#Too beautiful of a beast to seem this abandoned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plutoswritingplanet · 10 months ago

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It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: re-uploaded cause tumblr wouldn't show it in the tags for some reason Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con, Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atriedes, Horny Violence, and some angsty family relations (lmao)

Summary: The courting becomes more and more complicated, as both you and the Na-Baron discover something about each other.

Part.1, Part 3. Part 4.(finale)

- He's a beast.

Lady Jessica stops in her tracks, her hands sliding gently across the fabric of your nightgown. It's your Mother, that puts it out on the table next to your bed. But the person, who turns back towards you with an unreadable expression, is most definitely not her. You're talking to a Bene Gesserit sister now. A freezing chill runs up your spine, and you start picking at the skin around your fingernails, a nervous habit you've picked up a long time ago.

- Have you forgotten all that I have taught you? - she asks, turning to face you fully, in the dimly lit space of your bedroom

Subconsciously you retreat into yourself, body leaning further away from her, as if that distance might save you from whatever unpleasant revelation will most likely fall upon you. Lady Jessica takes a deep breath, her lips pulling back into an easy, soothing smile. In the past, you would look for expressions such as this, fish them out for comfort. Now, as you look upon your Mother's face, it all seems to be a trap made specifically for you.

- Men like him, beastly men, are the weakest ones - she explains, taking slow steps towards your hunched form - They need the power and the blood to feel worthy of existing, which makes them easy to manipulate. Keep them pliant under your hands like fresh dough.

She sits beside you, your mattress dipping under her weight, and your eyes are immediately drawn to your Mother's elegant hands, folded neatly in her lap. You wish you could put your head there. Have her pull your running thoughts out with gentle caresses. A hairbrush lays abandoned on the vanity in front of you, and silently you contemplate, whether you'll ever have the opportunity to have your hair brushed by her.

- You must find his weakness, what drives him to do what he does. And then control it.

- I don't want to control my husband - the words spill out of your lips, before you have the chance to stop them - I want to love him, to support him. To give him children he'll love, children I'll love.

Tears fall in heavy waterfalls down your cheeks. You haven't had the luxury of a good cry since your betrothed had arrived, and it feels divine. Letting your body shake and shiver, wrecked by uninhibited sobs, as your Mother looks down upon you, torn between the two roles she must fulfill.

The more you've thought about your situation, the more hopeless you felt. The Harkonnens will never let you see your family again, you're sure of it. You'll have to deal with all the horrors of Giedi Prime entirely on your own, with no support from your husband, no friends, no family. And your children, as they are sure to come, will be taken away from you. Thrown into the black and white, until there's no love left in them.

The Emperror is a cruel man, you think. An execution would've been a kinder end.

- Why did you have to make me a Daughter? - the way your voice breaks in desperation fills you with shame - Why couldn't you give Father another Son?

You know you've overstepped, as soon as the accusatory tone registers in your brain. It is far too late by then, and the hands, which just moments before you've fantasized about running through your hair, grip you tightly. Your Mother's face, a constant image of beauty, twists into something darker, something you don't recognize, and you gasp, as her dull fingernails dig into the skin of your wrist.

- Your Father has Paul - her voice is barely above a whisper, blue eyes stabbing you with the intensity of her gaze - I gave him a son, because he asked for a son. Because I loved him enough to give him one. And he can have him. He can fill him with lessons of male leadership, of short-sighted plans. You. You are my Daughter. You are mine, and I've trained you well enough to conquer this task.

A hopeless pit settles itself in the void of your stomach.

You've always known your destiny would be to marry well, to further House Atreides' legacy. And yet, somehow, there was a sliver of hope, treacherously worming itself into your brain. Your Father had Paul, the perfect heir. Surely, he could send him off for the greater good and leave you to your own devices. Let you find someone to care for you, someone you'd do anything for. The thought sits in the pit of your stomach, turning your insides in shame. Still, you can't shake the sinking feeling, that if the universe was kind, you would've been born a Son.

Your Mother, or more likely, the Bene Gesserit, stands up, a cold chill filling the space where her body used to sit. She regards you once, a stern, unwavering gaze.

- Wear black tomorrow.

Perhaps, you'll die in your sleep tonight. Perhaps the universe will bring you this small mercy.

*** Perhaps you did die.

Through the haze of dreams, you can see him. Bare, as the day he was born, body gleaming white in the darkness of your room.

You can't move, can't see his face, and when he approaches, every single one of your muscles tense. You shift under the covers, cold tendrills of fear engulfing you entirely. He comes closer, moves like a wild cat, stands at the foot of your bed.

The need to run is overwhelming, but your body refuses to listen, as slowly, torturously slowly, he climbs on top of you, defined muscles moving under his skin in a way that reminds you of some cursed demon, rather than a man. His scent fills your nostrils, a mixture of something heady and metalic, and, like a little child scared of the dark, you try to hide your face under the covers.

This demon version of your betrothed sits down, sculpted thighs squeezing around your sides, and with rising panic you realize, he's slowly choking the life out of you. A fitting end, a welcomed one. Perhaps it would be better to die right now, before you discover what atrocities he plans to commit on your body and mind, after you're wedded.

Then, his hand reaches behind his back, full lips pull upwards, exposing blackened out teeth. You barely register the glint of his sword, not until he holds it high up, above his hand. You're not allowed a moment to wallow in your confusion, as your future husband brings the weapon down, sinking it with brutal force into your beating heart.

You awake screaming.

***

In the morning, you pull a black tunic over your head, remnants of your dream clinging to you like an unwanted shadow.

Every move of the silky fabric against your skin feels like a small defeat, and with your head hung low, you make your way towards the dining hall. Truly, you're not hungry, stomach turning and twisting, a steady presence of nerves keeping your body on edge. Your attendance is required however, such are customs, and it is entirely too eaarly for another lecture about your behaviour.

As you enter the room, your mask of tired indifference slips just for a second, a mixture of fear and anger flickering in, and out of existence.

There, opposite of your Father you can see him. Your future husband, the love of your miserable, ending life. Slow horror washes over you, as you suddenly realize that this demonic, otherwordly version of him, which visited you in your nightmares is just how he looks. He greets you with a polite inclination of his smooth head, and you consider not showing any outward sign of repulsion, a small victory on your part. Your Mother doesn't think so, but you dodge her sharp eyes in favor of greeting your brother.

It doesn't go unnoticed, the way Feyd Rautha's eyes drink in greedily the sight of you embracing Paul. His gaze lingers on your smile, and he raises his cup to his lips, scrunching his nose ever so slightly at the unfamiliar drink he's been offered. You want to ask, if they have coffee on Giedi Prime, but the question is forcefully swallowed down. You will not talk to this man. He will never know anything more than contempt from you. Curse your Mother's words, you'll fight this battle every day, on your own, if you have to.

- My Daughter will show you around the training barracks after breakfast - Duke Leto announces, and you freeze with a cup of coffee half-way to your lips.

- Will I? - you ask, trying to control the edge in your voice.

- Na-Baron has made inquires about a place to train - your Father explains, giving you a meaningful side eye - You'll accompany him.

The coffee tastes like rot in your mouth, and you place your cup down with a note of finality. You won't look at him, you don't have to. That knowing smirk could be felt through the very particles flowing in the air, every single one laughing at your predicament.

Despite your best efforts, the breakfast comes to an end, your family slowly rising to attend to their duties. Your Father, ever the cordial man, bids his farewells to the unwelcomed guest. Your Mother does the same, albeit sounding more honest. Paul lingers as long as Lady Jessica allows him, until he is forced to retreat by a slender hand tugging mercilessly on his elbow. A gesture both of you know intimately from your childhoods.

Before you know it, you're left alone with the pale imitation of a man. He arises slowly from his seat, smoothly making his way towards you, each of his footsteps echoing in the dining room.

- Shall we, my Lady?

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his offered hand, like a white spider living just outside of your vision. With a shudder, you slip out of your chair, trying very hard not to touch him, and failing immediately, when his broad chest nearly pushes you back into your seat.

He smells nice, your brain betrays you, the scent bringing back images from your night terror, causing an involuntary shiver to run up your spine. With averted gaze, you turn to leave, ignoring his still extended hand. He follows you like a shadow, catching up to you in no time, as you slide through the corridors of the Palace. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, walking with him behind your back. His eyes bear into you, a prickly feeling at the base of your neck making you roll your shoulders.

It follows you, as he follows, right to the very destination. All in blessed silence, a small miracle to save this already dreadful morning.

The men, launging about at the training barracks freeze in their spots, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, when Duncan Idaho catches your eyes. His skin has a beautiful, warm tone, highlighted by the morning sun flowing into the room through the windows. You nod, he nods back, an unspoken understanding blooming between the two of you. There could be no suspicion of any closer bond, lest this engagement would be called off. A result, perhaps favorable to you personally, but your family would never live down the shame. And you would never jeopardize Paul's future, no matter how hollow yours looked.

- You have a warrior's body - your betrothed comments, as he inspects the blades laid out on a small table - Do you train here as well?

Small talk, you could do small talk. With a sigh, you tear your gaze away from Duncan, and turn to the Harkonnen, forcing something resembling a polite smile to bloom onto your features.

- Yes, I do - you answer curtly, eyes falling onto elegant, white fingers, sliding over a shiny metal blade.

- It is not a common practice here, is it? - he looks at you, eyes gliding over your stature - Women being trained to fight?

Suddenly very much aware of your body, you cross your arms on your chest, hugging yourself tightly. You don't miss the way his gaze seems to linger on the low neckline of your tunic, and with bitterness on your tongue you wonder, has this man ever felt ashamed.

- Not common, but it does happen - your voice betrays your emotions, a sharp edge settling over your tone, causing the man to arch an eyebrow.

Finally, he settles onto a chosen blade, bringing it up to the light and with laser focus observing the way particles dance on the steel surface. Then, he looks back at you, catching you in the act of observing the prominent, lean muscles on his neck. You ignore the knowing smirk and will your blushing cheeks to suddenly become devoid of color.

They don't, of course, and you scurry to the side of the table, to fiddle with the rest of the weaponry. Your favorite training blade is there, and instinctually, your hand reaches for it.

- Train with me.

The request catches you off guard, and you shoot him a questioning look, one he deflects with a nonchalant shrug.

Your muscles flinch, as you drag your hand back from the blade.

- It would hardly be appropriate - you counter, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tunic.

To that, he tilts his head, light eyes studying you for a longer moment, until you truly feel uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

- And suddenly you're worried about what the court says? - he cuts you off, before you have the chance to ask, just what exactly does he mean by that - Perhaps you're too soft to fight me.

- I know what you're doing - you point an accusatory finger at his chest, and the man smiles, blackened teeth peaking between his full lips.

- And what am I doing? - it's hard to ignore the teasing timbre in his voice, and you swallow thickly.

- You're trying to get under my skin.

Shivering under the expected cruel glint in his eye, as another, most likely filthy innuendo purses his lips, you turn to him fully, a serious expression on your features.

- I've seen you fight, Na-Baron - his jaw tightens at the sound of your voice curling around his title - I know you're a force to be reckoned with, I'm not scared to admit that.

He straightens, regards you with furrowed brows for a longer second, until, yet again you start to fidget under his gaze.

- Perhaps then, you're scared you'll hurt me - the mere idea is so preposterous, your head snaps in his direction - If I had known, you liked me that much...

- That is entirely not true, and you know it - you deflect again, although annoyance begins to paint your voice.

Then, his hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you closer. Air seems to thicken around you, as you look up at him, with surprise quickly morphing into outrage. His breath mingles with yours, and you can't seem to look away from his eyes, pupils nearly drowned in the overwhelming blue of his irises.

- Stop hiding, my viper. Fight me.

The command, spoken in a harsh whisper just shy of your lips, turns your insides into molasses.

His taller form leans down to tower over yours, an intense expression settling over his sharp features. Close to excitement, much too close to desire, even closer to a murderous curiosity. Your throat feels entirely too dry, and before you can stop yourself, you swallow thickly, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His eyes snap almost immediately downwards, and your heart stops beating. You can't see anymore blue in his irises, only black. Darkness covers his eyes reflecting his thoughts, and you feel like you have to flee right now, before something terrible happens to you.

So you do just that. Ripping yourself away from his closeness, you return to the table, hand finding your chosen blade without really looking.

Another flash of black teeth, as the Na-Baron realizes what you're doing, and the both of you enable the shields surrounding your bodies.

The gathered soldiers watch on, as you march towards the center of the room, determination filling every step to the brim. Duncan gives you a look, which you choose to ignore. You can't think about him now, not when you have your honor to defend against this Harkonnen monster of a man.

Feyd Rautha rolls his shoulders, discards the thin fabric of his dress shirt, and once again you are stricken with his almost god-like physique. The blade looks like an extension of his hand, as he weighs it and slashes the air in front of him. Then, he fixes you with a challenging expression, as if he expects you to do the same, to try and best him at some shameless display.

You decide to keep your clothes on, blade held high, ready to strike.

He jumps from one leg to another, and immediately an orchestra of alarm bells rings out in your brain. Should a man really be this excited at the prospect of fighting his future wife? Should you be this excited? Questions without answers, and before any of you make a move, another one absent-midedly floats to the surface. Just how much can you hurt each other, before the wedding is concluded? How much you'll inevitably hurt each other after?

The darkness he has brought on the ship with him must be contagious, because despite your better judgement, you smile. A sharp smirk, that makes your eyes look less like a human and more like a wild animal. And he drinks it all in, as he begins to circle you.

You'd never show him your back, never again. He's a tried and true predator, the only instinct he has, is a killer one. A fact you quickly get aquatinted with, as he unleashes a series of lightning fast strikes your way.

Immediately you realize, that small show of cruelty he organized at your grandfather's theatre was nothing, compared to what he could truly do. And still, you suspect he's holding back, as you barely dodge a nasty stab, right under your ribs. Another one is blocked against your sheild, and before you have a chance to collect yourself, third one sends you back a couple of steps.

He doesn't let you get away, with confident steps pushing you further and further out of the center of the training floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Duncan Idaho stand up from his place. Thinking back to your last training session, you shudder bitterly. "Never fight in anger" is easy to say, when you're not forced to marry, bed and sunsequently give children to the man you're fighting.

Panting and sweating, you give Feyd Rautha your all, twirling in place, sliding on your feet. A different kind of choreography, which seems to work surprisingly well, with his almost animalistic force. Gurney taught you how to be powerful, how to land strikes which were as effective, as they were cunning. Duncan, on the other hand, taught you how to dance. So that's what you do.

Finally, you manage to grab at his free hand, locking your feet between his and bringing him closer to your blade. It stops just short of his artery, blocked by his dagger, the clash of metal reverberating through the halls.

The smirk he gives you is beyond nasty, and forcefully, you push away from him, as if the very idea of skin to skin contact repulsed you. And it does, it truly does, especially now that adrenaline mixed with frustration boils in your head.

- Again - you snarl his way, assuming your fighting stance.

- As my Lady commands - his voice has a natural growl to it, made even more prominent by the exertion of the fight, and he twists his body into a perversion of a curtsy.

This time you're the one to attack first, ignoring your menthor's words and relying on pure rage to guide your steps. A stab to his thigh, which he deflects with seemingly childish ease. Your tunic slips through his fingers, as you slide under his arm. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his blade, when he hides it into his belt. Confusion hits you suddenly. Was he giving up, why was he hiding his weapon? None of the questions get answered, as a foot curls itself around your ankle.

Your balance leaves you with a gasp of surprise, and soon, your back is on the floor, Feyd Rautha following closely behind. Your heated gaze meets his, as one hand wrenches the blade from your grasp and pins both your arms above your head. The other one supports his weight, as he hovers above you, light bleeding behind him in an unfitting image of a halo.

Your chest heaves, sweat rolling down your collarbones, and the Harkonnen doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze follows a stray drop of salt, as it disappears between your breasts.

- You fought well - he complements in a hushed tone, and you writhe desperately under his body.

The night terror rears its ugly head again, as you feel his tighs press onto your sides, almost as if he wants to shape your flesh into the imprint of his body.

- I think I prefer you like this - he whispers, face coming closer to the exposed column of your neck - You belong under me.

That's what does it. Your face twists into an expression of equal parts disgust, and fury. You won't give him this victory, you'd rather die. Legs tangle themselves around his calves, and you use all your strength fueled by the burning need to fucking hurt him.

The world spins, two bodies rolling on the floor, and suddenly you're on top of him, legs biting into his hip bones. While one hand supports your weight on his naked shoulder, the other finds the dagger hidden in his belt. The surprised gasp, which leaves his lips feels like music to your ears, and you don't even try to fight the awful smirk splitting your mouth.

The shield on his neck glows an angry red, as you press the tip of the blade down, right under his bobbing Adam's apple. He swallows, for just a second letting you see the mask of self confidence slip. He has quite long eyelashes, you notice, as his eyelids flutter, a low hum reverbating through his chest. Eyes that are neither blue nor completely black drink in the sight of you. The halo of your hair, the snarl on your lips, the curve of your waist, where one of his hands settle.

Missing all of this, too enraptured by your own fury, you push the blade further down until it pricks his alabaster skin. He hisses through his blackened teeth and you want more, you want him to scream. A thin streak of red begins to flow down his neck, and God help you, it looks like art.

His grip on your waist tightens, all five fingers digging into your flesh through the thin tunic. Feyd Rautha bares his teeth at you in a cruel smile, one that makes you question whether you're the one in control.

And then his hips roll upwards.

A barely noticable movement, easily mistaken for a spasm of the muscles, but you know better. You can read it all from his expression, his pupils blown wide, the quickened breaths of air slipping past his lips. From the quickly hardening length pressing against your inner thigh.

Your stomach flutters with a well known feeling, and that terrifies you more than any pain-motivated erection ever could. Because he sees it, he sees the beginning flames of desire taking root in your center, and the realization looks like ecstasy on his face. Humiliation washes through you, fills you completely. There is no awkward blush on your face, no. All you feel is white, freezing terror, as all your defences seem to crumble all at once.

Like a scared animal, you're off of him in a split-second, and he doesn't chase you, as you all but run from the training barracks. Doesn't have to, he already has everything he needs.

#my writing #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune part 2 #dune 2024 #they try to silence me again on tumblr dot com but i won't let them

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bamfkeeper · 5 months ago

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Beautiful Devil

RQ: 'Hi, I have a request: a fic about NightcrawlerxFem!Reader, Beauty and the beast AU, starting it like the fairytale (Reader decide to sacrifice herself for her father because the scared man THINK the mysteriuos blue creature ask him to bring one of his daughters in his place). Maybe in the finale you can add the mob attacking the castle like in the episode of the '90 serie, with Graydon Creed guiding the mob (you can't look at that man and don't think he's a variant of Gaston). Just don't turn Kurt into a human, I love our fuzzy Elf. Thanks!' - @historygirl93

Warnings: F!reader, some violence, minor character death. Unedited.

