Hi there!!! I'm Lain, and I'm finally writing on Tumblr!
I've been into writing for the past few years, but this is my first time posting here.
⚠️ WARNING: My English isn’t very good, so all my works are translated using an AI translator. I’m really sorry for any possible mistakes!
I write for these fandoms: Honkai: Star Rail, Zenless Zone Zero, and Twisted Wonderland.
More fandoms might be added later, but these are my main ones for now.
I write whatever comes to mind, so there aren't many strict rules or limits.
Any support would mean the world to me! 💖
Warning: Yandere, mentions of suicide and bodily harm, mild psychological horror.
Since my English is very poor, my works were translated from Russian using AI. (But I'm trying to learn English, so someday you'll see my works with my translations.) If there are Russian-speaking people reading this, I'll create a tgc with the original works and not only on twst.
What do I do…?
There’s nowhere for me to run…
I can hear him. I can hear him breathing behind the door.
If I move — he’ll know where I am.
And once he knows, he’ll start breaking the door down.
— Sweetheart, I know you’re in there. I know you’re right behind this damn door.
Don’t fall for it. Don’t move. Sooner or later, he’ll leave.
— Open the door. I just want to talk.
Don’t even look at the lock. Pull yourself together. He doesn’t want to talk — he wants to strangle you with his own hands.
You hear him crouch down and sniff at the door.
— Sweetheart, I can smell you. Are you that scared? Could I really hurt you?
You could. More than anyone.
And you already have, many times before.
Why didn’t I run away back then? Why did I wait so long?
I only decided to leave when someone was already striking a match inside a house filled with gas.
What an idiot.
The point of no return had been crossed long ago.
Probably… the day I returned his feelings.
— You know my patience isn’t endless…
The violent slam of his fist against the door nearly made you scream, but you covered your mouth just in time. Your body trembled with raw, animal fear.
— So why do you keep pushing everything to the boiling point?
Floyd hissed the words almost directly against the door so you’d hear every syllable. You knew that tone. You knew exactly what it meant.
You had very little time left.
Jump out the window? No. Seventh floor — there’s no chance.
Though… honestly, I don’t even know which is better anymore: suicide or dying by his hands.
Try to run? Also a terrible option. He’s not in the mood to play chase right now. He’s stronger, faster, more enduring than me.
And he’s furious.
The angrier I make him, the more painful my fate will be.
Who would’ve thought I wouldn’t even consider calling the police?
There’s no point. Once he breaks the door down, I won’t even have enough time to dial the number.
Is surrendering myself to him really the only sane option left?
No. That can’t be right!
I don’t want to die like this!
Another slam against the door sounded even stronger than the last.
Seconds left.
— Are you fucking trying to play games with me?! Open the damn door before I break it down myself.
Maybe… I should kill him?
Yes… yes! The safest option for me.
Who cares if I spend a few years in prison? Better than death.
But the problem is the same as before.
Me holding a knife against him is like a kitten trying to kill a shark.
Another brutal kick against the door snapped you out of your thoughts. This time the wood cracked loudly.
He started breaking it down.
Panicking, you scrambled away from the door, desperately searching for salvation.
The window… or the knife.
How much time do I have… thirty seconds?
Haha…
Ahahaha!!!!!
A minute and a half until my death, hah—
How terrifying.
God, please help me, I’m so scared.
What do I even choose?
Being strangled by the hands of the man I “love”?
Suicide?
Or getting stabbed to death by the knife he’ll rip away from me?
Suddenly, you forced yourself onto trembling legs.
The thin wood creaked so violently you knew the next hit would destroy it completely.
You only managed to run toward the window — not even open it — before the door burst apart.
Amid dust and splintered wood, his figure stood illuminated only by the flickering hallway light.
Your body froze.
Your legs felt filled with concrete. Your hands refused to move, even just enough to open the window.
— So what, you’d rather throw yourself out than end up in my hands?
Strangely, it looked like his left eye glowed in the darkness.
One heavy step toward you shot adrenaline through your veins, and your hands finally jerked into motion as you tried to open the window.
— Wait…!
That familiar, slightly childish voice made you freeze all over again.
The voice you fell in love with like a complete idiot.
The voice you forgave for every bruise, every threat, every cruel game.
Yes — the voice of your beloved Floyd.
— …I really just want to talk! Do you know how scared I got when you stopped answering me…?
No, what are you doing?!
Climb out the window while he’s still far enough away!
While you still have a chance to avoid something worse than death!
Idiot, idiot, don’t believe that voice!
Don’t believe his words!
You forgave him too much. Trusted him too much.
Your thoughts screamed desperately, trying to force you to move, but…
Whether it was fear of dying, or blind hope and obsessive love for him, your body refused to obey.
Love.
That obsessive love he’d so carefully cultivated inside you, tearing off a piece of his own and planting it in your heart like a parasite.
— Sweetheart, come here… I won’t hurt you.
Tears streamed down your face.
WHY… WHY DO YOU STILL BELIEVE HIM?!
YOU KNOW IT’S A LIE!
But your body no longer listened to reason.
And honestly, what place did reason even have here anymore?
You lost your mind because of him long ago.
Could you ever truly resist him?
Never.
Never completely.
The rope around your neck had already tightened too much, leaving no room for rational thought or even proper breathing.
There was only room left for him.
Barely able to move your legs, you walked toward him, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms.
Only one step separated you now — a step Floyd kindly took for you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body.
But in that moment, you didn’t fall into the warm embrace of a loved one.
You walked willingly into a spider’s web, offering yourself to the spider as dinner.
His arms squeezed painfully tight, making you struggle weakly against him, but it was already too late.
A cloth soaked in something strange was pressed over your face while Floyd held you firmly in place.
You knew you shouldn’t inhale. That suffocating would be better than breathing in whatever that was.
But your reflexes betrayed you.
Breath after breath, your consciousness slowly faded away.
— Shh, shh, pearl. Soon you’ll be home with me. And to make sure you never run away again… I’ll have to break your legs and tie you to the bed. You’ll never escape from me again. Never again…
Warning: Jealousy, mentions of physical abuse, mutual obsession; the MC is a little unhinged—and so is Jade.
Since my English is very poor, my works were translated from Russian using AI. (But I'm trying to learn English, so someday you'll see my works with my translations.) If there are Russian-speaking people reading this, I'll create a tgc with the original works and not only on twst.
My movements are refined to perfection. I have to be perfect for him.
My hair is styled flawlessly. I have to complement him.
My makeup and outfit too. I have to match him. Shine beside him like a polished ruby. But not too brightly, or I’ll attract the wrong kind of attention.
Jade is always perfect. From his appearance to his expressions. Sometimes I feel like he never lets himself relax, even at home.
Ah, my beautiful husband, chosen for me by fate!
He exhausts himself every single day…
Sometimes I can see unbearable fatigue behind his mask.
One day, I finally told him so. I begged him to let himself rest…
But he assured me that everything was fine, and that I didn’t need to worry about him so much.
He said he did everything so we could live well, and that all I had to do was be a proper wife, fulfill my duties as a woman, and occasionally accompany him to social events.
Of course, I agreed with him.
Ever since our wedding day, I’ve always greeted him in a spotless house, with a delicious dinner, and dressed up beautifully just for him. After all, he wants to see his wife at her best, so she can please his eyes.
And it makes me happy! Jade always made sure there was enough food in the house, enough supplies for cleaning, everything we could need.
And me…? I never went outside. Jade earned enough for me not to work, and he insisted on it. But I’m not sad! I regret nothing! I never liked the outside world anyway.
Though… sometimes I don’t want to let Jade go to work, because then I’ll be alone again until evening. I want to cling to him and never let go.
I lost all my friends before our engagement, and the most loyal ones cut ties with me after the wedding.
Whatever. They constantly told me to break up with Jade. Disgusting bitches. They wanted to take advantage of Jade’s heartbreak after our breakup and steal him for themselves! But I didn’t let them. One time I even attacked one of those sluts to show the others what would happen if they dared interfere in our relationship.
They branded me insane. Fine. Let them all go to hell. I don’t need friends who stand in the way of my happiness.
And Jade agrees with me! He always supported me whenever my friends tried to separate us.
