#being comfortable in their human skin but still magical | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mooncleaver · 6 months ago

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Tender Mornings

you know it's a good day when the first sight you're greeted with is azriel sprawled out so beautifully on your bed.

ღ pairing: azriel x fem!reader

ღ warnings: very loosely cannonical pls don't ask i live in my dreams, fluff after fluff in your face, they’re MATED AND MARRIED!! 🥰 touchy azriel

"Good morning, handsome."

Your voice murmurs into Azriel's ears early in the morning, waking him out of his peaceful slumber. It's a quiet day, and definitely not the kind of quiet you'd be alerted by, hackles raised and ears perked for signs of danger. No, this was peace. The birds are chirping and the distant sounds of city bustle has just begun its routine, and you can't help but stare at your mate, the absence of fine lines on his forehead creating one of the most endearing pictures in your mind.

Honestly, you don't know how you've managed to slip out of his iron grip a few hours ago. Even his shadows had been relatively calm. But you pieced it to him finally getting his well-deserved sleep after a grueling week of running around as spymaster for Night Court. He'd almost collapsed right on top of you on the couch the moment he got home at the dead of night, practically purring under you into a dreamless sleep while you ran your hands through his hair. You love it when he's just Azriel with you. Not the deadly shadowsinger with eyes that could kill, but the one snoring himself away in your shared bed, wings splayed out without a care in this world.

As he opens his eyes blearily, he can make out your soft fingers on his face, warm and comforting as your thumb strokes his cheek, squatting down on the floor beside his edge of the bed. It's an awfully good morning whenever you're there to wake him up, which isn't often considering how light of a sleeper Azriel is. It's one of the rare times that he had a fully undisturbed 8 hours of sleep, with no nightmares plaguing his visions.

He smiles, seeing your face first thing. Gods, he would die over and over again if this was the sight he woke up to each time.

Noticing his expression, your grin widens as you lift your other hand from laying on the sheets, cradling his face and brushing your nose against his, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mate, all the while feeling the bond pulsate like a well-known bliss inside your chest. The golden band on your left ring finger glints wonderfully in the morning sun, the rays illuminating it as if it were a halo wrapped around your skin. The ring is a dainty but simple thing, its surface raised with signature Night Court swirls and stars, the pattern a twin to the bargain marks painting your sternum—the one that you made with Azriel the day of your ceremony with promises to love and protect, even beyond death.

It was an unusual thing to have around in Pythian, considering it was a human tradition.

You and Azriel picked up the custom after learning it from a mission the two of you went to a long time ago in the human lands. Of course, it wasn't like either of you needed conventional items to show your relationship, knowing the Mother had already blessed you with one of magic, something so deeply sacred that transcended both words and worlds. Still, you thought that the piece of gold represented a beautiful message. It told the story of your battles and triumphs, the countless suffering and victories that got you to where you were, being able to hold the hand of your fated mate, rings clinking and echoing the bells that rung in your mating ceremony. No distance could ever separate you. And most of all, it reminded you every waking day of the way Azriel accepted you as his, as someone who loved him through thick and thin, someone who he would kill and die for.

You were always a victim of sentiment, and neither you nor Azriel could deny the pride the two of you felt seeing each other's rings—the way it felt like a claim over each other, physical proof of your love beyond words.

When Feyre met the Inner Circle for the first time, she became an addition to the people who appreciated the symbol. You were confused at first, wondering why the Cursebreaker was staring at you so deeply. Then you saw the way her eyes never wavered from your hand, the one that was brushing against Azriel's scarred ones as he softly reciprocated up and down against your fingers. It had honestly been centuries since the two of you mated that you sometimes forget you were wearing a ring, the weight of it so familiar that it became a part of your body.

She'd told you one day how in awe and warm she felt seeing the two of you wearing your rings. It indeed was a rare sight, and in her heart she understood what it meant. Even if she hadn't been familiar with mating bonds, Feyre knew what wedding yourself to someone entailed, and for the one of the first times in a while she had smiled so brightly, sharing a nod that only the three of you seemed to understand.

Funnily enough, Rhys told you that even before she noticed the rings and the affection, Feyre had read Azriel up and down as being utterly in love with you. The Azriel whisperer. Guess it wasn't hard to notice the pure adoration pouring out of his eyes at the mere thought of you.

"I thought I'd let you sleep in for a bit before I go, I know it's been a rough week for you baby."

"I love you." That was the first thing he uttered, overwhelmed with the feeling. He could hear, feel and see your thoughts—ones of your ceremony. You never did block him off from your side of the bond, and it had really only been silent if he was out on a critical mission. Azriel loved it. Every side of you. Whenever you got frustrated, sad or jumping with joy, he celebrated in the knowledge that you were his and his only. That you were healthy and alive through all your emotions.

Now he basked into the memory of your mating ceremony centuries ago, his own heart following yours as it took him through every single thought and emotion that was felt proudly through your perspective. Cauldron, he felt so loved. Awakened and reborn every time he remembered that day.

I love you too, you uttered through the bond, giggling as he brought you up off the floor, setting you on top of him like you were a piece of paper. His hand on your waist comforted you like no other, the warmth so familiar. The shadows slithered all around you in an almost child-like nature, prodding at your cheeks and shoulders. They were always so delightful around you, pretty much accepting you as their own mistress ever since you and Az mated. You stayed there for a while, laying one side of your head on his chest while you closed your eyes and followed his heartbeat, enjoying the melody it followed.

The burst of shared happiness in you grew until a smile lit up on your face and you looked up from your position to him, climbing up his body and cradling his head in your arms, squeezing gently as you squealed when he began tickling the sides of your waist. You felt Azriel nosing the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent that had been so beautifully intertwined with his over the years.

You loved moments like this, when the two of you didn't have to speak out loud, all the feelings simply existing.

After a calming while, you begrudgingly had to get up from your comfort, remembering why you were up early in the first place. Though, you had only made one inch of movement before you felt Az's arms locking themselves behind your back, face attaching back to his rightly earned place on the supple skin of your chest. And in times like these, you truly thanked the mother for blessing you with a mate who rivaled you in clinginess. It was dangerous when Azriel got like this. Difficult was an understatement to how it felt trying to get out of his arms, knowing his Illyrian training and position in Rhysand's court fully translated to his strength and state of his (godly) physique. Even your family had commented on how soft Azriel was when it came to you, now used to the image of the male having his arms and wings—or any part of his body really—against yours at all times.

You gently tapped the top of his ruffled hair, resting your right cheek on it as you urged him to let you go, kissing his head in between. Azriel only mumbled in response—the sound too unintelligible for it to be distinct—and closed his eyes again, ready to enter the realm of dreams.

You laughed breathily, craning your neck up and softly pulling his head back while you dragged your hand down the back of his head, holding a loose grip on his hair. "If you let me go right now I'll be back in your arms sooner than you can blink, Az." He smiled, blinking slowly in thought.

"How ‘bout that, huh? You, me, and fresh bed sheets tonight?" You mumbled, bringing your face close to his until your lips just barely brushed each other.

Now that got him up and alert.

Not even a second later you had taken the chance to jump out of the bed, letting your fingers drag onto the skin of his arms and turning around to get dressed. Azriel shook his head, his breathy chuckle being the only indication of his acceptance of defeat. And acceptance of your offer, of course.

Leisurely, (as if you didn't have a certain purple-eyed highlord waiting for your arrival) you shrugged your night slip off, leaving you bare all the way except for your sapphire colored lacy underwear, the one your mate loved so much. "Rhys asked me to help him sort out his fucking mounds of paperwork again."

"—honestly Az, he's been dragging me into his office ever since I did it that one time he kept dropping down cold out of exhaustion." You sighed out exasperatedly, crossing your arms as you dug through your giant closet to find an appropriate outfit.

"You know he's just trying to find a way to spend time with you right?" Azriel answered, clearly distracted by your undressing. So easy. It was so easy to hook this man right around your fingers. You could clearly feel his piercing gaze travel up and down your body, tracing all your curves, not leaving a single inch yearning for his attention. You loved it, relished it. It made you feel so beautiful and desired, and your prideful Illyrian never failed to mention it out loud.

"Yeah yeah..." You shook your head affectionately. You weren't actually annoyed at Rhysand and honestly thought this was really sweet. With his mind running around the whole bargain with the Cursebreaker and the dizzying problem of recovering Prythian after what happened for the last 50 years, you knew your long-time friend needed a break, and you'd help him in whatever form, even if it meant going through all of his tedious High Lord work. Plus, you wouldn't miss a single chance to goad him on about the shoe-throwing incident.

You most probably would get wine-tipsy by the end of it. He did have one hell of a drink collection.

Once you found the pieces you were looking for, you grabbed each one in a hanger, walking back over to face Azriel as you held both of them up, asking his opinion for which one to wear.

He had his arms crossed in front of him and scrunched his eyebrows for one second, raising his eyebrows as he silently nodded his head towards the one on your right. Hm. This was his favorite because it displayed your... assets very well. Typical mate. Winking as a thanks, you put the unused set back, putting on your outfit for the day, all the while he watched with twinkling eyes.

"I mean, couldn't he ask me to go training or something?" Still, you continued your tangent, feeling playful in this happy morning.

"Rhys knows not to train with you because you're lazy." His words hadn't registered in your mind yet because Gods did you love this version of your mate so much. The crumpled bed sheets did absolutely no help covering him up, falling right below his hip while his muscles flexed. His chestnut hair spiked in all kinds of directions, remnants of your own hands playing with the soft strands. The constant darkness that surrounded him only drew your attention to his half-lidded eyes, so sultry without a try. The smug bastard was leaning his head back, both his hands behind them and he knew how much you loved it when he did that—bulging biceps and all. You could just claw at him right now. You were so thankful for his Illyrian DNA.. it was like they were born with divine statures.

"What. Did you just say to me, Azriel?" You gasped in mock offense, a hand on your chest and all.

He had the audacity to show you his sorry smile, as if it would get him out of every sticky situation (It did. Every time. You were just too prideful to say it) "No, no, don't you smile at me like that."

You held your finger up, trying your best to ignore him. You scoffed. Lazy. Okay well in your defense, Rhysand just fucking loved to rile you up whenever the two of you were in the ring. It almost always made you annoyed to the point that you couldn't look at his face without feeling the urge to punch it. It wasn't like you couldn't take a friendly banter, but he did it for way too long and way too often. That's why you preferred to fight with Azriel or Cassian for that matter.

Seeing you hold your stance, he got up in all his glory, boxers being the only unfortunate thing covering him up. It was purely instinct to look him up and down, savoring the image while you bit your lip. Pride. That’s all he felt whenever you did that.

Azriel walked towards you with open arms, enveloping you in his large frame when he got close enough, one hand going right down its snug place on your ass while the other went behind your head.

He whispered in your ear lovingly, satiating your unserious upset. "I'm very sorry, my beautiful, intelligent, kind and sexy mate."

You could only melt right into his embrace, bringing your arms to coil around his neck as you smiled against it, pressing your lips onto his skin a couple times. His throaty voice right to your ears made you shiver in delight, goosebumps rising in its wake. You really couldn't get enough of this man, his voice, his smile, his scent and his everything. Feeling your love, Azriel responded by holding you tighter against his body, feeling every inch pressing against him.

"So sexy." He murmured, squeezing your ass.

A laugh bubbled deep from your chest and you leant back from your cozy spot, resting your palm against his chest as you smiled up at him, sighing and nodding in delight. "Knew we were mates for a reason."

He joined you a moment later, his laugh vibrating deep within his chest. This on its own could make any fae in Prythian drop down to their knees. Azriel didn't hesitate to kiss you, feeling a type of content that could only be fulfilled by your lips.

You giggled as you felt his lips trek your jaw, down to your collarbone and trailing your shoulders, all the while letting his enormous wings cocoon the two of you. You were pleased to stay inside the little world you two built, letting the joy simmer between you and your mate until he released the hold he had on you with his wings. Without a single word being spoken, you let him trail you as you made your way towards the generous vanity on the corner of the bedroom, picking out the everyday items that were displayed. And of course, you had to use the perfume that Az got for your 100th anniversary, the bottle no longer the original as you had gone through so much with constant use.

The male loved whenever you’d wear it,—which was almost everyday—the smell mixed with your own natural one driving him mad, further and further falling for you. And that was exactly his reaction after you gave your wrist a small spritz. Azriel melted deeper into you, if that was even possible with the lack of space between your bodies.

“Think I’m gonna fly out to the city later. Cass is back from Windhaven.” He murmured into the nape of your neck once you were done, fully wrapping his arms around you and not missing the chance to slip them under your top to cup your breasts at it. You hummed in response, laying your head back and tilting to the side to look at your mate and giving him sweet kisses.

“Mm, sounds fun. Tell him I said hi—Ooh, can you please bring back those chocolate chip cookies we had last week? They were soo good.” You closed your eyes in the memory, proceeding to pout at the Illyrian while reaching behind to lay one of your hands on the back of his neck.

Azriel hummed knowingly in response. Obviously he’d get them for you. You didn't even have to ask and he would’ve brought them back anyway. “Okay baby, anything you want.”

This man. Everything out of his mouth made you feel so madly in love.

While he swayed your bodies leisurely, you couldn’t help but grin up at him, teasing his behavior as you scratched his scalp to emphasize. “You’re so in love with me, Az.”

“‘Course I am, look at you. Beautiful. So beautiful.” He raised your left hand towards his face, emphasizing the word with a delicate kiss on your knuckles, lips lingering on the finger that adorned your ring.

He’d do anything and everything for you. Fly to the edge of Prythian and back, steal the moon, burn the world, collect the stars and hang them up again to paint the sky. If you asked he would do it.

What else could you do in response than to lean up and kiss him in return, letting him twist your body to face him while his hands pull at your waistband, caressing in calming motions. “My mate is so sweet.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay okay, I should go now. Rhys will start nagging me about being glued to you and our bed as he always does.” You reluctantly separated yourself from his embrace, rubbing your hands down his arms in consolation for the loss of warmth.

“Been over 400 years now, sweetheart. I don’t think he’s going to stop anytime soon.” And Azriel meant this in an entirely endearing way. What happened under the mountain with that insane bitch Amarantha had truly changed Rhysand. He returned home different, haunted. The first time you heard him playfully tease yours and Azriel’s inseparable nature you had both been stunned, finally seeing the old friend—no, brother—that you knew so well show through the cracks.

You shook your head in agreement, grinning as you took the chance to bump your noses together. “I’ll see you when I see you, hot stuff. Tell me everything tonight.”

“On our fresh bed sheets?” He smirked playfully, echoing your previous promise as a way to remind you.

“Mhm, exactly on our fresh bed sheets.” You laughed and winked at him, finally turning around and grabbing your trusty dagger by the drawer and sheathing it on your thigh. The weapon never went anywhere without you, even if you were only venturing to the Town House. It was something small to reign Azriel’s constant need of making sure you were safe and armed at all times.

Your mate followed you out the door of your room, beelining towards the kitchen, no doubt to make himself a nice cup of coffee.

As your passed him by the isle, you gave him one last goodbye kiss, throwing your head back in laughter at the (soft) slap on your ass on your way.

The minute you opened the door to his large office, Rhysand had paused, nose up and muttered with a teasing smile, “Gods, you reek of Illyrian.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhys.”

AAAH! guys im insanely back from writing hiatus after like a year. This is fucking surreal and also im so sorry to my friends that i abandoned.. yall… ily and my messages are open

On another note, i am glad to start it all up again with an azriel piece. Despite loving his character since 2021, ive never written for him but i got inspired after reading a terribly sweet soldier boy fic lol.

I really hope that this story, in all aspects, is okay! I feel very rusty

masterlist

dividers credit @rookthornesartistry @chachachannah @dollywons

(also if you see this thank you GWEN for convincing me to post again)

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markrosewater · 3 months ago

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Hi Mark. With a lot of talk recently in the online space about the unreasonable outrage and horrendous death threats towards the Commander Rules Committee and Commander Advisory Group, I want to thank you for being the proverbial "shield" for some of the most heinous and grotesque backlash towards WOTC as the unofficial public representative for MTG. I know it can be absolutely draining for your mental health to receive harassment in this position, so I just want to say I am grateful and empathize that you are in this position. With that being said, as one of the most prominent faces of Magic, is it possible if you could say a word or two about the aforementioned harassment towards the RC and CAG to deter these harassers and possibly share your own experiences regarding unconstructive hate to help the victims of such depravity (if you're comfortable sharing)?

There are advantages and disadvantages of being one of the faces for Magic. When people like something we're doing, even when I had nothing to do with it, I get lots of praise. Most players only know a handful of Wizards employees, so they tend to assume that the people they know are responsible for the things that are happening.

There is, of course, a downside to that. When things happen people dislike, I'm also the light rod for complaint. Whether or not I had anything to do with the issue in question, I get the blame. I am Head Designer. Many times, I did have a hand or a say in what happened. And when I'm responsible, or partly responsible, for something, I try to own up to it.

Players are not a unified front though. When we do thing X, some of you will like it while others will not. I often will get complimented for the same thing I'm being yelled at for.

From time to time, we do something a majority are unhappy with. At times, we do things a majority are *very* unhappy with. That's when things can get a bit ugly. There are a lot of civilities built into daily life. There are just things you don't do or say to another human being. Most of that goes out the window online.

For some reason, the anonymity combined with just how social media has evolved has emboldened people to do and say things they never would in person (and I should also acknowledge society has changed in ways that even what's acceptable in person has changed).

What this means is I get a lot of negativity, some of it very personal. I'm not just talking about people criticizing the in-game choices I've made (or often didn't even make), but comments on me as a person, about who I am and what they think of me. People tell me that want bad things to happen to me. Not just getting fired (although that's a popular one), people vocalize, sometimes quite graphically, about things they want to happen to me.

The first few times this happened, I took it pretty hard. Having lots of people attack you online, saying horrible things about you, is tough. Humans look to other humans for approval. It's just built into our DNA to want others to like us. Having people attack you hurts. You have trouble sleeping, eating, it just weighs on you emotionally.

I was bullied as a kid. This really isn't much different except its much higher in volume and very public.

With time, I learned to adapt to it. It's not that I enjoy people saying nasty things about me. It still sucks, but I've found ways to process it. I came to realize that someone being nasty is more a commentary on them than me. And I adopted a philosophy of looking past the words to the message behind it. Most people complaining didn't like a choice we made about the game. I could focus on the feedback and less on the delivery method. But that took years, and it has a lot to do with who I am as a person. I enjoy the things I get to do with a public profile, so I accept what comes with it.

I've made the conscious choice to build a thick skin and weather social media, so I can continue doing what I love. It saddens me that I have to.

I say all this because I don't know if people really process the harm they're doing when they get negative online, especially towards another person. Most people do not have the years of processing angry messages like I do.

Words have an impact and that doesn't matter whether you're speaking them directly to someone's face or typing them in the privacy of your home.

Bullying is not okay. Cruelty is not okay. Making a conscious choice to belittle another human being, especially because they made a choice you disagree with about a game, is not okay.

When you use ugly words, you are doing harm to another human being (sometimes many human beings). Imagine if someone attacked you like that, or a loved one, or a friend. Don't do something to another human being that would cause pain if it was done to you.

That doesn't mean you can't communicate unhappiness. It doesn't mean you can't vocalize that you disagree with a decision made. I would stress two things. One, make it about the decision and not the person who made the decision. Explain why and how the decision impacts you, not what you think of the person because they made the decision.

Two, watch your language. As I said above, words have power. They can be used to build or to destroy. Is the language you're using designed to hurt? If so, don't use it. Use other language. If you need to take time to calm down, do so.

Community is what we as individuals choose for it to be. One of the things I love about the Magic community is how kind it can be, how accepting it can be, how uplifting it can be. But that's because we each individually choose to do that. The Magic community can get ugly, but only if we allow it to become so.

So please, the next time you're making a message designed to do something destructive rather than constructive, take a moment to reflect. Why are you doing this? What is your goal? Is it your intent to hurt someone? Because that's what negative language does.

I ask the Magic community to be better. I know we have the potential. I've seen it.

Be part of the solution, not the problem.

Thanks.