A/N: I think this is a cute idea, I love the story. I don't see how Kurt could ever be viewed as 'beastly' he's too sweet. The fairytale is a longer story and involving all the details would take me a long time to write, so I did what I could to get the idea of the story across. I did my best, it was slightly challenging, and I changed just a few details just because I thought it would be better for the story.

WC: 2.2k

The village held such a prejudice against the blue demon who lived in the abandoned church. Rumors of yellow glowing eyes and a shadow with a devil's tail flicking in the dark, crawling on the walls like a hellish insect. A monster, the children of the village feared him just as much as the adults, whom had weapons ready to kill if he dared leave the cathedral.

Your father was highly religious. He wanted to banish the devil from the church once and for all, to purify the holy ground, but believed that only a sacrifice would satisfy the creature. You were horrified at first, being so helplessly given away as a sacrifice, you were the lamb that was about to be beheaded for no reason.

Upon being abandoned at the cathedral, surrounded by the harsh cold and snow, you thought you'd freeze to death. To your initial horror and surprise, the devil appeared. He flashed in front of you in black and purple smoke, like they rose from the ashes of Hell. You were far too tired and exhausted, so before you knew it, your body was wrapped and you were inside.

You felt the warmth of the fire inside the stone furnace, you sat up and watched the orange flames dance quietly while the blanket remained wrapped around your drenched form. The snow melted away and left you wet and still somewhat cold. But you were at least inside...

Once you regained enough bearings, you looked around for the devil, wondering where he was and what he was going to do to you. You felt fearful, your mind having heavy thoughts invading your mind of horrific treatment. While you searched the dark room, you saw his eyes peering to you from the darkest corner, tiny irises of gold staring through your soul.

"It's you..." your voice muttered out quietly, "You're the devil." Your hushed tone made him tilt his head slightly, he slowly walked around the wall, the far shadows hiding most of him.

"Nein...I am no Teufel..." he spoke back, his voice was even and not nearly as intimidating as you thought it would be. "I was born like this. But I am no demon." He stepped closer as he spoke to you, his appearance becoming more visible in the firelight. He had blue skin and sharp teeth like the villagers said, a long tail with a devil's spade, sharp nails and pointed ears...

"You look like one," you shakily retorted, still on edge of what his intentions were and you weren't about to fall victim without a fight. He only chuckled back, empty and somewhat...sad.

"I know."

He sat down near you, a few feet away, looking at you and slowly giving a smile, trying to be friendly. "I won't hurt you, I wouldn't ever." He paused, then continued, "Besides, a demon cannot step inside a church." He reasoned, holding out a three fingered hand to you. "Hab keine Angst."

You were cautious, but after seeing he wasn't nearly as horrifying as the town made him seem, you reached out and touched his hand. His skin was warm, he was fluffy. He felt like soft velvet, not like cold scaled skin you had been told was the skin of the devil.

Over the following weeks, you became closer to each other. You warmed up quickly after his efforts to try to appear not so scary, and once you spoke more often, he was actually very sweet and kind. You watched him feed birds and squirrels, holding the seeds in his palms and speaking to the birds as if they could understand him.

His favorites were the blue jays.

He showed you the cathedral, leading you through the massive church and showing you around. He showed you the library with lots of books along the walls, the studio where old paints and canvases were. He gave you plenty of things to do, and he provided you with good food, a large space to sleep, he treated you well. He was kind and sweet and...attractive.

You couldn't help but feel yourself get pulled towards him. Feel yourself get swept up by his chivalry and charm. He showed off in front of you, entertaining you with his skills as an acrobat and swordsman, he even let you try to swing one of his swords.

It was much heavier than you thought, making his skills all the more impressive.

You got word that your father had fallen very ill, and you wanted to see him. Kurt didn't want you to leave, scared you'd never return again. He held your hands and looked at you in the eye, his worry etched on his face. "You won't abandon me, will you?" he asks softly, "I don't wish for you to go..." he brings your hand up to his cheek, rubbing his face into your palm.

Your heart melts and you sigh, "I promise I'll come back. I just...want to make sure my father is okay..." you whisper back. You knew how he felt, being abandoned was one of his biggest fears. All he had been in his life was abandoned, by his mother, this town, sometimes he felt as though God himself has abandoned him.

With great reluctance, he let go and you rushed back into the village, desperate to see your sickly father. You were still angry he left you to die, but he was still your father. When you made it back, you came to his bedside and saw how terrible he looked. You had no idea what he had, but he looked on the verge of death.

Word got loose that you were in the town, somehow surviving the 'demon' who resided in the abandoned church. The town's greatest 'champion,' Graydon, nearly stormed up to your home and forced his way in. His voice loud and demanding, he as angry and furious with you.

The vile man had attempted to court you before. You always denied him. Why would you want to be with someone as crude and hateful as Graydon?

"How did you escape that wretched demon?" he demanded, yanking you from your father's bedside. He held your arm tight and stared at you with fury in his eyes. "That beastly creature will invade our town because of you! You were his sacrifice! Leaving signifies that the deal is broken! You've doomed all of us!"

Your eyes were wide as he basically screamed in your face, his cool was gone and he looked like he wanted to hurt you. You tugged against his strong hold, grunting as you tried to get free. "He's not a monster, or a demon! He's just a man!" You shouted back, "He's kind, gentle, he wouldn't hurt a soul!"

Graydon laughed at you, yanking you closer again. "You are lucky you are pretty, girl...you are such a naïve little thing. That devil is evil, and you have succumbed to his incubi ways. Don't worry, I'll make sure I fix that little head of yours up and rid you of the corruption he has brought upon you."

He threw you down, you hit your head and everything became a hazy mess. You heard his footsteps leave, his heavy boots hitting the old wooden floors with anger. You tried to lift yourself up, but you hit your head too hard. The world was spinning around you, but you didn't want any harm to come to Kurt. Graydon was as ruthless as he was egotistical, and he was dead set on murdering Kurt. He always had been, telling tall tales of cutting off his head and hanging it over the statue in town square.

You could hear his voice, rallying the town and heading up the treacherous path to the abandoned cathedral. You felt your heart ache, your body fading to unconsciousness from the injury.

When you regained consciousness, your body ached but the thought of Graydon already at the church gave you a newfound form of energy. You jerked up, your father had been too weak and sick to help, while you worried for him, the memory of him giving you up to die was there. You had to make a choice, and your heart had been decided.

You needed to get to the church.

You stumbled out to the stables, your body staggering as your brain felt fuzzy and heavy. You probably had a concussion, but right now that wasn't important. You didn't have a horse of your own, you prayed that the one you made it to wouldn't buck you off. The stallion let out a soft nicker, you rubbed its neck, your hand weakly holding onto the mane and you forced your body to mount.

The horse moved a few steps, adjusting to your weight. No saddle, it'll have to do.

You squeezed your legs and held on, the horse moved forward and with your encouragement it began a steady gallop through the trail that led up to the church. The horse was fast and bareback was hard for you to hold on, especially with a head injury. the horse sensed your wavering weight and tried to steady its run.

Over the hill was the church, and the stallion ran you right inside the broken down doors. You heard loud shouting, men fighting, and the sight that came to view was horrible.

Most of the men were down, unconscious, and Graydon was shooting arrows at Kurt, who had been disappearing in puffs of smoke, reappearing in other places. His yellow eyes blazed and he hissed at Graydon, landing kicks and punches to the larger man. You shouted at them to stop, but your voice fell on deaf ears.

The torches the other men had been carrying caught the tapestries and the flames eagerly began to eat the fabric and grow. The horse reared up, and you fell off its back as it ran out of the church. You sat up and cried out at Graydon, "Stop it! Don't hurt him! Can't you see what you're doing?!"

Kurt's teleporting soon became predictable, Graydon memorized the pattern and he shot an arrow into Kurt's leg right as he reappeared again. Kurt let out a strangled cry, stumbling from the beams and to the ground. By now the flames had consumed the entire room, smoke became thick and Graydon towered over Kurt's body. His eyes reflecting the fire, his face red and his hair a mess. He looked like the devil now, the fire only adding to his hellish desires to smite out Kurt's existence.

"Die, I cast you down to the pits of Hell where you belong!" Graydon tore a blade from his sheath, raising it above his head. But Kurt's eyes were focused on the burning wood above him, and he managed to teleport from that spot right as the wooden beams fell from the ceiling. Kurt reappeared by you, his fuzzy arms wrapped around yours as he teleported you outside. The last thing you saw in the church were the large beams falling onto Graydon's body, crushing him.

When you reappeared outside, you saw Kurt was hurt from the fight. He had two arrows in his body, one in his leg and one in his back, several lacerations from fighting the others and some parts of him had been burned. He let out a deep cough and he laid beside you, unresponsive.

"Kurt?? Kurt! Wake up!" You shook him, gently at first but it became more frantic when you noticed his lack of response. "Please get up!" You felt tears prick your eyes, your head swiveled around, looking for anyone to help. You weren't sure what to do, you felt hopeless. After you thought he was gone, his tail twitched at your side, gently curling up around your thigh weakly.

"Kurt??" You asked quickly, glancing down at him. You could see the exhaustion on his face, the weakness, but he nodded back. He gave you a weak smile, his yellow eyes soft and pure.

"Liebe..." he whispered back, his hand held yours and he pulled you closer. Your body naturally obeyed and you let your lips find his, both weakly pressing together as the two of you kissed for the first time. It felt so right, his hand cupped your face and his tail wrapped around you, being so weak but loving all at the same time.

You hadn't noticed the other townspeople had been watching from the trees, seeing how gentle and sweet you were to him. They could see that Kurt didn't resemble a creature of Hell like they thought, while he did seem odd looking, he didn't look to be horrific as they predicted. Their imaginations took over and the tall tales took over their logic.

When you broke the kiss, he smiled up at you. "You....came back..." he rasped, he was hurt still, but he was okay. He'd live. That's all you needed to know.

"Of course I came back...I told you I would..." you whispered sweetly, guilt gnawed at your core, "If I hadn't left then..."

Kurt cut you off, shushing you, "Nein, liebe...do not worry...the church can be rebuilt...I am going to be fine. What's another small scar? My fur will cover it anyway." He added, giving you a playful smile.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "Oh, Kurt...don't make me laugh right now..." You muttered, some of the onlookers came to aid you in bringing him to the town to get treatment from the doctor there. You knew he'd be okay. The awful stories were debunked and the town appeared to accept him.

You had your love, safe and sound, and the real demon of the town had been snuffed to ash.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #xmen #x men #x men 97 #🎠my works

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tadpolesonalgae · 4 months ago

Text

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You — Chapter 22

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: there might be some spelling errors here and there which I’m sorry about—I’ll try and remember to check through in the morning <3

word count: 7,866

-Part 21- -Part 23-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

More than once, you find your feet leading you in the direction of Bas’ house, but you always turn before you can reach his street.

A few days ago you’d thought it would take a fortnight for the transition between autumn and winter to truly become apparent. You were wrong.

There’s no way you could mistake it for anything else, with the way breath now huffs from chapped, rosey mouths like ancient, angry beasts prowling across an early morning moor; how now when you step outside and leave the warmth of the heating enchantments the cold nips at your throat, splashing ice into your lungs, encasing your arched ears in snow-kissed winds; how even without much sense left in your hands you can feel as your blood recoils from the temperature, scrambling back to be closer inside your body and abandoning your limbs for the sake of comfort. Useless body. If you were instead one of the massive bears kept in the Winter Court with thick coats and dense, padded bodies this would be much more bearable.

As it is, you have to settle for keeping a brisk pace and wrapping yourself in an uncomfortable amount of layers. Layers that wrinkle too easily beneath one another and store sweat in their fibres. It’s always a relief to be once again indoors so you can shed the many skins. Especially when so much of the cosier cloaks are inlined with fur. You try not to let it bother you but as soon as that particular smell of leather creeps in, or meat with a little too much preserving salt…

Winter’s gotten a little easier. You can appreciate some of its beauty now it’s less likely to kill you. Its glittering exquisite.

“What about this?” Elain gestures to a folded quilt that’s laid out amongst other similar items: bedsheets, pillowcases, towels, flannels, cloths. The quilt is a patchwork of small squares about the size of your open palm, each one different in pattern but similar in colour—pinks, pale pinks, whites, creams, oranges, pale oranges, a glitter of egg-yolk yellow. Around the hem hangs a slight frill made up of white lace. On its underside shows the padding designed for comfort, perfect for maintaining heat and being a cozy blanket to nestle under.

An image passes through your mind then of all four of your crammed into that tiny bed, stuffed beneath a blanket like this in the depths of winter. Fingers so cold they felt like ice, cold enough to wake you from your sleep if a bare foot grazed your calf. Nesta and Feyre would usually be on the outside during the colder months, rarely taking place in the cozy, warm centre. You and Elain ever the middle children.

A second image forms soon after, except instead of being set in an alternate past seems to fit more with a branch of the future: all four of you stuffed on the long sofa in the River House’s living room, the fire crackling behind its muffler but Nesta still on the furthest side. Some of you would be reading, Nyx might be cuddled beneath the quilt, close to Feyre’s chest, and maybe you might be stitching something together or sewing a pattern onto the sleeve of Elain’s top. Nyx would probably be briefly fascinated by the lace frill. Then if it was interesting enough he might try to eat it.

You zone back in when you realise Elain’s looking to you for an answer. You wince, wanting to pull back into yourself and hide in your skeleton, sit on one of your own ribs, arms hung over an upper one. “I really… It’s lovely, but the bedroom I have is fine. We don’t need to find replacement stuff.”

Elain seems a little crestfallen but quickly blinks it away, already turning her head to scour for something else that might take your interest. “Are you sure? It looks so warm,” Feyre pipes up, inspecting the little patterns of the squares. “I can imagine you all wrapped up in this, tucked away into a chair with a book heavy enough to break someone’s foot.”

“I’m sure,” you assure her. “Really, the bedroom in your house is more than enough. I’m not sure I even wear half the clothes in the wardrobe—I’m fine.”

After the news had been announced, tears had been shed, and you’d all spent the night on that sofa too afraid to let go of one another, Nesta had been the one to suggest fixing up the House of Wind again. It had been patched up after the initial explosion, but Nesta had suggested making it somewhere nice, reasoning all of the furniture had been destroyed anyway, so your room would be in need of some redecorating anyway. ‘Besides,’ Nesta had pointed out the following morning, ‘It’s mine. I can do what I like with it.’ And spend Rhys’ money while doing it, had gone unsaid, but after Nyx’s birth at least some of their aggression seemed to have boiled off.

“This just seems like too much,” you admit while walking at Feyre’s side, Nesta strolling along the far side of the street while Elain’s already begun appraising a new set of pale green pillowcases. “You don’t have long,” Feyre murmurs in reply, her voice straining toward the end, “six months will fly by.”

“I don’t mind,” you whisper absently. “My room’s fine as it is. We don’t need to redecorate the entire House of Wind.”

Feyre falls silent, feet tapping in time together along the icy cobbles. Then her arm is tentatively slipping beneath your own, gently linking at the elbow, careful not to cause any aches in your flesh. You squeeze her faintly, bodies pressing closer in the cold, arms locked to try and keep up warmth while walking through the city.

You glance up at the clock tower constructed at one end of the main square. It reads midday. Elain will be leaving for the human lands in a little under an hour and none of you have yet had lunch. Feyre follows your gaze, reading the time. “She won’t be gone for long, remember?” Feyre assures quietly. “She’ll be back before night.”

You blink, turning to face your younger sister, “Oh, no, I wasn’t thinking…” You flush, averting your eyes as you pull your arm from Feyre’s, “I’m not that clingy.” It comes out sounding more defensive than you’d thought it would, the tug of your arm rougher than you’d anticipated, but you speed your pace regardless, crossing the street to instead join Nesta. She’s looking into the window of a large bookshop, her sharp eyes picking out titles even through the warped and rippling glass panes.

Nesta reads even more than you do, which is saying something. You’re not sure you could even read a romance book anymore. Not without a piercing sense of loss pinned through your heart.

“I’ve been thinking,” Nesta muses, pulling from your thoughts, standing straighter as if she’s considering entering the shop, “of having a meal up at the House of Wind. Would you come?” You blink, looking over to her inquisitively, “Just…a meal?”

“I was thinking of bringing Emerie and Gwyn to it, too. None of you have met one another.” Nesta turns back to the window, though she doesn’t seem to be looking at the books anymore. “Elain and Feyre would be there, too.”

“For sometime near solecist?”

“That could work.”

You pull a part of your lower lip into your mouth, nipping at the interior. “Have you thought of a present for Feyre this year?” You ask, still being without a gift. It’s still about two months away, but…time has a habit of slipping through your fingers. Silverish eyes slide sidewards to you, and you glance at her questioningly. Nesta looks back into the window, “I think the plan is to all do something together. Elain seems to think that’s what Feyre wants.”

“Do you think she does?”

“Probably,” Nesta replies. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“Won’t that ruin the surprise?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to know what she wants so we don’t do something she won’t enjoy?”

You purse your lips. “Elain can ask.”

Nesta seems to decide she’s done with the bookshop, turning her body to move on ahead and you follow quietly. “So, about the meal?” She reminds, and you swallow but manage a short nod of your head. “It sounds nice.” Your lips part, throat flexing in preparation to add on, I’d like to meet them, but something stops you and then the moment has passed. Nesta seems satisfied enough with your answer.

Had she also mentioned Elain and Feyre intentionally when bringing up the dinner?

You worry your lower lip. It’s been nice spending time with them again. Being on the sofa. Feeling bones press together. Hair sliding over shoulders. But has it been too much for them? Feyre has a husband and a baby and a court. Nesta has Cassian and her own life. Elain…is who you’d usually spend time with, but she’s leaving to visit Lucien.

Bas is leaving too, soon.

Maybe you should be returning to the House of Wind on your own instead of making them take you there and pad the way. You’re not ready to go back. Maybe you should just lock yourself up in the Prison. But that’s a stupid thought, one that’s not going to help you. Why try and make things worse for yourself?

Your stomach grumbles and you flush, putting your hand over it in attempts to quiet the noise.

It’s about time for lunch, anyway.

————

“You haven’t been up to the House since, right?”

You startle, spinning around as your hand recoils from the door handle, chest rising and falling so rapidly that saliva gets caught in your throat and you have to cough into the crook of your arm. At least you didn’t eat too much over supper, or you might have been worried about being sick.

Azriel stands silently in the hallway a little distance away, his eyes vaguely alarmed at your abrupt reaction. He clears his throat. “Sorry. I thought you’d heard me.”

“It’s fine,” you excuse, coughing once more before lowering your arm, going to straighten your skirts before a rush of something shy flutters through your chest and your hands instead join at your front. “You’re just…very quiet.”

