speak any louder. “Or f-fuck me?” 

A string of curses loop in your head at your second fumble of your words. His hard length is pressing against your legs and you have the gall to ask him a stupid question like that. You both know that if he wanted to kill you, he would have caught you with his mouth instead of his enormous hands.

“I’m going to ruin you,” Taehyung whispers, matching your controlled tone in that dulcet voice you pretend to hate. 

That’s not an answer, you wish to reply.

Taehyung raises a brow at how you bite your tongue instead. He shakes his head at you, pushing your torn nightgown open. Your breasts heave under him, nipples taut and tantalising. One look and Taehyung cannot stop himself any more. His tail swishes behind him in anticipation as his tongue falls out of his mouth, just as slimy and warm as you noted it to be. He dips his head low, then slowly laps around your left nipple. Your skin tastes as sinfully sweet as your mouth. His cock pulsates in his trousers at the notions of smoked, dark berries and vanilla.

Your bottom lip quivers and the tiniest sigh of bliss escapes your beautiful lips. You arch your back, shoving your chest further into his face. 

He’s just warm, you try to reason with yourself. I just like it cause he’s warm. 

And wet, Taehyung can’t help adding, his deep voice slipping back in your head.

Your eyes widen, attention shifting down at him. You part your lips to tell him to stay the fuck out of your head when Taehyung swipes his tongue over your other swollen breast. He twirls it around your sensitive nipple, chuckling to himself when your toes curl and bones tremble. He can hear your heart pounding, your body begging for more. He decides to oblige for now, moving his tongue up to lick your collarbone, shoulders and neck. A trail of his salvia glistens against your skin under the pale blue light of a late December moon. You’re shimmering, all whiny and breathless. 

“What are you doing to me?” you finally find the courage to ask. Your nerves are buzzing beneath your usual mask of  defiance. 

Something warm and wholesome swells in his chest, threading between his ribs, planting roots in his heart. Your eyes flare with the intensity of an intoxicated inferno, as if you feel it too. Taehyung watches, in absolute awe, how you snuff that flame out within seconds, reminding yourself that you are one of many humans he’d claimed. Your greed for his attention only deepens the roots of that impossible warmth within him, twisting and tangling its way into every dark corner of his being. 

He decides he’s going to let that false pretense of yours dangle a little longer, seamlessly torturing you in that delicious way you try to hate but heats your core all the same. 

He meets your gaze gently, not wanting to completely break you yet. His patience is wearing thin, however. “When will you stop pretending to be revolted by this?” he growls. “You may be a virgin, little one, but you are not innocent.”

“Excuse me?” you spit, that fire reigniting in your once complacent gaze. 

Darkly chuckling, Taehyung shakes his head. He squints as if he might reconsider then replies, “No, I don’t think I will. You’re mine now, baby.”

All anger falls from your face at the term of endearment. Taehyung does not try to fight off the smile settling on his lips. He leans down and licks from your jaw, over your cheek, to your temple. He repeats the action on the other side of your face, before swiping over your lips. You part them, thinking he was going to shove his tongue in again. It wasn’t part of the plan, but since you’ve submitted so wordlessly, he decides to grant you a moment of pure pleasure. 

Your tongue is more forthcoming this time, dancing around with the tip of his. Holding his gaze, you welcome his tongue only to tug your wrists against his hand. It was an experimental tug, as if you were trying to see how distracted he might be with your mouth and if it’s enough to attempt another escape. Instead, his claws scratch at your skin, leaving shallow marks in their place. 

Taehyung’s eyes darken.

So, you thought you could trick him. You know he can hear every one of your needy thoughts, know that it was never going to work. No, no—you want to test him. You want to bait him into keeping his promise of ruin. You did not get a satisfactory answer when you asked what he would do to you and now you want to lure him into showing you exactly what he plans. 

The thought is admirable, really, little nightmare. You truly are tenacious, ambitious, luscious. If you want your punishment so badly, he will oblige—just this once.

Taehyung uses the tip of his tongue to easily flatten yours. Your brows rise at the gesture and he stops himself from laughing again, because if that surprises you, then you will melt at his next move. Testing your boundaries, Taehyung shoves his tongue as far as it can possibly go down your throat. 