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dropsnectar · 4 months ago

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Your Puppy Siren!: When a Siren becomes a House Husband

PART TWO

NSFW

Obviously, when Baby got his legs, you couldn't just abandon him. You weren't sure exactly what was next for the two of you,, so you took it one step of a time. Baby had an issue with that, as balance wasn't necessarily a skill he could magic up with his oceanic enchantments.

He leaned on you the whole way home, taking jerky steps through the grasses.

When you showed him around the house, and the first thing he did was ask where you slept. You had shown him your bedroom and he immediately made himself comfortable about the blankets and pillows. You set him up with a copy of ‘The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe”, before going to make him dinner: mild Japanese curry.

It was mostly vegetables, as you had only had a few ounces of ground beef left, but you hoped his stomach was as human as his now legs. His whole body had changed, leaving him now almost albino pale, with large dark eyes that were still a bit too big for his human face.

When you went to walk him to the dining room table, you found him standing, holding the book to the ceiling as he read. He was leaning back and forth on each foot, as if the movement kept him upright. Perhaps he still had his sea legs under all that new skin.

He still needed your help to get to the table but his steps were more sure now. He ate the food happily, making sure to compliment you whenever possible. On the way back to your room, Baby could now keep his balance as he went. The first thing he did was gather as many pillows and blankets as he could from the living room, before leading you by the hand to your room, and arranging them further on the bed.

“Do you like it?” He asked, eyes eager. It had never occurred to you that Sirens may nest, but you took it in stride.

“It looks very warm.” you apeased, tired.

Sleeping on the nest didn't go as bad as you thought, but Baby had been a bit confused when you had tucked a blanket around the two of you

“It's to keep us warm.”

He had responded by pulling you to his arms and wrapping his legs around you.

“I can do that just fine.” He beamed. You laughed and let him hold you as you fell asleep. You could figure out Baby's fate tommorrow.

You had always pushed off the deciding of Baby's fate to tommorrow. You couldn't face it. Going to your part time job, then nursing school had been difficult for you. You were exhausted everyday you came back home.

Baby made himself as useful as he could. You had taught him some of the basics of cleaning the house. He had seemed somewhat confused by the idea of cleaning, but he took it upon himself to make sure the place was gleaming when you got home. You had taken him to the library a day after his legs sprung up, and he had carried home a pile of books, one of them being “Martha Stawarts Complete Guide to Housekeeping”.

You hadn't resided in the place long, but places you hadn't even realized were dirty were suddenly sparkling and smelling lightly of lavender and orange peels.

He had also brought home a whole pile of fish. It seemed that he could now shift his form back and forth at will. You remember coming home, sweat covered and in need of ibuprofen, when you found a pile of fish on the kitchen table. He had looked so proud if himself.

“We can keep them all in the freezer! What a useful device!”

You had gently taken his arms in hand and explained that humans weren't able to eat fish whole like sirens could. They had to be stripped of their scales and deboned. He seemed a bit tired by this, yet another a strange human quirk, but had taken it in stride. Per his request you had set him up with an instructional video on the subject.

He seemed to catch on pretty quickly, the only difference was that rather than using a sharp knife, he had preferred to use his talon like nails. They were retractable, he clarified later, and arguing they were cleaner than any knife when you had demanded he washed his hands before working.

“They will only get dirty again anyway!” He had argued, one of the few times he had ever done anything but smile at you. The concept of germs was met with raised eyebrows and apprehension.

For the first time in your life, you gave him “the look”. As this seemed to be a communication move that spanned species, he gave in, washing his talons? Claws? Before going back to his work.

A silent system had begun to flesh itself out. You brought home the money and groceries, and did most of the cooking, he did everything else. And anything you asked of him. Which wasn't much, but he became more and more useful by the day.

You couldn't help but feel a bit proud for Baby. The more you learned about him and Siren Life the more different the two of you seemed. But he had been adjusting so well, you almost didn't have to worry about him. Plus, it was hard to be mad at someone who made a point of taking care of you, like he did.

He gave you shoulder messages, microwaved old dinners when you didn't feel like eating. Hed shush you, and sometimes carry you to bed, petting your hair and singing you to sleep everytime everything felt like too much. And that was often.

It had been a week since he had taken up shop in your bedroom, and reality reared its big fat head like a snake. You had been whisked away to bed, and instead of cooing at you and humming that impossibly sweet voice of his, he had started to nibble on the side of your neck, hands reaching towards your pajama shorts. His tongue felt so incredibly good, and his touch was like silk, but you knew where this would leave.

“Stop. We don't have any protection.”

He had frozen and blinked at you, expression changing to the barely concealed mask of an adult trying to not laugh at a child's sudden declaration.

“If I sense any danger, I will deal with it immediately. Now come here…” His voice grew husky. You trailed back.

“I know we haven't talked about this before but what if… well you're a human so im not sure if it'll be the same but… I can't get pregnant. I don't know if it works the old fashion way or you might lay eggs in me or something but… we need to be careful.”

He was still smiling but he was biting his lip. “While I DO lay eggs, that part of me hasn't changed, I don't understand why it would be an issue. I am your husband, after all, shouldn't it be normal to have children at some point?”

“H-husband? Why do you think you're my husband?”

Babys face changed, the closest you had ever seen him get to upset. “We mated, we share a nest, how am I NOT your husband?”

“We had sex, yeah, but we didn't get married. Do Sirens mate for life? Is that why you think this?”

His expression grew animated and confused.

“Sirens do not mate for life, we have breeding seasons. But Humans mate for life, do they not? Why do you think I have been doing all this? I mean, I even made you a nest and you slept with me in it! How much more is their to a human marriage ritual?”

You stared at him, the realization dawning. You slowly put your hand over his and arranged your expression to one of patience.

“Humans used to mate for life. But ita a bit different now. We can have sex, even spend years courting before we agree to marry.”

Baby just stared at you, his confusion and anger turning to one of hurt.

“B-but what does that mean? I told you, I love you. I want to be with you.” He leaned forward tears starting to glisten at the corner of his eyes.

“I wanted a life with you. I threw my old life away the moment I got these legs. I have no idea where my pod is now, I can not return to them. I do not wish to return. I want to stay here, with you and be your mate.” He nuzzled his nose against yours and then took your cheeks in his hand. He gazed into your eyes, filled with longing.

“I may be new to being your partner; at being Human too. But I will do whatever you ask of me. Please. Be mine?”

He started to kiss your forehead. Then your eyes. Then your cheeks. His gaze strayed to your lips and he whined out, full blown tears now streaming from his eyes.

“I'll be so good. So good for you.”

Your heart went out to him. You had to admit, life had gotten so much easier to bear since he had entered it. No one could make you laugh like he could, could make you as curious as he could, could kiss you like he could.

You thought about it. Genuinely thought about it. You had a job, and nursing would pay you enough to pay for both of your lives once you started. You'd have to teach him how to properly navigate human society but he was so smart and charming, you were sure he would do so well. You came up with so many reasons why it could be doable, but the most important one was you didn't want to let him go.

“It'll be really hard for you. Are you sure you want this?” You whispered. “Want… me? You could spend the rest of your life sharing your season with mate after mate. Are you sure you would want to spend the rest of your days with me?”

He looked at you with intensity, the light finally dawning across his features.

“It will always be you.” And then he was on you. Was kissing you.

He was quick to take off your clothes, and did the same. His mouth was hot and needy, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth being everything you could ever want. That was except for one or two other places.

As if he could read your mind, he grinned, pulling himself down to stare at your groin, fingers grasping, teasing and exploring every sensitive curve and crevice. Then he got to work with his mouth and you groaned, your core turning molten. You could hear the noises of his mouth on your flesh, and it made your cheeks overheat.

His tongue glided around you as he sucked with his full mouth, making you shake and jerk under him. He made sure to pin you down with his hands now, before he started to trill and sing around you.

You chocked, pushing your hips up against his big string hands, which were now a mix of grey and white. It seems he had been riled up to, as his form was caught halfway between human and Siren. It was a new sight and he was absolutely gorgeous and one long note made you crash over the edge, toes and fingers curling.

The whole time his eyes were on you, gauging your reaction. He continued to auck you through the high but now started clawing at your entrance, circling slick little shapes. He seemed to take great joy in this, teasing your ache, before he plunged his fingers in making you choke and sigh all at once. When he was certain the area was worked enough, he gave you big puppy dog eyes.

“Can I be yours again?” He whispered huskies slowing the rate of his fingers. You nodded and he pulled himself up, pumping his own cock a few times making sure it was properly slick. His cock was half transformed too. It was extremely veins and the ridges weren't as pronounced, but he was thicker. You licked your lips as you remembered how he felt inside you.

Aware that you were watching him he keened in pride. He then slowly inserted himself, pushing further and further until you took every inch of him. You gasped out and clawed at the sheets in pleasure as he pumped you, his own eyes glazing over as he unleashed low, pornagraphic moans. He was louder than he had ever been, snapping his hips into yours, fingers clutching deep into skin. He looked completely blissed out as he rocked himself into you, huffing and moaning.

“Sound. So. Beautiful.” You breathed, knowing he was getting close. You could feel a heaviness now in the air. He wouldn't be able to help it. He'd be so drunk he'd use that song of his and you'd cum and cum for him until he was too far in exctasy to make any noise. And you were right.

You could tell he was holding it in. But he couldn't help but hum out, a song that seemed to cup and penatrate your very soul, making your entire mind stuffy and silly. You didn't want him to stop, going over the edge as another one of his moans turned into a full blown note. He kept bucking into you, skin slapping skin, as he keened and hummed and sang out for you. He wanted you to feel good. Wanted you to cum and feel good only for him. Because you were his.

When you felt his cum splash inside you it was warm, and more sludge like. It took a while to seep put of you. A comedic point in the back of your mind noted, “No eggs”.

He pulled himself to your side, pulling you tight to him. “Can… can I stay in you for a while?” He said it in a light begging tone. You nodded, a pulse of faraway pleasure as he pushed his soft dick inside you again. It felt nice, being one with him in this sweet comfortable moment.

You wanted to ask him about the magic, about the song and how for just a moment, it was like you could read his mind. But their was something so special about the moment, you didn't want to push him too far. Maybe next time, you could egg him on to use that power on you, to be completely encompassed by his pleasure and song.

“I know your tired, and we can wait but… can we do it again?” He pushed his nose to yours and traced it up and down, his eyes watery and begging. You could feel his dick twitch inside you.

“Please just let me spoil you. It is our wedding night after all…”

You had to stop yourself from correcting him. Tomorrow you would explain vows and wedding ceremony, but for now you'd just give in. But you had to admit, now a big piece of you belonged only to him.. So, in a way he had been right.

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster x reader #terat0philliac #teratophillia #monster #fantasy smut #fantasy romance #siren #siren smut #siren x reader

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byuntrash101 · 9 months ago

Text

𖤐 𝕯𝖆𝖒𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝕾𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙 𖤐

pairing — fem!nun!reader x sin of lust!seonghwa ft. ateez as the other sins

rating — smut | mdni

wc — 13.7k

synopsis — life is dull when you are an immortal being such as seonghwa. every day is the same and you live (or rather, merely exist) through the times crushed by the burden of boredom. until something new comes along in the form of a kind, compassionate and righteous newly ordained nun. and so the sin of lust makes it his personal mission to corrupt the purest of souls: yours.

nsfw tags under the cut

tags — *strap up babes this is a wild one*, a tad of plot, my attempt at humor, heavy religious/blasphemous themes (don't read if you're uncomfy <3), inclusive writing (reader is not physically described), also reader is the embodiment of purity, 20240127 hwa (moodboard here), kinda slow burn kinda vibes, so much tensionnn, mentions of a pxrn magazine, sooo much teasing, hot make out sesh, dom!hwa, also very sly demon!hwa, virgin!reader, supernatural sex, corruption kink (obviously), masturbation (f), oral (f), the (un)holy trinity =teasing, begging, mind breaking), thigh riding, nipple play, clit play, some light impact play (kitty slaps + 1 face slap), breath play, hair pulling, fingering (f), monster cock!hwa, size training, pet names (angel, love, darling, sweetheart), praising, degradation (slut, whore), unprotected sex (don’t recommend), denied and ruined orgasm (f), dumbification, multiple orgasms (f), overstim, an ungodly amount of cum, cumflation, lil breeding kink at the very end

playlist — me and the devil by soap&skin, unholy by sam smith, going to hell by the pretty reckless, smells blood by kensuke ushio, american horror show by snow wife, toc toc toc by zazie

ateez masterlist | navigation

a/n: i had an absolute blast working over my fave fic ever posted. i love it even more now <3

also wanted to say a special thank you to @hwaightme who really helped me pulled through with one <3 ily bai <3333

Seonghwa was bored out of his mind. Like he had been for decades now, even centuries. He couldn’t remember what it was like to feel… well… anything at all really. And after years upon years of vegetating he didn’t care enough to even try anymore. He just laid there, endlessly staring blankly at the emptiness. He tapped his slender finger on his thigh, comfortably set on the bed of dark purple smoke he had materialized out of thin air.

He let out an audible annoyed groan as he was nonchalantly stretching out his long limbs which didn’t fail to catch the attention of the others.

“What’s wrong?” Yeosang asked as he was feasting on some delicious meal he poofed out magically. He didn’t even take a second to look up the bucket full of chicken drumsticks, wrapping his greasy fingers around the bone and eyeing the meat like one would their life long partner. But then again, that wasn’t too far from the truth for Yeosang.

“I’m bored” Seonghwa complained, pushing his long silky black hair back on his forehead and choosing to ignore Yeosang’s lack of interest, dragging out the word on his tongue, transmitting his state of utter apathy to the others.

“Why don’t you go up and play with the Humans?” Mingi suggested while checking himself out in the mirror, readjusting his bangs and sliding his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose before striking a pose to himself, remaining completely self absorbed.

Once again, Seonghwa wasn’t getting much attention from his counterparts but he was somewhat used to it when it came to Mingi.

“What’s the point? They are no fun anyways!” Seonghwa sat up straight and crossed his long elegant legs on the cloud of cotton like smoke.

“Why?” Jongho asked, unlike the others he deigned looking in Seonghwa’s direction with somewhat surprised eyes. “You used to love going around and breaking up happy marriages, luring men and women in with your charms… That was always fun!” He said a little sluggishly, but still with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

“Yeah… Maybe it was…” Seonghwa replied. “Two millenniums ago…” Another prolonged sigh. “When everything still felt fresh.” He got up from the comfortable cloud of smoke, pacing the endless void as his heels clacked and echoed with each step. “Now I know that Humans are only self centered vile creatures who only claim to have better morals than us because they are scared of the consequences that inevitably ensue from succumbing to their primal desires. When in fact, all they want is to eat, kill, have sex or not do anything at all. They are nothing short of underdeveloped, unevolved, spineless piles of meat”

“Meat? Where?” Yeosang said, finally lifting his head from the bucket of fried chicken to look around, eyes rounded in panic.

Not a single one of them reacted except Mingi who side eyed him with disdain before returning to more important matters at hand such as swapping the aviator sunglasses for narrower, more rectangular ones.

“That’s not entirely false” Jongho concluded, shrugging, easily giving up on the idea of comforting Seonghwa.

“I mean where’s the fun if you can’t break their minds to give in?” Seonghwa placed both hands on Jongho's shoulders, slightly shaking him while the latter lifelessly swayed back and forth. “What is the point if they don’t resist the call of evil? If you can’t erode their will like a rock made smooth by the incessant beating of the waves of the cruel sea.” Seonghwa huffed in a quiet, defeated voice, letting go of Jongho's shoulders to let his arms hang at his side while the other one stared at him blankly.

“Hm… okay” Jongho said before slipping off Seonghwa's reach to take his place on the fluffy bed of purple smoke, crashing head first onto the soft cloud.

A silence settled for what seemed like a long moment, even for them, immutable creatures to whom the very concept of time couldn't grasp at their permanence.

“Well you never tried with that girl…” Wooyoung said, slithering his way to Seonghwa without a sound. He had been watching the scene unfold from afar up until then. “What was her name already?” He snapped his fingers and looked to the side trying to access his memory. He turned to Mingi for help but he was too busy looking through the mirror, slipping on yet another dangling necklace and smirking, satisfied at the results. Wooyoung then tried his luck with Yeosang but he now had his face buried in a huge bowl of chicken broth, the empty bucket of fried chicken abandoned and slurping up a big mouthful of noodles in a rather unpleasant way. “Jongho?” he called, finally settling for the one that looked almost passed out on the bed of smoke, but still this one wielded the most positive result.

“Y/n” Jongho responded without conviction, still laying flat on the cloud of smoke, eyes growing heavier by the second.

“Yeah! That’s right!” Wooyoung exclaimed. “That girl is unbreakable,” he affirmed. Seonghwa scoffed and threw an unconvinced look to his peer.

“No really! I’ve tried to corrupt her but I really couldn’t”. Wooyoung said, raising his brows and talking loudly to support his point. But that did little to persuade Seonghwa, he was convinced that Wooyoung was just not as good as him at breaking the mortals’ souls. So yes, it was possible that Wooyoung had struggled with that girl. But not him, surely not him.

When Wooyoung saw Seonghwa was not budging his face dropped, and he turned to the others. “Please someone back me up on this one”

“Oh yeaaah… I remember her” Yeosang said, voice cut by various sounds of loud lips smacking and open mouth chewing. “Even I tried!”

Now, that was different. Seonghwa was interested. Most people are quick to indulge themselves when it comes to food. It was, so to speak, the easiest sin of the seven to succumb to. The Humans often say “there’s always room for dessert” and innocently eat a generous slice of cake after devouring a full meal. They don’t even notice Yeosang forcing the big spoon full of buttery sugary goodness into their mouths. They don’t even know Yeosang, himself, made this saying.

“She refused to even do as much as taste the delicious meal I made her sister cook for her even though she was starving… instead she gave it to the homeless man living not far from her apartment.” Yeosang stated with aberration shaking his head in disappointment before plunging right back in the ramyeon bowl.

“Hmmm” Seonghwa scratched his chin, his curiosity for the mysterious righteous girl was piqued.

“One day I tried to make her give in” Jongho chipped in from the dark purple smoke bed, even pushing himself on his elbows to look at the others, to Seonghwa’s surprise. “Made her miss the train and the bus she needed to take to get home after work and conveniently laid a juicy wallet stuffed full of even juicier bills in the gutter. All she had to do was to bend down and get the money to take a taxi to her apartment. But instead she took the money and walked to the police station to report the lost wallet, which was in the opposite direction by the way and then walked back home only to take a shower and leave right after to attend the charity soup kitchen. Anddd… Explaining this made me tired. Please don't talk to me for the next two hundred years, thank you.” Jongho concluded in one single breath before laying back down and turning on his side to nap comfortably.

“Maybe that one can be interesting after all” Seonghwa thought aloud, his pretty face taking on a pensive frown, his sharp brows joining on his forehead.

“Yeah no kidding” Wooyoung added. “And you don’t know the best part yet…” A perfidious and sly smile pulled on his handsome features. “She was just ordained nun.”

Seonghwa’s face turned serious as his eyes snapped back to Wooyoung. All of a sudden the girl went from distraction of the day to possibly the ultimate challenge of corruption Seonghwa has been waiting for god knows how long (and he surely did not use the expression lightly).

“Don’t mess with me, Envy!” Seonghwa spat, suddenly calling Wooyoung by his biblical name, testifying the gravity of his statement.

“I’m not kidding, Lust” Wooyoung mocked Seonghwa’s serious tone by also using his sin name. “She decided the life of material things wasn’t the way to happiness so she devoted herself to a humbler one, gifting her time and belongings to the poor and destitutes while she devoted her body to God. God only…” Wooyoung said, feigning nonchalance while he snaked an arm around Seonghwa’s shoulders. “Look… Here she is” he purred in his neck.

With a flick of his wrist, green smoke emanated from thin air and formed a pierced circle where in the middle the reflection of a girl could be seen. She was quiet, in the very humble room, a single window shone down onto the bed as she knelt at its side, palms joined, retreated into silent prayers.

She’s perfect.

