Omggg, you have wormed your way into my head 🪱. i remembered your kars horn hc and i wonder, how would he react to s/o tugging it to scold him? Yk like when you tug a bull by its horns. Or maybe his s/o does it to pull him down to talk. My mans like 9 feet tall, my neck is hurting just imagining it...
Mmmmmmmm I love when my brainworms infect others hehe, my condolences and my thanks
OOOOOOOGH OKAY SO. Im so torn on this.
Half of me knows that the moment you touch his horn without permission, ESPECIALLY in front of Esidisi or Wamuu, you’re dead. Like, comically dead. Like only the hand remains and Killer Queen blew you away dead only Kars is not as merciful as Kira and you absolutely feel every moment of him destroying your insolent body. Whoops, better luck in the next life.
But I’m also self indulgent and love Kars :p (suggestive warning)
So for a moment let’s imagine:
How many hours had you been climbing the shelves, up and down the ladder, sometimes giving up and hanging onto it by a hand with both feet perched, leaning out from it and using your other hand to flip to the exact section you needed. Immeasurable, really. Heavy lidded eyes and cramping fingers warned of an oncoming crash. As you step down from the ladder this time, too, your left foot comes down a little harder than it should.
You hiss. Damn. Gingerly, you tap the toes on the hardwood. Thankfully it wasn’t twisted— you already had experience with that from one of your Lord’s excursions into an abandoned Roman villa, where the crumbling stairs promptly quit on you despite how carefully you clung to the cracks in the wall. For days after you could hardly look at any of them, especially when your Lord sighed heavily and tossed you over his shoulder like a lamb, bleating apologies and promising to be careful next time.
After he insisted on wrapping it, claiming you would screw it up, he chained you by the wrist to your bed. As soon as your mouth opened in protest, he gave you a narrow eyed look like you just broke a million dollar vase. Perhaps that’s what you were to him.
Sullenly you stayed in your room, limping to your door for a tray of food every few hours.
Thank the gods you wouldn’t have to do that this time. But your heart still trembles.
You are reaching your limit; it’s the wee hours of the morning, you’re positive, though the house is sealed in a timeless darkness to protect your Lord and his partners in arms. Bringing up your fatigue would be better than ignoring it and fainting off the ladder. But in his position, an impressive arm curled on the chintz chair in front of the fire— you can’t see him, just that forearm highlighted in the glow of the flame. The soft flicker of pages turning. Embers mingle with the scent of cinnamon, blood, earth— the same smell that overwhelmed your senses when he pressed your body to its limits in more sensual, pleasurable ways.
Those memories have you gently slapping your cheeks as you approach the back of the armchair. You inhale. He doesn’t make a sound.
“May I, my Lord?” You ask, polite, soft. There’s a quiet rumble.
“What is it, little one?”
“I… what time is it, my Lord?”
“Time? Ah…” he says it as if the word is foreign. A silver pocket watch raises into your view. “About two in the morning, per your human measurements.”
He pauses. Then, he stands.
You freeze; Kars turns to you, and in all his glory, it’s a fight not to bow.
Warm violet hair glows at the edges, halo-like. Draped in his typical garb— that is to say, very little at all— the carve of each muscle is intimate, immaculate, down to his thighs that could serve as the size as one’s entire body. How he found comfort in what was surely a chair designed for a six foot tall man at best escaped you.
Garnet eyes flicker with a softness foreign to him, or so he would like to say. A brow raises.
“Your tone indicates something. Say what you mean.”
A lump forms in your throat. Carefully, you swallow, and say, “When would you prefer to dismiss me?”
His expression doesn’t shift. Cold. Stern. You shrink in on yourself a little.
“I had no time in mind. But nothing has been found yet, no?”
Clenching a fist, you shake your head before remembering: “No, my Lord, but—“
“I believe I told you that we would be bound to the library until either of us discovered something new. Your departure is disappointing.”
It pinches at your heart, how he says it. “M-my Lord,” you stammer, as he strides toward the shelf, trailing a finger along the spines like he’s looking for something specific. Yet, you see it starting to crack. Frustration lines his expression and it isn’t just for you. You’re sure. Does he want to leave too?
“My Lord,” you repeat, taking another deep breath. “Please do not misunderstand my devotion, I—“
“Devotion?” He scoffs, and tugs out a volume that probably weighs ten pounds like it’s nothing. “What a rich word to use.”
“My Lord.” Your voice cracks, and you take a step forward towards him, where he stares down coldly. But you can’t help the trembling in you hands, the fatigue that promises to cast you into sleep the moment you close your eyes even a microsecond too long. “Please.”
“It is hardly late.” He says.
You press your lips together. “I understand, but I have nearly spent twenty four hours here, my lord. I arrived at six a.m.”
“And? Can you not suffer one night without rest, or are you as weak as I thought?”
“Please listen, my Lord…” tears choke your throat, irritation curdling any trace of anxiety. “I can’t.. I…”
What is it that comes over you? A rush of exasperation, or adrenaline kicking in as you fell asleep on your feet, maybe. But the latter is less likely. It has to be, because there’s no way, in your right mind, that you would grab onto his horn like a bull’s handler and drag him to look in your eyes.
As soon as his eyes lock with yours, your mistake is realized and you release him, falling back onto your knees.
Fuck. Fuck. Every bit of you trembles, and you can barely look up through your heavy lashes to see your Lord looking above you, massive, eyes glowing with a fury that you rarely saw— cheeks reddened even, you realize with horror, barely visible. At this angle, the implication of his arousal, even, swells from his crotch, the shadow along the line of his cock that would absolutely destroy you right now.
You raise your hands to cover your face.
You start to shrink back, but he grabs your wrist in one hand and drags you to your feet. Wincing at your still tender ankle, you tilt your head down, until he grabs your chin in his other hand and forces you to look at him.
It’s akin to looking a snarling lion in the face. Only he doesn’t snarl: he smiles. It’s scarier, the fangs gleaming, pearl like, near iridescent in the warm light of the fire. His hand on your wrist basically covers your entire forearm.
He replies, measuredly, softly. “Forgive me, little pet. Sometimes I forget. Your mortal body…”
He lets go of your chin, only to trail a claw down your front— the gauzy top you wore nearly rips under even the tiniest pressure from that talon tip. Barely a fraction of Light Mode. You shiver.
“It hardly compares to my little toe nail, doesn’t it?”
You shake your head, and his large hand rests on your side. The thumb nearly reaches your belly button.
“But you do so well to support me, most of the time. I grant your rest.”
At that, you hesitantly relax. “T-thank you, Lord Kars,” you murmur. “It truly is my only wish, to serve you.”
He pauses, hums, and then scoops you up in one arm.
It’s not unfamiliar, but still jarring; you swallow your squeak and let the being carry you, in striding steps, your head leaning back against his tense bicep.
Your eyes flutter closed, despite yourself.
“Understand so when I say to you, my pet.” His voice rumbles, and you can’t tell if you’re shaking on your own, or if he jostles you.
“You will ascend alongside me. Or else, this wretched body shall decay to nothing, a sacrifice to me. Follow my lead— and I will reward you beyond your ability to understand.”
“Yes, my lord. Thank you,” you whisper, and just before you slip to unconsciousness, you swear you feel his lips brush the top of your forehead, where your hair ends, and where his horn would begin.