Your right eye twitches at the stinging stretch against your throat. You gag, body pressing further against him. Taehyung groans from the vibrations, pulling his tongue out a bit only to shove it back in and again. Your thighs press tightly together, like you can feel the friction of the heady action between them too. Eyes watering, you fist your tiny hands and gag some more. You’re trying to moan, Taehyung realises. And it’s unnervingly arousing.

His cock strains in his pants and as you choke for the third time, drunk of the taste of his spit and the weight of his tongue. He cannot delay the inevitable any longer. He leans into the warmth of your mouth as his cock swells, orgasm shuddering through him seconds later. His trousers dampen against your legs, his sizable load spoiling them instantly. 

The sultry slits of your eyes make him groan. You think you’ve won and it’s infuriating. Taehyung, suddenly understanding your vexation and stubborn pride, huffs through his nostrils. He rolls his eyes, panting over your much too smug face, and he slowly removes his tongue from your mouth. A thick string of your mixed saliva connects your wet bottom lip to his chin. You lick your lips, breaking the connection to savour every last drop.

A vicious grin settles on his ashen face. The hand once around your wrists falls to your neck, ever so slowly squeezing your windpipe until your shallow exhales become raspy and frayed. Lust floods your gaze, replacing your previous haughtiness with a gratification that only strengthens the faint hum of your growing bond. He knows you have been thinking about this, about what his enormous hand would feel like around your throat, suffocating you oh-so sweetly. He can almost hear a whisper of gratitude tumble out with your next staggered breath. 

“Enjoying yourself now, aren’t you, little one?” 

You bite your lip, but it does very little to hold back the tremors of excitement jolting through your beautiful body. You try tensing, hoping that hyperextending your limbs will discourage them from seeking his warmth, but that doesn’t work for you either. In fact, the tight press of your thighs and clench of your core only make you want him even more. The tremors become stronger and soon enough you’re writhing beneath him.

“I believe,” you still manage to start, voice raspy from the pressure of his fist. He loosens his grip to hear your sweet voice better. “You are the one enjoying yourself.” Then, as if your words were not insulting enough, you rub your legs against the wet mark around his trousers. 

Divine rage boils his blood. You are getting bolder with every stroke of his tongue. While it’s adorable watching your walls crumble, he will not tolerate disobedience. You may not be the villain of this story, little nightmare, but you have been naughty. 

It is time you face your reckoning.

Burnt leather, chilled by the frosty air and laced with hints of frankincense, intoxicates your senses. Isn’t his scent supposed to replicate the demonic divinity of his essence? You cannot understand why it rattles your nerves with such urgency. And when thickened by the musk of his arousal, the intensity reminds you of midnight storms—dark, deadly, but devastatingly beautiful.

He just came, the warmth of his load thawing your shivering legs from the snow. The glare he shoots you warns you against gloating, but you cannot help it. Perhaps it is your hubris, but your sick satisfaction that he unravelled from the sheer taste of your mouth cannot be stifled.

And you don’t want it to be. It is useless to fight against him, the previous chase proof enough. You know you only got that far because he let you. He’s the only one that un-tied the restraints, that gave you more than ten seconds to escape. Saints, if he could have killed you when he tackled you to the ground. He chose to retract his claws instead. As much as you want to be, you are not the one in control, so you might as well lean into the radiating heat of his beastly body and relish in the fact that the taste of your saliva made him cum.

Krampus growls. 

Your egoistic resolve wavers.  

His enormous hands grip onto your thick thighs. They are big, often rubbing against each other, but they look measly in his hands. Before you can even register what he has planned, Krampus pulls them apart and unleashes his tongue again. It’s long, but he still needs to dip his head lower to smother it against your heat.

A desperate cry tears from your throat, echoing into the dark night. It’s so fucking wet and weighty, lapping between your folds over and over again. Your bottom lip quivers, eyes water as tension tightens at the base of your spine. You separate your legs wider, buck your hips higher against his tongue. 

“S-Saints,” you whimper. 

Krampus chuckles, his voice vibrating against your clit. He retracts his tongue enough to suction his lips around your core.

Feels good, baby, he whispers in your mind.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut, brows creasing. Your hands, previously fisted pathetically under your spit-slick chin, fly down to his head. As you suspected, his horns are perfect for bracing yourself. You clutch onto them tightly, the power within them thumping against your cold palms. 