That was Seonghwa’s first thought as an obscene smirk tugged at his mouth, his tongue swiping across his lips making them shiny and wet. He eyed the girl kneeling by the bed as he lowered his chin, one strand of hair falling over the piercing siren eyes. The black and white uniform she was wearing, the habit, couldn’t fool the seasoned eyes of Seonghwa. All the fabric in the world couldn’t hide away the glorious curves of her body, the beautiful arch of her back leading to the roundness of her bottom gently resting on her heels. The holy swells of her chest softly lifting the thick black material of the habit and the simple wooden cross held by humble twine she was wearing around her neck.

Divine.

Was what described her best.

“She’s stunning,” Seonghwa huffed in a soft murmur, mesmerized and captivated by the image Wooyoung was showing him. And he smirked in victory, relishing on the way he had convinced his peer, once again living up to his name and very nature.

“Yeah I know.” Mingi said, finally turning his face away from his reflection to address Seonghwa. “I thought with such a pretty face she’d be easy to convince that she’s above everyone else and just make her a pretentious too-far-up-her-own-ass bitch. But I quickly realized she was a lost cause” he concluded, shrugging and stepping away from the mirror, sitting down next to Jongho, already fast asleep only to materialize another handheld mirror. seconds later.

“Yes…” Seonghwa spoke softly as he stared intensely at the girl. “She just might do.”

***

You were on cleaning duty at the church today after the mass. Even if the church was quite big it didn’t intimidate you. You settled the two buckets of warm soapy water and your floor cloth before tying your hair up in a rather unaesthetic but very practical hairdo and stretched your shoulders before giving yourself a determined little nod.

You started with scrubbing the ancient cobblestone of the old church with soap and a lot of elbow grease. Then you immediately followed up with dusting the chairs, the altar and the numerous effigies.

You diligently washed, dusted, scrubbed, cleaned, polished, until everything was neat and right. Simply happy and content with the idea of being useful to the community. The rhythmic sounds of your hard bristle brush against the pavements were setting the pace of the silence which helped you connect to the spiritual nature of the ancient place of worship.

But as you were tidying the confessional booth you noticed a small piece of colorful paper peeking from underneath the bench lined with worn burgundy red velvet. When your hands reached under the seat and hazardly caught the object you knew it was a magazine from the glossy feeling of the paper underneath your fingertips and when you finally let your eyes fall on it you realized the nature of the magazine.

Porn. A pornographic magazine.

The cover displayed several nude women adopting very suggestive poses, one of them even dangerously leaning her face towards the intimate parts of another one.

The obscene imagery made your heart race and you started to feel dizzy. You sat yourself on the bench and rested the lewd magazine in your lap. You took a deep breath and, very slowly, parted the red curtains to make sure you were alone in the church. Then you opened the magazine and flipped the cover page.

“Oh my… Look at that! She is flipping the pages!” Yeosang exclaimed.

“Oh she’s definitely curious about it,” Mingi laughed, his lips stretching into a satisfied half smile. But Seonghwa was more cautious, he refused to believe it just yet. Something about your body language was not right.

“Shhh” he shushed the others and motioned for them to keep looking through the green smoke.

As your fingers glided across each page. You felt hot in the face with each scene more obscene than the last one, tension building in your neck.

Seonghwa didn’t lose sight of you for a second, his lips curling on his teeth in a vicious smile as your trembling fingers went over every single page, your wide open eyes darting to every corner of each page. He could almost hear your heart thumping in your chest he could almost taste the adrenaline in your blood.

When you came to the end of it and closed out the magazine you sighed, letting your shoulders drop, closing your eyes in relief.

“Well…” you started “nobody left their name in it” you said to yourself, completely unaware the demons were spying on your every move. Not that you expected that anybody would leave their signature in such a piece of literature but still you had to at least try to find the rightful owner before taking actions.

A loud complaint erupted from the demons. All in disbelief. You looked at the magazine, true. But it was not for an impure purpose. It was only in the hopes of finding the name of the true owner and hopefully, returning it back to them. You had no interest in the salacious scenes presented in the glossy pages. The rushing blood to your cheeks wasn’t due to any feeling of arousal or libidinousness. It was only the shame of invading someone’s privacy.

Once again your intentions were completely commendable. Immaculate.

As the demons protested and complained, Seonghwa, on the other hand, stayed completely silent as he watched you bring the magazine to a trash bin without an ounce of regret. He wasn’t disappointed, he was excited. He felt excitement. A feeling so distant and faded that it felt foreign. Seonghwa had forgotten all about this thrill. He didn’t remember how tingles tickled the tip of his cold fingers or how his guts swirled around in frenzy. This feeling was joy. Pure joy. Sweet intoxicating euphoria. And it was all thanks to you.

“I’m gonna have so much fun with you” he whispered to you, as if you could hear him, his eyes glued to the reflection in the pierced circle of deep green smoke, he whispered to the image of the unsuspecting girl discarding the impure magazine. A paltry, too poor of a stratagem to have you yield to the darkness. You, the pious and saintly nun.

***

You never really liked cooking, before you joined the covenant your sister was always the one in the kitchen preparing delicious home cooked meals for the family. But what you did like on the other hand was helping. Usually you cleaned up the kitchen but when your sister was running out of time she would ask you to peel the vegetables or cut them. So naturally cutting the vegetables was not your favorite task around the convent. You liked cleaning and tidying up better. Only because you were more on the active side and you liked how cleaning would make you break up a sweat when the whole monastery needed a dust off but nonetheless what you liked most was to help the community. And knowing the soup you were cooking up with the help of two of your sisters was going to feed everyone was a fulfilling feeling. Well enough to make you happy.

So you were contemplating life cutting off the homegrown zucchinis when Sister Chaeyoung started to giggle. You didn’t pay much attention until Sister Nayeon started to snicker along with her.

You lift your eyes up and the both of them instantly stiffened up and started to act suspicious.

“What are you laughing about you two?” you asked, an amused smile playing on your lips.

“Oh nothing” Nayeon said, hiding something behind her back.

“Come on, I want to laugh too” you said, the smile spreading further on your face, lifting up your cheeks adorably.

You three were the youngest in the convent so you did many duties together, you grew quite close with the girls.

Chaeyoung ripped something from Nayeon’s hand and proudly showed it to you.

“Look at this carrot” she said, puffing an adorable laugh.

It was true the carrot had quite the… interesting shape. First of all it was quite large, abnormally thick for a simple carrot. Homegrown vegetables were never like the perfectly shaped ones you could find at the store and it was definitely the case for this one. It had a slight upward curve and the extremity had a very distinctive shape. It was phallic.

You delicately took the vegetable from the hands of Chaeyoung to examine the orange root closely.

It was almost unnatural how close the resemblance was, like it couldn’t be due to fortuity… The thick tip, the robust and curved upright shaft, the asperities reminiscent of the blood engorged veins, even the small slit at the top… The details were impressive.

“Look look” Mingi exclaimed, nudging Seonghwa in the ribs as he observed you through the green fog. “She looks interested. I think she’s done this time”. He declared self-assured, cocking a single eyebrow. But Seonghwa remained completely silent but a smirk pulled on his lips when he noticed how you were eyeing the forbidden vegetable (no pun intended), how your throat seemed to thickly swallow and how your lip slightly trembled.

It felt so empowering, finally getting to chip away at your strong willed spirit, finally getting lust to creep under your skin. For these long seconds of contemplation, Seonghwa could only imagine the wicked places your mind raced to. But right when he was about to open his mouth and declare victory. You laughed.

Seonghwa’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as this laugh ripped through him, like a dagger through the skin.

You laughed so openly, your head hung back, eyes creased. The laugh was like the rest of you, joyful, clear and pure.

You are only amused by such a coincidence. Nothing more, nothing less. Of course it was funny and you were never the stuck up kind and it felt right to have a bit of lighthearted fun with your younger sisters.

“I guess she’s only laughing at your stupid tricks,” Wooyoung said, his sly smirk mocking Seonghwa’s failure.

“Fuck off Wooyoung” Seonghwa spat as he watched the scene unfold.

The three of you just laughed, enjoying this bonding moment together while the stricter, older sisters and the Mother Superior weren’t there to dim down your childish and silly amusement. It was just some playful, innocent humor to you.

Nothing to shake your faith or virtue.

“Now let’s finish up the soup, girls” you said, setting the amusing carrot on the cutting board. Before chopping it up and tossing the pieces in the big pot.

“Maybe we should have kept it” Chaeyoung whispered with pouty lips. “It could have been useful.”

“Don’t be silly,” you replied with a smile.

Seonghwa felt anger bubbling up in his stomach and rushing through his veins to burn down his chest and neck. As much as he hated to admit it… Wooyoung was right, these stupid tricks were no match for the unwavering righteousness of your mind. These would certainly suffice if it was any other soul but not yours. Not you.

So Seonghwa resolved to resort to drastic measures. Something he hasn’t done for centuries. But something necessary. This anger he felt, the deception upon failing once again. He hadn’t felt that in so long, he felt alive finally. It was ironic how an immortal soul would forget how to feel alive for the simple reason that nothing is a threat to their existence. Their presence is immutable, infinite, certain. Therefore unexciting, monotonous and lifeless.

The negative feelings reminded Seonghwa of a purpose he once had, they reminded him of the stakes that used to be. In a way you reminded Seonghwa what it felt like to feel. You reminded him what it meant to be alive. Him, the unholy and vile Sin of Lust.

***

“You cannot be serious,” Hongjoong exclaimed, rubbing the deep crease between his eyebrows, this conversation was starting to give the Guardian of the Gate a headache.

“I am most certainly serious,” Seonghwa assured. “Now is the best time.”

“Why?” Hongjoong asked. “I’m sorry but I can’t let you through unless you give me a solid explanation.”

“Come on Joongie~” Seonghwa said innocently smiling at him leaning on the smaller man in front of him, wrapping his arms around his waist and tilting his head adorably. “You and I go way back, right?”

“Your ways have no power against me, Lust. You know that.” Hongjoong just looked at him scornfully. “Now if you don’t tell me your plan I’ll shut the gates for the next century.”

“What has this place come to? We used to be able to go and play with humans all day and not get questioned,'' Seonghwa complained, throwing his hands in the air and slipping away from Hongjoong. But the latter didn’t budge. “Fine” Seonghwa spat.

“You see my dear friend, today she’s ovulating. Her body is most likely to respond to the primitive instinct of the survival of the species. Meaning that her spirit is most likely to be weaker.” Seonghwa explained his reasoning.

“But how do you plan on actually interacting with her? You know you won’t be able to have physical contact, you'll go through her like a ghost. Unless she summons you. And I don’t see how or even why she would call your name three times” Wooyoung pointed out, as he was watching the feud from afar.

“I know that I’m not stupid” Seonghwa said with an eyeroll and a sigh. “I won’t need to touch her to break her” he assured.

“But how if she can’t even see you?” Hongjoong yelled, ready to pluck the hair out of his head. Seonghwa was about to become the Guardian's breaking point.

“Hey relax, okay” Seonghwa said, slipping behind the man and gently pinching the muscles of his shoulders. “You are starting to look like San.”

“What did you say about me? “ San yelled from across the empty space, interrupting his card game with Yunho.

“Just play” Yunho instructed with a monotonous fed up tone, pointing his chin towards the deck of cards.

“This game is stupid anyways!!” San screamed before flipping the table over in a loud grunt as the cards flew everywhere, floating gracefully to the ground. Yunho sighed deeply.

“He always does this…” he whispered to himself, getting off the chair and walking to Hongjoong and Seonghwa as Jongho was peacefully snoring close by.

“How can he sleep through this?” Yeosang looked at Jongho in disbelief, as he was stuffing more cheesecake into his mouth. Yunho scoffed.

“How can you eat through this?” Yunho underlined and Yeosang just shrugged before smiling with his mouth still full, earning disgusted grunts and complaints from the others.

“Can we focus for one minute here?” Hongjoong interrupted, desperately trying to get back on track. “How are you going to corrupt her if she can’t see you?”

“Oh but she will see me” Seonghwa smirked.

“Not in the monastery she won’t, not on sacred ground” Wooyoung mocked his overly confident tone.

“It’s true, you know” Yunho chipped in, putting his large palm on Seonghwa’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m about to say that but… I think you’re being greedy” Yunho concluded, as Seonghwa whipped his head to him.

“Wow… That’s so out of character for you.”

“Well that should speak volumes about the foolishness of your plan” Yunho shrugged, taking his hand back.

“It’s not foolish because she will see me. For the simple reason that she will invite me in” Seonghwa’s smirk grew wider as silence settled in the unholy space between hell and earth. Wooyoung laughed hysterically, holding his ribs as he wiped off a tear in the corner of his eyes.

“And how will you manage that?” Hongjoong asked with a raised, unimpressed eyebrow.

Just then a chiming sound could be heard in the emptiness. Seonghwa fished out of his pocket a small human device. All in the room looked incredulous As Seonghwa smirked at the small screen illuminating his pretty face.

“Since when did you-” Hongjoong started but Seonghwa simply brought his long pointer finger to his lips and shushed him.

“She’s waiting for me”

***

“A disaster” Mother superior exclaimed as she threw her arms at her side, looking at the flooded basement. “We cannot go to the retreat and leave until the problem is fixed. The humidity can damage the foundations of the monastery. “I’ll stay and sort it out.”

The sisters all let out frustrated sighs.

“You should go Mother” you stepped in. “The sisters need you at the retreat as well as the faithful… I’ll stay and get things in order. You can count on me” you said with a determined nod and a smile, tightly holding the wooden cross on your chest.

As much as you wanted to go. Someone needed to stay, that much was undeniable and the wisdom of the Mother Superior was needed at Lourdes. So it wasn’t without a little sting at the heart that you waved goodbye to a bus full of your friends, your sisters.

You went back in and sighed at the mess. The ancient timber beams were slowly soaking up the stagnant water, the old stones of the walls were being eroded and the humidity was not good news for the cheeses you were maturing, not even mentioning the ruined mushrooms you were about to harvest before the disaster. Of course the boiler was old and rustic but Mother Superior always made sure it was checked annually and repaired when it was needed before any damage could be done. But even the most diligent measures sometimes can’t prevent the unforeseeable hazards of life.

You went back up and searched for a plumber in the local newspaper. Luckily there was an ad for one that was living in town.

Park, plumbing/heating engineering at your service, the flashy ad read.

You looked at the time, it was late afternoon, probably a little too late to take up a new job, but you figured there was still hope he could at least pick up the phone and maybe appoint a day to come have a look at the leakage. You didn’t waste anymore time and dialed the phone number in the ancient and only phone located in the Mother Superior’s office.

As the tone rang you suddenly got nervous. Ever since you joined the convent you didn’t interact much with the outside world except the followers coming to church or the people you were helping. So this upcoming conversation was making you agitated.

“Hello, Park, plumbing and heating engineer, how can I help you?” You are surprised by the voice at the end of the line. You never expected such a smooth, melodic voice to pick up the phone.

“H-Hi! I’m Sister y/n from the Monastery of the Sacred Mission, our basement flooded, we think the boiler possibly needs to be replaced. Is it possible for you to come take a look?”

“Oh! Sorry to hear that. I’m guessing much damage has been done…” his concerned tone somewhat eased your nerves.

“Unfortunately yes”

“I see… I can come right now”

“Really?” you blinked your eyes twice in surprise. “Well that would be marvelous” you said cheerfully “but wouldn’t you be working past hours? I fear there’s quite a lot of work” you ask concerned.

“It’s okay. You help others so much. Now it’s my time to help you” his tone changed, a subtle switch you can’t put into words but the difference sent a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you”

***

“Thank you so much for coming this quickly” you thanked the man as he stood in the impressive frame of the heavy convent door.

You took a step aside to let him in but he just stood before the front steps not moving an inch. You threw him a puzzled look but he just stared back blankly at you. There was a moment of hesitation on his behalf that left you quite perplexed.

“Please come in” you hesitantly said while amicably smiling at the man.

“Thank you” he simply responded, almost sounding relieved.

As soon as he stepped foot in the door frame you felt a cold breeze run on your neck under the habit and shivers run down your spine. Autumn was indeed well advanced now but such cold winds were usually never felt before winter. Of course, you made little of a simple gust of wind.

“Hi. I’m Sister y/n. Nice to meet you” you stuck your hand out to him. He looked down at it and fumbled with the tool boxes but opted for a polite nod instead of a handshake.

“Sorry, I’ve been working all day and my hands are dirty” he laughed nervously “and the name is Seonghwa” he flashed the brightest smile you have ever seen. For a second your heart skipped a beat and a foreign feeling blossomed in your chest. You never expected this unknown plumber to be this handsome.

He had long and shiny raven black hair perfectly framing his face and just as healthy thick eyebrows complimenting the dark, round and benevolent eyes, reminiscent of boba pearls. A long elegant neck, a defined jawline, high cheekbones and tanned olive glossy skin.

His body was cladded in an unbuttoned navy blue overall that let peek out a simple white t-shirt underneath. You could tell the outfit had undergone various difficult jobs as the fabric was thinned out at his knees and had various stains of paints and plaster.

He looked like a kind man. Like the kind of person you would give communion to without confession. The kind of person that just has a good heart. It was that kind of reassuring and warm aura that you felt from him, something that put you at ease right away.

You led him to the faulty boiler.

Right away he got on one knee and started to inspect the recalcitrant piece of machinery.

“Well I’ll leave you to work on your own” you said as you retreated to take your leave. Seonghwa only politely nodded and smiled in your direction before turning his attention back to the problem.

While the plumber was working you put your time to good use and organized the paperwork of the Mother superior. Doing such work was always tedious for her because she wasn’t exactly the organized kind of woman but you were. You knew doing that you would be of great help. Since the task was quite large, it took quite a long time and it’s only when your stomach emitted a loud grumble that you realized the evening was well advanced.

You figured Mr. Park was hungry or at the very least thirsty after working for so long. So you grabbed a metal tray and brought him a set of the specialty sugar cookies the convent was selling along with a generous serving of cold water embellished with a dash of freshly squeezed lemon juice to make sure Mr. Park’s thirst would be thoroughly quenched.

When you passed the archway that was leading to the boiler room your heart nearly stopped beating when your eyes met the working man.

Swiftly you spinned on your feet and hid behind the wall, only peeking an eye out the corner to still be able to witness the novel scene taking place in front of you.

Seonghwa had tightened the sleeves of his blue overalls around his waist and was wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, clearly the labor was not restful. You couldn’t tell if it was from sweat or from the leaking water but his white t-shirt was wet and sticking to his skin, making the fabric lightly translucid. You could guess the dark pinkish color of his nipples and the outline of his well built body underneath. The short sleeves of his t-shirt were rolled up and were tightly hugging his arms while his long fingers were wrapped around a wrench as each twist of his wrist was making the veins of his forearm bulge out.

You loudly gulped down a lump in your throat. Your hands tightly held onto the tray in fear of letting it fall to your feet.

But your misery was far from over because before you could realize it Seonghwa was pulling on his shirt and passing it over his head. Every muscle of his back moving around, contracting and relaxing in a beautiful dance, shining under the golden hour sun seeping through the small single window of the basement. Water and sweat was running down his back and at his flanks, when he turned around, your eyes dashed around his naked upper body. You couldn’t decide where to settle them. His collarbones, his pecs, his abs, the dent at the sides of his abdomen, his (very) low resting overalls…

Your heart was about to give out. You had seen male bodies before, never in real life that was true but you did once or twice on TV or on billboard ads of men’s underwear.

But, never, you felt something like that. That feeling. This tingly feeling budding in the low pit of your stomach, making your guts stir around, making your palms sweaty, making your heart helplessly hammer against your ribs, making your eyes widen as you couldn’t peel them off the naked wet skin of the handsome stranger. This feeling of immoral interest for another person’s body, this longing for somebody else’s touch.

This feeling of Lust.

It was completely foreign to you.

If it wasn’t for Seonghwa you would have chugged the whole carafe of lemony water by yourself because you never felt your throat as dry as it felt right now.

“Look! Look!” San shouted, wrapping a strong hand around Wooyoung’s forearm and making him wince in pain as they both stared at you through the green smoke. “Y/n is giving in!”

“Look at the way she’s staring at him!” Yeosang said, briefly reaching for a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“Wow” Yunho added “She definitely isn’t thinking about church-appropriate things”. Yunho laughed but Mingi scoffed.