Azriel hums, and you shift on your feet. You’ve been spending so much of your free time with your sisters that you haven’t really seen anyone but them over the past two days. Well, aside from Madja, who you’re still seeing every morning at ten o’clock, much to your relief. You lick your lips, finding them chapped and dry. “So…was there something you wanted?”

Azriel nods his head once. “Not exactly. I was thinking it would be a good idea for you to readjust yourself to the dimensions of the House, since Nesta’s told me you’re redecorating.” You flush, eyes dipping away, once again shifting on your feet. “Well, it’s more her idea…” you hedge, “since…you know, it’s hers now…?”

“I know. But you’ll be wanting new furniture,” he reasons. “The walls had to be realigned so your room will be wider once it’s complete.”

“Once it’s complete?”

He nods his head. “You blew it up, remember?”

The flush deepens and you take a subconscious step back towards your room. You hadn’t meant to wreck the House, even if it was only your room that was really ruined. “I just meant…you mentioned walls needing to be realigned, so I was wondering whether they’ve yet been…”

Azriel nods his head. “They have.”

A beat passes. “So, are you coming?”

You look up, surprised. “Hm? Where?”

His eyes narrow. “To the House. Is your head okay?”

“Fine.” Your brows furrow. “Fine.”

“No headaches?” He pushes, hazel eyes scanning swiftly over your body in a painfully analytic fashion. “No bouts of forgetfulness? Brain fog?”

“No. No, I’m fine. None of that,” you assure, glancing down to the hardwood floor, a small part of you still stumbling at his attention. But it’s all good and fine noticing a problem once it’s obvious. “Besides,” you add, “I’m sure Madja would have picked that out by now…” Right? Madja’s been nothing but dependant as company. Competent and kind, so gentle with your skin and flesh and mind.

Azriel seems to disagree, his head tilting slightly and you wonder if it’s a movement he’s showing intentionally or whether it’s simply something he’s learned to do when around other people after having every reaction trained out of him. “You’re only seeing her for about twenty minutes each day. It’s easy to miss some things.”

“Yes, but isn’t she…? It’s Madja. Isn’t she supposed to be…I don’t know, one of the best healers in Velaris?” Isn’t she? Arrogance aside, wouldn’t it make sense Rhys would only want someone he could trust around during Feyre’s birthing? Madja must have proven herself to be reliable hundreds of times to be trusted enough to work so high up. Azriel nods his head, confirming your inner thoughts, “Probably in all of the Night Court.”

“So, she would know if something was wrong.”

“There’s no harm in double checking.”

You swallow, eyes awkwardly scanning him and the hallway, too nervous to look at him properly. “Well,” you say, once more clearing your throat, “I think I’m fine.”

Azriel nods his head. “Shall we go?”

You brows furrow deeply. “Where?”

“To the House of Wind,” he says, stepping forward as if to reach for you, “Did you forget already?”

Your nostrils flare, lips curving at their edges. “I’m messing with you, Azriel.”

His hand pauses in mid air, then it retracts and he stands straighter again, a look of faint displeasure held between his brows, “You shouldn’t joke like that.” Tension coils in your chest, and you look away from him, lips pursing, “life’s dismal enough as it is. I’ll joke about what I want to.” Azriel sighs, taking a step back to where he’d originally been standing, reinstating that cold distance between you that has your heart stretching thin.

“Joke about what you like, but keep that humour away from your sisters. They’ll be going through a lot, right now.”

You look at him then, arms lightly folded across your chest. “Will they?” You ask, tension coiling tighter. “Yes. I’m sure they’ll be finding it the most difficult right now.” Azriel’s chest expands, then he’s blowing out a harsh breath, “you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You know you could have said it better.”

Quiet hangs in the air, then your throat is rolling, fight disintegrating when he makes no move to respond, shame at your snappiness creeping to your surface; disappointment he didn’t attempt to amend the exchange. Just one sentence would have been okay. You’re past pretending like you’d demand a lot from him. A few words and forgiveness would fall from your lips in a desperate spill, hungry for his care.

Your lips press together. “Shall we go, then?”

Azriel had flown you up—he hadn’t wanted you to winnow. You hadn’t thought much of the House since you’d been staying in Feyre’s home, but now you’re back and the smell is wrapping around you and it feels like you never left. It’s after a family dinner, you’re not yet obviously ill, warmth from Bas’ palms lingers on your hips and you’re still on good terms, Mor’s offered to take you out into Velaris and you never wrote back to Eris. You never told Azriel how you felt, and you still speak regularly in the library, your heart fluttering every time your eyes would meet, and you still think you’re in with a chance of keeping his attention.

They hadn’t felt good at the time—they hadn’t felt enough—but you’d take them back in a heartbeat if you could.

The two of you walk in silence down the hallways that lead to your old room, but when you reach for the handle you almost pause, able to feel the weight of Azriel’s attention on you and for a truly awful moment you worry they’re all inside, your room already done up, money already wasted on you, and you’ll have to pretend some kind of gratitude for the debt. But you cast the thought away, because that’s ridiculous—you’d been out with your sisters just this morning.

You’d been unfair to Feyre. Short-tempered. Intentionally choosing to keep misunderstanding her. And then you’d done the same with Nesta, pushing your emotions onto them.

Maybe it would be better for you to return up here again, so you’re away from them. Isolated, so your foul moods don’t bleed onto them. So they can stay happy, and you can deteriorate without having to feel bad about your inner necrosis. So they don’t see the way you’ll fall apart over these last six months.

The handle twists in your palm and the door swings open.

Azriel was right about the walls—they’re further apart than they used to be, your room suddenly a few inches wider, enough to disorientate you. But that’s not it.

Your hand falls away from the handle, breathing shallow and deathly as you step back into the room. A small bed has been pushed where the old one used to lie, a similar looking desk up against the wall, a wardrobe near the windows, all resembling their previous pieces but so clearly different. Emptier.

Your stomach drops, and the ground falls out from beneath your feet.

“Where-” Your throat strangles the words in your mouth. Warping them to a hoarse rasp. “Where are my things?”

You hadn’t thought about it. You’d put it out of your mind. Made sure to lock it up tight in a box along with the rest of the mess because you’d fall apart time and time again if you could think about it. But if the furniture was obliterated, and the walls destroyed…

“They were blown apart, too.”

The far end of the room stretches, distancing itself further and further from you as the walls either side become narrower, the floor beneath your feet groaning as if it’ll give any second. All of it’s gone? Everything? Everything?

You walk over to the desk, fingers tracing the surface, lips stitched shut. A painting had once sat there…greens, and golds, and falling stars. A romance book sat in solitary on an upper shelf. A bookmark with silver thread. A pendant with a small map contained inside.

Your feet carry you to the wardrobe. There’s no smile drawn into the dust on the mirror. No lipstick, nor nail polish. The jigsaw you never touched, still wrapped in its bow. All of it? All of it’s gone?

Scared eyes turn to the bed, glancing once to the empty bedside before you’re faintly walking over, lowering to your knees to peer beneath the mattress. Staring into the empty space beneath. Dark and hollow. No box holding your golden solar system. No bags from a shopping trip with Mor. No comfy slippers, and that dress that you’d only worn once, in the shop. The one that had looked nice, and you’d never worn it, too ashamed of yourself.

“Did the-” The words are sticky, drying your throat together, tongue stuck too the roof of your mouth. “My orrery…?”

Your heart is pounding and there’s a delicate fire beneath your skin, a cool sweat glossing your flesh. A soft roaring around your ears. You can’t have lost all of it.

“A couple of things made it,” Azriel says from the doorway. You turn to look at him, the air around him warping and spinning faintly. Shallow and shimmering. Azriel shifts, something about his expression changing that you can’t quite pick out. “Are you feeling alright? You look…”

“I’m fine,” you whisper, staring at him because it seems too much effort to really move your eyes elsewhere, lids pinned to your brows. A couple of things made it. A couple of things survived.

Azriel nods his head. “Wait here,” he says, “I’ll get them.” He looks like he might says something else, hazel eyes flicking over you, but he keeps his mouth shut and turns, disappearing from the doorframe.

In his absence a wave of dizziness overcomes you. It’s without nausea, but the room is shifting, your head unable to find a balance to keep your body upright and you end up settling lower to the ground, lying on your side, knees curled to your chest. The room is so empty without any of yourself in it. Is this what Bas’ home will look like once he’s gone?

Is this what your room will look like, once you’re gone?

You picture it, the raised bed with the thick duvets, the desk pushed up against the wall to lie beneath the window, the bathroom connected with its cool, pale tiles. The room you and your sisters spent an afternoon and evening contained in, chatting and drinking tea; the room Madja’s tried to heal you in; the room you found out you were going to die in. Will it stop being your room once you’re gone? Will Feyre repurpose it? Keep it as it is?

A floorboard creaks in the hallway, but you just don’t have the energy to move. Choosing to instead curl tighter, allowing your eyes to close in order to try and contain the hot pressure that’s building behind them. You don’t want to cry.

Can death come any quicker?

Footsteps pause on the threshold, and shame tugs on your gut, wanting to scuttle away and hide beneath the dark hollow of the bed. To crawl away to some dark space and be out of everyone’s way, keeping to your own corner far from anyone else. Safe and alone in the darkness. Like a small spider lurking on the top shelf in a wardrobe, just trying to keep out of someone’s way. You could get so far if you had eight legs. If you were as small and nimble as a spider you could go anywhere.

The mattress stretches as a weight is delivered to it, then a presence is gathering at your back.

A few seconds pass, then he’s asking quietly, “What are you thinking about?”

You take time evening your breaths before you answer. “Spiders.”

“Is there one under there?” Azriel asks, still keeping to that soft, low voice. Your lips tremble, but you open your eyes enough to look into the darkness, peering about for any eight-legged creatures. You shake your head faintly. “What got you thinking about spiders?” He asks next, and you realise his voice is close enough he’s probably sitting behind you. On the floor with you. You try to shrug your shoulders, not wanting to answer, but the movement is stunted from lying on your side.

“Do you mind them?” He asks.

“No,” you reply, voice creaking through the quiet. They’d made you uncomfortable at first, when they’d started creeping into your house all those years ago. Spinning their webs on bookshelves and between table legs, down the hinges of doorframes, where the breeze brings in smaller bugs for them to catch. “They’re small.”

“Even the big ones?” Azriel replies.

“They don’t hurt anyone.”

“They look creepy.”

Your brow furrows, then you’re rolling over on the floor to face him. Sure enough he’s sat a little distance back, arms around his parted knees. “Are you scared of spiders?”

Azriel’s eyes twinkle. “Not the small ones.”

You blink, unsure what to make of that. “Then, the big ones?” He hums in a way that might be a yes. It’s hard to pick out what he means by that one, smooth noise. “Which ones?” You ask, watching him quietly. “I know there are large ones in the Summer Court jungles? Arachnids as big as your torso.”

Azriel smiles. “Those are fine.”

“But their venom can paralyse you,” you argue softly, brows furrowing. Small ones are fine, small ones can’t hurt you. But the larger ones, those can bite. Those ones can be dangerous. “They’re easy enough to avoid,” Azriel reasons.

A look of concentration knits itself between your brows, and you push yourself up from the floor, shifting back to lean against the bed. “What court do they come from?” Azriel’s lips curve faintly—he’s not going to tell you. “The continent?” You ask, trying to work around it, but this time he shakes his head. “On Prythian?” He nods. Your eyes narrow, inclining your chin by a singular degree, “how big are they?”

Azriel pauses, thinking. “Curled up…probably as large as that bed,” he answers, nodding to the bed you’re leaning against. “Splayed out…each joint in a leg was probably around your height.” Your eyes widen in fascination. Then they narrow again, suspicion rising in your mind, “is this creature magical?” His lips don’t smile, but his eyes do, and he nods his head. Your mouth parts, “that’s cheating.”

“How’s it cheating?” Your mouth opens again but you can’t give an answer, eyes darting about as you think. “You’ve done most of your learning while you’ve been here, haven’t you? We have books on the creatures here. I’m sure you know some of them.”

“I don’t know of any spiders that big,” you reply with your brows furrowed, frustrated you don’t know the species he’s talking about. Azriel laughs and you avert your eyes, scowling into the floorboards.

“She’s locked up in the Prison now, anyway,” he says casually, as if that makes it better. You look at him again, “‘she’?”

He nods. “Can you guess?”

Your brow tightens again. “I don’t want to.” You pull your knees up to your chest, readjusting your skirts so they’re covering your ankles. Leaning your chin into the dip of your palm, a downward tug to your displeased lips. Azriel raises a brow, “I didn’t know you were a sore loser.”

“We weren’t competing.” You mutter.

“Are you really upset?” He asks, sounding perplexed. You sigh, shifting on the floor now the bed is beginning to dig into your spine. “No,” you mumble, “I’m used to it.”

He smiles, eyes twinkling, “used to what?”

You don’t smile back. “You.”

Azriel’s features mellow out, light winking away in his eyes and you watch the warmth sift down and out from his expression. “You aren’t entitled to my affections, just because of your situation,” he says softly, but sternly. No leniency afforded to you. No padding or gentleness to muffle the hurt. An ashamed blush creeps up your neck, spreading through your cheeks as you lower your head. “I’m not talking about that,” you mumble. Gloved fingers wring together and you pull your legs tighter to your body, “I’m talking about how needlessly cold you were. How clearly you cared for Elain without thought for me.”

“You needed a clear answer. I was helping.”

“You used me,” you whisper.

Across the floor, you can feel it as Azriel stiffens. Almost freezes.

“You used me,” you repeat, this time looking at him, “you knew how I felt about you. There’s no way you couldn’t have, Azriel. You-”

“You kissed me back.” Hazel eyes pierce into you, the shadows at his back stirring as though raising from their sleep. “You-”

“I’m talking about before.” The whisper rushes out of you on a swift exhale, hurrying to get the words past your lips so he doesn’t remind you any further. You swallow, a familiar feeling of shame coating your skin. “When I would speak with you in the library. And you would only speak with me to learn more of Elain. You were using me.” Azriel’s brows narrow and your heartbeat quickens unpleasantly. “You know I was making sure she was okay,” he claims softly, “the Mother knows you were too preoccupied.”

“Stop lying to me.” A hot pressure is building behind your eyes again, staring at him in this room with the walls that feel like they’re closing in. “I know you love Elain. I know that, so stop trying to pretend like I’m imagining it. You wanted to know more about her so you spoke with me to learn more. You must have known how lonely I was, how hard it was for all of us after being ripped from our home, from our lives, and shoved into a world we had never wanted to be a part of. It’s like you’re just trying to get me to hate you.”

As soon as the words leave your lips you freeze, staring at him with widened eyes.

“Is that-?” You cover your mouth, toes curling in your socks as you huddle your limbs together. “Is that why you were so cold afterwards? Was it so horrible to deal with? Was it really so disgusting to you that…?”

Azriel says nothing and you feel at that moment like the earth might split open and swallow you whole, suctioning you down far below the ground for discovering such a horrible secret, snatching you away before you can tell anyone and sealing you a thousand times in jagged stone beneath cold, damp earth.

————

Her eyes are wide and her chest is heaving, knees pressing tight together as if to hide her body from him. He should lower his head to respect her dignity, look away to offer her privacy but that in itself would be yielding too much information. Doing anything other than watching her crumble would be exposing a part of himself and no matter how much she’s hurting, he cannot. He will not.

Azriel doesn’t care if she hit the nail on the head. He hadn’t meant any of it. But had he really been expected to simply accept her tenderness for him? Even if he wasn’t the spymaster he’d be able to see how much she thinks of him, how she listens to him and hangs on his words as if they heal wounds. If she thinks she loves him, she should know how awful he is.

————

You shake your head, still staring at him. Then you try to push yourself to your feet.

You need air. Need fresh air, and to get out of a room as cramped as this one. But when you stand you spot the things he’d laid on the bed. The things that had survived the blast, and you freeze.

On top of the bare mattress, weighing into the bed is a thickly bound volume. The spine reads: Prythian: An Anthology Of Discoveries, in golden lettering. Sitting small atop the book however, is a familiar silver band, its narrow edges smooth and shiny. It’s the ring Eris gifted you on that last day in Autumn. The one he’d told you would help keeping your magic in check. The one you’d left discarded then nearly killed Azriel by being unable to control yourself.

“This…? This is all that made it?” Your fingers trace the title, and you consider for a moment raking your nails down its surface, scalping its smooth leather and ripping the pages from the spine. The silver is cold against your fingers, and you imagine casting the window wide and throwing it out to the winds. Throwing it far, far away, somewhere you’ll never have to see it again, where you’ll never be reminded of the poor choices you made that brought such an unbearable amount of shame into your life.

You can feel it begin to crush into you again, and your knees shake like they might buckle. Why is this all that lasted?

“The book was enchanted, as many are nowadays.” Azriel’s voice is far off in your head, the world tipping beneath you. “The magic protecting it was ripped apart, but the book’s still intact. The ring seems to have its own magic warding it, though it’s been damaged.”

“Is this-?” You turn to face him, arm banding across your stomach, able to feel as the shame and hurt squeezes you insides. “Is this your way of punishing me for what I did? By showing me this?” Azriel’s brow furrows, and he takes a step forward, “No.” You’re not sure you believe him. He takes another step forward, so he’s stood before you and you have to tilt your head slightly to look at him. “I thought you’d be happy. I thought it would make you feel better. That you had something to keep.”

“That reminds me of why you all hate me,” you say, hot tears spilling from your lashes, scalding your cheeks. “You can’t be expecting me to believe that you’re showing me these things because you’ve forgiven them. That you’ve so suddenly had a change of heart about what happened. Not this.” You sniff, trying to hide your face. “Not you.”

Silence hangs in the air, stretched and painful until, “You think we hate you?”

“I know you do,” you whisper, “and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Scarred fingers collect around your wrists, and you try to cover yourself as he gently pulls your palms from your tear-stained face. “Look at me.” Look at me.

Does he know what he’s doing? Or are you joining dots that have no business being joined? You open your eyes but look away, staring at the floor, at a section of wooden panelling that must have been redone when- “Look at me.”

His shadows cooly gather beneath your chin, lifting your head but you stubbornly refuse, instead casting your gaze to the right where the door is. Just anywhere but him. Anywhere but his eyes, eyes that will make your heart splinter. You look at the threshold, the handle of the door-

Azriel’s wings open, and then you’re ensconced in night.

His shadows gather between your feet, circling overhead so there’s nowhere for you to look anymore but him, everything else inked out to be bland and uninteresting. Only a very small amount of light is allowed through the darkness, like a dozen black veils of silk have been thrown over you to keep you together. Slowly your breaths begin to settle, transported away from the demanding present and instead somewhere else entirely, where time has been paused and you have no pressure of worry beating down on you.

Your nostrils flare, but your breathing has become even. Chest slowly rising up and down, calmed and quietened.