A low, guttural growl resonates against your core as you tighten your grip. You whine like the wounded prey you are. Your toes curl, body trembles and you feel a pressure building around your clenching hole. It begs for further stimulation, for release.

You're so close, bones stiff, muscles tense. Your heart is hammering, nerves buzzing with anticipation. 

More, more, mor—

Nothing. 

Krampus pulls away, leaving you with nothing but the cold air. Tears split from your eyes as a needy scream rips from your throat. That pressure lingering around your core dissipates. Your once hammering heart falls to your stomach, nerves frenzied and confused, yearning for that stimulation again.

“Why?” you ask, though you are certain you know the answer anyway. He was frustrated with the fact that you were so smug about his early orgasm and denying you one is his form of punishment.

The arrogant smile settling on his face confirms your thoughts.

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “That’s hardly fair,” you breathe, meeting his smouldering gaze. 

One of his hands roughly cups your crotch. He kneads his palm agonisingly slow against it as he replies, “I am the deity. I decide what is fair.”

The lethal look in his eye dares you to question his judgement. You want to tell him that is not fair either. You did not edge him or outwardly taunt him for cumming. How is it your fault that he has no self-restraint? And pulling the Saint card is bullshit. It is lazy and easy and you both know he is beyond that.

Is…is he smiling wider? Saints—is he still reading your mind?

His dark, deep laughter fills the heady space between you. Mustering every last drop of your annoyance, you try to fight off the flush of your cheeks at the sexy sound. When that doesn’t work, you focus on the minimal stimulation from the palm of his hand and pretend you're flustered over that instead.

That plan is short lived, however. In one swift motion, Krampus flips you from your back to your stomach. You turn your head and put your hands out in front of you. Still, the snow nips at your skin. You whimper from the cold as your chest presses into the ground as well. 

“This hurts,” you shout over your shoulder. 

“It hurts?” he asks, voice dripping with condescension. “Then tell me why you’re separating your legs.” 

You don’t have a dignified answer. Your swollen lips continue to quiver, body still trembles—whether against the cold or out of desperation, you're not sure. You just shift your bruised knees further apart and hope he will finally claim you the way you have always yearned to be. No one has ever wanted you, not even your own parents. 

But Krampus, the Saint of Reckoning and Redemption, does. He plays with you, gropes you, warms you and you are tired of pretending these are not things you want. You always wanted to be the one someone cheats with or sneaks out for. You always wanted to be the one people believe in and care for. If he wants to give you that, to fill your chest with something warm and wholesome, then you will allow him the chance to do so. Because even if this night ends with your death, you know you will never regret this blissful moment where you toggles pain and pleasure with such a sweetly, sadidisc Saint. 

“Krampus,” you whisper into the night, like a forgotten prayer. 

Taehyung, he corrects, slipping back into your mind. I want to hear my birth name on your delicious tongue.

Your back arches, backside perking up to his hands, kneading your round flesh. They’re rough and unforgiving, but you don’t want them any other way as you correct yourself (for the first time in your life), “Taehyung.”

He lets out a satisfied groan. You part your lips to say it again, unable to fight back a smile. But a hand comes down on your plump cheek before you can form the syllables. The smack booms like a thunderclap and you fall further into the cold ground with a surprised shriek. The pain hums against your sensitive skin and you don’t even have a chance to attempt to soothe it before he does it again.

Tears stream freely down your face as trembling sobs tumble from your lips. You gasp as the sting intensifies, fisting the snow beside you to stable yourself. The pain is burns, but fuck your core continues to sporadically clench, all the more needy. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he coos behind you, rubbing the inflicted area. “You’re such a good girl, taking your punishment so well.”

Your sobs stutter.

Good girl?

The two words together have always been lashed at you with vicious vehemence. You never even dreamed you could earn the title, believe you were bound for a life of misdeed and transgressions. But Taehyung offers them to you so fondly, like he actually admires you.

“You mean it,” you can’t stop yourself from asking. 

He hums his approval, voice so deep and daunting it sends shivers down your spine. “You’ve always been a good girl, little nightmare,” he says before pressing his lips to your still stinging cheek. “You just never had a chance to behave like one until now.” 