“If she likes him, wait till I show my human form. I’m infinitely more good looking than him”

“Not everything’s about you, Mingi” Yunho scolded him.

With trembling hands you settled the metal tray onto the window sill. You poured a glass of water and presented it to Seonghwa.

“Here” you unexpectedly manage to keep your voice calm and steady. “I figured you might be thirsty or hungry.”

“Oh thanks” he said, wrapping his hand around the glass, carefully avoiding touching your hand in the process, probably trying not to get sweat and dirt smeared on you. “I just got done actually”

“Oh wonderful” you exclaimed, maybe a little louder than expected. Maybe eager to get rid of that immoral feeling that was awakened by his presence. Seonghwa cocked an eyebrow and gave you a puzzled look at the unexpected outburst of joy.

“Why? Are you impatient to throw me out?” he smirked, pushing his long and soaked hair back as he took a step closer, doe eyes narrowing, becoming sharp. You did your best to lock your eyes with his, not to let them wander down his still half naked body. Seonghwa didn’t make any effort to cover himself. Your heart seemed to be trying to break through your rib cage to get a chance to beat closer to Seonghwa’s chest.

“No, it’s just that…” you took a step back “you have been working for so long you must be wanting to go back to the comfort of your home” you quickly get back on your feet before smiling politely at him, trying to conceal your uneasiness.

“Why?” he asked tit for tat, taking a step closer again, siren eyes bored deep into yours, trying to lull you in. “No one is waiting for me at home.”

Seonghwa heard the faintest little gasp escape your lips and he knew you were shaken. You, the unwavering nun, the faithful saint. You were at last considering him. Contemplating giving in to the primal and lowly instinct of desire.

Seonghwa sensed it. He saw it in the way you hurriedly licked your dry bottom lip, he saw it in the way your eyes darted between his lips and his eyes, he saw it in the way you stopped backing away from him.

You, y/n, you were giving in to pure sensual need. No love, no sentiment involved. Only desire to feel a complete stranger’s body against yours, only pure, untainted lust.

If only he could touch you. If only he could, it would be so much easier to help you gently fall into the welcoming and serene arms of corruption. But he couldn’t and that was making the whole experiment that much more exciting. He had to use deceit and trickery. Like a siren numbing your mind with a beautiful song.

But if you gave the slightest hint of submitting, if you let your guard down and let him into your heart then he would have won and that was all that mattered. If you tilted your head and you puckered up your lips to kiss him, if you took a step towards him to press your body against his, if your lifted your hand to feel his wet, glistening skin under your fingers, if you did anything to welcome the unholy desire, if you opened yourself to lust, then touching you would have been unnecessary because Seonghwa would have won and you and God would have lost.

And victory was oh so close. So close when he was as near to you as he could. So close when he slowly approached his face to yours. So close when your heart was pumping scorching hot blood through your veins, so close when your mouth started to water, so close when your lips started to quiver, so close when your eyelid started to flutter but…

Again, you stepped back.

“WHAT?!” San shouted.

“No way!!” Yeosang added, staring at your unsuspecting reflection in the green smoke.

Seonghwa’s shoulder dropped along with the satisfied little smirk.

“Thank you for fixing the boiler this quickly, Mr Park” you said, averting your eyes, finally breaking the spell he had casted on you and peeling your eyes off him.

Seonghwa had cried victory too soon. He had counted the chicken eggs before they hatched, he had put the cart before the horse. In other words… he had underestimated you.

He underestimated your will, your faith and your unwavering sense of righteousness. The other Sins had warned him though but he didn’t listen. They told him it was impossible to bend you. All of them had tried before and none succeeded so it was undeniable now that Seonghwa was just going to join them in failure.

“Don’t worry about it” he smiled at you, disappointment peeking behind his shiny brown orbs.

Seonghwa had accepted defeat when you led him back to the door of the convent. He walked away but turned around half way only to see your still body standing straight in the doorframe, perfectly incarnating your strong, unbending mind.

You only politely smiled when you pushed the big heavy door with difficulty, finally closing it in with a loud thud.

“Fuck… I guess Seonghwa failed too…” Yunho stated as he watched you close the door. But Wooyoung looked at you with a knowing grin.

“I’m not so sure…” he said as the smirk tugged further at his lips.

***

When you finally escaped Seonghwa’s taunting eyes, you leaned your back on the sturdy door, your spirit drained, your mind exhausted. You closed your eyes to catch a breath but the only thing you could see was the working man’s godlike figure carved onto your retinas, the translucent white t-shirt clinging to his golden skin, the sweat dripping down his temples and wetting the beautiful long strands of black hair, the bulging veins of his forearms and the dents engraved at both side of his lower stomach. And the more you thought about it, the quicker your breathing got.

You were all alone here… Your sisters and Mother superior were all gone. What wrong could it cause if you gave in just this once? Not that much, right?…. Just this once.

With big strides you walked to the kitchen and handpicked a nicely shaped carrot, almost regretting not listening to Chaeyoung and keeping that other one.

But this one was going to do the trick. It was not too thick and just long enough to help you carry out your shameful business but not too big to actually taint you and strip you of the precious veil of chastity that you managed to keep intact all of these years.

You climbed up the stairs with haste, avoiding the marble eyes of the holy figures represented in the halls only to take refuge in your bedroom.

You slipped out of your shoes and laid on your bed. You didn’t even bother taking the habit off, it wasn’t going to take long anyway, you simply pulled it up.

When you slid off the white panties you realized how soaked you were. You couldn’t believe it. Your whole life you’ve never felt this way, the feeling was overwhelming and needed to be dealt with immediately. Yes, that was what you were doing simply ridding yourself of an impure feeling!

You whipped out the orange root and clumsily rubbed the thinner tip on yourself. The cold sensation took you aback and pulled a small gasp from your lips.

You coated the root with your juices and then you aimed it at your entrance. You slid the carrot inside, it was too thin to hurt in any way but it was well long enough. When you reached the bottom of yourself you couldn’t help but to let out a satisfied grunt at the sensation of the vegetable rubbing against your sensitive spot.

You pulled it back out and slid it back in, this time a little faster. Heat gained over your body as your eyes fluttered close and you recalled the unfairly handsome and devilishly sexy working man.

The muscles of his back, his long slender neck, his collarbones, his beautiful sun kissed skin.

“Aaah” you sigh. “Seonghwa” his name rolled off your tongue so naturally, almost like it was meant to be said like this.

His long and dark wet hair, his plush lips getting close to yours, his warm breath fanning your face.

“Seonghwa” you moaned again, more high pitched this time as your wrist was getting more and more reckless, each time deliciously scrubbing your walls in divine and forbidden pleasure.

The way he looked at you, the way his dark eyes were filled with the same desire you had for him. The way they spoke volumes about the sinful things he wanted to do to you. And God… did you almost let him have his way with you.

You started to clench around the root, each time you pulled it out your walls were eagerly gripping on it, refusing to let it go, so you smashed it back in with force to grant their wish. Your walls quivered around the vegetable, a foreign and unknown euphoria was taking over you and you knew you were done for.

“I’m… ngh… c-cumming” you whispered to yourself as you felt the tightness in your core reach a brand new level. “Seonghwa” you cried out one more time, being only a few back-and-forths away from your sweet release but alas you couldn’t pull it through.

Because without knowing, without realizing, completely unsuspecting, you called his name. You called his name three times. You summoned him.

Purple smoke started to erupt from the corner of the small dimly lit room by the late evening sun. With terror you ripped the vegetable out before you could finish and covered your modesty with the habit you were still wearing.

From the smoke appeared slick black leather chelsea boots resting under a pair of anthracite gray dress pants coated with a shiny silverish finish. As the smoke got thinner you could distinguish a matching cropped blazer with an asymmetrical and deconstructed silver vest underneath that was held together by one single button right under his neck, you could see the soft and glistening golden skin underneath. And finally when the smoke was completely gone you saw his face. The sharp features and the slender slithering body reminiscent of the one of a serpent, eyes just as sharp and presence just as menacing. A face you hadn't known for long but couldn't forget. Seonghwa’s face.

But he looked different. His long bangs weren’t framing his face anymore, instead he had tied the long wavy strands in a high half bun. His aura was also different from when he was wearing the blue and spotted overalls. Now cladded in the revealing ensemble he looked expensive, confident and sensual.

Your jaw practically dropped to the floor when your mind finally wrapped around the information your eyes were transmitting.

“Well well…” Seonghwa stepped closer while you jolted yourself up the bed, your body cornered between the headboard and the wall.

“What are you?” you whispered with trembling lips, heart pounding, adrenaline rushing through your veins, ready to flee if need be.

Seonghwa looked at you, puzzled for a second. Then he laughed, head tilting back. The laugh made the hair in your nape stand. It was unnatural, cold and fundamentally evil.

“Me?” he asked. Right then you felt your body being magically lifted from the soft mattress. You shrieked again, utterly confused while Seonghwa’s magic slammed you against the bare walls of the humble bedroom, the tip of your toes barely scraping the worn out wooden floor.

“Oh my, please pardon my awful manners,” he said in an overly polite tone. “I’m Seonghwa, Cardinal Sin of Lust” he said, bowing respectfully, elegantly bringing his right hand on his chest in a princely manner. “But for you, love…” Seonghwa stepped towards you, taking his time to look at you. He leaned on your ear to whisper.

“I’m a dream come true” his voice was deep, sultry, self-assured. Everything you’d imagine it to be.

A faint gasp escaped your lips as you felt his warm breath on your neck.

You wanted to scream to all heavens, you had brought a demon into the convent. You had desecrated the sacred ground of this place of worship, your home. You led the wolf to the sheeps. But you couldn’t scream, you couldn’t even if your life depended on it.

“W-what do you want?” you managed to push the few words past your teeth. Your voice, perfect opposite of the one of the demon: muted and trembling.

“Just want to finish my business with you” his face stayed right where it was, nestled in the crook of your neck. Lips so close you could feel the heat radiating from them but somehow they were still too far, unable to touch you.

“What business?” you whimpered.

“Darling.” Seonghwa clicked his tongue and shook his head in disapproval. “There’s no point in fighting anymore. Stop playing dumb with me. I know you’re a smart girl.” He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. “I already won, darling… that very second you decided to give in to the thought of me. That second you closed the big heavy door and thought you escaped my eyes. That very second I had won.” A wicked smirk pulled on his lips. But his words didn’t make any sense to you.

This languish was torture, this state of expectation, of suspense. This proximity. You wished it would just stop. Be it touching you for good or get away finally. Just as if he read your mind he got even closer. Now it wasn’t only his lips taunting the thin skin of your neck, it was his whole body, hovering over yours; but still… Not touching you.

“Sure winning felt good. But you know what feels even better, darling?” You couldn’t bring yourself to formulate words and only whimpered in response.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart” he grinned, relishing on your anguish, placing both of his palms at both sides of your face, trapping your frail figure between his arms and the wall.

“It’s to finally touch you.”

So he finally let himself take a deep dive into you. The plush warm lips crash onto your neck, giving wet sloppy open mouth kisses while you couldn’t help but to tilt your head back giving him more access.

“What a good girl you are” he purred, not taking the time to part his lips from you.

His left hand went to your chin and turned it to make you face him, without much hesitation he planted a wet kiss on your lips, your cute whimpers and gasps were the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss.

The kiss got heated as Seonghwa pried your hesitant mouth open with his long thumb and pushed his tongue inside to breach your lips. His delicious taste spread through your mouth, making your head dizzy. He tasted like candy, like you just took a bite of the juiciest strawberry. Ripe, just in season, absolutely delicious.

You moaned into his mouth and he smirked as his grip around your chin got tighter, he lifted his knee to part your legs and his thigh rubbed against your center through the habit. You couldn’t help but to moan louder, the unsolicited pleasurable friction made you incapable of reciprocating the kiss, your dangling feet nervously giving small kicks in the air.

Seonghwa finally parted from you, allowing you to catch your breath. But he was far from done with you.

“I know you long for more than this, angel” he whistled while his hand went up your thigh, still clothed with the thick black fabric of the habit. “I know you languish for pleasure” his blunt nails went up your arm and you realized you were still holding onto the carrot. He ripped the root from your hand.

“You won’t need this anymore” he said before smashing the poor vegetable on the ground sending millions of orange pieces flying across the room, you flinched once more at the demonstration of strength.

“Mine is much bigger than this. But don’t worry, love, I’ll make you nice and ready for me” he purred before placing both of his strong hands on the habit and just like that with astonishing ease he rips through the black gown. But not only, everything covering you is ripped in two and that also goes for your bra that fell to the ground. With the deafening sound of the fabric ripping you found yourself completely naked in front of the demon apart from the veil on your hair and the rosary beads laying on your chest.

You flinched and your hands flew to cover your nude frame but Seonghwa once again laughed and you felt an irresistible magical force pin your wrists at each side of your face. You sniveled and squirmed trying your hardest to go against the invisible force to hide away from the avid eyes of the demon.

“How cute.” The demon snickered when you failed to fight back. “Sweetheart, you don’t get to hide anything when you look this good” he said in a breath, eyes darting over your naked figure. From your dangling feet, to your thighs tightly pressed together, to your flushed face and to the Rosary beads sitting between your gorgeous breasts, swaying every time you kept trying to break away from the spell pinning you against the wall.

He brought a cold hand to the side of your breast, you couldn’t help but to moan as you felt his soft hand against you, his finger suddenly pinching your sensitive and hardened nipples. You let out a high pitched whimper.

“So sensitive” Seonghwa mocked you before he flicked the sensitive bud. Then he lifted his hand to harshly slap against the innocent lump of flesh, you jumped in surprise at the sensation. The surprise didn’t lie in the sudden surge of pain but rather from the enjoyment you got out of it, the sting sending electricity down your spine to light up your core.

With another faint movement of the head Seonghwa made you open your legs widely. You whimpered and felt tears build up in the corners of your eyes when he finally laid eyes on your most private part. And you realized with dread how wet you were. Soaked. Juices streaming down to your inner thighs making them glisten under his persistent gaze.

“Fuck, sweetheart” he exhaled out one heavy breath. “You got this fucking wet for me?” he said as he crouched down, inching his face dangerously close to your exposed center.

Embarrassment and shame reached an unbearable level, tears finally spilled out of your eyes, wetting your cheeks as you squirmed, trying your best to escape Seonghwa’s spell.

“So here’s the little hole I’m going to split in two” he said as his breath brushed over your wet folds.

You squirmed even harder, somehow feeling Seonghwa’s spell loosen around your wrists and ankles. But when he aimed his pointer finger right on your swollen bundle of nerves, earning a loud scream from you, the sudden pleasure from the perfect amount of pressure he applied on you made you completely immobile. Torn between the need for more of the foreign forbidden joy but also the fear and shame of letting the demon have his way with you, tainting you, taking away your most precious possession: your purity.

“What? Are you not fighting me off anymore?” He started to draw small circles on your bud. Your wetness made it easy for his finger to glide across the small and stiff nub. You moaned a little louder and he started going faster.

“Does it feel good, angel?” his voice went down an octave as pleasure got to your head, making the room spin, luckily you don’t have to stand on your legs.

Seonghwa went even faster when you didn’t reply.

“I said, does it feel good?” his tone was as harsh as his restless teasing of your clit. Hellish circles sending blazing heat to your whole body as you felt the pleasure rising in the deepest part of your core, your walls quivering on themselves.

But Seonghwa slowed down at the worst moment, a wicked smirk pulling on his plump lips, narrowing his piercing siren eyes.

“Good little sluts should answer when asked a question.” His pace was now just fast enough to keep you at your limit, each spasm of your core, testifying of the agonizing muted pleasure he was inflicting on you.

“Answer!” he ordered while he delightfully pressed on your painfully sensitive bundle of nerves.

“YES!! Yes it feels good” you blurted out, panting, sweat pearling between your breasts, giving in to the pressure.

“Good girl” he praised as he finally lifted his hand from your sensitive parts. You sighed in both relief of finally being let off the hook but also in frustration at the displeasing feeling of his denial.

But before you could celebrate or pester he pushed that very same finger inside you. You didn’t know by what ungodly miracle he managed to aim straight at your sensitive spot, but he did, applying divine pressure deep inside you. Your eyes instantly rolled to the back of your head as you felt the will of fighting off slipping through your fingers.

Seonghwa chuckled at your reaction, he was enjoying himself very much. After centuries of boredom he intended to savor every second of your agony.

“Darling, you really are hungry for my fingers, aren’t you? Your slutty little cunt is gripping so tightly” he chuckled again while he pulled his finger back. You hated how right he was. You hated how you felt your walls clench around him, how you felt your own body crave for more of him as soon as his finger slipped out.

But the yearning didn’t last long because he pushed past your entrance again, this time fitting two fingers inside you, taking the time to gently stretch you until his blunt nails reached as deeply as they could.

You let out a moan through gritted teeth, the pleasure making beads of sweat pearl at the sides of your face.

“Fuck! Your virgin little pussy just loves to be stretched out like this, doesn’t it?” He leaned even closer to your sopping center.

Tears continued to run down your cheeks as pleasure rose again. Seonghwa picked up the pace, stretching your walls so deliciously, pumping his two fingers in and out of you, each time he pulled out he ripped a moan out of you. Again, you started to twitch around his fingers and he smirked down on you. Pleasure continuously grew as you made this silent prayer that he would finally take you over the edge, over the barrier of this beautiful and forbidden land that you stayed away from all these years.

But again he slowed down and came to a stop. This time tears of pure frustration ran down your cheeks as you pathetically bucked your hips up trying to fight against Seonghwa’s spell pinning you down the wall.

“Aww.” He cooed in a mocking tone. “Darling, I’m sorry… were you about to cum?” He said while you shot him a death glare. He chuckled at your reddened cheeks and your frowned brows.

His finger swiped across your fold, pressing on the lonely bud once and you instantly dropped the angered look, your eyes drooped at the sensation and you couldn’t help but to grind against him, your womanliness made so eager by his touches.

“Fuck, look at you” he slipped one finger back inside, pumping it very slowly in and out. You bit down on your lip. “Acting so fucking distant only a few minutes ago…” he added a second one as you moaned out in bliss. “When in fact you were craving this… craving me…” he fitted a third one inside your already crowded heat as your moans now mixed with confused sobs. The intense feeling of pain and pleasure blending into a dangerous cocktail.

“Fuckkk” you cursed out, allowing yourself another sin you managed to avoid up until now, which has the demon showing more teeth.

“What a good little slut taking all of my fingers so good” he said as he took his time thoroughly stretching you out, his blunt nails pushing against your sensitive spot, while his face was closing in the distance with your intimate parts. Your eyes fluttered close as the muscles in your neck gave out and you let your head hang back on the wall.

“Look at me” Seonghwa grunted and your eyes snapped back open instantly meeting his dark ones, his irises seemed to go black with perversion.

“Now I’m gonna make you cum” He announced as he picked up the pace once more, you can tell he didn’t intend to stop before it was over. “I want you to never forget this. This feeling you’re about to experience.” His wrist took on a punishing pace as your eyes were locked with his. Pleasure sending radiating heat through your body, chest heaving up and down as you moan out loudly with your jaw hanging open. “Every time you’ll think of me I curse you to feel exactly… like… this”

Seonghwa finally wrapped his mouth around your lonely and eager little clit, flicking his tongue on it as his fingers relentlessly punched your g spot, both sources of pleasure go to your head and your first orgasm finally drops over you like a wave, taking you away with its raging current.

Your cum squirts out of your body, water like fluid rushing out of you and filling Seonghwa’s mouth, drenching his neck and exposed chest in the asymmetrical silver vest. He moaned, lips against yours and sending delicious vibrations into you.

You screamed out as the level of pleasure ripped through you, your walls clenching around Seonghwa and twitching uncontrollably as your whole body shook, still magically pinned down to the wall.

When you finally settled down he slowed down and took his fingers out of you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking his fingers clean.

“Hmmm” he hummed contentedly and smacked his lips, seemingly enjoying your taste. “It’s true… Good little sluts, like you, taste much better”.

Seonghwa cut the spell and stood back up, your exhausted body dropping to the floor, your weakened legs unable to support your weight.