Several years passed, and his business with his friend Azul became so successful that we moved into a huge penthouse. I even started leaving the apartment sometimes, since the building had several shops and even a small café!
But around that same time, I started noticing strange things.
When Jade came home from work in the evenings, he used to spend all his time with me until we went to sleep — sometimes even entire nights.
But now, during dinner, he often sat on his phone, barely paying attention to me…
I blamed it on work. After all, the company had entered the global market, and he must’ve been overwhelmed.
But when I accidentally looked at his phone and saw a woman’s name…
Honestly, I don’t know what came over me… My emotions spiraled out of control, and I almost smashed his phone. Thankfully, Jade managed to snatch it back and slapped me to bring me to my senses.
Yes, he only did it to calm me down. I wasn’t thinking clearly at all.
After that day, everything went back to normal. Jade spent much less time distracted by his phone, and once again, his evenings and nights belonged only to me.
Or maybe he just got better at hiding the whores entertaining him whenever I couldn’t.
One evening, Jade told me we’d soon need to attend an event.
He chose a dress for me and hired a stylist and makeup artist to prepare me for the evening.
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I barely recognized myself…
Of course, I wore makeup and lightly styled my hair almost every day for Jade.
But I never expected bolder shades on my eyes and lips could transform my appearance so much. My hair was gathered into a low bun, with loose strands framing my face and softly curled.
They helped me into a red mermaid dress and heels, and I was ready.
— Lady Leech, you look just like a rose…
The stylist and makeup artist looked at me with admiration, but their words stirred nothing in my heart. Only one person’s opinion mattered to me…
— Indeed. Like a rose in full bloom…
Jade stood in the doorway, gazing at me from head to toe.
I hadn’t even noticed him entering. My hands immediately began fussing with my appearance, trying to fix something — anything — so I’d look perfect for him.
Jade gestured for the staff to leave, and suddenly we were alone.
He stood behind me, towering over my figure. Even in heels, he was still half a head taller than me…
I raised my eyes to his reflection, and God… he looked more beautiful than usual. His hair was styled so elegantly, and that suit… Did he really do all of this himself? I’d never seen him hire stylists before…
My thoughts were interrupted when Jade gripped my shoulders.
— Darling, close your eyes. I have a gift for you.
As soon as I obeyed, Jade stepped away. I heard a soft click behind me before he returned.
Something cold and heavy settled against my neck.
— Open them.
When I opened my eyes, I saw a necklace covered in diamonds and enormous rubies.
— Once again, I was right. Red suits you better than anyone else.
Social gatherings are always so boring. A bunch of overdressed women who, even with escorts beside them, flock to richer men just to warm themselves beside a bigger wallet. Revolting. God, what if one of them approaches Jade? I don’t know if I could stop myself from killing her right there.
Azul and I never really interacted much. At most, polite small talk whenever he visited us or we crossed paths at restaurants. It wasn’t my place to interfere in men’s business conversations.
So that evening was no different. We exchanged a few words, then stopped talking entirely.
The first half of the night passed peacefully. I simply walked arm in arm with Jade while he spoke to potential sponsors and business partners.
But later, Jade told me to go entertain myself for a while. He needed to discuss something with someone.
But why leave me alone? Without him, I’m completely out of place here.
Still, I let him go.
About half an hour passed. I stood near the wall, searching for Jade in the crowd. For a while I could still keep track of him, but now he’d disappeared into the sea of people.
— Why is such a beautiful girl standing here without a smile?
I only realized someone had approached me once he spoke.
A disgusting fat man clearly in his forties, balding, with a greasy grin.
— What do you want?
The question came out harsher than I intended. I’m used to speaking to strangers that way.
— Why so rude, sweetheart?
I turned away from him immediately, searching for Jade with my eyes again.
I felt so relieved when I finally spotted him in the crowd…!
But he was… surrounded by women…?
The same women who’d been throwing themselves at every rich man all evening…
Had Jade really fallen for such cheap charms…?
I stared at him so intensely I stopped hearing everything around me.
— …Are you even listening to me?! Ill-mannered bitch! I’ll show you how to respond properly when a man flirts with you!
I snapped back to reality only when he grabbed my arm and started dragging me somewhere.
At that exact moment, Jade finally turned toward me.
Jade, Jade…! Save me…
You love me, don’t you…? You love me…
Then why did you look away…?
The next moment, sharp pain exploded in my head. That disgusting pig had slammed me against a wall!
His weight pinned me down so hard I couldn’t move. The moment I get free, I’ll rip off the hands he’s using to touch me!
First he touched my dress, then started groping me, and now he’s reaching places only Jade should touch!
My tears only seemed to amuse him.
God, Jade, help me…
Through my tear-filled eyes, I saw someone approaching us, but the darkness blurred my vision.
Then suddenly, the man was struck, and I managed to shove him away.
Though I lost my balance and collapsed to my knees.
— Well, well. I only stepped away from you for a moment, and you’re already with another man…
Jade, it’s his voice!
Overjoyed, I wiped the tears from my eyes so I could see him better.
I imagined him walking over to me, smiling gently the way only he could.
But instead, he met me with a cold, appraising gaze. As though a possession he once purchased had suddenly lost its market value.
— Jade…?
The silence hurt worse than a knife.
He simply stared at me, as if deciding whether to take me home or leave me rotting in the trash.
After a long minute of silence, he finally extended a hand to help me up.
— I’m done for tonight. Let’s go home.
Jade smoothed my disheveled hair, wrapped an arm around my waist, and guided me toward the back exit. Strangely… he touched me while wearing gloves. He always removed them before touching me. But now… once he sat behind the wheel, he replaced them. Threw the old pair away… as if he’d touched garbage.
The drive home passed in deathly silence. What haunted me wasn’t the assault itself, but the fact that my husband changed gloves after touching me. Ridiculous… right?
For now, everything seemed normal. He opened the door for me, offered his hand, led me into the elevator…
Where the hell is the catch… I’m going insane.
We entered the apartment. Everything looked normal. But his suffocating aura wouldn’t let me breathe. My lip had even started trembling from nerves… and for good reason.
The moment Jade kicked off his shoes, he slammed me into the wall and painfully yanked my hair.
— I thought I’d married the purest woman alive. Yet life keeps throwing surprises at me.
The pull on my hair became unbearable, and I couldn’t hold back a scream.
— Turns out you’re no better than those rented sluts who throw themselves at every passerby.
— Jade… please, stop. You misunderstood… Ah!
My head smashing against the wall hurt even more through the ringing in my skull.
— Yet you didn’t beg him to stop… Perhaps I’m doing something wrong? Explain it to me.
With a rough shove, he threw me onto the floor. I tried to crawl away, but Jade grabbed my ankle and loomed over me immediately.
— Jade, please don’t—!
His hand clamped over my mouth, painfully crushing my jaw. It felt like he was barely restraining himself from breaking it.
— I don’t want to hear excuses from a whore. Do you cling to every man the moment I look away?
I tried shaking my head no, but his grip hurt so badly that even the slightest movement felt agonizing.
— Of course… What else could I expect from a slut?
Grabbing me by the hair, Jade dragged me into the bedroom.
— Jade, please, listen to me!
My scalp burned with pain as I tried to loosen his grip, but he only tightened his fist closer to the roots and kept dragging me across the floor.
Throwing open the bedroom door, Jade tossed me onto the bed. He looked me over openly, without hiding his disgust.
— What a mess. I’ll have to burn this dress and the bedsheets. Someone else’s hands touched you, and now all of that filth is on my bed.
He approached me far too slowly, as though he wanted me to feel every ounce of his bloodlust.
— Jade… he forced me, I couldn’t push him away. Jade, forgive me, please!
He froze.
As if giving me one final chance to escape the fate awaiting me. All I had to do was explain myself properly.
— I saw you talking to those women, I froze up, and he dragged me away, and—!
— Ah, I see.
Jade’s calm voice interrupted me.
Now he sounded intrigued.
— So you were… jealous of me?
I nodded uncertainly, not knowing what kind of response to expect.
A satisfied smile spread across his lips.
— Well then… good. We’ll settle this with minimal bloodshed.