Your throat trembles, but you look at him.

His hazel eyes are normal. No disgust or revulsion to be found. No ice, either. At first glance you might have called the look indifferent, but…calm. Quiet.

Hands release your wrists, one lifting to the circle of your shoulder, but the other moves for your chest. You inhale softly as his fingers graze across the fabric of your top, his touch featherlight and careful. They pause, coming to a stop in a place you’re certain he’ll be able to feel the pounding of your heart. But he makes no remark on the wild rhythm, instead pressing the pads of his fingers down so they’re resting atop your breast. “You have a scar here, don’t you?”

Something tugs from beneath your ribs, an alertness jerking awake beneath his touch.

“It’s small, isn’t it? Barely there. Less than a scratch, but it’s scarred.”

What? How does he…?

His hand finds yours and he guides you a step closer to him, then lifts your palm to the side of his stomach, his ribs. “I don’t hate you,” he says quietly, but in the shared silence you have no need to strain your ears; you can hear him perfectly. “None of them hate you either.”

“You’re lying,” you whisper.

“I’m not,” he replies, pressing your palm flat to where that matching scar lies, embedded deep in his flesh. Where he’d stolen the arrow you had meant for yourself.

Your head hangs in defeat, and your forehead meets his chest. His hand releases your shoulders, scarred fingers skimming the small hairs sprouting from the top of your nape.

————

Night has fallen by the time you return to the River House.

It’s dark and you wrap your arms tight over your chest, wind playing with your hair, kissing ice up your neck. At your side, Azriel seems unbothered by the descending winter, appearing as stoic as ever.

Coming up the pathway that leads past the front lawn you can see the lights in the House are one, letting you see in to the living room and kitchen, each separated by the hallway that connects to the door before you. No one’s in the living room, but you can easily make out the figures of two of your sisters in the kitchen—Feyre and Elain. You wonder what they could be speaking about when Elain soundlessly slams her hand down on the table.

You pause, and you know Azriel’s watching too.

Elain’s teeth flash in the faelight and your brows narrow, pulse spiking—they look like they’re arguing. You hurry a step forward, hand falling to the handle but Azriel places his palm atop your shoulder, pausing you. You look back at him. “We should give them space. Let them sort it out on their own.”

You consider, glancing between him and the front door. Teeth nip at the interior of your lip—you’ve not seen Elain like that in a long time. She’s not one to become easily agitated. “No,” you say, “they’re my sisters. I want to know what’s wrong.”

“It looks private. You should wait-”

But you turn the handle, giving him a strange look, “They’re my sisters.”

As soon as the door opens, Elain’s voice rings through the halls, bouncing off the walls with crystal clarity, “I want to know why I had to hear it through Lucien, Feyre. Who, I might add, didn’t even hear it from one of you.”

Quiet settles, tense and taut and you halt, blinking. What have you just walked in on?

With as little noise as possible you push the cloak from your shoulders, hanging it on one of the hooks in the entryway. Elain’s voice carries on, unaware of the new listeners. “Are you going to explain it?” She asks, voice softened from its previous cut, still bearing a nasty edge. “I didn’t want to worry you,” comes Feyre’s quietened reply. “I didn’t mean to hide it, Elain, but the timing was never right, and you’re both…”

“We’re both what?” Elain asks sternly, her voice tight. “Untrustworthy because we aren’t as tightly knit with others in your circle?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” Feyre replies, with soft steel. “That’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Then tell me why you didn’t think to mention it.”

Silence falls, and you feel guilt gather in your chest for eavesdropping. You turn to glance at Azriel but he seems to have vanished into shadow at some point. Maybe he actually had intended to give them privacy, but you’re in too deep now. Instead of hiding you straighten your skirts, quietly stepping further along the hallway until you reach the kitchen, peeking your head around the doorway, “is everything okay?”

Cocoa coloured irises flick to you and Feyre turns in the kitchen, spotting you in the hallway. “Fine,” Feyre says—too quickly. You look over to Elain, but she’s watching Feyre instead, coca eyes simmering. You swallow, and step decisively into the room, steadying your voice, “What’s wrong?” Because something’s clearly amiss.

A tense silence passes and you can feel your insides trembling, as if the quiet is a living, breathing creature, gently but increasingly firmly pushing against you, weighing on your shoulders, pulling on your back, an invisibly current slowly trying to drag you from the room. You stand still.

Feyre’s shoulders sag in a way you haven’t seen before, her can lowering in a way that casts heavy shadow beneath her eyes and into the downturned corners of her mouth. “We’d thought to keep you out of it,” she says, much too softly for High Lady. “You’re both…” But she trails off, landing her face in her hands and rubbing along the narrow lengths of her curved brows. Her hands fall to her sides and she leans back against the table, arms moving to fold over her chest. “I know what it’s like, to be kept out of something…” She looks at both of you in turn, blue-grey eyes anguished and distraught, showing a turmoil she’s been battling with for quite some time. And what she’s said is true—she knows what that’s like. How she almost died without knowing the circumstances of her own child. She knows better than anyone what it means.

So what could have made her decide…?

You release the tension of your stance, settling back against the wall since this seems like something important.

“You may have seen us to be more on edge than usual…” Feyre confesses, casting a glance to Elain. Your older sister’s expression doesn’t give, but acknowledgement passes through her eyes and Feyre continues. “Nesta’s been practicing with Ataraxia more frequently, despite how little we know about its nature; Amren’s been trying her efforts at furthering her understanding of The Old Language; then the trip Nesta and Cassian went on to the Day Court…to visit Helion’s libraries.” She swallows thickly, shadows accentuating the roll of her throat. “Helion, Spell-Cleaver.”

“Nesta mentioned a binding spell,” you now recall from that supper all that time ago. Amren had bitten her off. Nesta had Ataraxia out on the table when you’d gone to visit her. What Eris had been talking about during your visit to Autumn. It must have something to do with why he was surprised you weren’t learning to fight.

But why would you need to?

“We…” Feyre starts but swallows her own words. Besides her, Elain shifts on her feet, her attention casting skittishly around the dimly lit kitchen, only small yellow lights lighting the large room. Your younger sister sighs harshly, rubbing her face once before looking at you fully, hands again to her sides. “We think the Prison is collapsing.”

Her words settle into the quiet of the kitchen and seem to disappear in the external world while they ring endlessly within your mind, repeating in a space away from the linear passage of time and instead growing louder and louder with every hurried repeat. We think the Prison is collapsing.

What are you supposed to say to that?

You can feel your eyes stretch, throat turning dry from breathing through your mouth, lips open while you stare.

“Why?” You manage to gasp out, throat closing up on itself. Why would the Prison be collapsing? Why now? Why?

“When Nesta fought Lanthys,” Feyre begins solemnly, “perhaps even when she first retrieved the harp…whether it was Ataraxia, one of the Dread Trove, or Lanthys exploiting a worn fibre of the spell’s fabrics…maybe a combination of the three…we don’t know for certain.”

“You don’t know why the Prison is breaking?” Elain asks, staring at Feyre.

“We know the wards are weakened,” she corrects, as if savouring the small grace that they seem to still be holding. But for how much longer? “We think it’s in relation to a magical object imbued with Cauldron-made power being in close proximity to such an ancient antiquity…that their magic might have abraded the spells of the Prison… But no. We don’t know for certain.”

The walls tilt, shadows stretching and you’re thankful you’re leaning against the wall. Feyre meets your gaze with a look you could call grieving. “Please let’s discuss this further in the morning. I’m sorry it was kept…that I helped keep it from you—both of you—but for a conversation like this…” Feyre looks to Elain, a bit of that strength being forced to her surface. “We can speak in the morning.”

Elain watches Feyre silently, and for a few moments you think you might see anger in her eyes, but it’s turned calm and quiet. “I imagine it’s difficult, in some respects,” Elain says, “to play the role of High Lady.”

You can’t tell whether it’s meant as consolation or a jab, but Elain’s already departed from the room, leaving just you and Feyre.

“How long have you known?” You ask in the quiet. Feyre shifts but doesn’t look away from you, “Long enough that we’re running out of options.”

You nod your head, more than just fatigue now weighing on your lids. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

————

It’s strange how you find yourself meandering the opposite way from your bedroom when you reach the top of the stairs. Seeking out a room you’ve never once tried to approach without explicit permission beforehand. But the whole night had been strange, and your head is swimming slightly, paddling in the shallow part of a clear river.

Your hand lifts, but at the last second, and for no discernible reason, you change your mind, opening the door quietly without knocking.

Azriel is sat at his desk, a low light atop the surface, a lampshade tinting the colour a pale yellow. Ink scratches over parchment, and you pause on the threshold, leaning against the doorframe. You could understand the pleasure of spying, if it means seeing people like this.

He looks up after a moment, seemingly finished with his task as he sets the paper aside and lowers his quill.

“It was Blue Annis, wasn’t it?” You speak before he has a chance to. “The spider you were telling me about.”

“Yes.” Azriel inclines his head. “It was.”

Something big enough, cruel enough, powerful enough to strike a chord of unease into Azriel. And the container holding her and countless others is fraying?

You lean a little more of your weight into the doorframe. “How long do you think is left before the wards are sparse enough for one of them to slip through?”

“Probably another month,” Azriel replies. His expression doesn’t falter as he adds, “one might’ve already managed.”

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, fear twisting in your stomach. He must be able to smell it on you. Azriel leans back into his chair, “We’re checking each cell to make sure. So far everything’s been where it should, but it’s a slow process. By the time we happen across an empty one…” He raises a brow as if to say: Who knows how far it’ll have gotten?

A shudder spider-walks down your spine. “Are they all as scary as she is? As Blue Annis?”

“You’ll work yourself up into a panic like that,” Azriel tells you, his face remaining serious. “You’re already imagining the worst possible creature you can think of, aren’t you?”

“Is she less scary than I’m imagining?” You ask dryly, forcing a wry curve of your lips.

Azriel’s eyes seem to twinkle, but maybe it’s the light.

“What’s she like?” You force yourself to ask, voice lowered beneath the night. But Azriel shakes his head, “Ask me another time.”

His lips curve, but the light in his eyes has winked out. “You don’t want her to be the last thing on your mind before night.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes @kksbookstuff @feerique @ratgirl2020 @just-m-2

cbmthy taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @fae-glamour-petrichorus @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101

#azriel x reader #can’t bring myself to hate you #azriel x reader angst #cbmthy #azriel x reader fic #azriel x reader multi-part fic #azriel series #cbmthy chapter 22

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silverseaming · 6 months ago

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Summer drifts in on a warm wind, the heat climbing so subtly at first that it was hard to notice. By the middle of the harvest, though, the rays beat down with such intensity that man, beast and flower wilt beneath them. Only the wheat is uncowed, tall and golden as a sticky breeze runs ripples through the fields. It’s almost bearable in the morning — beautiful, even — when the sun only peeks over the mountaintops, glazing the crops orange as the sunrise. The stalks are still heavy with dew, Chestnut’s feathering shining with the moisture.

At midday, however, it is decidedly not beautiful. Despite setting out at dawn and having the help of the Mellors and Gillis boys, the need to harvest while the dry weather lasts means Kit can’t avoid the worst of the heat. By now his shirt sticks to his back, calluses throbbing on his palms. Even the faithful Chestnut has abandoned him to amble down to the creek, not that he can blame her. Each pile of straw tossed increases his longing for the sweet relief of cool water. It’s hard work, yes, but it must be done. This harvest, just like their first harvest, cannot be allowed to fail. Not when he’s risked so much for this, not when they need this, need— well, not even only the money. The success, the small joy of all the crops being gathered in, a bounty in one area of their lives, when others have been painfully barren. And enough to buy a Johnson self-raking reaper, he thinks, as he fiddles with the latest knot of twine. At least then Chestnut would have to pull her weight, rather than leaving everything to Kit and his scythe.

Just when he can’t take any longer, sustenance arrives in the form of Meg and Daisy, laden with freshly baked bread, jams, lemonade, and all sorts of other delights. This little ritual has quickly become Kit’s favourite part of the day — not just because of the welcome meal they bring, but for the view of watching them walk over the field, the moment before Daisy’s sticky hands grab at his where they come close enough for him to see their smiles. It makes something tighten in his chest. Gratitude. Guilt. The two never seem too far apart these days. Looking at Daisy it’s easy to forget, simply lose himself in her innocent happiness. But there are moments of sadness he catches in Meg’s eyes that bring up a whole new guilt, the old crashing harder in its wake. It’s all for them. That’s what he tells himself. It’s better Meg doesn’t worry. Not now. “Thank you, love.” Kit says, pulling Meg a little closer. “It’s no trouble,” Meg smiles, “And this way Daisy gets to be out in the fields with Pa, without driving me to distraction.” “Well, you two are my saviours all the same.”

#ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #historical simblr #simblr #ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #calloways #calloways 1890s #meg calloway #kit calloway #daisy calloway #1892 #it's here!!#the amount of time i've spent on this post is not funny

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ziminy · 3 months ago

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Beast and the beauty

There was a bounty on your head, and Toji was there to claim it. However, he didn't expect the beast to be you. Now he got other plans on what he's going to do with you.

Tags: smut, mdni, f!reader, beast!reader, hunter!Toji, enemies to lovers, threatening, lots of lies, Toji is messing with the reader, manipulation, fingering, orgasm denial, crying, slightly chocking, humping, making out in the hallway, doing it in the library, public s(e)x, creampie, the reader haves boobs, oral (both m and f receiving),

Author's note: i wrote this with a hand in my pants (jk)

Pt2 Masterlist kinktobermasterlist

It was a cold night when he found himself in the middle of the woods. He been out haunting the whole day, but he won't give up just yet, the prize was too good to give up on it.

A ferocious beast is hiding somewhere in the forest, in a place that it was impossibly hard to find it. But the zeros on his paycheck won't make him turn around any time soon.

With a gun in his back pocket, some knifes and whatever weapons he might carry, he was determined to get this job done and live lavishly for a while. He's thinking about the most expensives hotels and the most renowned restaurants. Maybe even go on vacation, maybe.

He had nothing planned, he's just thinking of spending money as fast as possible.

All he could think about was the papers. So, he better find the beast's hideout soon.

And he did found it, a big abandoned castle. A place fit for a freak, he thought.

This place looked creepy, the vibes were off and if he wasn't so determined to get the money he would have passed the opportunity to someone else. He'll make this quick so he could go the fuck home.

He opened the front door, careful of his surroundings. With small steps, he got inside, looking left and right and being on high alert. His fateful gun in his right hand, finger on the trigger and waiting for something to appear.

The corridor he was on was full of candles, soft light illuminating the room. It was clear he wasn't alone, and the fact that he saw something moving with the corner of his eye confirmed his suspicions.

The shadow seemed to move quickly. It looked like it would get away if he doesn't do something quickly. So, he moved his body after it, for a moment getting too carried away and stepping on something that makes a loud sound.

"Is someone there?" a feminine voice could be heard from where he saw the shadow. Loud steps coming towards him, all in a hurry.

He won't be deceived. He won't let a sweet voice make him hesitate when all he was craving for was money.

He stood there in place, gun pointed towards the source of the sounds that is getting closer. He was ready to shoot, not a second waisted.

However.

He was taken by surprise when a creature smaller than him popped out the corner. Big round eyes, full lips and a perfect posture. White delicate clothes that didn't matched this scary castle in any way.

Who looked more surprised in that moment? Him or you?

"Oh!" you exclaimed, still not believing he was real.

"Are you alright?" you must be one of the beast's captures. He can't come with a better explanation.

"Are you alright?" you said, scanning him up and down. The gun he had in front of you a few seconds ago was now next to his body, still in his hand. "Come in, you must be tired." you said all exited to have your first guest in years.

"Miss, I'm here to save you." be didn't believe his own words.

"From what?" you said all confused.

"From the beast." you blinked a few times at his words. You sighed, somehow looking more relaxed now.

"Come in, I'll explain everything. But first, are you hungry?" some time later, he woke up in a big dining room, the table being longer and wider than his whole house combined.

Everything was moving on its own, the furniture, the silverware, the plates with food on them.

"You said you were looking for a beast, right?" you asked after some time, not wanting to disturb the meal.

"Do you know where is it." everyone froze. The furniture that was talking a few moments ago now dead silent. Everybody stopped breathing, too afraid to do a single wrong move.

"What do you plan to do with it?" your sweet voice now cold while asking questions.

"What I was hired to do." he too can match your attitude. Hide that creature as much as you want, he'll find it eventually.

"I can throw you in the prison at any time I want. No one will find your body here." your words didn't match your image. That white night dress made you look too innocent, and your eyes made you look inoffensive if he didn't look good enough at you.

"Is that a threat?" he asked, somehow excited to drag his gun out and put a bullet right into your head.

His smile disgusted you. Annoyed, you got up from the table, making every single of your servant look at you.

"Master, please." a clock said, but you didn't looked twice back.

"Show this gentleman his way out tomorrow." you said before closing the door after you.

"I'm sorry about this, our master haves a bit of a temper." the clock apologized.

He saw worse than this.

"Let me show you our humble abode." a candle said.

He will get those money no matter who appears before him.

It was so easy to fool these idiots. He walked behind them and slipped the moment he got the chance. Now wandering somewhere far away from where he was taken to.

This part of the castle looked worse than outside. Walls having big cracks in them, paintings thrown apart, and this bad feeling that is following him ever since he got into that hallway. He must be close to the beast, he knows it, he can feel it.

Nothing looked too out of the ordinary, however, at the end of the hallway there was a big door, claws mark on it, and it gave this off feeling more than any other rooms in that hallway.

He got closer to it, slowly open it, and stepping inside.

The state of the room was questionable. It looked like a fight happened in there, and it ended with somebody getting killed.

"I told you, I want to be left alone." he could recognize that voice. It came from the bed, from under the covers.

He got closer, his gun out his pocket and pressed against your head when he got mext to your bed.

You got your head out of the blanket, looking up at him who looked all relaxed, like this was a normal activity for him.

"What do you want." you looked tired. Was he the reason? But what a honor.

"I'm here because of a bounty. I'm not leaving empty handed." so he wasn't as idiotic as he looked like. "I wander how a bullet will look in that pretty head of yours. Try to move and we'll find out." that's why you didn't like people. Every single person that came to visit the castle had some kind of unsolved issues that couldn't be fixed by you.

"So. What do you want me to do?" you looked bored. His games didn't amused you at all.

"Just answer a simple question. Are you the beast or nah?" perhaps he was dumb indeed.

"Why are you asking when you know the answer?" a big grin on his face as you confirmed your identity. His gun pressed against your forehead even harder, his face getting closer to yours as he lowers his upper body to take a closer look at you. "Just do it already, everybody will be free if I'm not here." your cooperation didn't made him feel guilty at all.