Seonghwa had enough of this teasing and had grown impatient. He brushed back the cum-soaked locks of charcoal black hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks, the wet skin of his chest glistening under the silver asymmetrical vest. Your eyes trailed down below the belt you gasped as you saw the outline of what was hidden from your eyes all this time… Even still restricted by the fabric of the shiny gray dress pants, the thickness and the length had your heart racing again.

“I want to feel you around me. Now.” he ordered, in a sultry tone that lifted goosebumps all over your naked skin.

Suddenly your body was magically lifted up again but this time Seonghwa threw you on the bed. The veil was barely hanging onto your hair anymore.

Seonghwa walked to you as he took off the cropped blazer along with the rest of his clothes. You gulped down at the sight of his nude and perfectly sculpted body standing beside you. The glistening chest made wet with sweat and cum, dripping down his abs even down to his groin where you barely even dared to look.

There it was. The Absolute Sin.

Seonghwa’s long, thick, twitching, veiny, hard cock.

You could have screamed at the monstrous thing if you weren’t still in a daze from your first crushing orgasm . It was so thick, so long you couldn’t even begin to imagine how this was about to fit inside you.

Seonghwa chuckled when he caught the panic swimming in your wide eyes. He thrived on this fear. And he knew exactly how it was going to go. And he couldn’t wait. He couldn’t wait to see the very same doe eyes grow heavy with pleasure and look back at him with need when you will inevitably beg him to keep going, to never stop fucking you. Because he broke you once and he intended to do it over and over and over again until you will no longer remember anything but him.

Seonghwa dipped both his knees at your sides, his body weight making yours sink in the soft mattress while he shimmied his way up between your wide open legs.

He rubbed the thick blazing hot tip on your still very sensitive bud while he stared down at the place your two bodies met. You tried not to moan by biting down on your bottom lip.

“Please” you meekly whimpered, his dark eyes shot back to yours.

“Please what?” he slithered between his teeth, smirking.

“Please don’t… do that…” you puffed, as fear crushed your chest. Seonghwa snickered again and brought his hand to very gently and softly brush his thumb over your wet cheeks and lips.

“Darling” his deep voice purred so softly. “You are not under any spell here. You can control this tiny little body of yours. So go ahead” he taunted you as his hand went down from your face to your sensitive nipples. “Go ahead and close your legs.”

What? No… It isn’t possible.

There was no way he was not the one forcing your thighs apart like this. But when you gave it a try, when you attempted to lift your ankle it actually worked. You indeed could move. But… somehow you…. still didn’t.

“Come on show me. Go ahead, pretty” his hand went down again to your stomach. “Close your legs on this poor, aching, desperate….” he flicked his pointer finger on your clit “virgin little pussy”. The sweet sting made you moan out and arch your back instinctively.

Seonghwa waited a few seconds staring down at you with amusement as you didn't move an inch. Your body kept your legs nice and wide for him against your own will.

“You know what?” he took his hand back and you swallowed back a whine and the loss of contact. “Okay, I won’t… if you are still this strong headed after all of this maybe you’re right. You are a pure spirit and I can admit defeat when I have lost.”

The smug look he wore completely gave him away. You knew it was a ruse, a ploy to get to you, to toy with you but you weren’t listening to reason anymore, only your delirious body tortured with vicious need and you just couldn’t risk it. You couldn’t risk him leaving you, not like this.

“NO!” you wailed, extending your hand to him as he was already getting off the bed and on to his feet. “I-…I-… Ok… do it”

Seonghwa’s expression here took a turn. The smug smile was completely wiped off his face, only dark brown and grave eyes looking down on your naked frame.

“Yeah?” he came back to bed and laid over you. He brought his lips close to your ear and he seductively whispered against your neck as your eyes fluttered close. “If you want it, sweetheart. You’ll have to properly beg for it”.

Your eyes snapped open. But Seonghwa only looked dead serious.

“I- I-” you started but Seonghwa lifted his hand to let it slap against your wet cunt. The whacking sound bounced off the bare walls and the stinging pain had you grunting in unsolicited pleasure.

“I said properly. I want to believe you” his voice had nothing of the playful undertone it had a few moments ago. You didn’t think twice, maybe not even at all.

“Please, Seonghwa. I implore you to fuck me. Please fuck and use my slutty virgin cunt as much as you’d like. Please hurt me and rip my virginity away. I want to scream and cry out your name. I want to be yours. I want to forget everything about the good girl I used to be, I want to be your whore. Forget about my soul, just take it with you back to hell.”

Silence fell as a grin played on his lips. It’s not smug or playful, it’s wicked, downright evil.

You were not just begging him. The desperate prose was not just a plea. It was a prayer. You were praying for him to taint you. Begging him to take away your purity like it was nothing but a nuisance to you, discarding it. Seeing you abandon your values and principles was the greatest achievement, a victory so sweet it made Seonghwa lose control. The feeling was intoxicating, blissfully filling his veins and making his evil heart thump. In his infinite existence he had never felt that. And it was all thanks to you.

Suddenly his body was elevated in the air and purple smoke enveloped him again. For a second you were scared that he was actually leaving you but the thought vanished as quick as it appeared when you heard the distinctive shrill sound of the metal scraping against the wall. You looked above your head and you witnessed with dread the crucifix above your bed being slowly turned upside down, engraving the white plaster of the bare walls. The foreboding omen lifted goosebumps off your skin and sent a cold shiver down your spine.

Soon you saw his body peek out as the smoke evaporated. It was still him but he had changed.

Huge wings were open behind his back, covered in raven black lustrous feathers, shining under the moonlight peeking from the window as the dark night was now settled. Two black horns have pierced his skin at each side of his head, pointing upwards, resembling the ones of a spanish bull. His body, somehow, looked even more defined, the muscles of his abs and shoulders seemed to bulge out. He looked strong, ominous, dangerous.

“You have such a way with words” he said as he floated back between your legs and settled his huge cock on your stomach. “Now I’m gonna make all of your wishes come true”. He brushed the tip of his cock, wet with precum, once again on your slick folds. “I've never fucked a mortal in my true form before.” he started, still rubbing against you, the muted pleasure making your brain fuzzy. “I can’t guarantee you’ll come out of this alive”.

But you were already set on it and if you had to die, so be it…

“I don’t care” you whispered as your eyebrows met and you looked back at him with need.

You braced yourself when you felt him finally push himself inside you. You could practically hear your hymen rip in two to make way for his huge cock. The puny little carrot could have never compared to the size of him.

“What a good little slut you are,” he cooed, before grunting as you were gripping around him. “Willing to die for a round of fun on my big cock”.

Sharp throbbing pain ripped through your lower stomach as you frowned and grunted.

“I know…” Seonghwa purred as he leaned over in your ear “I’m big” he said as he finally reached the bottom of you, linking his hips with yours. And he pulled out a lot faster than when he came in. Your eyes rolled back and you crushed the pillow over your mouth to yell in it.

But when he went back in again somehow the ache had lessened and pleasure was slowly taking its place. Soon the pain, as sharp as it was, vanished to become only a vague memory you couldn’t even recall as your mind was too preoccupied by the incommensurable pleasure Seonghwa made you feel.

“Fucking whore” Seonghwa grunted as he mercilessly ramed up your pussy, making it the shape of his cock. “Cheating on God feels good, doesn’t it? Your whorish little cunt can’t resist this fat demon cock, can it?” he growled.

You started twitching once again around him and Seonghwa instantly recognized the familiar clench he felt earlier around his fingers.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked, panting above you.

You couldn’t even process the words you were hearing as your eyes rolled back and your jaw fell open. But you were brought back to your senses when Seonghwa’s big clawed hand slapped your cheek forcefully. The burning pain took you aback and stopped your never ending ascension to pleasure. You whined a complaint and Seonghwa grabbed your face into a strong grip making your lips pout.

“Good little whores have to ask first” he said, still deeply pounding your precious little pussy.

“Pleasepleaseplease… C-can I cum?... F-fuckk… Please” you mumbled as his pace made it hard to hold yourself back.

“No!” he responded sternly. “Not now” he said, smirking evilly. Enjoying this anguish in your eyes as you tried your best to control your body. He brought his hand and pinched hard on your swollen little clit.

“Aaaah” you screamed, arching your back and pressing your head back into the soft mattress.

“You’ll cum when I’ll tell you too” he snickered, looking down at you. And the pleasure kept on building, frustrated tears starting to wet your cheeks again.

“My God please…” you whined, as tears streamed down your face and your pussy clenched around his thick cock. Seonghwa scoffed.

“Sorry but he has left you, darling.” He started to draw circles on your sensitive and aching clit, still maintaining the punishing pace of his cock rearranging your guts, making the rosary beads jump along with your breasts with each powerful thrust. You cry out as it’s becoming nearly impossible to keep yourself from cumming. “He abandoned you to me” he growled, his low voice sending electricity down your core.

“Pleaseeeee” you pleaded once more, desperation oozing out of your broken up voice and finally Seonghwa pronounced the magic words.

“Cum. Cum for me like the godless little whore that you are”

Finally you let go. You let Seonghwa’s skillful hand and monstrous, merciless cock take you down to the hellish pit of lustful sin. Pleasure took over you and clouded your vision, everything came to a blur as you could only concentrate on the throbbing of your cunt around Seonghwa’s thick dick. You moaned out his name in pure agonizing bliss. The orgasm was even longer lasting, even stronger than the one he gave you moments ago. And you knew for a fact now that there was no going back.

The good girl that you were had died, Seonghwa killed her. And you had let him do it without batting an eyelash. But fuck did it feel good. You felt no shame, no regrets, only unholy desire for the demon’s heavenly cock.

Soon the high wore off but Seonghwa didn’t seem to care and kept on pounding you, taking a bruising grip on your parted thighs with both his hands.

“Please” you whimpered again as your poor little pussy might split in two from clenching and throbbing this much right after an earth shattering orgasm. Seonghwa chuckled in between heavy breaths.

“I just came” you cried out, turning into an over-stimulated mess.

“I don’t care” he spat, using you like a fucktoy just like he pleased, after all you had asked him to do so… ‘to fuck and use your slutty virgin cunt as much as he’d like’. The exhausted quivering of your restless pussy started to build up again and before you could even realize it, Seonghwa’s thick cock had you flirting with the edge of the bottomless pleasure pit again.

“Please” you whined “Please stop” you begged him, breast lewdly jumping up and down with each of his brutal thrusts. But he kept on going, growling as his eyebrows met, handsome face contorted in pleasure, biting his lip. Body pressed over yours and full black feathered wings completely concealing you, one of his horns even scraping the wall with one too violent move.

“Pleaseeeee” you whimpered yet again. And suddenly your body was being lifted and flipped over by Seonghwa’s spell. You land on all fours, completely confused but worst of all, completely empty.

“Don’t you get it?” Seonghwa said as he slowly pushed himself back into your soft, warm little throbbing cunt. You moaned as you gladly took him back. “You sold your soul to me. You don’t get to ask for anything anymore. So I’ll fuck you for as long as I see it fit” He said before pushing down on your face, shoving your head into a shamefully submissive position, your ass up in the air, ready to be destroyed by him once more.

His fat cock parted you so deliciously as lewd wet sounds rang to your ears. It was like your once virgin pussy had completely taken the shape of his monstrous dick. Every movement he made ripped a delighted moan out of your lips, you didn’t have the will to fight anymore. You only wanted him and this delectable high he made you feel.

“Fuckkk” you cried out as he started to go faster again, the quiver in your lower stomach making a quick return.

“You’re my thing now.” He ripped the veil of your hair, the last relic of your past self and sent it flying across the room. He grabbed a fistfull of your hair, harshly pulling on it maintaining your face forward but your chin still firmly planted in the mattress, asserting his dominance on your frail figure. “My toy, you hear?” the sting on your scalp added to the full feeling of his cock had you completely fucked out. Your eyes rolled as heat spreaded through you again, your jaw fell open and your tongue slipped out. You were fucked out dumb, completely. Brain nice and thoughtless just from him.

“Yeshhh” you mumbled.

“I’m gonna make you cum again and this time I will fill your dirty little cunt with my cum” The obscene sounds of his balls slapping against your slick folds and clit bounced off the walls.

“Yesshh pwweathe” you replied as your tongue slapped against your chin with each inhuman thrust of his hips deep into you, sending strings of drool on your chin and staining the sheets.

“Today you’re ovulating, you know what it means?”

Your eyes snapped back open.

“I’m gonna force a child into you. You’ll take my seed into your fertile womb and life will sprout inside you” His grip on your hair tightened and you felt him start to twitch inside you.

“You’d like that?” he teases, knowing the answer.

“Yesssshhhhh!!!” you yelled, you were ready for anything if it meant he’d let you cum again.

“Then take it. Take my cum you depraved slut” His second hand left your hips to grab the rosary still around your neck, twisting his wrist to wrap the beads around his fingers and pulling on it while still maintaining his grasp on your hair.

Bloodstream to your brain became restrained and you started to feel dizzy. A deliciously light headed sensation filled your head up as your pussy quivered with a third orgasm. Your hungry cunt squeezed Seonghwa’s thick length as if its life depended on it, demanding every last drop of cum the demon had to offer. You clenched and throbbed around him in pure joyful sin as he took you to the deepest part of this abysmal and cursed pleasure, taking your sanity and everything that was left of the old you to the pits of hell with him.

Seonghwa’s rhythm faltered and he shuddered and grunted in bliss as his throbbing cock gushed out streams after streams of piping hot cum that stained your walls with white, shooting straight up to your womb, assuredly knocking you up in the process.

You yelled and moaned one last time. You were so full of him, belly round and swollen with the ungodly amount of cum Seonghwa gracefully gifted you. You were so unbelievably full that you couldn't help but to let it flow out of you and run down your thighs, no matter how much you clenched to keep it all inside.

You were in heaven. This was pure euphoria. A kind of contentment not any amount of spirituality and virtue could ever give you. The kind of happiness you could only experience when you let go of everything you’ve ever known to throw yourself into the arms of the most pleasurable sin of all.

Lust.

***

The next morning when you woke up at dawn with the chirping birds you felt nauseous and disoriented. You looked around the room and found it immaculate. Your habit was not ripped in two, it was neatly folded on the wooden bedside table along with your veil and underwear. The room was clean and neat: no traces of small pieces of orange carrot anywhere or puddles of cum on the wooden floor. And you were wearing a comfortable full length pyjama gown.

In a flash, disjointed memories came back to you. You remembered the anthracite gray suit, the black bull horns, the raven wings, the defined abs, the devilishly handsome good looks, the tempting smirk and the huge thick angry cock and the immense forbidden pleasure that came along with it.

You sat up and looked behind you hastily, the wall was perfectly smooth, no scrapes of the black horns and most of all the crucifix was perfectly normal, hanging right side up.

You spotted the small, thin, intact carrot next to your pillow and sighed in relief. Yes, you had sinned but you knew if you confessed and prayed hard enough God would forgive you. Afterall, you had never done such a thing and it was shameful and wrong, yes, but they were far greater sins than this one, like selling your soul to the Sin of Lust and bearing his child… You shook your head, chasing away the blurry memory of the nightmare, feeling a weird tingly build up in your lower stomach as you saw flashes of the evil smirks and the huge monstrous-

“It was a dream” you said out loud, sighing, hoping the sound of your own voice would prevent your mind from imagining more of the sinful imagery. “Just a meaningless dream” you told yourself again.

Convinced the soreness between your legs was only due to masturbating for the first time, that the nausea was nothing to worry about and that the spasm inside your belly were benign little cramps.

Seonghwa smirked in victory as he looked at you through the pierced purple smoke. He made it. He broke you beyond repair. He went, won and marked you. And soon he would back to take what you had promised him: an offspring and your soul, body and mind, you.

“See you soon, y/n” he chuckled.

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a/n: leave a comment or even a cheeky lil reblog if you liked it <3

taglist: @written-in-flowers @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @skz1-4-3 @atinism @watamotee33 @sanhwalvr @alicedawitchbish @caratsmatic @reeateez @bts-army380 @woohwababes @yoonivjpg @salam2salang @seokqt @hotteokkay @itza-meee @stanredvelvetforstdprotection @meowmeeps @ingloriousbasterdss @roomsofangel @cheynalexilaiho @kyukyustar @seonghwasstar @oddracha @aaa-sia @lol-imtrash2000 @luminouskalopsia @yandere-stories @shocymer @bangchansbackohmygod

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furuu · 3 months ago

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꒰ ♡ ꒱ continuation of this drabble!

∘ʚ ♡ You stared at him, heart pounding, still trying to process what you were seeing. The bowl lay shattered at his feet, and the tiny blob you had placed in water was no more. Instead, the very real and very imposing Ryomen Sukuna, in all his Heian-era glory, sat casually beside the wreckage. His muscular form and sharp, intimidating presence were a stark contrast to the squishy little blob you had tucked in just the night before.

And yet, despite his terrifying reputation, there was no malice in his gaze. His four eyes, two narrowed slightly, gleamed with what looked like amusement. The way he tilted his head, the playful quirk of his brow—it was all so bizarre. This was the King of Curses, and he was sitting in your room, almost… relaxed?

"You’re awake," he repeated, his voice low and smooth. It had an edge to it, sure, but it wasn’t harsh. "You really went through all that trouble for a little surprise?"

Your throat felt dry. What were you supposed to say? You had gone to bed with a tiny blob floating in a bowl and now woke up to this—an ancient, fearsome being watching you with an expression that was more curious than cruel. It was almost as if he were… amused by you.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “I… I didn’t expect this to happen.”

Sukuna chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through the quiet room. His gaze shifted lazily to the broken bowl beside him. “Obviously,” he drawled, his mouth twisting into a smirk. “Though, I must say, for a human, you have a decent taste in aesthetics. But next time,” he said, casting a side glance at the ceramic shards, “maybe use something less fragile.”

The teasing tone in his voice caught you off guard. You had expected something much more sinister, but here he was, sitting in your room, acting almost casual. Your mind raced, still trying to reconcile this version of Sukuna with the stories you had heard—the stories that painted him as a bloodthirsty, ruthless curse who tore through villages and devoured sorcerers.

Still, his presence was overwhelming. He exuded power, even in this calm state, and you could feel the weight of his aura pressing against your skin. Yet, he wasn’t attacking. He wasn’t even threatening you. In fact, he seemed perfectly content to just sit there, watching you with that curious, almost playful expression.

You blinked, your mind finally catching up to the situation. “So…” you murmured, your voice soft but steady. You weren’t sure how to handle a situation like this—how does one handle the King of Curses suddenly materializing in their bedroom?

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. He leaned back slightly, resting one arm on his knee as if settling in for a conversation. “So...?” he echoed, a mocking lilt to his voice. “You’re the one who followed the instructions. Did you not expect something magical to happen?” His grin widened, and his sharp teeth glinted in the morning light. “Or were you hoping for something else?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as his words sunk in. You had followed the instructions on the note, expecting something magical, yes—but you certainly hadn’t expected this. You fumbled for a response, but Sukuna’s deep, rumbling laugh cut through the air before you could find your words.

“Relax,” he said, his voice dropping to a more casual tone. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you, now would I?”

You swallowed, trying to push down the lingering fear that curled in your stomach. He was right, of course. Sukuna had the power to end you in an instant, and yet… here he was, speaking to you as if this was all some elaborate game. The thought was both unsettling and strangely comforting.

Gathering your courage, you met his gaze. “So… why are you here, then? What happens now?”

Sukuna’s smirk softened slightly, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “That depends on you, little human.” His voice was smooth, almost inviting. “You’re the one who summoned me, after all. You took care of that ridiculous blob form, didn’t you? You must’ve wanted something more.”

You blinked, taken aback. Wanted something more? You had just been following the note, doing what you thought was a harmless little ritual. But now, with Sukuna sitting here, his sharp eyes watching you so intently, you weren’t so sure.

“I didn’t know—” you began, but Sukuna waved a hand, cutting you off.

“Spare me the innocent act,” he said, though his tone was more teasing than harsh. “You wanted something magical to happen, and now it has. The question is… what will you do with it?”