Suddenly, he started tearing my clothes off, shredding the dress to pieces. Resisting was pointless. All I could do was let him do as he pleased.
Painful. Without any preparation, his size hurt terribly to take. But he didn’t seem to care at all. He tormented me for nearly the rest of the night, leaving bites, hickeys, and bruises all over my body. By the end, I looked less like a person and more like a half-devoured piece of meat.
Leaving me alone in bed, Jade stood smoking by the window.
— And… what now?
I spoke hesitantly, my voice hoarse from hours of screaming.
— What now?
Jade glanced back at me over his shoulder.
— Now, I think you should stop attending events with me. Perhaps even stop going outside without me. My wife is clearly too sweet a nectar. I can’t keep displaying you for others to see. You’ll give me a child. Maybe several. Then everything will return to normal.
He said it so calmly, as if he’d already thought this through long before tonight.
— Jade…
— Hmm?
— Tell me… do you love me?
I couldn’t look him in the eyes. But I could feel that the question surprised him. A quiet chuckle followed, along with approaching footsteps.
— Oh, darling. If I didn’t love you to death…
His elegant fingers tilted my chin upward.
— I would’ve left you somewhere on the side of the highway.
— How romantic.
— Ah, so you’ve rediscovered your sarcasm?
Leaning so close his lips nearly brushed mine, Jade lowered his voice to a whisper.
— I’ve gone so mad because of you that even the thought of someone else beside you makes me want to kill you both.
I think the last fragments of my sanity left me that night, and I dissolved into him completely.
As if the devil himself had cursed me.
No matter what this man does to me, no matter how cruelly he torments me, I cannot leave him.
Love became so powerful that it turned me insane… and I’m only happy about it.
P.S. Dear friends, if while reading this you started feeling like you began one story and ended another — you’re not imagining it! This shit took me two months to write. Honestly, I’m shocked I even managed to keep the original plot in my head. So don’t beat me up — better piss on me instead, burnout spares no one. 🌹
I wrote this quite a while ago, so I apologize for any cringe.
Here is Kafka - MALE.
Aventurine… well, he has an indescribable love for your chest. He can’t even properly explain why it attracts him so much. He clings to you at the first opportunity, and it’s nearly impossible to pry him off. And if you don’t let him — or somehow manage to push him away — he looks at you with pleading eyes or starts sulking about it.
Like a child, he’ll pin you beneath him, tug up your thin shirt, and latch onto your nipples one after the other, teasing them while squeezing your breasts in his hands. You can’t imagine how much, in moments like that, he wants to have intramammary sex with you.
Another one with an indescribable obsession — Jiaoqiu is crazy about your tummy. He’s always lying on it, kissing it, stroking it. His arms are constantly wrapped around your waist, gently caressing your stomach.
His biggest dream is to lay you completely naked on a table and use your stomach like a plate — placing snacks on you and eating directly off your body without utensils. Just his mouth.
Sunday often can’t decide what exactly he loves most about your body, but more often than not he concludes that it’s your hands. Your wrists, your fingers — everything about them. He loves when you stroke him, when your soft fingers brush over his wings, and when you do things for him with your hands.
Secretly, he wishes that one of your intimate nights would be devoted entirely to you exploring his body from head to toe using nothing but your hands.
Kafka simply cannot stop staring at your hips and backside. While other people’s hands don’t go below the waist, Kafka’s hands are always on your hips. When you’re alone, he allows himself to spank you, grip your hips tightly, and speak freely about how beautiful those parts of you are. (In public he isn’t shy either, though he’s a bit more restrained.)
To fully enjoy your hips and backside during sex, he always puts you on all fours, pressing your head into the pillow as he watches your back arch and your hips lift. He drives into you relentlessly, occasionally spanking you and savoring the sharp sound mixed with your moans and cries.
I wrote this quite a while ago, so I apologize for any cringe.
Shy, sometimes even very shy. He understands that it hurts you when he bites, and he feels embarrassed to ask you for your blood. So he drinks rarely and tries to find a way to suppress his thirst.
Until he finds that solution, he still asks for your blood. Whether he asks politely or bites without warning depends on his mood and how long it has been since he last drank. But in both cases, he will stroke you. Your head, your back, your waist, your hips — it doesn’t really matter. The important thing is that he keeps touching you gently, as if to soothe you.
If he hurts you, he will always ask how he can make it up to you or suggest a punishment involving more of your blood. Most of the time you refuse both options, since he hasn’t really done anything unforgivable, but regardless of your answer, he will carry out the first option anyway. He’ll buy you anything you want, rent out an entire restaurant and arrange a romantic dinner just for the two of you. He fulfills even the smallest hints — and by the next day, whatever you desired will already be in your hands.
He isn’t particularly jealous. During work, Neuvillette doesn’t demand your attention, as he devotes himself entirely to his duties. However, if he sees that you’ve texted or called, he will always respond and dedicate as much time to you as you need. When you’re alone together, you focus only on each other. If, in those moments, you give more attention to someone else, he might grow jealous and will find ways to draw your attention back to him.
18+
Without question, he is very gentle, affectionate, and careful. His movements are always smooth, so as not to hurt you.
He loves when you’re on top. That way he can be certain you’re enjoying yourself and that he isn’t hurting you. And, of course… he adores watching the way your chest moves while you ride him — he thinks it deserves to be immortalized in paintings.
His favorite places to bite are undoubtedly your neck, your chest, and your wrists. During sex he may bite your neck, but more often your wrists — he considers them one of the most elegant parts of you.
Neuvillette is perfect — and that’s the truth. Even when he’s angry, he remains composed. If others anger him, he simply ensures they are kept far away so he can remain calm. If you anger him, he’ll let it slide — until you’re together in bed. And if you somehow manage to make him truly angry during intimacy, he won’t leave an inch of you untouched. Your whole body will tremble from countless orgasms, covered in deep marks and the occasional bite. After that, all you can do is pray you’ll be able to walk normally by the third day — and Neuvillette makes it very clear that it’s better not to provoke him.
❗️Since I'm very bad at writing English, the translation was done using AI. Please forgive any inaccuracies.❗️
You met during an internship.
As soon as he arrived at “Olympus,” you were assigned to him as his personal mentor and supervisor. Idia’s reaction? Pure horror.
“WHY DO I NEED A MENTOR? And a girl at that… this is a nightmare, I have no idea how to talk to women…”
At first, he thought you were much older than you looked—much older than him—and that you would definitely find him strange.
But it turned out not to be so scary after all. You were only two years older, and you had officially worked at the company for just a year. Management had decided that students would get along more easily with younger employees than with the older generation.
And they were right.
Despite all of Idia’s fears, you were incredibly easy to talk to. You shared so many interests, the same views on life…
In short, what he had first considered a living nightmare slowly turned into a sweet dream.
Of course, you started talking outside of work more and more. You played games together, watched things over voice calls (since you couldn’t visit his dorm, and he was too scared to show up at your place). You even started dragging him out on weekends under the excuse:
“I bought a subscription to a gaming café, and purely by accident they gave me two passes. Want to go with me? It’d be a shame to waste it.”
And he fell for it. He really did start going out into the world with you. He loved the way you reacted whenever he beat you in a 1v1 match, how you praised him after defeating a difficult boss, gently patting his head. How you always insisted on taking him to a diner and paying for everything, even though Idia stubbornly tried to at least cover his own part. Once he got so annoyed he was ready to show you his bank balance.
“Do you think I’m poor or something? That I can’t cover the bill?”
“No. This is my way of making you happy. So please, stop making a scene every time. You could’ve gotten used to it by now.”
“Then I want to make you happy too and pay this damn bill!”
“Idia, it already makes me happy that you agree to go out with me. So let me handle it.”
You placed a bill on the table and walked toward the exit. Idia stayed behind for a moment. The way you smiled at him… the way you looked at him… something about it felt different than before.
No. He was imagining things.
He picked up your money and replaced it with his own before following you. Later, he’d secretly slip your cash back into your bag.
…
By the end of his internship and his college graduation, he began to realize his feelings for you. It definitely wasn’t normal that lately his hair turned pink just because your eyes met.
His parents offered for him to return home after graduating, but he refused. He chose to look for his own place instead.