"Goodnight, sweet thing." you closed your eyes, expecting to not feel a thing besides the after life. But instead, his gun got further away from you, and back into his pocket.

You opened your eyes, looking surprised at his actions. "Why didn't you do it?" were you disappointed? Oh, well. What can he do about that?

"What if you haunt me in my dreams?" he walked to the door. "Don't get too comfortable, I'll come back here tomorrow." he said and left the room, closing the door behind him and leaving you all alone in there.

You should kick him out, but at the same time you're afraid he might kill one of your servants. He can do whatever he wants with you, but you draw a line when it comes to your animated companions who were cursed because of you.

God, take all your suffering and give it to that trespasser.

That night, you fell asleep with your heart in your throat. Stressed and full of anxiety. You would wake up at the smallest sound or if you felt anything moving.

It wasn't enough that he was the one making your dreams become nightmares, but he even had the audacity to show his face when you went to eat the next day. All a smile and acting like he didn't terrorized you ever since he stepped a foot into your home.

"When are you leaving?" you asked when he kept looking a bit too insistently at the knife he had in his hand. Could he eat like a normal person? Why did he had to act up even now?

"B- but master!" you couldn't give a fuck about that damn curse anymore. Better die alone than a freak like him interfere with your life.

"You want me gone already?" he asked in a teased tone.

"Yes. Very much so." you said with full confidence, but you wished you could take your words back when he took his gun out and placed it on the table like it was normal.

"Here." he threw the gun at you, making you catch it in your hands. "Shoot me and you won't have to deal with me anymore." the terrified look on your face couldn't be more funnier.

You got up, your chair moving backwards as you throw the gun on the table, rushing out of the room.

"Master!" some furniture ran after you while calling your name.

"Our master is really trying her best." if that's what you call best then he doesn't know what to say. You need to do better.

"One of us haves to go if she wants to live a peaceful life." he said, looking over at the stuff on the table, wandering what he can use to stab you with.

"Don't say that. I bet my master took you in consideration when you arrived here." the candle said without thinking, making Toji to raise an eyebrow.

"Take me in consideration? For what?" did you wanted to eat him? Oho, but he won't give up without a good fight.

"To break the curse-" the candle finally realized what he was saying and rushed out the room.

Break the curse? So there's more that he doesn't know about. Well, won't it be fun to break a few of your fingers and make you spill everything out?

He waited until the nightfall and sneaked back into your room. You looked so peacefully asleep. Won't it be sad to wake you up?

He sat at the edge of the bed, a hand placed on the bed to hold himself up, as he looked down at your sleeping face.

How did you got cursed? And how did you become a beast? If this was your beast form, then how did you looked like a human? Was this a form you took to deceive people?

"Mm." you wanted to turn around in bed, but then you felt something. Now you were fully awake.

"Morning, sleepyhead." your heart skipped a few beats when you saw him. His low voice ringing right into your ears as he smiled.

You drag your blanket over your head, trying your best to ignore him. This was all a bad dream. It had to be.

"Don't ignore me." he dragged the blanket off your face, being welcomed with your mad face.

"Honestly, can you leave me alone." you looked at the way his hand went to his pocket and you instantly opened your mouth. "I- I apologize. I'm still half asleep and I didn't realized what I'm saying." did he really came here to play his dirty tricks on you? "With what can I help you."

"A little birdy told me about your curse." that was all? You could only sigh.

"It's nothing, really. Some old lady turned out to be a witch and cursed me. She transformed me into a beast and my servants into talking furniture." it wasn't a secret anyway. He didn't had to act so shady.

"And how do you break the curse?" you looked away, avoiding his gaze and his questions. "Or do you want to make you talk?" he was impossible.

You got up from the bed. "Follow me." you said and walked to another room. An empty space with nothing but a big window and a small table in the middle of it.

"What's that?" he said when he noticed what was on the table.

"The curse will end when the last petal of this rose will fall." you said and got closer to the table.

"I heard something different." his skepticism didn't affect you in any way.

"There is a way to break the curse. But I prefer to look for the end of it."

"What's the difference?" they're both bad ends for you.

"In one I'm suffering alone for eternity and in the other I suffer with someone next to me."

"Elaborate." you tried to explain in the best way you can, for this dumb ass to understand.

"When the last petal falls all my servants will become lifeless, and I'll be all alone to suffer until I die." and you wanted to go this route? Aren't you quite a masochist?

"And how do you break the curse?"

"Learn how to love somebody. And that somebody haves to love me too." you prefer to be all alone, people disgust you.

"What will happen if you break the curse?" isn't he asking too many questions?

"My servants will become human again, the castle will probably come to its original form and I'll be more miserable than I'm now."

"Aren't you a selfish one? You're putting all your sick fantasies above the people next to you?" he laughed.

"Whatever. You can leave whenever you want. I'm not holding you back." he's the one to decide that.

"What if I help you?" he got closer to you, trapping you in between the table and his big body. "What if I break this curse?" his face got closer to yours. "What are you going to give me, hm? I want a reward." you looked like you were dead inside, not a single emotion written on your face as all the life in your eyes left. "I want to see you more miserable, hit rock bottom. I want to see you at your worst." his eyes were scanning everything on your face, if your eyes betrays you and give you away, if you will get flustered. He wants to notice that right away. He wants to see you crumble under him and give up.

"I think you're tired." you really don't want to satisfy him. "You know your way back." you're so cold, kicking him out without even saying good night.

But he doesn't give up. Because the next morning he followed you everywhere, every single step you took he was right behind you.

"Why do you keep following me? Don't you have better stuff to do?" you asked him, annoyed.

"Hm? Not really. I came here for the head of the beast but now I have nothing to take back with me." all the servants around you look terrified at those words. He really had the audacity and he made sure to make it everyone's problem.

"Then do it. Right here, right now. What's stopping you?" you said, raising your head so your neck could be exposed to him. "Do it." your eyes never show fear and it made him so excited to play with you, tease you and go as further as he could just to see how you'll react.

"M- master!" the clock said, not believe what he just heard.

"But he could-" the candle stopped speaking, not wanting to spill something he's not supposed to.

"I could help you break the curse, can't I?" he said full of himself. "Come on, let me help." you turned around and started sprinting put of there.

Crazy fucker. Can you believe you welcomed him in without thinking twice.

You stopped to catch your breath a few hallways away, but you regret doing that when you felt someone behind you. "Stop running, I'm getting tired." you're not even going to question how he got there that fast. He looked like he didn't even break a sweat.

"Listen." you said out of breath. "I don't want to be helped. I'm alright with the punishment I got." he shook his head in disappointment at yout words. "I did something bad, and now I'm getting what I deserve. I don't see the problem with accepting my fate." he got closer to you, trapping you once again. Your back against the wall as he stand in front of you, a hand on the wall and lowering his face dangerously close to you.

"You said you need to love somebody to break the curse, no?" yeah, and? You raised an eyebrow, not understanding what he was trying to say besides volunteering himself as tribute.

"And I said that I don't want to." you quickly replied back. Not wanting to hear any of his bullshit anymore.

"Do you need to love somebody emotionally or physically?" how are you supposed to know that? His question didn't made any sense.

"I don't know." you were thinking of the meaning of love now. "Emotionally, I think?"

"So you're not sure." you wanted to poke his eyes out. That grin on his face drove you insane every time you saw it. "I can show you how I love. No feelings involved." you shook your head.

"My servants will finally be free once the curse ends. They won't have to serve someone like me and I can be alone for the rest of my life." you already made your mind, what makes him think you'll change it.

"But does your servants think the same?" you didn't thought of that. "Wouldn't they want to be human again? To experience the life they once had?" you hate to admit it but he was right in a way or another. You didn't thought of the people next to you because it would hurt even more acknowledging that you did that to them.

"Then.." you bite your lip, not wanting to admit defeat, but you had no better idea. "What will you do?" you were thinking of holding hands or maybe a few hugs here and there. But instead, you were taken by surprise when his lips touched yours.

He was amused at your expression. It was like you didn't even see this coming.

"You suck at this." he said after he got away from you, for a moment. His lips were back on yours, now biting your lower lip to have access to more of you. His tongue in your mouth, trying to find yours, fighting it when they made contact.

His hands wrapped around you, a hand of his going to the back of your head and pushing you closer to him. Now you were really trapped in his arms.

You slowly tapped his chest, trying to get away when you were running out of oxygen in your lungs.

He let you breathe for just a moment before he kissed you again, this time more hungrily.

Your expressions were so cute, it was like nothing he saw from you before. You looked flustered, brows slightly arched and eyes closed. You didn't dared to move or say a thing. It was so funny.

But after a while, he let you go, leaving you feel dizzy and confused on what just happened.

"Did-" you said catching your breath. "Did you break the curse?" he doesn't know what to say, you look exactly the same to him.

"I don't think this will be enough to break the curse." he replied. You knew that much, but you hope that it would do something. "There are a lot more things that we can try. It's not over yet, don't worry." that's what you were afraid of. His words doesn't reassure you at all.

The problem might be the lack on physical touch. A few kisses won't be enough. They aren't enough for him, since he craves for way more than that. He doesn't care about your curse, all he cares about is you. Your body if he's being more honest.

He would have never thought that you'd be stupid enough to really believe him. Listening to his untrustworthy requests and acting just the way he liked.

Like now, for example. He managed to catch you in the library. The moment you saw him you ran behind some bookshelves, hiding from him. He couldn't help but laugh. You always manage to wake something inside him every single time he sees you.

"What are we hiding from?" he whispered in your ear when he sneaked behind you, making you jump and look at him terrified.

"I-" you bite your tongue trying to come with an excuse. "I was looking for a book." you're in a library after all, so it would make sense.

"You're sure? Because it doesn't look that way to me." his grin pissed you off so bad.

"I was looking for something to step on because the book I'm looking for is on a high shelf." that was the best excuse you could come up with.

He looked up at whatever books were next to his head. "This one?" he pointed to the first book he saw.

"A little more up to the left." you had no idea what you were even saying.

"This one?"

"A little more up."

"This one?"

"The one right next to it." you had no idea what that book was even about.

"Hmm." he looked at the book's title. "You're sure it wasn't the other one?"

"I'm pretty sure it's that one."

"Alright then." he handed you the book and you dropped it right on the floor after reading the title.

101 ways to make love to your partner.

"It was the other one." your heart was beating so fast that it might as well jump out your chest.

"Here." this book was even worse.

How to set up the mood.

Just kill me already, you yelled in your mind.

"It's the wrong bookshelf!" you were about to turn around and run from there but he grabbed your arm and dragged you to him.

"I'm sure it is." his expression showed absolutely no mercy, he was laughing at you.

"I don't even know why we have these books here anyway." it was all a misunderstanding. He had to understand this, but he looked like he was intentionally taking it the wrong way.

"Let's read those books together." he said with a smile on his face.

You don't even know how it happened, but you woke up sitting on the floor in between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as you had one of those cursed books in your hands.

"Stop turning the page so fast. Are you even reading?" his chin was resting on your head, reading from the open book.

You weren't even paying attention to the words on the paper. All you could think of is how to run faster from there.

"Turn to the next page." he ordered and you did as he said.

A big drawing of two people in a very promiscuous position appeared when you turned the page. You dropped that book from your hands, too stunned to speak or process what's going on.

"Ahaha." his colorful laugh was like an echo, coming back to life in your head again and again even after his lips were shut. "Is that too much for you?" you didn't wanted to respond to his question.

"I'm leaving!" you really wanted to run from there, but his hands were wrapped around you the next moment you said that.

"How are you gonna learn something if you're not studying." he whispered in your ear. "Open that book again, I'll teach you how it's actually done." he was so annoying, but you did as he said. You opened that book again and looked for the page you were at last time. "They're wrong about this." he pointed at a sentence. "How old is this book?" if the slightly yellow pages weren't showing that it was old, he could have pointed some very incorrect words that gave it away.

"From what I know, they been collecting books since the first generation that lived in this castle." no wander this book was so dry.

"Open your legs." his hands started to travel around your body, one went under your chest while the other traveled to the waist band of your pants.

Confused, you raised your head to look at him. "For what?"

"Do as I say." his voice was so cold, it was nothing like a few moments ago when he was laughing.

You lower your gaze to his hand and the way he was getting under your pants. You finally understood what he was going to do and you couldn't help but shift in his lap. He slapped your clothed pussy slightly and then dragged his hand out. "Rise your hips." he commanded. "Relax, I'm only showing you the basics." you gulped and raised your hips, the next thing you know your pants are down your thighs, along with your panties. His hand traveled to his mouth, taking some spit in it and then going back to your pussy.

His fingers parted your folds apart, smearing his spit on your clit before he started to slowly move two of his fingers on it, doing small circles.

You sighed softly, your back slightly arching at the feeling.

Your eyes were closed, a hand wrapped around his arm and your head against his shoulder. If he's going to do something, you might as well enjoy it.

"Look how wet you are, and I didn't even do shit." he chuckled against your ear. His fingers doing long strokes between your folds, going down to your hot entrance. It was like it was calling his name, a sweet voice calling for him over and over again, longing for more of his touch.

A hand went under your shirt grabbing one of your boobs and started to play with it just the way he wanted. Intentionally moving his fingers against your hard nipple to see you squirm. A small moan leaving your mouth, making him to get his face closer to yours.

"Keep it quiet." one of your hands went to your mouth, now being to self conscious because of him.

He placed a kiss on your hair before his eyes traveled back to your pussy. One of his fingers got inside your warm core, moving it in and out slowly. Something dark in his eyes as he looked at the way you were sucking him in.

He bite his lip, trying to hold back whatever praise he was about to accidentally spill, or the sinful moan that was at the back of his throat. Your pussy looked so good, it was making him salivate.

Was this an effect of your curse? Was this a thing you did to mess with people's minds? Well, guess what, he won't give up just yet.

Now, another finger being added inside your delicious pussy, curling them up while his palm was against your clit, making you gasp and throw your head back.

He was going to kiss you, he was about to smash his lips against yours and leave you out of breath. He wanted his lips all over your body. He might as well devour you. But he didn't do anything out of spite. If you're going to run from him then he might as well punish you for your bad behavior.

"Come on, cover your mouth better. What if somebody hears you." he said when he noticed the little hiccups that leaves your mouth. He knows the wet sounds produced by his hand against your pussy are louder than you, but he couldn't help but tease you. You always took him so seriously. Look at the way you try to keep quiet. Eyes shut and a hand placed over your mouth like your life depended on it. "Look at me. Keep your eyes on me." he said, making you open your eyes slightly and look at him with big doe eyes.

He wanted to eat you up, pussy and all. Everything that was yours, he wants it.

You looked right into his eyes so lovingly, he couldn't help but gulp.

Fuck it, what does he haves to lose. He haves no dignity anyway.

So, he moved your hand away and pressed his mouth against yours, eating your lips the way he wished to eat your pussy.

His hand movement was so mean, calloused fingers moving in and out so fast, going deeper and deeper, curling them and rubbing his palm against your clit. His other hand back in your shirt and playing with your breasts.

One of your hands went to his arm, slapping it slightly to catch his attention, but that only made his hand move harder inside you. Curling his fingers again and again to see you break.

Tears seemed to form and ready to fall down your cheeks, but that only made him laugh. You're so easy to please, it was pathetic.

He let you do your thing, crying only made him want to push you over your limits.

He got his hand out your shirt, placing it under your jaw, keeping your chin up for a moment before his fingers were wrapped around your neck, chocking it slightly.

You were so close, he could feel your walls tightening, and your expression didn't helped with the fact that he wanted to shove his dick down your throat.

He wasn't feeling like letting you cum today. Especially not after playing with his feelings like that.

He got his fingers out your sweet pussy, letting you come back to your senses. But he never stopped kissing you, his lips never leaving yours, making a mess out of yourself, still so wet for him.

"See, it's nothing like in that dumb book." he said after he let you go, even if he didn't want to. You turned around, looking at him with big eyes, expecting him to show you more. "Don't look at me like that." he laughed. "I'm just showing you what you need to know." you bite your lip, your eyes traveling to his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as you keep thinking of his magical fingers and the wanders they're doing.

"I want more." he was taken aback by your words. You got closer to him, sitting on your knees as you tried to sit in his lap.

"Maybe another time." you couldn't understand him. Usually he wouldn't leave you alone and now he was trying to get away.

"Touch me, please." he tried to not look surprised, but man, his cock was jumping in his pants to get free and give you what you wanted.

"Aren't you a needy one?" his mocking usual self came back in an instant. His hands traveled to your hips, dragging you closer to him. "Let's take those pants off and then we're talking." he helped you take off your pants, now dragging you on his lap, your pussy right against his cock that was still in his pants. You looked down, your hands went to undo his belt, but he stopped you, placing your hands on his shoulders. "I love your enthusiasm, but not now." his hands traveled to your ass, grabbing it, dragging it forward for a moment to give you some friction.

Your mouth was slightly open as you sighed. This was feeling too good, why was he trying to stop you from feeling like this.

His hands remain on your ass, rocking you back and forth to give both of you some kind of relief. His head went back, resting it against the wall as he kept moving you.

"If you want it you gotta do it yourself." he doesn't have to say it twice. With a hand on his shoulder and one on his thigh, you started to move your hips on your own, grinding a little harder whenever you could feel his cock throbbing.

You keep moving, and moving , and man, did it felt good. It was a different type of feeling than before. It was better. But you wished you could feel more, to feel stuffed just the way it was when his fingers were inside you.

You bite your lip and looked at him. He had his eyes closed, and mouth slightly open, his back resting against the wall. He looked like he was enjoying this in his own way. "I want to feel more of you." your words made him open his eyes. "I want to feel you inside me." his dick was wide awake, it was so hard that it was going to jump out his pants.

He laughed. He liked your energy, your words were so tempting, however. "For now this is more than enough for you." if he was going to fuck you, at least let him do it properly the first time.

He wasn't usually a gentleman, the fact that he got himself in this situation prove his point. But it was something about you that made him want to tease you. Make you longer for him, crave for his body. He wanted to see you beg him.

You're already doing it, so eagerly to get a taste of his cock, but he didn't wanted to do it just yet.

"Keep moving your hips and I'll think about it." lies, he won't get his cock inside you any time soon. But you looked so excited to grind on him, doing your best to move your hips, your juices all over his pants.

Fuck, you were doing so good. Continue just like that and he might cum a lot sooner than he wants to.

His hands went back on your thighs, then up your body, traveling under your shirt and then back down to your hips, gripping then tightly and helping you move better on him.

"Fuck.." you said out of breath, your eyes closing for a moment.

You didn't want to admit it, but you wanted to kiss him so bad in that moment. You wanted to trail your hands all over him. To feel his skin against yours, the warmth of his body.

You could feel that thing deep inside you stomach again, it was forming, and forming. It was so close, you couldn't help but feel desperate for that release. You couldn't tell him, he'll stop the moment he knew what you were going through.