You suddenly do not care if you are just another human he collects, another sexual pet. You do not care if he has possibly done this with other sacrifices. His words in this moment repair the tatters of your soul and stitch together wounds you bitterly carried.

Warm erupts in your chest, spreading all the way down to the tips of your toes. Roots of comfort and security sprout from your heart, digging into your lungs and tangling around your ribs. A garden of gratification blooms in the base of your stomach and whatever contempt you once wore like a badge of honour shatters for in this moment you realise you are not unloveable, undesirable. 

You are exactly who you were always supposed to be. Rituals did not work, prayers were not answered because there was nothing about you that needed to change.

Your eyes burn with your newfound confidence, like the flames of a rising phoenix. You spare a glance at him over your shoulder and you know he is already aware of what is going on in your head. The gentle smile gracing his soft lips indicates as much. 

Still, you need to voice it.

“You are not claiming me,” you state, pushing your backside against him. “I am claiming you. And you can try running or hiding or whatever it is Saints do, but I will find you and let you use me every time.”

His smile widens.

“Tell me what you want me to do, little nightmare,” Taehyung encourages. He unbuttons his trousers. 

It’s your turn to smile. 

“I want you to fuck me, to ruin me, to posses me like the worshipper I am,” you declare, pouring every ounce of yourself into your words. “Make me yours.”

Taehyung tears his pants off, and his thick, rigid cock springs free. Your jaw goes slack—huge doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s veined and flushed, the head an angry, glistening crimson that seems to dare you to take it. The sheer weight of him has it curving slightly, a sinful masterpiece that makes your stomach tighten and your core clench involuntarily. 

You whimper, trying to imagine how much you will need to stretch to fully accommodate his girth. He must be just over four or five inches wide, and you don’t even know where to start with his length. You think that maybe if you had some experience you might have been able to see yourself accepting him. But you’re a virgin, and two of your fingers are barely the size of one of his, let alone his cock. 

He must see the horror in your eyes because he rubs your cheeks again and leans down to kiss the base of your spine.

“It will fit,” he reassures. 

“How?”

His face hardens, eyes darken with lust. “I’ll make it fit.”

Again, that’s not a real answer.

You don’t have time to argue however, for he teases the tip at your entrance. You screw your eyes tight and bite your lip, bracing yourself for the pain this will inflict.

Taehyung tsks and runs his fingers up and down your back. “Relax,” he says. “Just trust me. Can you do that, little one?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

You roll your eyes. He did that on purpose. It was extremely cute and sweet, but you refuse to voice that to him. Instead, you try to relax your muscles. 

He’s a Saint, you tell yourself. He moves torches with his mind and can read your thoughts. If he says he can make it fit, then you need to have faith in him. 

His wet tongue falls over your back, licking and swirling around your skin. You whimper quietly, allowing that warmth of it to soothe you. 

Just as a sigh of relief escapes your lips, your eyes gently shutting, Taehyung pushes himself in. He does not breach your hole right away, push, push, pushing against you until the head of it finally pops in. 

Your eyes roll back the stretch oh so blissful.

He continues to slide into your slickness, digging his fingers into your full hips hard enough to mark you. He groans quietly then drags his tongue into your wet, snow-damp hair. As if grooming your head, he laps at it, halting his hips for a second.

You shudder, tears of desperation still streaming down your face. “Keep going please.” 

And he does, moving his hips slowly

With one hand remaining on your side, he slides the other under your stomach and lifts you up to his face. He removes his tongue and presses his lips to your shoulders instead.

Your insides shift. Or at least you think they do. Your core, while still tight, seems to be more malleable, more…expandable. 

Did he just use magic to alter your pelvis in order to accommodate him?

“Yes,” Taehyung murmurs, pressing his lips to your ear. “You’re mine.”

And with that he shoves himself further into you until his weighty, full balls dangle between your thick thighs. The stretch is unbearable when he’s being this still. Need scrunches your features as you look up at him. 

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

You let out a heavy breath, shoulder slumping. You continue to clench tightly around him, no matter how relaxed his sweet gesture makes you feel.

“You’re so impatient,” he teases, smiling against your skin. 