Unfortunately, finding an apartment that met all his requirements wasn’t easy, and he had to vacate his dorm room soon…
So you offered to let him stay with you.
“I mean… I don’t want to make you sleep on the couch. Or sleep in the living room myself…”
“Hm? Don’t worry. It’s a two-bedroom apartment. The second room’s fully set up.”
He had plenty of reasons to refuse. But deep down, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand firm under your pressure anyway.
So just two days after graduation, he was arranging his belongings in his new room.
“Hey… we never celebrated your graduation together. Want to drink?”
“Do I even have a choice?”
“Formally? Yes. But actually, no. You’re sitting with me. Finish up and get to the kitchen.”
A few seconds later, he heard bottles clinking. And a thought crossed his mind:
“This feels like an eroge. A loser guy moves into the apartment of his unbelievably beautiful friend, whom he also happens to be in love with. Later she gets drunk, confesses she’s madly in love with him too, and they end up having their first time.”
And then he realized… he wouldn’t mind that scenario at all.
And you know what? Idia was completely right.
You got drunk, confessed your feelings, and fully expected it to lead to sex—but you didn’t even get the chance to hint at it. Idia had already passed out, pink from head to toe.
…
He woke up the next day with a pounding headache. He had drunk quite a bit himself. For the first half hour, he was too scared to leave his room. What if you were out there? What if everything from last night was just drunken nonsense? How was he supposed to look you in the eyes?
But thirst and hunger won.
And to his horror… yes. You were in the kitchen.
The moment you saw him, you smiled.
“Maybe… we should talk about last night?”
“C-can I recover from this hangover first…?”
You laughed, handing him mineral water and painkillers before retreating to your room, telling him to come when he was ready.
An hour later, he entered your room and sat beside you on the bed.
“So… can you return my feelings?”
Idia broke.
The idea that this was real—not a dream—hadn’t fully reached him yet. He only snapped back when you took his hands and he realized how badly he was shaking.
“Idia, why are you so nervous? You already know I like you. You don’t have to worry about me rejecting you. I’m the one who should be worried that my feelings might not be—”
“Reciprocated,” he interrupted firmly. “They are… they are reciprocated. I like you too.”
His heart pounded in his throat. He avoided your gaze, staring at the floor until you pulled him into a hug.
“So… does that make us a couple now?”
“I guess it does.”
…
Idia had planned to stay with you for a month or two.
He stayed for years.
You had to buy a bigger bed eventually—because once he passed the second stage of shyness, he refused to let go of you.
…
A few years later, Idia’s parents announced they were retiring and intended to pass the company on to him.
He didn’t know what to do. He had finally found a normal life with you. He didn’t want to force you to move somewhere isolated from the world.
But you convinced him.
“Idia… think about your parents. You’re the only one who can inherit their work. And if there are strict rules about ‘outsiders,’ I can marry you.”
“I don’t want you giving up a normal life because of me.”
He lay with his forehead pressed to your shoulder while your fingers combed through his hair. Then he heard the words that would stay with him forever.
“Idia, look at me.”
You lifted his head gently.
“Why would I want a normal life if it’s lived without you?”
…
A few days later, you submitted your resignation from “Olympus,” and that same day you went to meet his parents.
They had only found out about you a few days earlier, though his mother had suspected he was seeing someone. After a brief lecture about hiding a girlfriend he’d been with for years, you were invited to dinner.
The meeting went well. His mother adored you. His father was quiet—just like Idia. The women talked; the men mostly listened.
In the end, his parents approved of you and even gave their blessing for marriage.
…
That very night, Idia proposed.
The wedding was set for a few months later. The day after the ceremony, he would officially take over as director.
The wedding itself was small—Idia insisted. His mother wanted something grand and lavish, but when you supported your future husband’s decision, she gave in.
The wedding happened. The next day Idia assumed his position.
And then you found out you were pregnant.
“Are you trying to kill me with how much has happened in the last few months…?”
He stood there stunned—not from despair, but from overwhelming happiness and just a little shock at how his life had flipped 180 degrees in half a year.
Nine months later, your daughter was born.
And three months after that… the day came that erased everything.
Turned the sweet dream into a nightmare.
…
It was an ordinary day. You were in the nursery, putting your daughter to sleep, while Idia was in the lab.
Suddenly—red lights. Alarms throughout the building.
“Cerberus system failure.”
Security called: someone had hacked Cerberus. Several shadows had escaped containment.
“The hacker temporarily seized control of Cerberus. We can’t regain access.”
“How long do you need?!”
“Preliminary estimate—ten minutes.”
“That’s too long. I’m coming.”
“No, Director, please—don’t!”
“What the hell do you mean don’t?!”
“Go to your wife and daughter. They need you more than we do. We’ll try to cut it to five minutes—but don’t hesitate!”
…
Idia ran.
He was too late by seconds.
A massive claw pierced straight through your abdomen as you shielded your daughter.
After killing the shadow, Idia rushed to you, screaming for you to stay alive, screaming into the radio for medics, for the best doctors.
He knew you were nearly torn in half.
But he refused to let you go.
“Idia… listen… please…”
With your last strength, you spoke.
“Please… live a normal life. Don’t abandon STYX…”
“WHY WOULD I NEED A NORMAL LIFE IF IT’S WITHOUT YOU?!”
You smiled faintly.
“For our daughter. Raise her. Give her everything… I’m sure she’ll be as smart as you…”
Your vision faded. Your voice disappeared.
“No—no, please, wake up… I can save you… I’ll give anything…”
He sobbed openly, tears falling onto your pale face.
Again. He had lost the person he loved most.
Your daughter began to cry. He gently moved your body aside and picked her up, collapsing to his knees beside you, holding her tightly, trying to find comfort in the piece of you that still lived.
…
As for the man behind it all—
Idia found him two days later.
He made him suffer.
First, he killed the man’s wife and children in front of him.
Then he broke his arms and legs.
He tore open his abdomen and slowly removed his organs—intestines, kidneys, liver, stomach—leaving only lungs and heart.
“You see? Your heart’s still beating. Good. Suffer until the end.”
He crushed the man’s eyes. Tore out his spine. Ripped out his heart and crushed it in his hand.
Standing before the burning house, Idia wondered how furious you would be with him.
He didn’t regret it.
He could have done what he once did for Ortho—created a humanoid version of you through artificial intelligence.
But he swore he would only do that once he had completely lost his mind.
❗️Warnings: mentions of flesh being cut/sawed, heavy blood content, obsession, the (Y/N) has serious mental health issues.❗️
❗️Since I'm very bad at writing English, the translation was done using AI. Please forgive any inaccuracies.❗️
Present day — (Y/N) : 35 years old
Flashback — (Y/N): 20 years old. Skully: 22 years old
⸻
“Halloween is fear.
Halloween is delight.
Halloween is a nightmare.”
That person has long been dead, yet you still remember his words.
He was obsessed with Halloween.
And he was obsessed with you. So much so that he went mad.
For him, the night of October 31st was a blessing.
For you, it became a curse.
You tried everything to get rid of the memories of life with him. Therapy, medication — nothing helped.
Every damn year, on the same date, you relive the events of your last meeting.
…
The only thing on your mind was to run.
You ran headlong through a crowd dressed as monsters and spirits. Halloween was at its peak.
Their masks and makeup didn’t scare you.
The one chasing you did.
He was the embodiment of Halloween itself.
You had never felt greater fear than being the object of his obsession.
You had never felt greater thrill than watching him burn with his love for Halloween.
And you would never again experience a nightmare like the one you were living through that night.
How had he not lost you in such a massive crowd?
You could still feel his crimson eyes fixed on your back, never looking away for a second.
Because of the downpour, you were soaked. The pavement was slippery — you stumbled more than once. But if you slowed down even for a second, he would catch you.
Finally, you burst out onto an intersection. From here, you could turn in any direction—
“Belladonna!”
No. Don’t turn around. Keep going. Run. Damn it, WHY AREN’T YOU MOVING? WHY DID YOU FREEZE THE MOMENT HE CALLED YOUR NAME?
“Belladonna…”
His voice was very close now.
The crowd thinned until you were alone.