But he already noticed. Your expression, the way your trembling, how your hips moved in a broken motion, not sure what you wanted to do yourself.

He was also close, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't.

But all he did was to grab your hips and raise them off him, moving you in front of him before he got up, not even looking at you before he left you all alone in that library.

He did it again, can you believe him.

He'd rather overestimulate both of you, leaving you hanging than give you what you want.

Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.

What an asshole. What even is his problem. Now you're not in the mood anymore.

You got yourself dressed and stormed out that library and straight to your room, not getting out of it for the rest of the day.

You didn't expect to see him again any time soon. And you didn't saw or heard him for the rest of the day. You even managed to go to sleep in peace.

It was around midnight when he got in your room.

You can't say that he woke you up when you weren't sleeping to begin with. The scenes from today replaying in your head as you cursed yourself for wanting someone like him.

"You're awake?" he said when he saw you turning around to face him, eyea wide open.

"What do you want." he got closer to your bed, sitting at the edge of it and looking at you.

"You live all alone in this part of the castle, don't you?" you nodded. He already knew that, so why was he even asking. "It's also the middle of the night." it was. "No one will disturb your beauty sleep." obviously.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Off with your clothes." he never fails to surprise you in the worst ways possible.

"I want to sleep." you wanted him far away from here.

"I can give your pussy the attention it needs and deserves." he said, dragging the blanket off you. "I'll give you all of me. For tonight at least." seriously, what do you even see in him.

You still ended up naked, sitting on your back at the edge of the bed as he slipped his cock inside your mouth, moving it back and forth.

You couldn't say a thing, your voice being muffled by his hard dick, moving deeper and deeper, trying to see where was your limit point.

"Do good and I'll give you a reward." he looked down at the way your breasts were moving when he moved. His eyes traveling down your body, to your pussy and the way your thighs were pressed together. You were needy, weren't you? You had to milk him dry before he gave you what you deserved. "Is my cock too big for you? Too bad you'll have to learn how to live with it." he was enjoying this.

He was going to lose his mind, the way your mouth was so wet and warm. He wanted to fuck your throat so bad, but this was for another time. He doubt you can take it.

He groan, his head falling backwards as he kept his movement at a steady pace. You'll be able to take more in the future if he trains you right.

With a few more thrusts he got his cock out your mouth, coming all over your chest and belly. You can't take his load yet. He can't push you over your limits yet when he doesn't know your limits to begin with.

"There are some tissue on that table." you said and point at a table somewhere on the other side of the room.

He handed them to you, helping you clean yourself before he pushed you in bed, jumping in between your legs and placing them on his shoulders. He waisted no time and started to eat you up. His tongue going all over the place, lick your clit, get inside your wet pussy, then lick your clit again. And when two of his fingers got inside of you it didn't helped at all. Sucking your clit while his fingers kept moving in and out of you, he never left you alone.

One of your hands went to his hair, griping it slightly and going with your nails through it, scratching it. That made his grip on you even tighter, it might even leave a bruise.

You could feel that feeling from today coming back again. And you're so afraid he'll leave you again. He didn't, this time at least. He kept his hands going, curling his fingers and never forgetting to give your clit the attention it needed. He kept going even after you creamed all over his fingers, cleaning your juices, but more seemed to come every time he got rid of them.

Out of nowhere, he flipped you around, ass in the air and all ready to take him.

A loud slap placed on your ass before you could feel the tip of his cock right at your entrance.

You saw him, you got to touch it and have his cock in your mouth. But you still couldn't help but feel scared.

No words of encouragement were said as he slowly got inside, stretching you out and making you tremble when you felt him touching some places that got you weak in the knees.

"Don't run now." he said, dragging your hips back to him. "I know you can take more." seriously, what did you even saw in him. He wasn't nice, he was mean, rude and pretty much a brute. But damn, his dick felt good.

He got out your wet pussy, just a little, getting back inside, touching that deep spot and make you almost lose balance and fall into the bed.

He kept moving his hips slowly building the pace, speeding up little by little, making you adjust to him before he shows you what he's actually capable of.

And when you seemed to get comfortable with him, that's when he started to move his hips faster, making the bed move at the same time with you. Another loud slap placed on your ass, moving his hips harder, hitting and touching most of the places that got you melting.

"Let me hear that voice. Tell me how much you like it." he said when he saw that you were covering your mouth with one hand, reminding him of today's events.

He grabbed the hand you were covering your mouth with and placed it on your back, holding it in place as he moved his pelvis harder into you.

Sounds of skin against skin, wet and hot coming from the two of you. Your soft sounds slowly escaping your mouth as he kept moving, not a single moment speared.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." he said, his pace becoming quicker than before.

Your walls were so welcoming, hugging him so tightly. And when you got closer to your release, the way you were squeezing him got him desperate to release his load inside you.

He kept moving, your hands mobilized behind you. And fuck, he couldn't keep it like this for much longer, not when you kept sucking him inside.

With a few more thrusts, he came inside of you. Painting your walls white, still continuing moving to make sure nothing gets out.

After some time, he got out of you, his load slowly dripping down your thighs. "Have the curse broke yet?" you asked, curious if you managed to make a change.

"Not yet." he said, flipping you on your back. "Guess we have to try harder." he said, already getting positioned back between your legs, ready to stuff you with his cock until you get bored of this.

Author's note: this was supposed to be a much smaller fic. If it happened it happened 🤷🏻‍♀️

#jjk fanfic #jjk smut #toji x reader smut #toji smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you

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heavenlytouches · 3 months ago

Note

You did so amazing on the last one! I absolutely loved it!

Could I request Benjamin or Alec saving his human mate from a fire? Perhaps it's the first time he meets her, something led him there and just in the nick of time too! Even though she's coated in soot and her hair is singed he still thinks she's beautiful. She thinks he's an angel-I mean who else would run into a fire without protection?

Hello love!! Thank you so so much for another great request! It's been a pleasure talking to you <3 so let's jump in the fire, shall we? El <3

Benjamin- fire and smoke

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

FEM reader

<3 (SFW)

TW- mentions of fire, reader inhales a lot of smoke

Benjamin saves you from burning building ^^

Happy end!!!

Benjamin

The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke, wrapping around you like a shroud as you navigated the chaos of the burning building.

Fire licked at the walls, a voracious beast that danced and roared, consuming everything in its path. You had seen people rush past you, panicked and crying, urging one another to escape. But you stayed, spurred by a growing sense of responsibility, cradled firmly by the need to help as many as you could.

One last push. You tried to guide an elderly woman out of a cramped hallway when a loud crack echoed above.

You turned, glancing back just in time to see a chunk of the ceiling crash down where you had just stood. Panic seized you, but you shook your head to clear it. You were strong, and you couldn’t abandon those in need.

As you turned back to the woman, shouting for her to follow, you took a deep breath, only to feel the smoky air choke your lungs. Coughing violently, you urged her to move faster.

With a shaky hand, you reached for the door—only to find it engulfed in flames, a barrier that was rapidly becoming too much to bear.

Meanwhile, far from the chaos of urban life, a vampire named Benjamin felt an inexplicable pull. It was as if a whisper in the wind called to him, pulling his attention toward the city, toward the flames that illuminated the darkening sky.

He stood still for a moment, listening, feeling the essence of the fire through the air as if it were a living entity. His heart raced—not from fear, but from a deep-seated instinct to protect.

As he raced through the streets, the scent of smoke filled his nostrils, intermingling with something sweeter, more urgent.

Someone was trapped. Without a second thought, he surged forward, directing his energy to manipulate the elements surrounding him. He could feel the heat urging him closer, and the flames seeming to part just for him.

His heart raced as he dashed through the door of the building. Inside, the horror was palpable: walls smoldered, shadows danced, and smoke billowed like dark waves.

He instinctively sought the source of the intoxicating scent that stirred a fierce determination within him. Following his instincts, he moved silently through the haze, his vampire speed allowing him to dodge falling debris with ease.

Amidst the chaos, he found you. There you were, a figure silhouetted against the furious flames, framed in an ethereal glow by the inferno, ash covering your skin like a delicate veil.

He hesitated just for a moment, caught in the sight of you—afraid, brave, standing against the encroaching darkness. That same protective urge surged. He had to get you out.

"Stay back!"

You hollered, your voice horse and trembling with urgency.

“Not a chance.”

He replied, his voice smooth and assuring, cutting through your haze of smoke and fear. With a mere flick of his wrist, he summoned a gust of wind that carried the flames away momentarily, creating a gap in the furious wall of fire.

You stared at him, dazed. Was he… an angel? You had inhaled too much smoke to be certain, your mind clouded by disbelief and pain. Everything around you seemed unreal—his presence both calming and fierce.

“Come with me.”

He urged, his eyes glimmering with determination. You stumbled back into the reality of the situation, shaking off the cobwebs in your mind.

“Others…”

You gasped, voice thick with regret.

“I’ll help them.”

He promised, moving swiftly to the nearest door, assessing it for any signs of danger.

“Now, we go. Trust me.”

With a nod, you followed, still wary, yet desperate to escape the burning hell encroaching upon you. He brushed against your arm—an electric connection sparking, igniting a warmth in your chest that battled the chill of fear.

As Benjamin guided you through the battered halls, flames withdrew before him like melted wax, the heat dancing but not burning you.

He was graceful, powerful, and every step seemed choreographed against the chaos. Fear trickled back, but you fought it down, keeping your eyes fixed on him.

“Hold on,”

He instructed, and for some reason, when you felt his hands encircle your waist, a sense of safety enveloped you.

He lifted you effortlessly, his strength astoundingly overwhelming, and together you pushed through the door, emerging into the cool night air only to find a crowd gathered in horror at the flames consuming the building.

Your heart swelled with concern for others yet unaccounted for as Benjamin set you down gently.

But as you caught your breath, scanning the chaos, your gaze fell back on him. His presence felt grounding, and your heart quickened, cherry blossoms blooming in an unfamiliar garden.

“You’re safe now.”

He murmured, brushing soot from your cheek with fingers that felt like a soft whisper against your skin.

“Thank you.."

You rasped, gratitude flooding your words despite the chill of fear still embedded within you.

He offered a rare smile, his lips curving slightly.

“Let me check on the others.”

You were hesitant to release his gaze as he moved back toward the inferno, calling to others trapped within.

Even as you watched him disappear into the flames, you felt a flicker of something—deep appreciation, woven together with the threads of admiration and something more intoxicating.

Finally, a firefighter ran to your side, wrapping a blanket around your shivering shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

He asked, checking you for burns. Your eyes drifted back to where Benjamin had last been seen, and you felt that strange connection pulsing still within you.

As Benjamin emerged moments later, a group of frightened souls behind him, you realized you had felt truly alive in those moments of bravery and connection, standing alongside someone who could chase away darkness.

“Stay safe.”

He warned, one last glance exchanged, and you felt as though you had looked upon a star in the night, briefly illuminating your heart.

As the fire trucks roared into the night, you remained where you were, surrounded by chaos but drawn to the warmth of a moment that felt destined.

You knew this was not the end. Rather, it was the beginning of a new flame—one that sparked with the promise of adventure, bravery, and unexpected love.

In the depths of the burning building, you had found something more than fortitude; you had found an unbreakable bond in the face of fire.

This one was a bit longer! Also, sorry once again for waiting so long TwT

Don’t forget, requests are always open and I can write for any character you’d like!

I love you guys so much <33

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

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yuurei20 · 1 month ago

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Short Translation from Twst the 2nd novel: To the Festival (pt1/2) (Connects directly to here)

"They descend the long staircase, turn onto Main Street, and suddenly everything is different from what they are used to seeing. Purple and green garlands sway gracefully overhead as if alive.

The statues of the Great Seven along the street seem to have been polished more carefully than usual, gleaming in reflected sunlight.

As Yuuya walks before the Great Seven statues admiring the beautiful decorations, the lion statue appears last, on his left. Yuuya comes to a stop, his eyes passing over the words carved into its pedestal:

The King of Beasts who ruled the vast plains Never abandoned those who were exiled from their own lands, and strived for an equal world An indomitable king who overcame his origins and claimed his throne through sheer effort

The King of Beasts stands tall and majestic. Despite his unfortunate origins he achieved success through his cleverness, becoming a king beloved even by hyenas who were both feared and shunned in his time.

Everyone here respects the Great Seven, who have each left such a mark upon history. Who knows the looks they would give Yuuya if he were to mention the disrespectful dream he had this morning.

Grim tugs at Yuuya's jacket. ‘Hey Yuu, what are you spacing out for? We gotta get to Side Street right now!’

‘Ah, sorry, sorry. I’m coming.’

Grim is in a hurry because of the market stalls that now line Side Street. They are not run by students, but are instead large-scale operations overseen by both the school and outside vendors.

Yuuya wonders if Grim will find any of them to his liking.

‘Do the stalls sell food, too?’

‘Of course! You can't watch spelldrive without food!’ Ace laughs cheerfully.

‘There are a lot of shops selling souvenirs from Sage’s Isle and memorabilia for the school, but I heard there are just as many food vendors, too. My brother sent me photos way back when, and that was my first time thinking, ‘Night Raven College is really something else!''

‘As president of the Gastronomy Society, I can't miss this! Let's go, Yuu.’

Yuuya follows after Grim, and their surroundings grow steadily livelier with the sounds of students' cheering and the voices of adults setting up shop. Side Street is now almost unrecognizable."

#twstnovel2 #twisted wonderland #twst translations

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i2rizz · 2 months ago

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Fast and Furious! Pt.2

Fandom: Blue lock

Characters: street racer!Kaiser x reader

I noticed yall liked the street racer au soo i made more content for it:>

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The streets were alive with the electric hum of engines, headlights piercing through the thick night air. Neon lights glowed faintly in the distance, reflecting off rows of sleek, modified cars lined up like gladiators waiting for battle. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, punctuated by the occasional roar of a revving engine.

You leaned against a cobalt-blue Porsche, its glossy paint reflecting the crowd’s energy. The car’s owner, Michael Kaiser, was perched in the driver’s seat, adjusting his gloves with a level of nonchalance that only he could pull off.

“You ready for this?” you asked, stepping closer.

He glanced up, a smug grin playing on his lips. “When am I not?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. That confidence—borderline arrogance—was part of what made Kaiser so irresistible.

“Just don’t get too cocky,” you teased, leaning through the open window to ruffle his perfectly styled blonde hair.

“Please,” he scoffed, gently swatting your hand away. “This guy doesn’t stand a chance. But I’ll make it interesting for the crowd.”

The “guy” in question was a cocky up-and-comer with a custom black Dodge Charger who had challenged Kaiser earlier that week. The prize? Bragging rights and a hefty wad of cash.

“Five minutes!” someone called, the crowd beginning to gather at the starting line.

Kaiser opened the door and stepped out, his tall frame commanding attention. He sauntered over to you, casually draping an arm around your shoulders. “Stay close,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the show~”

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Engines roared as the racers lined up, their cars growling like beasts ready to pounce. You stood at the sidelines, your heart pounding in sync with the vibrations beneath your feet.

Kaiser’s Porsche was a thing of beauty, its custom mods practically glowing under the streetlights. He threw you a wink from the driver’s seat, his confidence palpable even from a distance.

The starter—a woman in a leather jacket with a checkered flag—raised her hand, the signal for silence. The world seemed to hold its breath as the racers revved their engines one last time.

“Three… two… one… GO!”

The flag dropped, and the cars shot forward, tires screeching against the pavement. The crowd erupted in cheers as the racers tore down the street, their taillights streaking like comets.

Kaiser was a maestro behind the wheel, his movements fluid and calculated. He drifted around corners with surgical precision, leaving his opponent scrambling to keep up.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he muttered to himself, glancing in the rearview mirror.

The Charger was gaining on him, its roaring engine a testament to raw power. But Kaiser wasn’t fazed. With a flick of his wrist, he shifted gears, the Porsche surging forward with a burst of speed.

The course wound through the city, weaving between towering skyscrapers and narrow alleyways. You watched anxiously from the sidelines, your hands clenched into fists as Kaiser executed each maneuver with maddening ease.

“He’s gonna win,” someone said behind you, their voice tinged with awe.

“Of course he is,” you muttered, a proud smile tugging at your lips.

Just as the finish line came into view, a distant wail cut through the night—a sound that made your stomach drop.

Police sirens.

The crowd scattered like leaves in the wind, the once-buzzing street now a flurry of panic and motion.

“Cops!” someone shouted, confirming your worst fear.

Kaiser was already in action, his Porsche swerving sharply as he abandoned the race and headed for an alternate route. You barely had time to react before he pulled up beside you, the passenger door swinging open.

“Get in!” he barked.

Without hesitation, you dove into the car, the door slamming shut behind you. The Porsche roared to life once more, tearing down the street as red and blue lights lit up the night.

Kaiser’s hands gripped the wheel tightly, his usual smugness replaced by a laser-sharp focus. You held onto the seat, your heart pounding as the Porsche sped through the city at breakneck speed.

“Are you seriously smiling right now?” you shouted, glancing at him in disbelief.

“Admit it, this is thrilling!” he replied, his grin unmistakable despite the chaos.

“You’re insane!”

“Only a little,” he quipped, cutting through an alleyway so narrow you swore the mirrors would scrape the walls.

The police weren’t far behind, their sirens growing louder with each passing second. But Kaiser was relentless, weaving through traffic and taking turns so sharp they left your stomach in knots.

Finally, he pulled into an underground parking garage, the sudden silence almost deafening. He killed the engine and motioned for you to follow him out of the car.

“Quick,” he whispered, leading you through a side door that opened into yet another alley.

The two of you emerged into the cool night air, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you listened for any sign of pursuit. When none came, you turned to him, your anger finally bubbling to the surface.

“What the hell were you thinking?” you hissed, shoving him lightly.

He caught your wrists, his grip firm but gentle. “Relax, liebe.(love) We’re fine.”

“Fine? We were almost arrested!”

“But we weren’t,” he said, his smirk returning. “Because I’m just that good.”

You wanted to stay mad, but the sheer audacity of his words—and the way he was looking at you, like you were the only person in the world—made it impossible.

“Next time,” you said, trying to sound stern, “give me a heads-up before dragging me into a police chase.”

“Noted,” he replied, pulling you closer. “But admit it, you had fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small laugh escaped you. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, his voice softer now.

You didn’t reply, instead letting him wrap his arms around you as the adrenaline began to fade. The night had been chaotic, dangerous, and utterly unforgettable—just like Kaiser himself.