You don’t have the chance to roll your eyes before he gives you what you have been wordlessly begging for. Shiting his hips back, Taehyung forcefully rams into you. Had he not been gripping onto your side or hooking an arm around your stomach, you would have jolted forward and right off his cock. 

A shatter cry shreds through your throat. He maintains that same force, pounding himself into you over and over again. Your hands gasp around your for something to hold onto. One of your hands finds purchase over his strong forearm while the other reaches back and grasps onto one of his horns. 

Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck (or at least tries to), growling, “Fuck!” 

You start to wonder if his horns are sensitive when you feel his sharp teeth graze your delicate skin.The whimper that trembles from your lips would have made you cringe had he not been fucking you so good. That pressure that was once building in your core before is returning and you will not let your pride ruin your orgasm for you this time.

The delicious prick of teeth into skin has you lolling your head to the side. He sinks it in deeper, coaxing an all too erotic moan from you.

Precious, little nightmare, his voice whispers into your soul. All mine. 

“Yours,” you manage to choke out between broken moans. “I’m yours, Taehyung.”

Removing his teeth from your shoulder, he licks the wound clean. You know there will still be a mark though, and plan to wear it proudly. 

Taehyung wraps both arms around your torso now. His giant body engulfs yours as he pulls you into his chest. He’s hunching over to maintain his thrusts, never relenting on their power. Your body continues to jiggle with each thrust, his big cock swelling deep inside you.

I want to do this all the time, you think to him. You don’t care if he has other humans to service. You want to fucked like this at least twice a day. 

His dark, charming presence lurks around your consciousness, caressing your healing soul. There’s no one else, he reassures. We’ll do this all the time—any time.

Your core tightens, inching closer and closer to a release. Bones rattling, muscles tensing, you can feel that warmth in the base of your stomach tangle and twist. He licks behind your ear and your clit throbs. He then trails his tongue to your lips, shoving it back in there. Your toes curl, eyes screwed shut. 

Then, as his tongue moves to the rhythm of his restless thrusts, the knots coiling in your gut snap. Your orgasm washes over you,  fogging your mind. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, moans muffle around his tongue. Clenching and unclenching spontaneously, you gush and gush all over his length. 

Maybe it’s the what of your arousal or the way you are tightening around him, but Taehyung immediately chases his own orgasm after you. He draws in and out with perfect precision, grunting over your face. With a final, deep thrust, he still his hips to unload his hot, thick load into you. 

Gasping in satisfaction, you swirl your hip back into him. His cum is so warm, so thick, it clings to your walls, making you feel impossibly full. It’s like you were made to take everything he has to offer. 

Taehyung pulls his tongue out of your mouth, and goes stiff behind you. Looking up at him, face a mess of tears and his saliva—which tastes like sweet honey left out in the sun—, you wonder why there’s a sudden shift in his demeanor. He gazes down at you, as if waiting for your features to change. 

“Taehyung?” 

He blinks then tilts his head. “You’re not in pain?” he questions. 

You bite back a smile. “Do you want me to be?”

His confused features lighten into amusement. He bends down and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is slow, deliberate, a stark contrast to the primal chaos that led you here. His lips move against your with a reverence that makes your chest ache and core tighten around him all over again. You feel him everywhere—on your skin, in your blood, burrowed deep in the marrow of your bones. It’s as though he is not just kissing your mouth but every broken and hidden part of you, filling your essence with unbound adoration and devotion. 

The night air hums with unspoken promises, thick with the lingering scent of sweat, sex, and his intoxicating musk. As Taehyung pulls you further into his, pressing your bare back to his chest, you feel it—the shift in the atmosphere, the shift in him. Something deeper, something ancient and unyielding, has taken root.

The weight of his gaze lingers, searing into you with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. As his lips ghost over your temple, you realise—this isn’t just desire. It’s something far more dangerous. It’s a silent vow, whispered into your very soul, binding you to the storm that is Taehyung.You have been marked by Krampus and there will be no turning back.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.

[inkedtae]

marked by krampus ⇾ kth. [teaser]

summary ⟶ the villagers summon krampus to punish you for your misdeeds however, instead of wrath, monstrous, sultry power captivates you. what starts as fear quickly turns into desire as he claims you in ways you never expected.