You felt his gaze burning into your back, but you were afraid to turn around.
What if you did — and he was already standing right behind you, grabbing you again? Locking you away once more…
“Bella…”
You flinched. That nickname again.
Why had he decided to name you after poison?
Hesitantly, you turned.
Oh God… He looked battered, as if he had fought his way through the crowd. Soaked through. And when you faced him — he seemed to start crying.
From joy? From sorrow?
Like a stray kitten…
You wanted to step closer. To comfort him.
To see helplessness, hope, dependence in his eyes.
To burn your initials into his beautiful crimson gaze.
To make sure he remembered only you for the rest of his life. Needed only you.
No. Don’t indulge his obsession. Or yours. Run.
But seeing him cry because of you alone — that was priceless. You couldn’t lie to yourself about that.
“Bella… why are you running? You… you’ll leave me? Betray me like everyone else?”
You couldn’t answer. The lump in your throat was too thick.
“Bella… why won’t you say anything?”
“Skully…”
The way his eyes lit up just because you said his name was so intoxicating it made you sick with yourself.
He took a step forward.
“Don’t come any closer!”
You ran again. He followed.
The crosswalk was too long. There wasn’t enough time.
A car sped from the right. You wouldn’t make it—
A hard shove to your back.
You half-turned your head — just in time to see the car hit Skully instead of you.
It happened too fast.
You collapsed onto the sidewalk, staring at his body beneath the car.
And he stared at you.
From beginning to end, he had only ever looked at you.
You forced yourself up and disappeared into the panicked crowd.
…
You walked without counting the steps. You hadn’t gone far — you could still see the intersection.
You turned into an alley.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed your wrist from behind.
The touch was too familiar.
Him?! But how?! He—
Before you could finish the thought, he slammed you against a brick wall.
“Skully… how are you—?”
He silenced you with a kiss.
A deep kiss — except… why did it taste like iron? Why was he forcing you to drink his blood? Why did he bite your lip too — and drink yours in return?
When you began to choke, he pulled away.
Pressing you harder against the wall, he leaned to your ear.
“May my soul never rest. May it follow you wherever you flee. May it ruin the fates of anyone who dares grow close to you. May this day haunt you with nightmares, poison your life, until you return to where it all began. That shall be our blood oath.”
Everything after happened too quickly.
He pulled out a coil of razor wire.
With one end, he bound your hands together.
With the free end, he wrapped it around his own neck.
And then — holding the last strand — he began sawing into his throat.
“Stop! Skully, no!”
You tried to pull away, to stop him — but the blades bit deeper into your skin. You grabbed his other hand, but he jerked it violently, slicing your palm — and then his own neck.
The tension slackened.
The wire stopped cutting into your wrist.
And Skully’s head fell from his body.
The worst part — he was still looking straight at you.
…
After that, everything is blurred. How you were found beside his body. What happened next.
Your memories sharpen again only when you are on a plane to another country. Another continent. As far away as possible.
Life did not improve.
Any attempt to get close to someone — to feel something — became a death sentence for them. They died horribly. One after another.
You tried to deny the “blood oath.” Thought it was nothing more than theatrical nonsense.
But when you stood over grave after grave, you stopped believing that.
So many deaths. So much blood on your hands.
All of it leading you, fifteen years later, back to where it began.
Not just the city.
The exact place. The date. The time.
October 31st. The night of November 1st.
The cemetery.
Almost twenty years ago, you came there to visit your father’s grave.
That’s where you met him.
He had been sitting on the hill opposite you.
You never knew why you chose to speak to him.
Five years later, you regretted it. You still do.
Now you return.
Black dress. A veil covering your face. Scarlet chrysanthemums in your hands — for Skully’s grave.
His grave stands directly opposite that hill.
You place the flowers. Turn to leave.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Belladonna.”
No. Don’t listen. Hallucination.
“Hallucination? After all this time, you still refuse to admit my soul is bound to yours? How rude.”
You freeze — just like that night.
“Turn around, Bella. I was bound to you, but I couldn’t see you.”
Slowly, you turn.
He stands there — no longer battered and crying.
Clear. Solid.
“Ah, Belladonna… you’ve grown. You’re not that girl anymore. You’ve bloomed even more with age…”
His gaze travels over you.
“Sadly, I never grew older. Forever twenty-two.”
He says it teasingly.
“Before I do something… answer me one question.”
You still insist it’s not real.
“Oh? Still pretending? Then—”
You’re slammed into a stone monument. His hand tightens around your throat.
“Now do you believe me? Then answer. Why did you run from me that night?”
“B-because… your obsession was destructive…”
Pressure tightens.
“My obsession? You must be joking, Bella.”
A broken laugh echoes.
“You cultivated it in me. You made me depend on you. You wanted me obsessed. And I obeyed. Even though I was older, beside you I felt like a boy. But you wanted freedom — and me chained to you. And when you realized I wouldn’t let you fly free… you left.”
His figure sharpens.
His eyes are wet.
He expects remorse.
Instead, he sees your smile.
Victorious.
“So you won’t deny it?”
He releases you.
“And yet… I still love you. Madly. Something won’t let me abandon you. Perhaps I like how you still make me cry — even after death.”
He pauses.
“You fulfilled the oath. Tonight your fate is decided. Let’s play. If you escape beyond the cemetery gates, the oath breaks. If I catch you… you come with me. On three I start chasing. One—”
You bolt.
The exit — but hands burst from the ground, clawing upward.
You turn toward the hill.
It feels endless.
He walks — calmly — yet breathes at your back.
You reach the top.
Before you can descend, you’re spun around — shoved.
Your body goes numb.
A sharp pain explodes in your skull. Then your neck.
Iron spikes.
The fence impales you clean through.
He approaches.
Clear. Tangible.
“I caught you, Bella.”
He lifts you from the spike and lays you before the stone.
“You look like a bride…”
He smooths your dress.
“Black is perfect for marrying a corpse, isn’t it? Let this veil be your bridal veil. The blood at your throat — your ruby necklace.”
You no longer breathe.
“Belladonna is a poisonous plant. Beautiful flowers. Tempting fruit.”
He slices his palm and lets his blood touch your lips.
“You poison everyone around you. Yourself included. Everything that happened — your doing.”
He leans close.
“May our souls never rest. May they wander together forever. May your soul be mine, as mine already belongs to you. Bound in death, never parted. That shall be our blood oath.”
! Warning: Violence, Suicide Attempt, Stalking, Dark Themes!
! Since I'm very bad at writing English, the translation was done using AI. Please forgive any inaccuracies. !
What a horrible downpour.
Even hiding under the café’s awning, the raindrops still manage to hit you.
Of course, the weather app had shown clear skies all day — figures.
And with wind like this, even an umbrella would be useless; it would only get blown inside out.
Good thing you wore sneakers instead of heels.
Calling a taxi isn’t an option. Demand is too high, and even if you managed to get one, you’d have to pay an insane amount of money — money you don’t have right now.
There’s a subway station not far from here, but you’d still get soaked to the bone running there.
Ugh… what are you supposed to do? Just sit and wait for the rain to stop? You could be here all day…
You crouch down, wrapping your arms around your knees.
Damn it.
“Excuse me, milady. May I be of assistance?”
A tall man in a suit bends slightly toward you.
Suspicious. He doesn’t inspire trust at all. Men like that either try to sell you something outrageously expensive — or steal.
“Huh? No, that’s not necessary. I was just leaving.”
You stand up, and suddenly an umbrella appears above your head.
“Oh, please. At least allow me to walk you home — or I could give you a ride. Walking in weather like this, you might catch a cold.”
Ugh. That stretched, artificial smile.
“No, really, it’s fine. I’m taking the subway—”
“Then at least take my umbrella.”
He’s so insistently trying to force his help on you.
“No, no, that’s really not necessary. I don’t want to take your umbrella. I don’t like collecting other people’s belongings at home, and it’s unlikely we’ll ever meet again so I could return it.”
“…You’re quite certain we won’t meet again?”
“…What?”
“No, nothing. Perhaps you’ll reconsider the umbrella?”
“I’ll pass. Goodbye.”
And you run. Yes, straight into the downpour. Still better than staying near some creepy stranger.