You stared at him, your mind racing. What did you want? This was Sukuna, the King of Curses, sitting here as if waiting for your next move. The situation felt surreal, like you had stepped into a dream you couldn’t quite wake up from.

Sukuna leaned forward slightly, his grin returning, though it was softer now. “Tell me, little human,” he purred, “do you want to keep me around? Or are you going to toss me out like some discarded toy?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the question. Was he serious? You weren’t sure if he was playing with you or if there was some genuine curiosity behind his words. Either way, the weight of his presence was undeniable. Something in you knew that once this door was opened, there was no going back.

With a deep breath, you met his gaze, trying to ignore the way your hands trembled slightly. “I… I didn’t summon you on purpose,” you said quietly, “but I guess… I wouldn’t mind you sticking around.”

Sukuna’s eyes gleamed with amusement, his grin widening. “Good answer.” He leaned back again, his posture relaxed, but his gaze never left you. “Then I suppose I’ll stick around for a bit. Let’s see how much trouble we can get into, shall we?”

You couldn’t help but smile, a mixture of nerves and excitement bubbling inside you. Ryomen Sukuna—terrifying, powerful, and dangerous—was staying. And despite the unease that lingered, you couldn’t deny the thrill of it all.

You let out a soft yawn, the adrenaline finally wearing off. The weight of sleep was creeping back in, and despite the bizarre situation, your body was craving rest. Sukuna’s imposing form loomed over you, but in your sleepy state, the fear and tension had dulled into a strange kind of comfort.

Rubbing your eyes, you glanced at the clock. It was still early, barely past dawn. The whole thing—his appearance, the shattered bowl, his unsettling yet playful questions—it all felt like a weird dream. Too tired to overthink, you found yourself blinking up at Sukuna, his four sharp eyes still trained on you with an amused glint.

Without even realizing what you were saying, you mumbled, “Hold me for the night?”

Sukuna blinked, his grin faltering for just a second. The great Ryomen Sukuna, feared by all, paused at your sleepy, groggy request. His four eyes widened slightly, as if processing the absurdity of your words. You didn’t notice, though—your eyelids were already drooping, too exhausted to care about how awkward your request might have sounded.

“Seriously?” he muttered, but you were already leaning forward, head resting against his chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He hesitated, glancing down at you, completely thrown off by the casual intimacy. It had been centuries since anyone had dared get this close to him—let alone asked him to hold them.

For a moment, Sukuna considered leaving you to sleep on your own. This was beneath him, after all. He was the King of Curses, not some comforting presence. But as your breath slowed and your body relaxed against him, something shifted in his expression. His smirk softened, and a quiet, almost reluctant sigh escaped him.

With an eye-roll, Sukuna slowly, carefully, wrapped his four arms around you. His movements were deliberate, as if testing out how this worked. One arm cradled your shoulders, another curved around your waist, while the other two gently held you in place, your small frame nestled against his chest. It was strange—foreign, even—but for some reason, he didn’t hate it.

You sighed in contentment, snuggling closer to the warmth of his body, completely oblivious to the fact that you had just fallen asleep in the arms of the deadliest curse in history. Sukuna glanced down at you, his gaze lingering on your peaceful face. He huffed, a soft chuckle escaping him despite himself.

“Ridiculous human,” he murmured under his breath, his lips curling into a smirk once more. “You really have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”

But even as he muttered the words, Sukuna didn’t let go. His grip on you remained firm, yet careful, and as the early morning light filtered through the window, the King of Curses stayed by your side, cradling you in his four powerful arms as you slept soundly, completely unaware of the strangeness of it all.

Maybe sticking around wouldn’t be so bad after all.・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

#𝓈𝓌ℯℯ𝓉 𝓈𝓆𝓊ℯℯ𝓏ℯ 𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #anime x female reader #blobkuna #poukuna #jjk manga spoilers #₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱

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etheraltides · 2 months ago

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MY SUNSET ˚✧ﾟ

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Artist!Reader

Summarize: Reader is painting while she waits for Rafe to come home.

Warning(s): none, I guess. Rafe's daddy issues.

A/N: Something cozy cause we're all humans, right? Feedback is always heartwarming!

The evening sun cast a warm glow across the beach house, settling into soft, golden patches on the walls. Rafe stood in the doorway, loosening his tie with one hand, his other rubbing at his neck. His face showed exhaustion – a subtle droop in his eyes, a faint frown line between his brows that deepened with every passing day. He let out a sigh, dropping his briefcase by the door with a dull thud. Being the man of the family could be exhausting sometimes.

Your eyes were trained on the canvas while you brushed steady strokes on it. The loud music playing on the headphone helping you to not overthink your decisions about this piece. You wanted it to be natural, something from deep within you.

Rafe knew that after calling out for you a couple of times and getting no responses where to find you.

You were so focused on the painting that you didn't even notice when he opened the back door and walked down the stairs, moving behind you. He waited until you moved the brush away from the canva to lean down and place a kiss on your cheek.

He smiled agaisnt your skin as you jumped in place, dodging your srained brush when you placed your hand on your chest.

"How long have you been here? I didn't see you coming." You smiled at him, your cheeks burning from the jumpscare as you placed the brush down, wiping your hands on the cloth.

"I just arrived and assumed you'd be here."

You titled your head to the side, a small smile on your lips as you notice his tired eyes and heavy shoulders. “Long day?”

He looked down, a faint smile breaking through his fatigue. “You could say that” He murmured, unbottoning the fa few buttons of his shirt and making his way over to you.

You were sitting cross-legged on the outside couch, dry paint smudged on your fingers and a touch of blue staining your cheek, making you look like a work of art yourself in Rafe's eyes. Brushes and a half-finished canvas rested on the table nearby, and Rafe’s eyes softened at the sight of you. There was something utterly comforting about coming back home to you - like when that orange sunray hits your skin during a sunset.

He slumped down beside you, his shoulders sagging, and you reached out without thinking, your hand tracing lightly over his shoulder. “You’re so tense.” You remarked, your fingers pressing gently into the tight knots at the base of his neck.

You couldn't remember the last time Rafe took a break. A real one and not those parties Topper and Kelsey were always inviting him to.

Rafe closed his eyes, a sigh slipping from his lips as he leaned into your touch. “Feels like I’m carrying the world around” he muttered, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You chuckled softly, shifting to kneel behind him. “Well, the world can wait. Let me help.” Your hands found his shoulders, thumbs pressing into the firm muscle, working through layers of tension with slow, careful strokes.

Rafe’s shoulders rose and fell with each breath, his head dipping forward as he surrendered to your touch. You could feel him loosening under your fingers, the hard lines of his posture softening. His breathing grew slower, deeper, as though your touch had grounded him.

"You and those magic hands, huh." You could hear the smirk in his voice, chuckling.

You leaned in, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “Think you can relax for a few minutes?”

His lips curved, eyes still closed, and he mumbled, “I’ll try.”

You continued working your hands down his back, your fingers firm but tender, kneading out knots with a gentle persistence. You felt his shoulders drop further, his body melting under your care. His hands rested on his knees, fingers twitching occasionally as he let go of the stress of the day. You tilted your head a bit to watch his face, his expression easing from its usual guarded tension to something softer, almost vulnerable.

Rafe’s voice came, a low murmur. “You know… I don’t think anyone’s ever done this for me before.”

Your hands paused, just for a beat, and then resumed their steady rhythm. Your heart sank with realization. “Really?” You brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Then it’s about time.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “Guess I got lucky with you.” His head tilted slightly, a faint glint in his eyes as he looked back at you.

Your smirked, rolling your eyes, though your cheeks warmed. “Well, someone has to keep you in line.” You gently squeezed his shoulder, a playful edge to her touch.

Rafe’s lips twitched, his gaze softening as he moved his hands to your waist, bringing you to straddle his lap. “And you’re perfect for the job, aren’t you?”

Your fingers slowed, your hands resting on his shoulders as you shared a quiet look. You could feel his heartbeat steady beneath your touch as you moved your fingers down to his chest, and something unspoken passed between them - a silent understanding, a comfort found only in each other’s presence. Home.

Rafe lingered under your touch a little longer, breathing in that familiar scent of paint and something floral, your presence a gentle balm to the weight he carried daily. The silence between you was thick with an unspoken intimacy, but he found he didn’t mind it. For the first time in hours, he felt at ease.

After a few minutes, you slid down beside him on the couch, leaning your head back against the cushion, your fingers still tracing absent patterns along the exposed skin of his chest. He tilted his head to glance at you, a hint of curiosity sparking in his gaze as he noticed the streak of paint on your cheek again.

“Still working on that painting?” His voice was softer, the edge worn off by your presence.

You followed his gaze to her paint-streaked fingers, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah… lost track of time. It’s been tough getting it right. I just...” You paused, looking off thoughtfully before turning back to him. “You ever feel like something is close to being perfect, but you can’t quite… capture it?”

Rafe considered her words, his gaze flickering down to your nails scratching the paint off your skin and taking your hand in his, a stark contrast to his own. Smaller, warmer. Your dedication to your art, to something so different from his structured world, was something he admired - quietly, almost reverently.

“All the time.” He said, his voice low. “It’s like there’s this… picture in your head, but you can’t reach it. Can’t even touch it sometimes.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing against a tender spot you had just relieved. His mind went back to the role model of a son his dad expected him to be and how he could never get even close to that, even when he thought he was making progress. “But I’m guessing yours involves a little more paint."

You smiled, a soft laugh slipping out as you reached over, your fingers grazing his cheek, leaving a faint blue smudge. “Looks like you’re part of the art now, too.”

Rafe gave her a mock glare, though his eyes betrayed a hint of amusement. “Glad I could help,” he said dryly, but he didn’t wipe it off. Instead, he leaned in, kissing your shoulder. “So, what’s this masterpiece gonna be?”

You hesitated, tucking your legs beneath you as you angled toward him, your expression almost shy. Rafe couldn't understand how humble you were and sometimes even insecure about your art when everything you did was breathtaking. “It’s… it’s supposed to be a mix of things. Like… nature and people and everything kind of blending together. But it’s tough. Every time I think I have it, I look again, and it’s just not there yet.”

Rafe’s gaze softened. “You’ll get there.” The words held more confidence than he often felt himself. “You always do.”

You looked at him, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “You’re biased.”

He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong, though.”

Both of you settled into a comfortable silence, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm draped around you almost instinctively. The world beyond the backyard faded away, the pressures and stresses replaced by the quiet hum of familiarity, of being home.

After a few minutes, you stirred, breaking the silence. “You know… we could both use a break.” Your voice was light, but there was a note of longing in it.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, curious. “Thinking of a getaway?”

“Maybe.” You looked at him, your eyes bright with something he hadn’t seen in a while. “I mean, we talk about it all the time, but… I don’t know. What if we just went somewhere? Just us. No work, no deadlines. Just… you and me and a week with nothing but time.”

He considered it, the idea settling over him with surprising appeal. Work had been unrelenting, and the idea of stepping away - for a short while - sounded like the relief he hadn’t realized he needed. And the thought of you beside him, somewhere far from the noise of his daily life, was… tempting.

“Anywhere in mind?” he asked, his voice a shade lighter, almost teasing.

You tapped her chin thoughtfully, your eyes drifting as though you could already see it. “A beach maybe… with clear blue water, warm sand. Or… I don’t know, maybe somewhere with lots of art and history. Or a cozy cabin with nothing around us but trees and stars at night.”

Rafe chuckled, amused by your enthusiasm. “So… every vacation idea, basically.”

You nudged him playfully, your laughter filling the room. “It’s called variety, Rafe. Ever heard of it?”

His lips quirked up, and he reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers. “Alright, let’s say… I’m in. Where’s the one place you’d want to go first?”

Your eyes softened, a dreaminess overtaking her expression as you mulled it over. “Italy,” you said finally. “Can you imagine? All that history, the food, the art… and the coastline. We could spend days wandering through old streets and galleries, then head to the beach by sunset.”

The way you spoke about it painted a vivid picture, and he found himself wrapped up in the idea, too but truth be told: he'd go anywhere with you. Even being locked in the bedroom with you would be a dreamy vacation. “Italy” He repeated, rolling the word around as if it were a foreign but tantalizing concept. “Never been. But I could go for that. Though… if we’re going, you’re gonna have to handle the language part.”

Your grin widened, your eyes dancing at the idea of trying to use all the Italian you learned by yourself a few years ago, at the possibility of leaving the country for the first time. “Consider it done.”

They talked late into the night, exchanging dreams and ideas for that trip, letting themselves get lost in fantasies of cobblestone streets, Italian sunsets, and lazy mornings. Rafe found himself captivated by the way your eyes sparkled, the way your voice softened whenever you spoke about the art, the people, the life waiting beyond their world.

At some point, he had leaned back, his head tilted against the couch, watching you more than really listening, feeling a warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with their imagined vacation.

Your voice dropped as you continued talking, your words like a gentle rhythm in the background, and he realized you had a way of drawing him in, pulling him out of the exhausting reality he was constantly entrenched in. You were his escape, his sanctuary.

Eventually, your words trailed off, and you glanced over, her eyes catching him in a lingering, soft look. “Are you sure you're really in for this?”

He blinked, surprised by the intensity of the connection he felt in that moment. “Yeah.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it held a depth of sincerity. “With you? Absolutely.”

For a while, you simply looked at each other, the quiet promise of your shared dreams hanging in the air. You moved closer, tucking yourself against him, your hand resting on his chest as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close.

And as they drifted off, the night wrapping them in its quiet embrace, Rafe knew that no matter where life took them - Italy, the beach, or even just their own city - you'd be there beside him.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron outerbanks #rafe cameron x you

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 7 days ago

Note

do you have any new recs for sterek with size difference? (preferably with smaller stiles)

Sure.

The Hoodie by PersePhonesDreams

(1/1 I 1,988 I General)

Stiles didn’t mean to keep Derek’s hoodie—really, he didn’t. But the oversized, ridiculously soft thing quickly became his favorite comfort item, a piece of Derek he couldn’t quite let go of. It’s not like Derek would notice anyway... right?

When Derek unexpectedly shows up at Stiles’ window one quiet night, Stiles’ not-so-secret attachment to the hoodie is exposed, leading to a conversation that changes everything.

Cue awkward confessions, teasing smiles, and the realization that maybe Derek doesn’t mind Stiles keeping more than just his hoodie.

jacked and kind by LookWhatIHaveWaitingForMe

(4/4 I 3,288 I Mature)

Stiles forces Derek to participate in the "jacked and kind" TikTok trend and this time Derek doesn't need convincing.

Be Still, My (Beating) Heart by mznaughty01

(1/1 I 3,878 I Explicit)

The time for games was definitely over. Because now? Now it was time for Derek to breed Stiles’s sweet ass.

(K)Not Tonight by slimypaws

(1/1 I 4,961 I Explicit)

Stiles had the very clever idea to go to his favourite place while in heat and during a full moon on top of that, his brain clearly having melted into a useless puddle.

He had never picked up the scent of another person, werewolf or human, here after all, so why should he start to worry now? Until he did pick up another scent after all. Everything went downhill from there.

Teen Witch by AngieNoir

(2/? I 8086 I Explicit)

Derek knows that there's something strange about Stiles and that's stirring up trouble in Beacon Hills, drawing the attention of werewolf hunters. Driven to protect his own, he believes he must kill the young witch. Yet, as he watches him, Derek finds himself falling in love, torn between duty and desire. A werewolf. A witch. And a danger that’s impossible to resist.

Wrapped in a Dream by wolfcloaks

(8/8 I 34,577 I Explicit)

He finds him in the middle of the clearing, mouth grappling with a foreign tongue, alabaster skin damp with the remnants of prior rain.

He's absolutely beautiful, Derek thinks, this creature, this boy.

Matenapped by xcaellachx

(12/12 I 36,671 I Explicit)

Alpha Derek Hale has known Spark Stiles Stilinski was his mate for over six years. The traumatized Spark had killed the rogue alpha who tried to kill his friend so many years ago and was still scarred by the experience. Now, Stiles was settled in as a magic shop owner and Derek was ready to claim him for his own. The ritual of matenapping was an old but accepted tradition and Derek had his den ready to receive his mate. It was time.

Stiles Stilinski thought Lydia was insane for thinking the sexy alpha wanted to matenap him. He was damaged by his past and determined to stay single so he didn't harm anyone. He kept his magic tightly leashed and couldn't believe that anyone could want him. Not a murderer. Even when the wolf came to see him and touched him gently, winking at him and looking at him longingly, he just couldn't accept it.

Very soon, Stiles wouldn't have a choice but to believe it. Derek was taking his mate and bringing him to his mating den where he would court and woo him until he couldn't help but fall in love with him.

The Lighthouse Keeper by tugela54

(11/11 I 75,073 I Explicit)

On a rural island just off Alaska’s northern Inside Passage, stands a centuries old lighthouse - the perfect sanctuary for its keeper to hide when the moon is full, to burn and rage through its cycle with the townsfolk being none the wiser.

But then a new resident comes to Beacon Harbour – a bright-eyed young student chasing an elusive whale species – and all of a sudden those thick stone walls seem paper thin…

Delinquents for Hire, Won’t you Let us Conspire? by skayaks

(18/18 I 89.909 I Mature)

The Sheriff slams a gun on the dining table, “What are your intentions with my son?” Stiles violently spits his water out, coughing instantly from the sheer disbelief.

The one where a reluctant Stiles Stilinski goes to a very intimidating delinquent Derek Hale for help when he’s finally fed up with being picked on by Jackson’s shitty gang of wannabe jocks.