⌁ the following teaser is 453 words and contains some spoilers. it is also not edited. you have been warned. ⌁ border by dee ( @awrkives )

✩ release date: probably december 30th ✩ posted ✩

“Explain yourself,” you demand, desperate to regain a semblance of your composure.

You cannot see his face in the darkness but you swear you hear him breathe a chuckle. Two torches suddenly appear on either side of the sacrificial stake, illuminating his broad figure towering over you. A gasp escapes you but Krampus continues speaking like he didn’t just readjust the torches from the edges of the clearing to the center with the sheer will of his mind.

“You have terrible manners for a girl raised in a church,” he teases.

You clearly see that smile playing on his pretty lips now. It widens at your subtle, mental admission of his charm and you start to wonder if he brought the torches closer just to hear you lust after him some more.

Yes, you’re strangely attractive. Let’s move on, you mentally snap.

Amusement dances in his glowing gaze. You’d be lying if you said the sudden bloom of pride around your heart was not because you pleased him.

“The terms, my little nightmare, of your escape need to be set out before I let you go,” he finally explains. “Because once I catch you, I don’t think I will be able to hold myself back any longer.”

You gulp, all humour dissipating in your features. Heat pools in the base of your stomach at his new pet name for you, but soon frosts over upon his lethal implication. Does he still want to kill you? 

“Do you see that flag over there?” he asks, nodding towards the waving red and white flag of Dreadmere on the other side of the forest. It’s a focal point for travellers to follow the path towards the village. When you nod, he continues, “If you make it past the village threshold, marked by that flag, I won’t claim you.” 

Your blood chills, heart coils. Why does that thought literally suffocate you, your next breath cinching at the base of your throat. Is freedom not what you wanted? 

“And if you catch me?”

A smug, yet sincere smile tugs on the corner of his lips. “You’ll have to be caught to find out, little one.”

You have never been little a day in your life. Even as a child you were bolstered with rage, contempt and an ego that made the mayor soil himself when he met you. Not to mention your voluptuous frame of curves and folds. The villagers called you greedy and foul, but if you didn’t fight for your place at the table, you wouldn’t have survived this long. And yet, this beastly saint calls you ‘little’ and you cannot argue against it. All your animosity dwindles under his watchful gaze, leaving you feeling little.

please note that this excerpt is subject to edits, changes or removal from the final draft. this is still my work so do not even think about copying, translating or reposting any part of the teaser without my permission.

[inkedtae]

are we getting a oneshot tmrw? 👀

okay so i am 70% sure that the oneshot will be ready for tomorrow night, but if not then it will 100% be posted tuesday evening and hopefully the oneshot is enjoyable enough that you find my flakiness quirky and not as infuriating as you might find it now :)

[inkedtae]

Hey love!! I hope you’re doing well🤍

Firstly, allow me to say that your works are genuinely amazing. I absolutely love every single one of them. Please never, and I mean NEVER stop writing!!

Secondly, I’ve been wondering about this for quite some time now so I just need to ask you this;

Where do you edit your banners? They’re so beautiful and detailed, I love them. I’ve been struggling with making nice banners for my stories for a while and thought that maybe you could give me some tips😔 thank you, and happy holidays🫶

hello love 💗

thank you so much!! i put way too much into my stories so it makes me so happy that you enjoy them! ☺️💕

as for the banners, i 100% agree that they are so fucking beautiful but i cannot and have not taken credit for them. most of them are made by others and i always make sure to mention them before every fic. unless you do not find an @ in my author's note about the banner, it is made by someone else. recently, i have been commissioning banners from two very talented and gifted gfx editors: jen ( @itaeewon ) and dee ( @awrkives ). please give all this well deserved love and praise to them! they work so hard and always do such an amazing such at capturing my vision for the banner! though, a lot of the time, i give them free rein to unleash their creativity because they never disappoint! i don't know if they give out tips, but it never hurts to ask.

so yeah whatever fic banner you like on my fics, please check the author's note for the credit and give that editor lots of love 💕

thank you so much for reading and happy holidays lovely! 💓

[inkedtae]

Oh myyyy Krampus tae 👀👀👀

please be prepared for some very dark and dangerous monster sex, i did not hold back :)

[inkedtae]

urm exuse me if you have one i would be VERY interested in a teaser for b-day fic please 😇

lmao alright give me five more minutes ! 💕