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I love him (i say this to every fictional man i see)

#blue lock x y/n #blue lock #bllk x y/n #bllk #bllk kaiser #blue lock kaiser #bllk michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #I LOVE MICHAEL KAISER #anime and manga #anime #manga #x reader #x y/n

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muffinsin · 20 days ago

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Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 3: Unravel Me

[TWs for this chapter: Kidnapping, light drugging]

Masterlists Smoke and Mirrors

Overview Smoke and Mirrors

Blog Masterlists

40 likes for the next chapter again

Daniela walks slowly, her legs carrying her forth towards the front of the strange manor. The sound of the wind passing through little creeks in the stony mountains near have her flinch, the sound of the waterfall nearby so loud she barely hears anything else. She steps towards the door, then, when her hand pushes flatly against it, the wooden thing opens easily. Unlocked.

Cautiously, she looks inside. She can’t help her curiosity, though. All her life, living only at the castle, having only been in the village a few times to taunt some of the villagers here and there or to collect a maid. This is new. Mother wouldn’t approve, she knows. Cassandra would drag her back, she knows. Bela would make her return, she knows. She’s no fool, after all. But, this is so curious, so tempting.

She sees the inside, the dark wooden floors, the rocking chair and table, on top a bowl with wool, the thread leading deeper into the house. Daniela eyes it curiously, tracking it so far as she can before it leads past a corner she cannot see. She squirms a little. The manor is so invitingly warm, seems so familiar. So right, even.

It’s long since she’s heard the worried cries of her sister pleading with her to show herself. She feels lost, yet has never felt this welcome.

Some force pushes her into the warm house, and suddenly the sounds from the outside are completely sealed away as the door shuts behind her. Suddenly, her back burns, and Daniela doubles over at the pain. She cries out, whimpering into the nothingness when she feels the faint touches again, cupping her wet cheeks this time. But she sees no one, nothing- nothing but dolls and furniture and decorative plates on the walls. All is so different from how it looks at the castle.

Beneath her dress, the branding symbol of the Beneviento house sears as it comes back to surface. At least, it doesn’t hurt as bad as the first time, she feels, yet the sensation is enough for thick tears to roll down her cheeks and for her lips to dry, parted as she screams.

Then, just when she thinks it won’t stop anymore, the pain comes to an abrupt halt.

She straightens again, getting back to her feet. The manor looks abandoned, but something feels off. The lure is still there, the urge to follow it even more so. The Dimitrescu doesn’t yet know she is right in the beast’s belly, about to be swallowed whole.

Golden eyes trace over the dolls, each dressed in dark and light dresses alike, their porcelain skin beautiful. Then, she finds the string of green wool again.

She can’t help but reach for it, holding it gently between her fingers as she follows it deeper into the house. She finds a kitchen, large and spacious, but far less regal looking than any room back at the castle. No, this manor has no bright, golden and red colours. All here is dark and faded, but homely, humble even, in some way. It feels inviting, somehow. She feels a little less lonely in this seemingly empty house than she does at the large castle, she realises. She wonders; perhaps she can show this to Bela and Cassandra when she’s back.

Abandoning the string for a moment, Daniela inspects the kitchen. Despite the manor’s abandoned style, all is in place and tidy, save for the string. She opens a few cabinets, finding ingredients and tools she has seen at the castle, too. Cooking tools, she guesses. She finds bread and berries, herbs and silverware. As she caresses the counters with her fingertips, she finds not even the faintest trace of crumbs on it. On the counter are vases, sporting yellow, red and even white flowers. She allows her fingertip to trace a petal gently, before her attention drifts to the part of the room besides the kitchen.

A table, small, and a sofa and chairs. A bookshelf. Immediately, she rushes towards it, a large smile on her dark painted lips. Then, she flinches back when she finds a doll sitting on one of the chairs. It’s dressed in a simple black dress, voluminous and rich looking. Her hair is cut short, to her shoulders, but looks adorable paired with the little black hat sat on it. Daniela can’t help but smile. She reminds her of the dolls Alcina had gotten her and her sisters as reborn fly spawns, back when her sisters had the time to play dress up and play with dolls with her, back when they had time to indulge her and participate in her parties. Now, she can only do so by forcing some maidens to join in, though knows they never quite want to. And even as she tries it occasionally, a tea party with only her and some mangled corpses as attendants just isn’t any fun.

“Aren’t you a cutie!”, she praises, and while the doll doesn’t move or answer, unsurprisingly to her, she finds she feels a strange sensation of pride and satisfaction spread within her body, emerging right from the mark on her back. She giggles at the light feeling, thinking nothing of it, and turns back to the shelf.

There, she pulls some books aside, though frowns when she finds no romances or fairytales among them. Still, at the back of her mind she notes that Bela would likely enjoy the many studies and biographies the bookshelf holds. Maybe she’ll show her those, if she ever stops working and has the time to see this place for herself, she can’t help but think bitterly.

Finding nothing of interest, she returns to the string and follows it deeper into the place.

Rounding a corner, she finds another hallway, less rich than any in the castle, even feeling somewhat claustrophobic. She pauses for a moment, watching the string as it leads down the hallway and right to a corner, again.

“Good”

She jumps at the voice, low and ghost-like, coming from the walls. Or her head? Daniela shivers a little at the mere thought of such a thing.

“Closer”, it beckons. She can’t help but obey.

She follows the string again, finding two doors at the hallway. She reaches for the handle of one, but shrieks when the string in her hand burns hotly, matching her sore back. Immediately she returns to the middle of the hallway, looking around somewhat like one might describe a lost puppy. The poor thing is panting, feeling the string and her back calm again. Clearly, there is no time to explore the place to her liking.

Her feet move beyond her control, carrying her deeper into the quiet house. She finds more dolls sat along the counters and the floor, all seemingly watching her. She shivers, walking on her own again, her curiosity growing.

Rubbing the string between her fingertips, she wonders whether this is it. Could it be? Could her lost lover be trying to contact her? Will this mark the end of her loneliness? She shivers, the air heavy, but still she feels anticipation.

As she walks down the hallways of the manor, deeper and deeper, memories return to her.

Memories of sitting by the flowers, crying, a kind woman comforting her. Dressed in black, intriguing. She knew her, she knows. But, who? She follows the string to an elevator and giggles. How modern! Oblivious to the danger she is in, Daniela steps inside and allows its metallic doors to close behind her. She shivers again at the ghostly touches caressing her back and shoulders. Already, she feels less lost, less alone. This must be it!

Without pushing a button, the elevator moves downwards.

Another memory hits her, of herself this time. She feels what she felt, the love and anticipation and submission as she kneels on the ground for the woman before her. She feels the woman’s fingers on her, caressing her cheeks, then trapping her chin. She looks up obediently despite the elevator being empty aside from her and a few dolls she hadn’t noticed before. She thinks nothing of it, she likes the small puppets.

Daniela gasps as another phantom touch has her feel a hand sliding past her back and her hip. The memory is gone, but she feels it, she feels how very close she is.

Just a little more, then she knows.

She must know.

Just a little more.

When the doors open, she gasps as something hits her, something familiar. She feels as if in a trance yet again, pheromones around her leading and luring her in, her vision slightly blurred, her body heavy, her flies entirely unresponsive. She doesn’t jump when the dolls by her side jump to life, doesn’t flinch away when their little hands grab at hers and lead her out the elevator.

She follows obediently, her head a fuzzy, blurry mess.

“Come”

“Closer”

“Very good”

The voice, so low, so beautiful. She knows it, she’s so sure she’s heard it before, but where? She closes her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips as she is led along.

Daniela no longer cares for exploring, for her environment, for returning to Bela, for retreating to the castle again. She needs to follow the voice, needs to find its origin, her lover so close, she’s so sure. Her soulmate, her everything. It all feels almost within her grasp, now. They’d understand if she stayed away just a little more, she’s sure.

The memory of the previous night continues on, Daniela sees the dark, shadowy figure of a woman. She hears her low voice, the same she hears now. She feels lightheaded, smiles wide when she feels the memory of being undressed. She doesn’t notice the ghostly phantom hands return to her, copying the movements she’s remembering until the torn cape clasped off and her dress comes off. She’s so happy, so calm, so utterly lost to her love and the memory.

She feels the love she felt, feels the warm embrace. Her back burns and it feels so nice and warm, so comforting. She’s so lost in everything, Daniela doesn’t even notice it when the collar always hugging her throat is removed, the green gemstone breaking as it falls to the floor abruptly. She can’t bring herself to notice, can’t bring herself to care, to resist. She will be taken care of, she will be loved. The poor, delusional thing is dreamily thinking of introducing her lover to her family.

She feels the sensation of the memory, her hands grabbed and moved behind her back, setting her up in a perfectly submissive position. Her legs still move, carry her deeper. She’s so close, she knows it. She leans into her memories, pleading with the mysterious woman to grant her more, to let her remember the last night to its fullest.

Daniela’s body flushes as she remembers being pushed against her lover’s cunt, her nose grazing her clit. She remembers the fingers dipping into her in turn and instinctively pushes her thighs together even as she walks. She feels it, almost, the blissful feeling and taste of it all.

“Good girl”

“Come closer, my darling”, Donna coos, sensing how the petnames feed into poor Daniela’s delusion. She’s so close, nearly has her doll precisely where she needs her.

Daniela gasps as she walks blindly, led by the dolls and the phantom hands at her hips and shoulders. She tastes the woman’s lips, tastes them against her gentler ones. She feels it, almost sees her, almost there. She sees dark clothing, strong, skilled fingers. She hears her voice, commanding her to spread her legs, she feels the pleasure that follows from her obeying. Why would she ever not want to obey? She loves the sweet reward that follows.

Donna watches as Daniela steps into the dark workshop, her eyes open but glossy, her reality turned completely, trapping the little doll in her delusions and memories, a fantasy world created by none other than her skilled dollmaker.

She doesn’t move, leans confidently against the workbench as Daniela approaches her, led and pushed gently, completely bared to her save for her soaked underwear and stockings. She sees the woman’s hard nipples reacting to the environment, smells her arousal even.

Daniela gasps as she’d made to cum, her back burning, so bad, so good. She’s cradled, her eyes heavy. When she gazes up, she finds the dark eye of none other than Donna Beneviento.

#cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #donna beneviento #smoke and mirrors #daniela dimitrescu x donna beneviento #alcina dimitrescu

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the-whispers-of-death · 6 months ago

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Meeting the Beast

18+ ONLY Blog!!! Minors & Ageless Blogs, Do NOT Interact!!

CW/TW: Brief Mention of Period-Typical Homophobia

I've got this Beauty & the Beast AU with Ghost stuck in my head, but it has a slight twist. And it's gay. So here is the first part.

NOTE: Your father's job and your job in town is set to be specific jobs, because it will come into play in later parts, and you're going to be shorter than Ghost (simply because he's a "monster" and thus the tallest, you can still imagine yourself as being taller than the townspeople). However, everything else about the Reader will be ambiguous, so you can easily put yourself in the Reader's shoes.

You grew up with stories of a beast living in a castle, deep in the first that surrounds your town.

These stories painted the beast in a gory, cruel manner. The adults around you, minus your father, told you all about how they've had to sacrifice one town member each year to sate the beast's hunger. Because if they didn't, then the beast would ravage the town and lay waste to the land.

It was clear, however, that the people chose town members they thought odd or freaks. Every year, you'd watch one of the town outcasts be carted off to the woods to be tied up and left to be ravished by the beast. And their friends and families, who had long since disowned them, just let it happen.

You and your father were two of the so-called outcasts.

Your father was considered an outcast, despite him being a doctor, because he tried hard to get the town's kids to read and do things that the others thought were foolish. They thought their looks and their wealth were all a person ever needed and they frowned upon their kids sticking to just reading and not doing as many physical activities as they could.

You were considered an outcast because despite being well into your adulthood, you still didn't seem to date or marry any of the women in town. This made them all think there was something wrong with you, that you were unnatural.

So when the seasons passed by and it was time for the annual sacrifice, you had gone to bed that night, worried. Your father tried calming your worries, telling you that neither you nor him would be taken because Mr and Mrs. Saxon's daughter was being far too unruly for their tastes.

And you believed him, drifting off to sleep now that your fears were eased.

You woke up in the early morning, quietly getting out of the house to go to your job because you thought your father was still sleeping. The town around you was slowly, very slowly, waking up as you walked to the blacksmith's shop.

You had been the blacksmith's apprentice ever since you were a teen and you were nearing the end of your apprenticeship, so close to taking over the shop yourself. It gave you a sense of purpose, which you loved.

So the day went on, you deep in your own world as you helped reduce the blacksmith's load of work. It was mid-evening when you heard whispers of the evening sacrificial ritual.

You never knew why, but the townspeople liked to sacrifice the outcasts in the early evening. Perhaps it was so the sacrifice's screams didn't disturb people as they went to their houses to rest after the work day.

Finishing up with the extravagant necklace you had been ordered to make, you strained your ears to try and discern who had been sacrificed. You were far too curious for your own good, it seemed.

"The town's doctor was finally sacrificed," a woman nearby whispered to her friend, said friend gasping at the gossip. "The town's council finally had enough of him trying to corrupt our children."

It felt like cold water was doused over you, your skin paling at the news.

No, no, no. It couldn't be. Not your father.

Without much though, you abandoned the work you still had yet to do.

There was still time for you to go to the beast's castle and beg him to take you instead of your father. It wasn't too late.

You ignored the sounds of your mentor yelling at you to come back as you ran all the way to your house. As you neared, you saw that your trusty horse was still tied to the post near your house.

Yes, you could do this. You could make it in time.

You quickly untied your horse from the post, grabbing the nearby saddle and making sure it was secure. Once that was done, you mounted your horse and wasted no time in nudging them into a gallop.

As you rode to the edge of town and to the beginning of the forest, people cried out as they dove out of the way, you not sparing them a single glance. You had a mission, to save your father.

The journey to the castle was long, it becoming night quickly. You pressed forward nonetheless, still convinced you could save your father. The castle came into view and you rode past the gates, ignoring the way the thorny bushes nipped at you and your horse.

You dismounted as soon as you neared the large, formidable doors that were the entrance to the castle. You stood there, about to walk up to the doors.

But before you could, a large, monstrous figure dropped down from one of the castle's parapets. It landed right in front of you, allowing you to see it clearly under the dim lights of the castle.

The beast, the same beast you heard stories about.

The beast before you was hairy, brown fur encasing his imposing figure. He stood on two legs, but his feet and hands were paws that had claws constantly extended, his natural posture slightly bent and yet he was still so much taller than you. And covering the upper half of his beastly face was a wolf's skull, his brown eyes peering back at you.

The sight made you freeze.

The beast clearly thought you were a threat, his knees bent to lunge at you. He growled low in his throat, his mouth opening to bear his sharp canines.

"Leave!" he roared, preparing to chase you out, or worse maul you, if you didn't comply.

You opened your mouth to tell him that you were here for your father and to beg he release your father, when the doors to the castle opened.

Both you and the beast turned to look at who exited the castle, a sob of relief escaping your lips when you saw your father, alive and unharmed.

"Stop, please!" Your father begged, getting in between you and the beast. He didn't seem afraid of the beast, however, turning to face him. "Please, this is my son, the one I told you about. He just came to try and save me, I swear he won't harm you."

The beast took a good look at you, taking in the similar features you and your father shared. He stared for a while before speaking.

"Your son?" he mused, straightening as best as he could. "Mm, you said he too was an outcast, yes? He can come inside then."

"Huh?" you asked, confused as you saw the beast turn and walk into the castle, leaving you and your father to follow him. "What's going on?"

Your father turned to you, shushing you gently. "{Name}, the beast you've heard about your whole childhood, is not the same beast you see before you. He doesn't eat the sacrifices those wretched townspeople give him, he takes them in," he explained, his hand on your shoulder. "The beast is an outcast too, you see. He was born like this and the townspeople banished him to this abandoned castle so they didn't have to see him. They believed him to be a monster and a bloodthirsty one too, so they used his "bloodthirst" to get rid of other outcasts. This is a safe place, {Name}, he will not hurt us."

"Come," your father continued, shivering. "It is rather late and the castle is warmer. Come inside and see, every "sacrifice" is here and alive."

With those words, your father gently led you into the castle, the doors closing behind you. You glanced back to see who closed the heavy doors and saw two outcasts that had been scarified the two previous years before this year.

As you looked around, you could see all of the sacrifices that you had seen be carted off. They were all here, lounging around the lit castle like they owned the place.

The castle was warm in both the sense of heat and how lively it was. It wasn't dreary like it seemed on the outside, tons of people laughing and chattering about. Fireplaces were lit, several people huddled around them for warmth. There were bookshelves upon bookshelves filled to the brim with books.

It felt... homely.

Your father left you to walk around, your feet taking you to the stairs. You walked up the winding stairs, an east and west wing on either side. You headed towards the west wing, sensing this was where the beast's bedroom was, since it was dark and no one else was going down the hallway.

As you walked, you saw portraits hanging on the wall, but each person's face was clawed out, like the beast had done it years ago, back when he was first banished to the castle. The sight should've scared you, should've made you fear his temper, but all it did was make you feel sad.

The beast was indeed an outcast, just like you.

"I see you're exploring," the beast said as you walked into his large bedroom, the beast not inside the lit room but rather standing on the balcony. Now that he knew you weren't a threat, his gravelly voice was softer.

Hesitantly, you joined him on the balcony, straining your neck to look up at him. "I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to explore here," you said, your voice soft as you took in the way he seemed peaceful out on the balcony. "I noticed others don't go down here."

The beast turned away from his gazing up at the stars, looking down at you. "It's alright, this wing isn't exactly off-limits. However, those who've been here long enough know I like my privacy." His brown eyes stared into your own. "Do you like it here? You can stay, you know. Every outcast has a place here."

You thought on his offer, thinking back to your time in your little town.

Your town wasn't as accepting of you as this place seemed to be, you saw men cuddling with men and women cuddling women here. But in the town, you were a freak for not wanting to marry a woman despite being a man yourself. You could be yourself here.

Besides, you liked knowing your father was safe.

"Thank you, I think I will stay here," you replied, appreciative of his offer. You glanced at the stars before looking at him again. "Though, I do have one condition."

"What's that?" The beast's voice was full of curiosity, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I'd like to know what to call you."

The beast chuckled, the laughter being deep and rumbling in his chest. He seemed so amused by the way you wanted to know what to call him. Like you just amused him in general.

"Ghost, you can call me Ghost."

Separator made by @une-femme-de-lettres

Oof, this was so long. Longer than I thought it would be. This is just the beginning, but I have plans for this AU.

I hope you enjoyed!