Naturally, as things tend to go for Stiles, he doesn’t have much of a fun time.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #size difference #anon

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kiame-sama · 9 days ago

Text

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 25

(Art of Harpy Neige done by the very talented @ironicallyenraptured )

Warnings; yandere, multiple yanderes, different levels of yandere, mostly story driven chapter, hurt/comfort, snuggles, semi-aftermath, mention of attempted assault, wisdom from past Humans, explaining things, shock is one hell of a drug, cuddle puddle, tears, Hellcat, Ghost, Harpies, Dragon, mention of various species,

~~~~~~~~

Things were quiet far away from the crowd of the arena. The world felt a little smaller and a little more bearable as you lay in the nest, your nest, in Ramshackle. There was something familiar about the old building that soothed your heart, feeling much more relaxed in the familiar bastion.

Idia confirmed no one had managed to get into Ramshackle while you were away. He also mentioned something about adding a lock down mode to the building.

Now you were given something you have not managed to have in a while; solitude.

Of course, that didn't include little Grim who slept next to you in the large nest, not too far from you but curled up in arm's reach. He had suffered the brunt of Erikír's magic and was feeling after effects from the paralytic force that overwhelmed him. Crowley assured you Grim would recover, he was just recovering at a slower rate due to his age and size compared to the others.

Though you knew something terrible had happened and you were still reeling from it, you felt oddly numb. It felt like the world was rushing around you but a strange calm had overtaken everything and you were simply sitting in they eye of the hurricane that raged around you. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, the lack of physical injury, or both that kept you in such a state.

You figured you should check in on Che'nya and Neige given what happened. Most of the Housewardens waited down in the common area of the dorm, letting you decompress from the events that took place. Everyone that had fought or joined the fight before it ended was resting in Ramshackle but you were allowed a blissful moment of quiet to yourself.

Luckily you weren't physically harmed by any of the events, but it still made your skin crawl to think of the Merman prince. It meant more to you than you could describe to have those blessed moments to yourself to just think. Lilia had managed to convince Malleus to let you breathe and have some room but you knew the moment you left the room the Dragon would be by your side.

You stared at the ceiling on your back wondering about where you should go next in this madness filled world. Showing affection seemed a decent enough way to get these monster men to calm themselves. Perhaps you would even have to hold a quick meeting to talk with the various professors and Housewardens about what exactly took place. As far as you were aware, they were all in your dorm anyway and were simply waiting for you to show yourself.

A faint sound of whispers drew your attention and you glanced over to the mirror. You could just barely see the faint glow of the reflective glass and next to it was the thin Human ghost.

Moving as carefully as you could, you got up from the nest, letting Grim sleep off the effects of the signature spell Erikír had used on all of you. The Ghost seemed wary of the door to the room, so you silently ushered them into the adjacent bathroom connected to your room. Hopefully the beasts would all be none the wiser.

"Hello again, my friend. I am glad to see you live another day unbound."

The Ghost greeted quietly, his reedy voice still very faint to keep from being heard by listening ears. He smiled gently at you and you were honestly thrilled to see him again. Though you knew not what the many Ghosts were named, you were happy to know their one visit was not the last.

"Likewise. Though, I wish it was on better terms..."

"We saw what happened. Are you alright?"

"I guess..."

"No, I want to hear a 'yes' or a 'no' for certain. That was an awful thing that prince planned to do to you. I saw the prince talking with those Fae, promising them something that was not his to promise. We tried to warn you before the Tournament, but you weren't here when we arrived."

"I've been in another dorm because of the increased visitors on the island due to today's events. ... What exactly did Erikír promise them?"

"Do you truly wish to know?"

You felt a kind of bile in your throat as you considered your options, feeling more than you had in the last hour. Truly, you didn't want to think about that monster or what he meant by 'our eggs' when he spoke earlier. At the time, you had just wanted to escape and didn't focus too much on what the insane fish was ranting about.

"No, but I should know about it anyway."

"He promised to have you bear several egg clutches for him. The warn water Merfolk tend to have larger clutches, so he promised each one an egg of their own to keep and raise in exchange for their help today."

A shudder ran down your spine when you heard this, knowing the awful monster wouldn't take your feelings into account. If he was so willing to kidnap you, you had little doubt he would be willing to force you into having his young. He was awful, and you vaguely hoped you had the chance to weigh in on what punishment he deserved.

"I'm not okay. To think they would be so willing to see that happen to me... Even for their own benefit. How could they be okay with any child being brought into this world only to be traded away for the imprisonment of their mother? Why would any of them agree to that?"

"Because of our aura."

"What? What does that have to do with any of this?"

"We were interrupted before we could tell you, this aura of ours protects us... To an extent. But it is only as helpful as the species you surround yourself with. It is like a soothing lullaby to the minds and instincts of the other species. Their instincts are like shards of glass spinning around in their heads, always present and always at the forefront of their decisions. Our aura calms that whirlwind of glass and smooths the edges."

"How?"

"Many ways. Magic reacts in interesting ways with the aura of a Human. For some, it makes them more agreeable and calm. For others, it strengthened and enhanced their magic. There were some cases where a Human's aura attracted powerful magic users. Humans were once called Beast-Tamers or Peace-Keepers. Our aura alone was enough to soothe instincts, cool tempers, even end generational conflict."

"So, why were Humans hunted then?"

"That aura is a double edged sword. Though it impacts magic and can soothe instincts, the lack of that aura can have the opposite effect. Those used to the calming presence of a Human's aura can become reliant on it. To many, it didn't matter how they got this aura, from being around Humans to consuming their flesh, it all had the same effect. What was meant as an evolutionary trait of survival, became an addiction for the others that drove our species to extinction. I don't know how you have that same aura or how some of us must have managed to escape to wherever your world is, but you are here now, and your aura draws the others in."

The words of the Ghost weighed heavily on your shoulders, to the point it felt like it was too much. If he was right, then that meant you were both what kept your life safe and what endangered it. These beasts were driven to be in your presence and- thankfully- you had mainly encountered those who could either mostly control themselves or had strong enough allies to keep the other kind at bay.

"How do I stop it?"

"You can't. None of us could figure it out. Only in death could we see what we never could in life."

"So, what? I'm making them addicted to me?"

"Yes. That is why it is crucial we find a way out for you, sooner rather than later. The Dragon already yearns deeply, but that is the way of a Dragon's instincts, they posses and they yearn for those possessions. He is a strong ally, but understand he will only become more determined to entangle himself in your life as time progresses. They all will."

"And Grim?"

"Your feline companion is not the same kind as the species of beasts around you. Our aura is not as strong on those like him. It can impact him, but nowhere near the same level as the others."

"So, Papa Hades..."

The skinny Ghost looked truly sad when you mentioned the old Shinigami, a kind of wistful look in his eyes. He was silent for a moment before he rest a hand over his chest where his heart would have been. It took a moment for the Ghost to speak again, and you refused to rush him as it clearly hurt him to think of the kindly Shinigami.

"He... He is impacted by our aura as well. But even still, he is one to trust more than the others. He was always very kind to us all, perhaps too kind. I was one of his Humans, he let me leave when I wanted but alas... I was too foolish to recognize leaving was only one part of the journey and fell to those that lay in wait just beyond the isle. I couldn't bring myself to face him again after I failed so long ago... If you asked him to help you escape, I would like to think he would help you, but even I don't know for certain. He loved us Humans. Cherished us, even. But I fear the isolation has hardened his heart and the pain he felt at our loss may keep him from letting you become lost as well."

You nodded and glanced back to the door, knowing if you took too long in isolation, the others would surely seek you out. They were smothering and suffocating, but they were your only chance to survive long enough to escape this place. It had been such a short amount of time, but it was no less important for you to understand how desperately these beasts yearned for your presence.

~•§•~

"-should have never been left up to chance! I know you trust your students above my own, but even you should know to trust me when I sense foul play on the horizon."

Crowley was fully fluffed up, his feathers standing on end and his voice sharp as he cawed angrily at the fellow Headmage. Ambrose refused to meet the heated stare of the angered Crow, keeping his gaze downcast as the Crow continued to screech. It was true, Ambrose should trust Crowley's instincts on such things, he had been Headmage of Night Raven College for centuries and knew when to be wary.

"To think, you let him assault my chick, assault your students, and Overblot all at once. All of this, for what? To try and have faith in the goodness of your students? Ambrose, it is not often I am the one to chastise anything you do, but even you must admit it was stupid to think Mr. Helmsman would not try his luck given his prior actions. He showed who he was and you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt!"

Crowley hissed and squawked angrily as he stomped around and paced in front of the Owl. This was the inverse of the typical interaction between the two as it was often Ambrose reprimanding Crowley. Though it was vindicating for the Crow, it was not worth the potential emotional and physical harm that almost befell his chick.

"What prior actions?"

The Dragon growled lowly, his voice impacted by the fire he had breathed out earlier and scratchy from the smoke. Naturally, no one wanted to actually tell Malleus what happened during the Photoshoot, especially considering the fact he was already furious. He had been pacing back and forth between the common area and the stairs that led up to his Human's room, ears perked keenly for any sign his Human or their beloved kit stirred. Vil was the one to break the news.

"Erikír got handsy with (Y/n) during the Photoshoot, he even placed his hands on her stomach."

"So that is why she asked Lilia about it last night. She assures me stomachs are not inherently linked to mating for Humans, but it would explain her discomfort on the subject. Still, this 'prince' assumed such falsehoods were truth and thought to try such brazen disrespect towards (Y/n). He should have been banished from her presence the moment he dared take such action."

The Dragon was agitated and it was obvious in the way he frowned and the subtle twitching of his tail. His wings were tensed on his back as if prepared to fly at any moment should he be called. So much was on his mind that he barely even remembered the unfinished Spelldrive match that declared no clear winner. He really didn't care much for the game or the outcome, only dragging it out for the sake of his dear Human's entertainment.

"I am of a mind with Mr. Draconia, that prince should have never been allowed near her after his clear lack of discretion. Next time I get a feeling about any of the students- yours or mine- you would do well to heed my words, Ambrose!"

During the angry huffing and cawing of the Crow, a soft figure slowly descended the stairs with a groggy Hellcat kit in hand. The kit was yawning and the presence of the Human did not go unnoticed by those in the dorm. Naturally, Malleus was first to head towards the oddly calm looking Human.

It had been one hell of a day thus far for her.

"(Y/n)," Malleus was quick to greet the Human that looked at him with almost distant and shell-shocked eyes, seemingly wanting to hold or otherwise pick her up but barely restraining himself from acting, "are you... Well? Do you need-?"

He cut off as the soft Human he adored walked into his waiting arms, letting the Dragon wrap his tail and wings around her. The hold of the Dragon was secure yet gentle as it seemed even the beast needed that moment simply to calm himself. Despite the beseeching words of his mentor and caretaker, Malleus found himself far more soothed with his Human in hand than he did without her.

Grim also seemed rather keen to lean into the affectionate grasp of the Dragon, his tired eyes struggling to stay open. Erikír's signature spell had mostly worn off of the students it impacted but Grim was clearly struggling to overcome the effects. Neige and Che'nya were both present among the many other students as it seemed more than Housewardens decided to camp out at the Ramshackle dorm. From what you could see, most Vice-Housewardens were present as well and you figured now was as good a time as any to speak with them as a group.

"I need to talk to everyone before what happened truly hits me."

Malleus let you pull away from his hold but kept close behind you like a perpetual shadow that loomed nearby. It was clear the others were keen to hear what you had to say, Che'nya and Neige moving so you could sit between them. Though your Dragon guard seemed less than pleased at the location between those that failed you, he was not going to force you to sit among the Hoard despite his wishes. Your needs were greater and he understood it in that moment.

Grim slowly lifted his head to sniff towards the Harpy that gently cooed to him, almost seeming worried as the kit struggled to stand. You were similarly concerned but the insistence that Grim would recover in time somewhat soothed your worry. At least the kit seemed alright despite his clumsy attempt to nuzzle the hand of the Harpy that sat next to you.

"We will continue this later, Ambrose. (Y/n), my dear sweet innocent chick, we are ready to hear what you have to say."

"Thank you, Headmage."

Crowley seemed somewhat bothered by the formal title, but he allowed you to continue without complaint as it was clear to him something was wrong. From what you gathered, all of the beast men would at least be unwilling to abandon or betray you if you kept an eye on them and divided your attention among them. Your aura should see to the rest when reality decided to hit you full force.

"I assume you all are already aware of the basics as to what happened today, so I won't rehash what we know, but there is something I need to share. Those Fae didn't see an opportunity and just choose to show up, it was planned and orchestrated. Erikír- after he used his signature spell and pulled me from the room- let slip how he gained the favor of those Fae, and what his plan was going forward."

A shiver ran through you as you thought about what had happened and the disgusting feeling it had given you. The faint feel of feathers over your shoulders told you Neige had rest one of his wings over your back, likely as a comforting gesture. You were thankful for the gentle touch of the Harpy that had earned a certain level of trust from you. He did not see the betrayal coming, but you trusted in Grim's judgement more than you could say.

"He said the Fae joined him for the promise of an egg. A half-Human egg. I doubt all of them joined for only one shared among them, so he must have promised them each one of their own. I'm sure I don't need to say where he planned to acquire these eggs. I honestly don't think he really cared if I wanted such things or not, he had made a deal and intended to make good on his word no matter what. This was before he Overblotted. He wasn't Feral when he planned to take me, he turned Feral when I got away from him. I don't feel safe with him nearby, even down the coast at Royal Sword Academy, not after what he has done."

Thunder suddenly boomed and shook the entire building. The air itself seeming filled with electricity as the Dragon among them hissed deeply, his body shaking with rage. Malleus was unaware of these finer details, but learning Fae from his own Kingdom had been so willing to trade what was not theirs to claim had white hot fury filling his veins. This was all in addition to the brazen and frankly disrespectful acts committed by the prince.

Most of the time, Lilia would be the first to make an attempt to calm down the Dragon. He was not keen to stop Malleus from ripping these poachers to pieces for even thinking they could get any young from you, especially when you so clearly belonged in the Hoard. Most of those present were of the same mind as Malleus; riddled with rage.

Ramshackle itself groaned and creaked from the force of the storm outside and you worried for those who may still be in or near the arena. The Tournament was either recently ended or just paused and that meant many could be out in the storm. You were quick to stand, immediately approaching Malleus and resting a hand on his head between his horns. He had almost seemed confused by your actions before you began to gently pet the upset Dragon, almost all tension leaving his body. In a way, he seemed to be fighting the immense calm that your presence brought him.

"He must pay for daring to take what is not his."

"I know, Tsuno, but there are still innocent people on school grounds, you can't drown them in a storm for the crime of being nearby. Save your anger for those that deserve it."

"He deserves death. The Rat is first and his crime was less. I see no reason he can't be next."

"Yeah, but something tells me because he's a prince they will try very hard for a lesser punishment."

"I want him dead."

"I know. You can't kill him. Not yet. We can do nothing about him right now, so I need you to calm down and hold onto that rage. I have no doubt he will lie and try to discredit or back-track on what he said to me. What I need from you is one of the Fae he coerced or several if you can, and they need to be alive. Their attestation is more damning. Evidence is what we need, not a storm."

Malleus made a sound then, like a mix between a whine and a growl. The Dragon was frustrated and didn't want to listen to reason, but he knew what the logical next step was. You were right.

"All Fae in the arena were caught and are going to be questioned. They have all agreed to answer any question and answer honestly, so long as they get to be questioned by you."

Ambrose spoke, his voice resigned and laced with guilt. He refused to meet your gaze and simply continued to look down at his hands, which were balled into fists. You figured he was wrestling with the idea of one of his own students going so wrong so quickly.

"I don't want to talk to any of them. I don't want to talk to anyone who would agree to leave me with a man that intends to use me for his own gratification. I don't care what they've lost or how they are hurt. Pain doesn't excuse their willingness to let horrible things be done to me just so they can sleep easier at night with a bought and sold child born as a result of their inability to control themselves or have a modicum of morals regarding others wellbeing."

"They won't speak to anyone but you."

"Fine. I will break their hearts and their fragile sanity. I want Tsuno, Lilia, and Headmage Crowley present for the questions. They can stare down their own prince and try to beg for the mercy they would have never given me."

There was lasting silence and you could see the fear in the eyes of the beasts around you. It was as if they were trying to decide if you were being serious or not. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes and felt the slow pull of emotions, drawing back to soon drown you in a tidal wave.

There was only moments of clarity left and you could feel the headache forming from the tears that had yet to be shed.

"I can't do it right now. Any of it, really. Right now, I need someone- anyone of you, I don't care- to hold me. I need to be held for several hours and someone needs to make me drink and eat because I won't want to. Honestly, I-"

Your voice fathered and your tears began to fall. Despite your desire to speak and give these clueless monsters the information you needed them to know, there was no more time.

"I-"

You figured Malleus would be first. He was closest after all, but you really didn't care who it was this time. Those in the dorm were those who have proven themselves trust worthy. You just needed to collapse and cry.

Emotions were strange like that, so terribly absent in the height of stressful situations yet so vicious in their return they knocked your knees out from under you. You vaguely registered the feeling of scales, feathers, fur, and flesh as your world seemed to implode. Every breath was difficult and your body shook with more than just the force of your tears.

Horrible things seemed to happen around you and now you knew you were the unfortunate cause and cure. At least you could face it later, but for the time being you had built quite the defensive group of guards. That same group who now let you sob and cry with no judgement, just gentle affection.

Everything could be dealt with at a time you could calm down and assess it properly, so you simply let the many beasts try to comfort you however they could. Warmth and softness all around was a tempting lullaby to your frazzled brain. One you embraced wholeheartedly as your world faded from the madness and into tranquility.

~•§•~

"Ambrose?"

The Crow Harpy watched the mixed group of students from both schools and various species all gather together. Some were species that hated each other by instinct alone. Some were naturally solitary. All of them valued comforting the Human more than their own instinctual dislikes and desires.

"Yes, Crowley?"

"He sought to trade away her eggs, Ambrose."

"I know."

"... This cannot happen again."

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #humans are extinct twst au

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schoenpepper · 5 months ago

Text

Isekai'd Chronicles 0

Intro: The prologue to your reincarnation adventures~

Warnings: otome games, bad writing, awful grammar, reader has a sister, proofread by quillbot, lots of mentions of death

A/N: The reader is kept as gender neutral as my brain could possibly allow. Also, I have different endings planned per route, and maybe (very small maybe because I'm not too comfortable with it) a couple of harem-ish routes. Anyways, enjoy.

Masterlist

You didn't like otome games, and certainly not harem ones. When your younger sister had begged, pleaded, and cried for you to join her in this weird, "innovative" two-player otome game, you had half a mind to just lock yourself in your room and ignore her. But you don't. Because some god probably has it out for you, divine intervention leads to your agreement, and the better half of Friday night and early Saturday morning is spent flirting with beautiful men on the 32-inch television screen in the living room. Summer vacation means neither of you get grounded for doing so, but there was certainly a healthy scolding waiting for you both come Saturday afternoon.

Fortunately for you unfortunately, the scolding never comes. As it is in every cheesy harem isekai manga, the next time you open your eyes, you're already in another world. Hooray! The same game that you and your sister spent hours on is now your reality. When you look into the mirror, you're even more surprised to find that staring back at you is a cute little bun with clear skin, gorgeous eyes, and beautifully silky hair. Aren't you happy you're super adorable now? Except, this is the face of the villain. That bratty, desperate, and pathetic duke's heir who was an obstacle in all 14 routes and the three different harem endings. It's okay. It's fine. If you never fall in love with the male leads, then you'll be safe!

Safe from falling to your death, getting poisoned, turned to sand, stabbed, drowned, sunk to the bottom of the ocean in a rickety little box, beaten to death, beheaded, hypnotized and made to kill yourself against your will, cursed to melt into toxic sludge, getting an arrow shot through your heart, burned alive, getting hanged in front of thousands of people, or being mauled to death by animals…

Make sure not to fall in love, okay?

The villain's endings—none of them end with you staying alive. So you steel yourself and look at the pudgy cutie pie in the mirror with renewed resolve. You'll live to the end! You'll study hard! You won't fall in love with any of the love interests! Ever! In any case, you are human, and most of the love interests are of other races from other lands, meaning you won't even be seeing their shadows for several years. Right now, you estimate that you should be about 3 or 4. The game starts when you and the main characters are 16 years old in the super-unexpected and never-been-done-before magic academy setting. You have at least a decade to shape yourself up and grind to an OP level; that way, if you still find yourself hunted by hot men, you can at least defend yourself. Hopefully. As a human duke's heir, however, there are two male leads you know from the start. They're also pudgy little cuties right now (all the love interests are at this point in time), but they're dangerous. Because you could fall in love, which is a big no-no. But since you were a teenager in your previous life, you wouldn't fall in love with 5-year-olds. Automatically, they're struck from your mind as "love interests." Still, you can't let the danger be on its own, so you decide to tell your parents that you no longer have any interest in your weekend tea parties at the palace (that the little villain had begged for). You can avoid them easily, and so you will. As a three-year-old, there's not much you can do for now, but one thing you can do is get a tutor to teach you the ins and outs of the universal language (convenient otome game logic). You busy yourself with studying the alphabetical and numerical systems and make a staunch decision to be a good duke's heir and, in time, a good duke ruling over the dukedom.