Even so, you feel his gaze on you. To check whether it’s paranoia or something else, you stop under another building’s awning and glance into the mirror — pretending to check your face, but really looking behind you through the reflection.
And damn it… it wasn’t paranoia.
He’s still standing there. Watching you leave.
Disgusting.
You somehow make it to the station. It wasn’t that far, but you’re soaked through.
And you still feel his eyes on you.
No. Now that has to be paranoia.
…
More than a month passes, and you’ve nearly forgotten about it.
Until you see your new neighbor.
“Oh, good morning.”
The same suit. The same hairstyle. The same eyes.
Heterochromia can be beautiful — but in his case, it’s unsettling.
“You seem very familiar. Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so. You must be mistaken.”
You hurriedly close your door.
“Heading to work?”
Why the hell is he asking that?
“Yes. Good luck with the move.”
You stride past him and slip into the elevator.
Strange. Very strange.
He doesn’t look like someone from the middle class who would move into a neighborhood like this. Not that it’s bad, but mostly lower and middle class people live here. You’ve never seen anyone wealthy around.
So what is someone like him doing here? And right next door to you?
Just a coincidence that some creepy guy who followed you to the subway a month ago moved into the apartment next to yours.
And his appearance… maybe he needs expensive suits for work. Or it was a gift.
You try to convince yourself of that until you step outside and notice the car parked in front of your building.
A Rolls-Royce. You’ve only seen cars like that a few times in your life — and now one is parked right here.
THAT HAS TO BE HIS. WHY WOULD SOMEONE LIKE THAT MOVE INTO A PLACE LIKE THIS?!
…
At first, everything seemed normal after he moved in. Except for one “coincidence” that made you uneasy.
You left for work and returned at the exact same time.
Sure, most work schedules are similar — but still.
It didn’t matter whether you left first or he did.
He would come out right after you. Or wait by the elevator. And he was waiting on purpose — there’s no doubt. The moment he saw you step out of your apartment, he called the elevator.
Of course, you can’t just walk up to him and say, “Hey, your presence makes me uncomfortable. Could you please move out?”
So you start leaving thirty minutes earlier or later.
For a while, it works. You stop running into each other.
Yes, coming to work early or staying late isn’t great — but your boss even gives you productivity bonuses.
And then it starts again.
You swear he’s willing to wait an hour just for you. What the hell?
And there’s something else that’s been growing stronger since he moved in.
Your paranoia.
You’ve never been particularly calm, but lately it’s unbearable.
You constantly feel someone’s eyes on you.
After three months of nonstop paranoia, your nerves begin to give out.
You tear your entire apartment apart looking for hidden cameras.
You find nothing.
“Maybe I’m just driving myself crazy…?”
You sit in the bathroom, hugging your knees while icy water pours over you from the shower, trying desperately to pull yourself together.
…
It gets worse.
Your friends start dying. One after another.
Your childhood friend — sliced in half by a motorcycle.
A close friend — his car explodes with him inside.
Your best friend — found disemboweled, mutilated. The forensic report states she was assaulted before death.
And your sister — drowned.
While signing documents at the morgue, you feel nothing. You just want to leave.
You sit on the bench outside your building. You don’t have the strength to go inside.
Anywhere but there. Everything reminds you of them.
You don’t notice when you begin crying.
“Excuse me… do you need help?”
No. Not him.
That sickly sweet voice that tried to chat with you in the elevator. That wished you “Good morning” and “Have a nice evening” at every encounter — not realizing that everything good soured the moment he appeared.
“It’s because of you…”
“I beg your pardon?”
“All of this… because of you. It started when you appeared in my life. My paranoia got worse… then you started following me… then my loved ones began dying… That’s too much to be a coincidence…”
You speak quietly. You don’t have the strength to shout.
You look at him with wide, desperate eyes.
And he… smiles wider with every word.
No — it’s more of a grin.
An animalistic grin that makes everything inside you tighten.
Was that a confession?
All you want to do is run.
And unfortunately, the only place you run is back into your apartment.
You lock every door, shut every blind and curtain. You’re afraid to look outside. You feel him there. You know he’s there, staring at your windows.
Terror paralyzes you.
Your breathing quickens. Your heart pounds like you’ve run ten kilometers without stopping.
Your head throbs. Nausea rises. Your vision blurs.
You can’t hold on anymore.
…
The next month passes in a haze.
You don’t want to see anyone.
And you don’t want anyone to see you.
A neighbor leaves food and water by your door.
You convince your boss to let you work remotely — the only thing distracting you from the urge to slit your wrists.
But then you’re laid off due to downsizing.
Are you sad?
You don’t know.
Does it hurt?
You don’t know.
You stopped feeling after your best friend died.
Everything feels meaningless.
Would eight floors be enough?
…
You think about it for a long time.
But when it happens, it happens quickly.
The night city looks beautiful.
You open the window.
Cool autumn wind refreshes you.
Yes. A perfect final moment.
One step — and you fall.
The last time you feel free.
The stars are so clear tonight.
You remember hitting the ground.
You remember the sickening crack echoing in your ears.
…
But now, you don’t understand why you woke up.
Why are you strapped to a bed?
Why does it smell so strongly of formalin?
“Ah. You’re finally awake.”
The darkness hides his face — but you recognize the voice instantly.
It’s him.
No. No, no, no. Don’t come closer.
You struggle against the restraints. Useless. They’re too tight.
“Well now. My doctors practically pulled you back from the other side. Don’t thrash around like that.”
You want to scream, but no sound comes out.
He smiles widely.
“You can’t speak, but your face is full of questions. Very well — I’ll answer a few.”
A massive surgical lamp flicks on above you.
“Throughout our acquaintance, I never introduced myself. Forgive my rudeness. My name is Jade Leech.”
He tilts his head slightly, examining you.
“I’m something of a collector,” he continues calmly. “I collect rare things. Objects. Plants. Curiosities. My collection was complete… and I grew bored. Until I realized I was overlooking the rarest specimens of all — the ones I saw every day.”
His mismatched eyes gleam.
“That’s when I began observing people more carefully. And that’s when I found you.”
He smiles.
“At first, I only intended to add your body to my collection. But when you ran from me… I followed you. And I decided I would rather keep you whole. You fascinated me.”
He gestures toward a nearby table. Glass jars line its surface.
“You truly brought me fortune. Thanks to you, my collection grew by four more specimens.”
You can’t breathe.
“But I changed my mind about you,” he says softly. “I don’t want what’s inside you. I want something immaterial. I want your soul.”
He leans closer, his voice almost gentle.
“Don’t worry. I will be very delicate. I’ll break you carefully… so that afterward, I may create a portrait from the fragments of your soul.”
His grin widens.
“You will become the most valuable piece in my collection.”
❕Warning: Hints of explicit scenes, Idia is a pervert, you too❕
❗️Since I'm very bad at writing English, the translation was done using AI. Please forgive any inaccuracies.❗️
Idia could never quite understand whether he hated that trait of yours — or actually loved it.
You always teased him at the most inappropriate moments.
Especially in public.
He already rarely went out, and with you it was even scarier.
What if you pulled something ambiguous again in front of everyone?
Whispered something in his ear, slipped your hands under his clothes, “accidentally” brushed your lips against his neck, leaving a red lipstick mark. In front of everyone.
You’d be laughing while he stood there completely flushed.
All he could do was hide his face, glance at you through his fingers, and realize just how hopeless he was.
Because with every stunt you pulled, he fell even more in love with you.
And you?
You were simply addicted to the sight of a flustered Idia.
Those pink strands of hair, pink cheeks…
And the way he stutters so cutely, asking you to stop… yet you could swear you see little hearts in his eyes in that very moment.
You know how easily Idia gets embarrassed, and you try not to abuse it.
But… ah, when he’s focused on something, or speaking in that serious tone of his, it’s almost impossible not to lean in and whisper that you really wouldn’t mind being between his legs right now.
Poor Idia is already afraid to sit next to you, knowing how touchy you are with him. Especially in public.
But sitting across from you is even worse.
Once, he made that mistake.
Damn your long legs he’s ready to fall at any chance — but only when you’re alone.