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

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nevermorgue · 4 months ago

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The thick, red curtains of stained velvet open. The applause slowly dies down into a murmur of the last echoing claps of gloved hands. A man and a woman stand on stage. One stage left, one stage right. They stare straight ahead, unblinking. Unfeeling? Is that true? Is that what they want you to think? The woman with the blonde ringlet curls cascading down her back is adorned in blue. Her gown touches the stage floor, various ribbons in blue shades wrapping around her form. For a moment, if you look with unfocused eyes, it looks to be a complicated dress with lace and pretty knots- but it becomes clear soon. She is tied up- tangled in these ribbons. They wrap around her thick curls, they wrap around her arms in even, perfect lines. If they were red, one in the back of the room could mistake her as the victim of a slashing. The bows are pristine, resting on various parts of her to accentuate her status as a gift. A gift to who? Society? Her father? The top shelf? She breathes heavy, but slow. Despite the sweat beading down her forehead, she has a calm smile. An ethereal, regal look in her posture and a confident aura that any actress under the lights would have, tied up or not. It seems as if she doesn't notice that she's restricted by the ribbons. In fact, she seems to relish in it. The crowd watches in silent awe, admiring the woman's beauty and drinking in the sight of dusty pink eyes under the stage lighting. Only a select few can see the slight fidget in her fingers, the tiniest quiver in her lip. Or the way her arms just barely push against her restraints, even if she wants it to appear that she is comfortable with them. She acts as if the ribbons are a part of her, an extension of her skin. Any less would be an eyesore. Any less would be detrimental to the game. The man on stage is quite the opposite in terms of charisma. He seems unsure of his presence, his feet awkwardly shifting in place as he struggles to figure out where to look in the crowd. On stage, the audience is so dark...where does he keep his eyes? Shouldn't he keep his gaze moving to make sure one specific part of the room isn't forced to make eye contact with him? He is undressed compared to the woman. A simple cardigan vest over a white collared shirt, slacks...well, it looks to be that way. His body is wrapped up in so many heavy, black ribbons that it seems impossible to tell. They weren’t delicately wrapped around him, the ribbons were not there to make him look perfect or desirable like his counterpart; but to simply keep in line. A man that poses no threat being restrained and chained back like a beast. Because without disclipine, not a single soul knows what he could become. Not even he knows what he is.

The black, jagged ribbons dig into his clothing, wrapping around his neck. His breathing is short, as if afraid to be too loud. His smile is shaky, wary. Dull grey eyes glance to the confident woman to his right, standing up a bit straighter as he watches her body language.

The audience rises from silence, the murmurs in the chairs growing into an incoherent jumble of panic. Voices beg, weep, or yell with anger. The stage seems to fade around their feet, leaving them in their dinner chairs in the dining hall, surrounded by panicking students.

Annabel Lee, still so delicately wrapped, takes a sip of her tea. Her peers continue to panic- one life they cry. What do you mean there was only one life? That isn’t fair.

Will’s collar is wrinkled, grabbed in the heat of the moment by his master before being abandoned. His wrists cling to the arms of the chair, the black ribbons pressing his pulse into the wood. His heart thumbs against his chest, but he cannot control the casual, polite smile that forms on his lips as he watches Annabel’s mouth do the same.

Would she ever dare to share the spotlight? No, not with him. She’d be out the door before the curtain call; anything to avoid confronting the fact that this is all part of the script.

But for a moment, amidst the screams and desperate pleas for more than one life to be given, he felt as if he too were on that stage. On her level, but not quite…just enough to be looked at.

Dark pink swallows cloudy grey. They share a knowing glance, and then another smile.

Will takes a sip of water, Annabel her tea.

He’s terrified, but his ribbons keep his body from panicking. Their comforting, constricting tendrils reddening his skin.

She’s concerned, but her bows keep her from spiraling- from becoming unsightly. From losing the power she cannot bear to part from- not this early.

The many voices in the room start to sound like applause once more.

#nevermore webtoon #nevermore webcomic #will nevermore #nevermore will #nevermore annabel lee whitlock #annabel lee whitlock nevermore #nevermore annabel lee #annabel lee nevermore #annabel lee whitlock #annabel lee webtoon

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yuesya · 10 months ago

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Humans are fragile.

Weak, helpless creatures that they are. If they bleed too much from being injured by a wild beast, then they die. If they stay out too long in the cold, then they die. Sometimes it feels like all he does is blink, and then they die. He knows this well.

Decarabian stares impassively down at the crumpled form of the white-haired human child buried in the crimson-stained snow.

… It appears as if this child has had a rough encounter with a monster of some sort, although Decarabian does not know of any monsters in these parts whose claws resemble knives more than talons. Perhaps the wild wolves…? But most of them remain close to their lands much farther in the north-east, where their newly-crowned wolf-god has recently staked out his territory.

“This is what happens when you raise animals into gods,” Decarabian murmurs, disapproving. The former Lord of the North had been a powerful, ancient god whose dominion over Cryo was –perhaps, by the slightest measure– more masterful than the control that Decarabian himself commanded over Anemo. He cannot fathom what the other god had been thinking, relinquishing the full might of their divine power and bequeathing it all to a beast, but such matters are not his to intervene in.

Even if the result is the swift rise of a beast-god who despises humans. Something that should be anathema to gods, whose very natures are fundamentally predisposed towards loving humanity…

Just as Decarabian himself does, and he is not one to deny his own nature.

The child in front of him is dying. That much is clear from the severity of the wounds that she bears, her body flayed with bone-deep gashes to the point where it almost seems as if something had tried to turn the child inside-out. This is not the work of a beast that attacked in hunger –this is the work of something that aimed to hurt, for nothing more than bloodthirsty enjoyment.

There are no older humans in the nearby vicinity. Animals will abandon their young who are too weak to survive. Decarabian had not realized that humans also followed that same practice.

This child is dying. Blood continues flowing sluggishly from her wounds, mixing into the snow. A chill wind whistles past, sending red-stained strands of long white hair whipping upwards–

Long lashes flutter, and the child opens her eyes.

Decarabian had not realized that she still possessed the strength to do so.

… The child does not speak. She cannot, for how can she? Who can speak when there’s a long gash splitting their throat open, red and wet and glistening in the open air? It’s a true miracle that she’s still alive, somehow. Even though it’s abundantly clear that she won’t be remaining so for much longer.

Decarabian looks into her eyes. It’s expected that her gaze is unfocused, given the poor condition of her body, and he prepares himself to witness pain. Suffering. Desperation –or perhaps hopelessness. It is only human nature. Weak, and despicable. But beautiful all the same, and it is for that very reason that so many gods–

Oh.

Decarabian has never seen such oddly-colored eyes before. Not on any human –nor beast, nor god. There’s something about these deep blue eyes that are almost reminiscent of the nighttime sky, but not quite. Not when they glow, gleaming with a prismatic, bejeweled light. But it’s not an ethereal sort of beauty; rather, it’s one that causes Decarabian to feel a sudden chill, for seemingly no reason at all.

But more importantly–

“You won’t ask me to save you?” Humans worship gods. Beg them for favors, for blessings, and it is only natural for gods to respond to their wishes. Poor, deplorable humans. Precious, lovely humans.

The child’s eyes are clear. There is no unspoken plea, no mindless terror. From all appearances, this child… does not seem to fear death at all. How curious.

A sudden thought strikes him. Whimsical impulse, that solidifies into genuine interest.

What would she say to him, if she could speak?

…

Decarabian extends his hand towards her, holding it out over her body.

He does not possess the ability to heal. But, there is a certain magic that allows a god to share their power and grant protection to another by bestowing a new name –a new life. He suspects that this is similar to the spell that the Lord of the North had used to ascend that young wolf to godhood. It’s not necessarily Decarabian’s intent, but–

“Child of man. One who has bled upon consecrated ground, who still possesses strength to endure,” he says. The words are slow at first, but begin flowing smoothly as the ancient magic is fully invoked. “Upon the authority of Decarabian, God of Storms, I grant you my blessing. Partake of my power and rise anew, as a daughter of the unfettered wind.”

The next words coalesce on the tip of his tongue on their own.

… For a moment, Decarabian pauses. Because he can feel the power that’s gathering within him –power that rises on its own volition, for it is the necessary price for granting this child new life.

And it’s a steep price. Quite steep indeed. It is… possible… that Decarabian would be unable to maintain a human form anymore after this, or even reduced to an empty voice upon the wind in the following years.

But he will not change his decision, nor renege upon his words. No matter what the consequences might be.

“Rejoice. For I shall bestow upon you the name, ‘Balor,’” he declares, completing the spell. The winds pick up around them, and the human child is enveloped in a bright glow, slowly shrinking down into an even smaller form.

So even Decarabian’s power isn’t enough, is it?

Ah, what a curious child.

“Heed my command, and hear my words –rise.

… Rise, and live.”

#writing #zenith of stars au #genshin au #mondstadt au #archon war au #i was not planning to write anything more for this anytime soon #but there's been some discord fun going on #so here we are!#still haven't made up my mind on how the archon war would actually go though haha

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muzansfangs · 1 year ago

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Muzan with werewolf! reader while they're in that form sounds interesting-

Howling at the moon.

Starring: Muzan Kibutsuji x f!reader (werewolf reader)

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, language, horror vibes, blood and graphic depictions of violence, body horror, gore, parents rejection, solitude, eating humans, werewolf!reader, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, possessive Muzan, dom!muzan, sub!reader, oral sex (Muzan!receiving), monster!fucking, reader has a tail, pointy canines, claws and wolf ears during the act, creampie, bitemarks;

Plot: since you two had met, a spiral of violence and lust had enveloped you. You were two monsters, you were both ‘cursed’ somehow. In a world where you were considered villains, you indulged into his bed every time there was a full moon to lead you to him. He saw beauty in you, you found a life-companion in him and it was enough to prove that monsters had hearts too.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

A full moon was shining brightly up above you, dimly illuminating your path. Not that you needed something to enlighten the road anyway, or a torch that could have granted you the chance to detect any dangers laying in the dark and waiting for you. The night around your village only meant one thing: blood running down the streets, demons lurking in the shadows to feed on poor, innocent men and women. Sometimes, on children too. Screams, agony and fear always flinged in the air when the night veiled the world with its dark cape. Every morning, when a dismembered body was found by the river, people screamed around terrorized.

You did not, though.

Passing by the crime scene, you merely glanced at the victim of the hour, sniffing the air subtly as to intercept either your scent, or a demon’s one on the rotten flesh. You always had no memory of what you did, when the beast inside you awakened.

You did not even know when it started, or how it happened. All you knew was that you were a toddler, the first time you acknowledged something was clearly wrong with you. The moon seemed to allure you during the nights, a primordial rage devouring you from the inside when the satellite sparkled up in the dark nightsky. You were a teenager stumbling back home, the dawn tinted the clouds in orange and red stripes, when you realized you were partially an animal. Blood dripped from your hands, your mind fuzzy, your ears furry and pointy and you clawed at the wooden door of your house.

Something was definitely wrong with you.

As the years passed by, you finally realized what you were. It ran in your family, apparently. The same family that had abandoned you in horror the first time you had confessed them you had not been able to stop yourself from murdering a man. You felt bad, when they left. Spending days self-deprecating because you had inherited a gene nor your mother, neither your father had, was your first and natural reaction.

From that day on, you howled at the sky, whispering your pain to the stars, while climbing on a cliff during the full moon nights. No one understood you and you started to come to terms with the fact that, even though you had accepted yourself, rejection was always going to haunt you. Who would ever love a monster, after all? If your own flesh and blood had pushed you away, how could you be loved by anyone else?

But life can change and the tables turn. It was a midsummer night, you were running through the woods wild and free, when you bumped into him. He was standing in the darkness, his plum red eyes boring into yours for a split second, as you instantly growled at him. He was not a human and surely not a member of your species. His pale visage almost made you question if he was even alive in the first place, but it was when he spoke that you spotted a pair of pearly fangs protruding from his gums. A demon, he was a demon.

“So they were right. There is indeed a werewolf roaming this forest…” the dark-haired dapper man said, staring you down in curiosity, as you retreated in the shadows to transform back in a more humanoid form. You were glad you had left a kimono in a nearby bush, just in case you had to turn back into a human while you were out into the wild.

However, you did not expect to come face to face with a demon that could do something more than roaring and hissing. He had to be a member of the Kizuki. The most important question now was if he was a threat to you.

“I’m glad to hear you know what I am. I assume you therefore are aware that werewolves are territorial. You have crossed the line and I am not particularly friendly, pal. I suggest you to leave” you replied, glancing at him as you made sure to have covered your naked body properly.

The demon did not seem fazed by your harsh words and bitter tone of voice. Maybe, he had been around for so long he had grown used to people throwing insults at him. Not that you cared, naturally.

“You are less scary than a nichirin blade is to a lower rank. — he flatly said, narrowing his eyes at you the moment your frame finally emerged from the darkness, the moon setting off your features with every step you took — I’m merely interested in studying your species. What’s your name, wolf-girl?” he asked you, quirking a dark eyebrow up.

He was bold, handsome, straightforward but, mostly, not scared of you. It was weird meeting someone’s gaze and finding out they were not disgusted by your very being, by your inner savage nature. Your presence did not offend him.

“My name’s Y/N. Who are you? I’m pretty sure you’re a member of the Twelve Kizuki” you retorted, crossing your arms against your chest, eyes travelling down his body as you studied his attire. He was a wealthy man, undoubtedly. Western clothes were expensive and the fabric embracing his fit body were surely the finest you had ever seen in your whole life.

The Demon King sighed, his lips curving into a grin as your eyes flashed yellow the moment he revealed his identity. If he could accept you, maybe, you had found your place in the world too. Your existence was not vain, you were not an abomination. That is why, two words, his name, changed your whole life.

“Muzan Kibutsuji”.

Now, as your bare feet touch the soft grass underneath you, the comforting sound of the dead leaves crunching with each step you took, you see yourself in a new light. He had made you realize that each being had the right to walk this Earth. Perhaps, not everyone would have accepted you, but you existed. You existed and he liked you.

Your first encounters were nothing more than you showing your abilities, your hunting style and the control you had over yourself. Muzan seemed genuinely interested in you, a different kind of monster. Your beauty, further more, enticed him. Sometimes, you tried to hide your fangs and ears, when you were merely talking, but he kindly chided you pointing out how you should have never hidden your true nature before him. He had allowed you to enter his Fortress, even though it was just to study your blood and system, at first.

But your relationship gradually changed. It was the way his predatory eyes soaked in your features, or the small gifts he gave you without a particular reasons, or perhaps your attraction was purely based on his gentle mannerism. You were not used to be accepted, let alone being the object of such courtesies and benevolence.

All you knew was that one minute you were watching hik scribble something down his notebook, admiring his elegant calligraphy, and the next you were struggling to breath, knelt between his legs, your lips around his shaft as you assiduously tried to please him.

It soon became an habit, a strange addiction.

The best part of it was that you could entirely be yourself with him. He loved your soft and grey ears poking from your hair. He admired them as you rode him, half-lidded eyes gazing at them as he absent-mindedly swept a thumb against your lips. You were perfect for him. He did not mind the way you ended up growling ferally, as he left bitemarks down your collarbone. He liked to watch you thrive to take the lead, almost eager to please him.

But now it was different.

As you finally found yourself in front of him, in his bedroom, safe from prying eyes, he shot you a demanding look that left nothing to imagination. His command was simple, his red eyes darting from you to the bed as his lips moved to strip you of the last shreds of morals left in you.

“On all fours” he sternly said, making shivers run down your spine.

It was weird to follow a new leader, when you had been your own master of the sea for years. You were your own alpha, you had never bent your knees to anyone before. Yet, you sensed he was different. He could easily make your knees buckle, break your spirit and crawl on the floor like a worm.

Your hands hastily undid your obi, your silky red kimono, another expensive gift from him, pooled at your feet as you stepped out of it and you presented your body to the Demon Lord.

Muzan seemed pleased by the sight of your naked formed, gloriously inviting him to take action, to mark as he loved to do. As you watched him fumble with the buttons of his white shirt, you let yourself go. Climbing on the bed, back arching as you settled your cheek against the puffy pillow of his bed, your wolfish characteristics kicked in. Your ears poked out, eyes glistening in a yellowish pigmentation typical of those animals and your tail wiggled in anticipation of what was yet to come.

“You know, that’s when I like you the most, when your free and comfortable with yourself. — Muzan praised you, the sound of his belt clinking as he unbuckled it, making you sink your canines onto your bottom lip — Howl for me. Let everybody know who is your new moon, the center of your gravity” he crooned then, as his fingers glided down your wet folds.

You sighed, eyes fluttering close as his fingere delved into you, deftly stretching you out for what was yet to come. Your legs quivered, soft noises left your lips as he thrusted his forefinger and middle digit into you at a steady pace. Breaking you was an art. He could have listened to your whimpers and moans for hours, never getting tired of the power he had over you. He would have never admitted it, never, but you were most likely the only thing that made him enjoy the nights.

The dreadful nights he hated for not being able to enjoy the sun.

“I bet you’re beutiful even in the sunlight. I’d give anything to see you run in a field of spiderlilies, while the your hair and skin are bathed by the warm light…” he ranted, taking you off guard as he witherdrew his fingers suddenly, before you could reach your climax.

You whined in contempt for the action, but his words were now stuck in your head, leaving you in a daze.

“I can love you under the moonlight. I can’t love in the sunlight, I can’t be myself when the sun shines. You are not there with me” you panted out, earning a bite onto the crook of your neck.

You mewled, blood running down your shouldersblades and breasts, staining the bedsheets underneath you as Muzan gripped your hips and slowly eased into you. He grunted, his tongue lapping at your wound as he bottomed out into you. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, mouth hanging open, while your inner walls squeezed him deliciously.

“Muzan—” you whimpered, his hips starting to move back and forth as he conquered you again, for the umpteenth time.

“Shut up. Shut up and let me possess you” he hoarsely whispered in your ear, his bloodied lips kissing the shell of your ear.

Moans, groans and the sinful sound of skin smacking against skin guided you to madness. Lust and hunger engulfed you two, when he increased the speed of his thrusts. When he finally came to a stop, Muzan pushed your head down by the back of your neck. His last thrust coming along a feral groan, his semen pouring into you, as he stilled and left one last kiss on your nape.

He pulled out slowly, after a few seconds, your eyes shut as you felt his essence ooze out of you. Your stomach was laying flatly onto the mattress, your eyes droopy as he ran one hand down your smooth back.

“Stay. Just for tonight, or for the rest of your life” he breathed out then and you could swear that something in your heart cracked for you were not alone anymore.

Not with him. Not with Muzan.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! This was an old request I never found a lot of inspiration to write for, but it’s october and the spooky season is officially here… Along with the kinky nature of the month. Therefore, I am glad to have fulfilled this small request, a little experimental too for me. I hope you guys can enjoy it and, since it’s a Muzan centered one, I think it is a good way to show why my username contains his name 😋❤️. Likes, comments and re-posts are always appreciated!

Until next,

x o x o

TAGS: @doumadono @mrskokushibo @yazzzmints I DID IT. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO ME, LMFAO

#muzan x reader #muzan x you #muzan x y/n #muzan smut #demon slayer smut #muzan kibutsuji x reader #kibutsuji muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x reader

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