He will never forget that evening when, the entire time, your leg kept sliding between his where it absolutely shouldn’t.
And he will never forget the generous compensation he received from you afterward.
…
Somehow, you practically moved into Idia’s room.
Actually, if we’re being honest, you occupied it.
You just started coming over so often that eventually you didn’t want to leave.
Not that Idia would ever kick you out — it just all happened so fast…
Let’s start with the fact that Idia was convinced he’d die a virgin. And then suddenly he has a girlfriend, and barely any time after the relationship starts, she has already taken over his room. Even his things…
Though he admits to himself that he wouldn’t mind throwing all his clothes away if it meant seeing you naked all the time…
Ahem.
…
After some time living together in his room, he managed to buy a bigger bed.
Not to escape to the other edge whenever your hands wandered to indecent places!
He never even thought that!
To truly escape your sinful little hands, he’d need to move to another room.
Better yet — another dorm.
But all his escape plans crumble because of one simple reason.
He wouldn’t be able to watch you change.
Yes, maybe before it embarrassed him terribly. But now… along with embarrassment comes a strange sense of satisfaction.
So he really doesn’t mind getting distracted from his games to watch — in the reflection of a mirror or his screens — as you first take off your uniform, switch your bra for a top, and pull on his T-shirt.
He knows you do it on purpose in front of him. But who is he to forbid you from doing anything? Especially when the constant embarrassment your actions cause slowly but surely turns into satisfaction — and the desire for it to continue forever.
…
Like right now.
As usual, while Idia was gaming, you slipped under the desk and started your mischief.
You lifted his shirt, kissed his body while he tried to suppress every sound threatening to escape him and please your ears.
“Fuck…” he exhales.
“Oooh, already…?”
“Mmm, please, just wait ten minutes. Ten minutes and I’m all yours…”
You could see how hard he was trying to hold himself together.
Trying not to look down at you.
If he looked down, it would be game over. He’d automatically lose. Zero chance of winning. He never won against you.
“I don’t know…” you murmur, not willing to retreat.
You keep slipping your hands under his clothes, kissing him, dragging your tongue along his skin…
And just as you’re about to move to the main event, already tugging at the waistband of his pants, you hear the match ending sound.
You don’t even have time to react before you’re pulled out from under the desk and tossed onto the bed.
“Has my sweet boy finally found some courage?”
His hands slip under your clothes just as boldly as yours did earlier.
“Decided to teach his sweet girl a lesson.”
Your shirt is lifted almost completely, revealing your chest, where he shamelessly rests his head.
“But it seems this isn’t much of a punishment for you.”
“Deep down, you’ve always wanted to be punished after every little stunt you pull.”
“Then the most logical option would be to deny you the punishment you crave so much.”
“That’s inhumane.”
A soft chuckle escapes his lips as he lifts his head to look at you, cheeks puffed out in mock offense.
Yes, he is absolutely hopeless when it comes to you.
⚠️ TW:Fluff at the beginning → heavy emotional themes later.
Mentions of: death / suicide, blood, emotional breakdown, dissociation, and psychological manipulation.
⚠️ WARNING: My English isn’t very good, so all my works are translated using an AI translator. I’m really sorry for any possible mistakes!
From the very beginning, you were terrified by stories of a fearsome, wicked dragon that lived deep within a forest overgrown with thorned rosebushes — a place no human foot dared to tread. Every brave soul who tried to challenge the dragon fell into an eternal sleep the moment they touched a single thorn.
You had heard countless tales of the dragon kidnapping princesses.
“Why does the dragon take princesses?”
“Oh, sweet one… Because he is evil, and evil brings chaos,” your mother would reply, gently caressing your cheek.
“The dragon wants humans to suffer… for rejecting him, for never wanting to be his friend,” she would say, placing her hand on your head and stroking your hair lovingly.
“Then why don’t we just befriend the dragon?”
“Ah… because he’s evil and means us harm…”
“But you just said he’s evil because we refuse to be his friend. So if we do become his friend, won’t he stop being evil?”
Your mother hesitated. Clearly unsure how to explain the flawed logic, she simply sent you to bed.
Not that you needed the logic explained. You knew perfectly well it was all made up — a bedtime fable meant to scare you away from the forest that stood right outside your window.
You often dreamed strange dreams. A tall boy with horns and piercing green eyes. His appearance should have frightened you, but there was something captivating about him. In your dreams, you could only watch as he stood with his back turned, gazing into the distance. And only at the very end, he would turn to face you — his emerald eyes glowing.
You didn’t know who he was, or why you kept dreaming of him.
But you were certain: he was real.
And he was waiting for you.
Years passed. Your eighteenth birthday was near.
Talks of your engagement had begun around the age of twelve — perhaps even earlier — but back then, you were kept out of those discussions. Now, the subject screamed louder than ever.
How could a princess reach eighteen and still not be engaged?
But none of the candidates were suitable: too poor, too persistent, too dull.
Your father loved you dearly and refused to marry you off to just anyone. But it seemed he had grown tired of searching among the younger lords and began considering more “experienced” suitors.
“Father, I won’t marry him! He’s nearly four times my age!” — you shouted at dinner.
“Darling, listen—” he tried to reason with you, probably about to list all of the old man’s virtues.
“I don’t want to hear it! He’ll see paradise sooner than a wedding with me!”
“Then who do you want to marry?” — his voice roared through the hall.
“I’d rather marry the evil forest dragon,” you huffed — not meaning it seriously.
But your father took it otherwise.
“Ah, the evil dragon… Then go! Win his heart. I’ll wait patiently for the day you bring him home.”
“And if I do — you’ll bless the marriage?”
“Consider it done. But fail, and you will marry the man I choose. Now get out of my sight!”
“Fine! I will!” — you stormed out.
“Then go!”
“I am going!”
“Then GET OUT!”
Your exit was louder than your words. Crying, you ran to the stables, grabbed a cloak, a lantern, and mounted your horse — straight toward the forest.
Reckless? Absolutely.
But you weren’t afraid — not even if you died at the forest’s edge.
You couldn’t live the life your father dictated.
You didn’t want to be seen as just a wife.
Not a princess. Not a queen.
Only someone's wife.
That was your fate.
Standing before the thorns, fear struck you at last.
But turning back now would mean surrender.
You took a step forward. The brambles parted for you, forming a path.
You walked… and walked…
Until you saw a strange green glow through the branches.
Not a dragon’s fire… the light came from many small, floating orbs.
Before you could think, the thorn wall closed behind you.
And the forest revealed its true face.
It was… breathtaking. Like another world.
Trees, glowing flowers, fireflies — all bathed in moonlight.
The green lights floated ahead, guiding you.
So you followed.
You had no idea how long you'd been walking. Your legs ached, and you deeply regretted leaving your horse behind. You felt you might collapse.
Finally, the orbs stopped near a veil of vines. You lifted it.
Behind it was a pond, shimmering under the moon, surrounded by glowing flowers and butterflies.
And there — leaning against a tree — was a young man.
You rushed to him and sat beside him.
Was he asleep? Dead? Why did he have horns?
You touched his face.
Beautiful. Unbearably so.
You stared so long, you didn’t notice he had opened his eyes.
“Who… are you?” — his low voice broke the silence.
His green eyes pierced into your soul.
You couldn’t look away.
Until he gripped your hand painfully tight.
“Who are you, and why are you here?” — he repeated, firmer now.
“I-I… um…” — you stammered.
“I came to… ask for the dragon’s heart!” — the stupidest thing you could have said.
“The… dragon’s heart?” — he tensed, visibly on edge.
“Y-Yes! I argued with my father — he wanted to marry me off to a man old enough to be my grandfather! I said I’d rather marry the evil forest dragon, so he told me to go get the dragon’s heart if I wanted my own way!” — you were pacing now, waving your arms, venting your frustration.
Only now did the moonlight fall fully on him.
The horns. The face.
He looked just like the boy from your dreams.
“Wait… have we met before?” — you asked cautiously.
“Have we?” — he tilted his head, eyes scanning you.
“I’ve never left this place. But perhaps… in dreams.”
“Yes! That’s it!” — you lit up.
“I’ve seen you in dreams since I was a child! Just like now!”
You took his hands in yours. He flinched at first, but then relaxed.
“Did… did you ever dream of me too?” — you asked, hope in your voice.
“How could I not?” — he smirked.
“I’ve seen you. Often. But I thought you were just a beautiful illusion.”
“No one that lovely could be real…” — he said, pressing your hand to his lips.
You were stunned. No one had ever said anything so beautiful to you.
You stared at him, unable to look away.
“Something wrong?” — his voice broke the silence.
“W-What? No, nothing! I… it’s nothing…” — you turned away, blushing.
You sat quietly together for a while, stealing glances.
“Oh, I never introduced myself!” — you suddenly stood, about to curtsey.
“No need. I know your name,” he interrupted.
“But… how?”
“You said it yourself — we’ve met in dreams.”
“Then… may I know your name?”
He fell silent, gaze distant.
“It’s getting late. Would you like to rest? I can take you to my home.”
He rose, extending his hand. You hesitated, but accepted.
The walk to his home was quiet.
You exchanged only brief glances.
Then — in the distance — soft green lights appeared.
The vines parted, revealing a great castle.
Larger than your father’s — but aged, overgrown with roses, and slowly crumbling.
Still, something about it was… enchanting.
Suddenly, the young man knelt before you.
“You wished to know my name.
I am Malleus Draconia, Prince of the Fae,” — he looked up, taking your hand —
“and the very dragon who steals princesses.”
You suddenly felt weak.
But his arms caught you before you collapsed.
“And you… will be the first princess I’ve ever stolen.” — he kissed you.
And then — darkness.
You never woke again.
Your body would not move. Your thoughts were fading.
But you knew.
You knew what was being done to you.
Disgusting.
So revolting you wanted to rip your skin off, claw your insides out.
But you could do nothing.
Only follow his voice.
Darkness surrounded you, interrupted only by the glow of those green eyes — eyes that once enchanted you.
You got what you asked for — the dragon’s heart.
But the price was your own: your body, your soul, your freedom.
There is no moral to this tale.
Look as hard as you want — you won’t find one.
Everyone in this story acted foolishly and recklessly.
But only one can truly be understood.
The naïve princess, who refused to compromise with her father, choosing instead to chase a legend.
She sought the dragon’s heart — and paid with her own.
The loving king, who, in a moment of pride and rage, banished the one person he treasured most.
And the dragon — the fae prince — who, maddened by centuries of solitude, didn’t know how else to reach the girl who haunted his dreams.
He got what he wanted. He took the one he desired most.
But time was cruel to mortal creatures — and he knew it.
So don’t worry.
When your beauty blossoms in full…
He’ll place you in eternal sleep — frozen in ice — sealed beside him forever.
⚠️ TW: fluff at the beginning ,mentions of sexual content, blood, suicide, and other dark/triggering themes. Angst(?)
⚠️ WARNING: My English isn’t very good, so all my works are translated using an AI translator. I’m really sorry for any possible mistakes!
Ah… what a beautiful beginning.
The film set where he would play his first lead role… and the place where he met his love. Ironically, she played the main antagonist.
Their story in the film ends tragically. The protagonist kills the villain.
But what does it matter, when in reality, everything turns out perfectly?
Countless dates, the first kiss, the first intimacy…
…
Ah… how beautiful she was in that moment.
Bare, body and soul, and all for him.
Her pale skin turned snow-white in the moonlight. Her delicate neck, shoulders, and chest covered with his love bites and kisses. If only he could, he would tattoo them all over her body. To show the whole world… who she belongs to until the end of time.
Her beautiful eyes filled with mutual love and adoration.
He wondered—did she look at him the same way he looked at her?
Oh… and those lovely fingers…
So slender and soft, now gripping his hair tightly to pull him in for a kiss.
He wanted time to loop at this moment.
He wanted to dissolve into her, to relive everything over and over again, until they both went mad—killed by love.
He wanted to record her beautiful voice, her moans… and listen to them endlessly.
She was beautiful, irresistible…
He had hunted perfection for so long, and now she lay right before him, crying tears of pleasure…
Perfectly beautiful, even when she cried…
Madness…
…
Day after day, year after year.
This was no longer youthful love, yet beside her, he still felt like a boy.
Even in his vulnerability, she gave him a sense of safety. She would hold him, comfort him…
Let him cry all his emotions out onto her lap, stroke his hair.
And she would look at him not with pity, but with love, with adoration.
It seemed that even if his career crumbled, fans turned their backs on him, and he lost everything he had worked for…
once she appeared in his line of sight, the world faded. Only she remained.
Without her, life lost its meaning.
How could one exist in a world where they’ve lost their universe?
…
Their wedding was to take place soon.
Everything was planned down to the smallest detail—ceremony, banquet, first dance.
The guest list was ready, a large restaurant reserved, his suit tailored, and she had recently gone for her dress fitting.
How much he had wanted to be the first to see her in it…
But she had insisted on designing the dress herself in the atelier.
He would never dare go against her wishes.
…
From early morning, everyone was on edge.
Relatives and friends bustled through the house, preparing for the ceremony.
And Vill was only displeased by one thing: she had left so quickly, only giving him a goodbye kiss. But soon enough, he’d see her again—just a few hours to wait.
Painfully long hours without her.
…
Had the moment finally come?
He stood at the altar, his hands trembling with nerves. But he was sure—just one touch of her hand, and the shaking would stop.
The hall fell silent as the sound of heels echoed off the tiles.
Vill’s heart stopped. He saw her clearly from afar.
And with every passing second, he doubted more and more that he could wait for the priest to finish his speech before kissing her.
Vill hoped God could see her—because not even a higher being had ever seen a woman so beautiful.
His hands trembled harder.
The desire to take her hand right now overpowered him.
He stepped toward her.
He would walk her to the altar himself, even though it was supposed to be her father's role.
He’d apologize to him later during the banquet. But surely he’d understand, right?
At this moment, Vill regretted choosing a church wedding.
Why was this old man speaking so slowly?
How much more text did he have?
The bride tried not to laugh, reading Vill’s expression like a book.
The priest hadn’t even asked the question yet when both bride and groom simultaneously said, “I do,” and sealed their vow with a kiss.
…
The banquet flew by. Only dessert remained.
Vill had never understood the fuss about the wedding night.
What made it different from ordinary intimacy?
Only on his wedding day did he finally understand.
It truly did feel different. Sacred, even.
The realization that today, she had become wholly his—in body and soul…
It was priceless.
The way she undressed, how he slowly peeled off her white stockings and gloves.
Wherever that expensive lingerie had been tossed no longer mattered to either of them…
How could it, when such beloved eyes stared straight into his soul, and such desired lips kissed him so hungrily?
…
Ah, what a beautiful dream of the future…
Only… Vill couldn’t understand one thing.
Why was he now holding her cold corpse?
Why was everything around him on fire?
Why… was that once-beautiful moonlit skin now tinged with red?
Why… was that delicate neck shot?
Why… did those tender shoulders and chest now resemble a mangled mess?
Why… were those gentle hands and slender fingers covered in burns?
Why… were those once-desired lips now pale?
He remembered clearly—they used to have a natural rosy hue.
Not the color they had now, painted in blood.
Why… couldn’t he hear his own scream, though his throat was tearing?
Why… couldn’t he feel the tears running down his cheeks, only see them fall onto her beautiful face?
But most of all, why were those beloved eyes no longer looking at him with love?
Why were they empty?
Why did they stare through him?
Why… into nothingness?
Suddenly, the pistol lying nearby became a beacon of hope.
If he used it… could he see those eyes filled with life and love again?
He didn’t even glance at the person responsible. Why should he?
Without her—nothing mattered.
He knew that man stood right before him.
He knew he had thrown him the gun.
Clearly, he understood Vill would see no other way out.
Putting the barrel into his mouth, he thought only of her.
Pulling the trigger, he thought only of her.
As he choked on his own blood, he thought of her.
As he collapsed to the floor, he held her body close.
As he closed his eyes, he thought of how he would wake and see her again.
How she, in her white dress, would reach out to him and shelter him in her embrace.
How she would kiss him again…
and look at him again—with eyes full of love.