Fate decides to tear your plans apart little by little, pop the pieces into a blender and add some water to turn it into a paper-flavored smoothie.

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 16 days ago

Text

Christmas Future - Carlos Sainz

Cancelled.

That was the word in red that flittered after every single flight on the departures board at Gatwick airport. Your flight was cancelled and so was everyone else's.

You probably should have guessed that this was going to happen, but the small part of you that was desperate to go home was being optimistic. Pulling out your phone, you shot a few texts to your family to tell them that, unless the blizzard magically blew over, there was no way in hell that you were getting home on time to be there for Christmas morning. Or Christmas at all.

Everyone was resigned to the same fate, pulling their books and portable chargers out of their bags in preparation for the undoubtable hours that were to come. People were standing around, sitting on floors, crammed onto the seemingly endless yet dwindling seats.

You were standing too, still with your eyes glued to the screen as if it would change the words on the surface by sheer will. Turning your head, you saw the snowflakes dancing in the wind and battering the large windows of the airport, and you knew that your hopes were getting crushed.

You went to stand by the seats, waiting for someone to make the grave mistake of getting up to get a snack or go to the toilet. You knew it was going to be a while before someone caved and let their basic human rights override their need to have a seat, but you just stuffed your earphones into your ears and let the music take the time away.

After a few hours, your feet were starting to get sore, so you lowered yourself to the floor like a lot of other people around. It had cleared out slightly, since some people had just left to go and find a hotel for the night instead of sleeping on the floor of the airport.

The idea had crossed your mind a few times, but you wanted the opportunity to be on the first flight going as soon as possible. Being home was worth having a sore back and exhaustion.

You noticed how a few people had started talking to each other randomly, just for some way to pass the time. It was strange how they would have just ignored each other in passing, but were now getting to know one another.

While you were busy making up fake scenarios about the people you were seeing around, you failed to notice a pair of eyes watching you. He couldn't help but notice the disappointment on your face when all flights were cancelled until further notice and the tiredness in your expression when you slumped down on the floor.

He wondered if you were like him, just trying to get home in time for Christmas. He saw has your head lolled back and your eyes started to flutter closed, and he spotted the slight wince in your expression as you shifted around, trying to get comfortable.

He felt bad. He had been sat there for hours, and he was pretty settled. And there you were, a young lady being forced to sit on the floor. The chivalrous side of him was telling him to give up the seat for you, but the self-preservation was also telling him to stay in his seat and not be so generous to strangers.

But, he eventually gave in. Leaving his backpack on the seat so that no one would take it, he got up and walked over to you. His back was practically groaning after being in the same position for so long. Taking a deep breath, he spoke, his voice feeling hoarse from not having used it in a few hours.

"Excuse me, miss?" he asked, hoping you could hear him over your music, because that could have gotten very awkward. For a few seconds, he didn't think that you had heard him, but you took one of your earphones out to listen to him.

"Yeah?" you said, looking up at the handsome stranger. He was tall, but that was probably because he was towering over you. He had a thick mop of nearly black hair, falling over the tanned skin of his forehead. But his eyes captured you the most. Deep and brown. All too easy to get lost in.

"I had just noticed you've been sitting here for a long time, and you look like you could use rest in a proper chair," he said, and you couldn't help but let a soft smile spread across your lips. A handsome stranger with manners? Now you really felt like you were dreaming. Maybe the lack of sleep was making you delirious.

"Are you sure? I don't mind sitting here if you don't want to lose your seat," you said, grateful for his generosity, but also feeling slightly guilty at the thought of taking up his offer.

"Course, I've been sat there for a few hours. I don't mind taking the floor for a little while," he smiled, rocking back on his heels slightly. This was getting into dangerous territory now. Handsome, manners, dazzling smile.

"Well thank you," you said, putting your things back in your bag and making a poor attempt at standing up. He offered a hand out to you, and you took it without hesitation. They were a lot bigger than yours, as well has a lot warmer. Slightly calloused too, he could probably do with some hand cream but you doubted he was that type of guy.

Walking you over to the seat, he picked his backpack up from it and slung it over his left shoulder. Slumping down into the seat, your body was happy to have some small sliver of a cushion as opposed to just hard flooring.

The stranger just stood there, unsure of whether to walk away and find some free floor space or wait with you. You noticed his internal struggle, and decided that you didn't want the stranger to return to being a stranger just yet.

"Do you want to sit with me? I've got a neck pillow you can use, since you're going to be on the floor?" you asked, instantly feeling like an idiot. It felt like your attraction to him was completely obvious, but there was no way to get to know someone unless you talked to them.

"Sure," he nodded with that smile again. You shuffled your legs to the side so that he could rest his back on the edge of the seat, and you pulled your neck pillow out of your bag to hand to him. He had to admit, it was a very nice and comfy neck pillow.

Despite what you could only assume to be a whole day of travelling, he still smelt unreal as he sat so close to you. Something deep, musky. Definitely something expensive.

The stranger was also thinking of you as you sat there. He'd expect someone to be cranky after all of the flights being cancelled - especially on Christmas Eve. Yet here you were, being so nice to him after a day of globe trotting.

"So, what's your name?" he asked, turning his head to look at you.

"Y/N, you?" you returned.

"Carlos." he said, and he suited the name. His shoulder kept brushing against your legs, and you could feel the warmth of him through his jacket sleeve. "Were you heading home for the holidays?" he questioned, looking down at his watch as if the flights would suddenly be back on.

It looked expensive, even if you didn't know the exact brand. He likely had money, was probably flying business or first class. It wasn't apparent quite yet which one it would be.

"Yeah, I was. But I don't think anyone is making it in time for Christmas at this rate." you explained, and he nodded in response.

"Me too. But I think I'll have to be prepared for the family to open presents without me," he said, and you could hear the hint of sadness in his tone. You completely understood, since this would be the first Christmas that you wouldn't be spending with your family.

"So where would home be if this blizzard wasn't keeping us all hostage?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood. Carlos seemed to get the hint, chuckling slightly at your quip. It was a hearty, deep sound. One that made the cold airport seem a little warmer.

"Madrid, not a long flight thankfully. I'd hate to do some sort of long haul after being stuck here for however long we're going to be."

"But I guess you can get a good sleep on a long haul. On shorter flights, there's not much time to fall asleep and get enough rest so then you'll be even more tired on landing then customs and baggage claim and then getting to where you need to go." you rambled, and you noticed that Carlos was just looking at you.

He was staring up at you from his spot on the floor. He had a soft smile on his face, as if he was enjoying your little analysis into long haul versus short haul flights at a time like this. "Sorry..." you mumbled, looking down at your lap.

"No, no. You're good," he reassured, nudging you in the leg with his shoulder. You felt comfortable with Carlos, despite the fact that you had only known him for about ten minutes. The two of you settled into a silence for a short while, just enjoying having someone there to talk to if you felt like it.

Snow was still hammering against the window, and it wasn't showing any signs of slowing down any time soon. Sighing to yourself, you leant back in your chair to try and get comfy for a short nap. Carlos noticed you shifting and turned to look at you.

"Do you want your pillow back?" he asked.

"No, it's OK. You're on the floor, you need it more," you shook your head, shuffling to try and find some sort of position that your body would allow you to sleep in.

"Wake me up if there are any flights to Geneva. Or if you get a flight so that I can say goodbye," you told him.

"Geneva, eh?" he asked, looking very intrigued. "I would not have guessed that you're swiss." he continued. To be fair, he was very obviously Spanish, so it was easy to guess. With you, it was a bit more of a mystery.

"I'm not, my entire family live there," you explained, and he was listening intently.

"Well that's cool. I'm sure Geneva is stunning at Christmas," he said, and you nodded in response while stifling a yawn. "Anyway, I'll let you sleep. And I will only wake you up if I have to go if there is a flight for you," he repeated, with a somewhat melancholy expression.

Carlos didn't want to say goodbye to you, not so soon. He had become captivated by the girl that he had first seen, eyes glued to the board in hopes that her flight might be reinstated or rescheduled to something in the near future.

He couldn't say why, either. All he knew was your name and that you were heading home to Geneva. Well, that was where your family was. He didn't know where you were from originally. But, he wanted to find out. For the meantime, however, he would let you rest and just hope that another flight wouldn't pop up for either of you.

He wanted to go home for Christmas, but he'd make it back in time for lunch at least if the flights held out for another few hours. That way, he'd get to spend some time with you and would be able to have ample time with his family at home.

His texts to them weren't getting through due to how bad the weather was, but he was sure that they had been tracking his flight and would have seen that it was cancelled. They also knew he was at the airport, so they hopefully wouldn't worry too much about his whereabouts.

About 3 hours had gone by, and Carlos' phone was nearly dead. So was his back. You were still sleeping. Maybe not so peacefully, but you were sleeping nonetheless. He was itching to get a coffee or something, just to wake him up a little.

Carlos stood up, stretching out his muscles as they groaned in protest. "Hey, hey," he mumbled, gently nudging you awake. The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Carlos standing over you, and you had to give yourself a few moments to verify that this wasn't a dream.

"Are you going? Am I going?" you sleepily murmured, really hoping that neither of you had to leave just yet.

"No, I was just going to get a coffee and I was wondering if you wanted anything from any of the shops? Snacks, drinks, maybe a blanket from somewhere. Whatever you want." he said, taking his hand off of your shoulder and shoving it back into his pocket.

"Just a coffee, please. Might perk me up," you told him, and he nodded before turning and walking off in the direction of the shops. It would be a miracle if they had any coffee left after hours of people waiting in the airport, but Carlos went knew that he needed to try.

He went to a few coffee shops, most of them not having anything caffeinated and only soft drinks. Eventually, though, he found a very small cafe tucked away in the corner. Thankfully, they had a few coffees left, so Carlos ended up buying 2 coffees and 2 waters.

It was harder than expected to locate you in the rows upon rows of seats, since there were many people who looked like you from the back. But, some intuition that he had sent him in the direction of where you were. And there he spotted you. Yes, it was only the back of your head, but he knew it was you.

"Here you go," he announced, holding the to-go cup out to you. You took it from him with a grateful smile. He also fished out a water from his pocket, handing it out to you.

"Thank you," you said, sipping at the coffee. It was slightly too hot, burning your throat as it went down. The bitterness was welcome however, and you could already feel the caffeine seeping into your bloodstream. "That is perfection,"

"It's funny what something so simple can do, eh? Just a cup of bean water can make all the difference," he chuckled, and the sound was so infectious. It made the hustle and bustle of the stagnant airport seem a little less strange.

Just as Carlos finished his sentence, the chair next to him was vacated. The man who was originally sat in it was on the phone and was not looking pleased. It was probably his wife, asking where the hell he was. Carlos was quick off the mark, sitting down in it quickly before anyone else got any bright ideas after eyeing up the spot.

"There we go. Now we both have some rock hard plastic to sit on," he laughed, stretching his long legs out in front of him. For a while, the two of you were talking. You had lent him your power bank to charge his phone, and his texts to his family finally went through.

"Well would you look at the time," you declared, checking your phone and seeing that it was five minutes to midnight. Christmas was right on the horizon, and you weren't going to be seeing your family any time soon. Or opening presents. Or having dinner with them.

"Huh, looks like we'll be spending the majority of Christmas in this airport. Or we can get a hotel room. Well, I... not we, I meant me and you can have separate ones, I'm not trying to-" he stuttered, and it was strange to see him so rattled after being so composed over the last few hours.

"I know what you meant, Carlos. Don't worry. But I want to be on the first available flight home, so I will wait it out right here." you said, and he nodded in agreement. What you didn't know was that, if you were getting a hotel room, so was he. If you weren't, he wasn't either.

"Me too." he agreed, checking his watch to see that there was now only 3 minutes until Christmas day. His family were all asleep in their beds, aware of his turmoil, yet comfortable while you were stuck.

He felt guilty that he wasn't going to be there like he had promised. He was away all year, and the one time he always promised to be there, he wasn't. If he was being fair to himself, this was the first time that he had never been home for Christmas in his entire career, so his track record was pretty good.

You were thinking the same thing about your own family. There was nothing you wanted more than to teleport to your room and head downstairs to open presents and celebrate with the people you loved more than anything else in this world.

Checking the time once again, you opened your phone just in time to watch the clock strike midnight. "Merry Christmas, Carlos," you said, sincerely smiling at him. There were much worse ways to be spending Christmas trapped in an airport, that was for sure. You had lucked out with a handsome, kind and likely rich Spanish casanova.

"Feliz Navidad, Y/N." he said, and you couldn't help but feel the butterflies spark at the Spanish. And the blush on your cheeks had totally given you away. He liked seeing you flustered. And this wasn't a bad way to spend Christmas, and neither of you wanted to spend it like this again.

But, the ghost of Christmas future had a better idea. Well, they had a better idea for a few things. The scenario? No. The setting? No way. The person? Hell yes. The future was already setting paths out for both of you, and all you had to do was choose to walk down it.

A/N - Merry Christmas my darlings! I know, I have been dead to the world for a month and a bit, but the inspiration was on a low down. Or a complete zero. Alas, that does not mean that I was going to allow myself to not get a Christmas special out! I might have missed every other holiday, but I will not let myself miss this years! Also, the FIFTH part to the Lando series will be out later today as a little further Christmas present. So, merry Christmas to those who celebrate, have an equally wonderful day to those who don't, and thank you for all of the support this year. I hope I can be more consistent next year, but I am not making any promises.

Want more Christmas fun? Click here and here.

|masterlist|

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radiance1 · 1 year ago

Text

Danny was having a good night, laying down on his side and purring contentedly while his tail swayed lazily. He was living a good life nowadays, freed from his responsibilities as the eternal prince of the Infinite Realms and taking on the mantle of the head of a Familia.

Perhaps, one of these days, he should try and find the wizard who turned him into a cat and thank them for it. What would a wizard even like anyway?

He pondered on that for a moment, perhaps a magical artifact or another could suffice? He stretched. Oh well, it didn't matter right now, he wasn't going to do it so soon anyways.

He opened his mouth, a yawn escaping him as he finished his stretch, tongue peeking out to lick his lips. He changed his position to something more comfortable, sinking into the lavishly soft pillows and reminding himself to get Catwoman something once again for giving him this high-quality cat bed.

Custom made too, multiple times bigger than him, the softest pillows he's ever felt and smelling extremely good. Even when multiple others forced themselves into his bed, even though they had their own as a gift from her as well.

Perhaps another diamond is in order?

His ears perked up as the sound a crash echoed throughout the warehouse, and he lazily peeked an eye open as the sound of paws running towards his direction made themselves known.

His nose twitched, the familiar scent of iron controlling the air as he sighed.

Kevin.

"Graaaaaaaaaaaamps!" A cat of what was once white fur, now stained with blood, skidded to a stop in front of him. Danny sighed once more, other eye opening as he looked at his first, and what others call his second-in-command. "I'm not that old, 150 is still quite young Kevin." He spoke calmly, no real heat in his voice and instead, amusement.

Kevin, predictably, ignored him. "You won't believe what happened tonight." Kevin then turned cheeky, stepping forwards towards his bed, and Danny had half a mind to try and prevent him from staining his bed, before discarding that thought just as quickly. "Guess!"

Danny's stare turned flat, and he had an urge to facepaw. Instead, he sighed, staring at the blood staining the other's fur before resting his head back on his bed. "You died again, didn't you?"

"Yep!" Kevin stepped onto the bed, both face and reply cheerful as the sun. "But that's not it!" Kevin bounced his way over to the elder cat, bloody pawprints marking his path on the previously clean bed.

Danny sniffed, a faint unknown tickling his nose before Kevin flopped on top of him, the blood stains on the smaller cat rubbing off on him, causing Danny to shift position, one that would support the younger better. "Oh, really?" He inquired, reaching out to grasp a glass shard from Kevin's side and placing it onto the bed.

"Yea! I fought spark, the spark!" Kevin purred, tail swishing behind him. "Can you believe it!?"

Danny hummed, picking another shard of glass from his first's skin.

"She was suuuuuper strong! Not stronger than you obviously, but she was really tough, I almost couldn't keep up with her!" Danny used a paw to silently request for Kevin to turn, and he did, with Danny plucking another shard from his skin. "She went all woosh, and boom! And then I went swish, and whish and she could barely touch me!"

"Mhm." Danny shifted, gently lowering the other, younger cat from off of him and instead to his side onto his stomach, reaching over to pick the shards from his back. "Then, then she used her power and then I was going fwoosh! Then I crashed into a nearby window and then we had to scatter because the human inside was mad about it." Kevin chirped, easily moving through his story despite the biggest pieces of glass being currently taken out of his back. "Then I ran all the way here because I wanted to tell you about it!"

"That's nice Kevin," Once he was done, Danny reached forward to lick the other on his head, his tail moving forward-the fur turning from black to glowing white- and flinging the shards of glass up through the air and into the rafters. "However." Danny's speech turned from that of a cat to one of a more humane-like tongue, his eyes narrowing at the form of one of those vigilantes running around the city- this one seems to be the Robin, based on his description of the hero- took the thrown shards of glass as a sign to drop down onto the ground.

"It seems you've managed to have drawn one of the humans into our territory in your excitement." Danny rubbed his chin against Kevin's head, uncaring for the blood soaking into his fur. "I don't blame you, that strain of human is known to be quite sneaky when they want to be."

Robin stood up, cape shrouding his form from ankle to shoulders. He narrowed his eyes at the scene, and Danny, in turn, narrowed his own as the rest of his fur turned glowing white, toxic green eyes staring at the lone human in a den of cats.

A silent threat.

"Care to explain, human known as Robin?"

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #ghost prince danny #Had to put that tag in the off chance this ended up as a ghost king Danny post

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fiber-optic-alligator · 22 days ago

Note

ALLIGATORRRR

GIVE US PRED VIKTOR FIC

AND MY LIFE IS YOURRS

(Shnddnbdbs i’m so sorry-)

OKAY OKAY FIIIIIINE LOL

Glorious Consumption

Pairing: Arcane Herald Viktor x Reader

Summary: After being found and captured by the feared herald who is ushering in a new world, you realize you have met a terrible fate in which there is no way to avoid.

Word Count: 1393

I wrote this in one sitting because I was so into it and I really hope this is what you are asking for!!!

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS SOFT, SAFE, SFW VORE. IF ANY OF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, PLEASE DO NOT READ.

The man who looms before you is anything but a true man anymore. Twin pinpricks of sickening gold flicker and focus upon your trembling form through a twisted mask that splits the face of what was once human in two, separating the shut eyes and the tightened lips. His staff quietly clink, clink, clinks with each step he takes; slow, leisurely, like he knows you have no chance of escaping. Yet still, you scoot backwards, a whispering plea for mercy escaping you with the breathlessness of someone who doesn’t wish to meet their fate.

“Poor little one,” the herald says, voice soft and deep, everywhere and nowhere, rumbling straight through your tiny body and striking into your soul. “So lost, so alone. Did you come seeking salvation? Redemption from the flesh?”

“Please,” you say. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Why would I hurt you?” The herald bends a knee. Despite how gradual his movements are, they still cause you to flinch. “I only wish to heal, little one. Suffering has no place in my perfect world.”

Massive fingers, dark violet and warped by magic, reach forwards. Your eyes widen and you quickly bow your head, staring down at your own curled fists. Tears drip onto the floor and your skin, heart pounding, brain screaming for you to run, run, danger, run. Yet you are frozen, unable to wrench yourself from this fatal spot. The herald has rendered you terrified beyond your capable limits of handling such extreme emotions. Such power radiates from him, Unearthly. Eldritch. Arcane.

Those fingers curl around you, cupping you in a loose hold with warmth pressing against your spine while his thumb grazes your cheek in a gesture of comfort not suiting him. Your stomach does flips when you are raised up, your face scrunching in visible discomfort.

“Shhh.” You vibrate with the timbre of his voice. “Don’t tense. You are fearing a conclusion which shouldn’t be feared at all.”

Your eyes dart around you, flickering to the beings surrounding the herald like a protective shield. Mechanical denizens of perfect abundance, gold and white with dead eyes all staring straight at you. Marks of the newborn god currently holding you are imprinted on their faces: fingerprints signifying their change into something terrifying. You don’t want that. You want to remain you. So you continue to cry, choking on your own sobs. “Don’t turn me into one of them. Please. I-I don’t want to be like them.”

The herald is silent. He moves his thumb to your chin and forces you to tilt your head up. You have no choice but to meet his gaze. There’s no emotion, no sign of anger or pity. He’s just…blank.

“Why do you fear becoming so much more than you already are?” he asks.

“I don’t want to lose who I am. I don’t want to disappear.” You begin struggling just a tad bit, clutching his thumb tight and giving him your most pleading look. “Please. Please don’t make me go away.”

Again, there’s a pause. Then he sighs. “I do not like seeing you so terrified of me. It is…saddening.” He gives you a squeeze you think is supposed to be comforting. “If you do not seek my healing, then I will not force it upon you. I fear I may end up breaking you if you are not willing.”

Relief settles upon you. You want to give him a thousand thanks for sparing you. But he cuts you off. “However…I cannot simply let you go.”

Disbelief shatters your gratefulness. “W-What?! You’re going to kill me?!”

“Did I say I was going to kill you? Worry not, little one. No harm will befall you as long as I am around.” He hums. “I…do not feel comfortable allowing you to wander unsupervised. You could be hurt. Or worse. Plus…” He brings you close, and you feel some sort of inhalation tousle your hair as he somehow breathes in your scent. “You have a tantalizing aura. I feel…I can make use of you.”

“Make use of me?” you echo weakly.

“Your energy. It will give me the necessary power I need to continue the glorious evolution.” He sees the way your face falls, and he’s quick to comfort you. “Rest assured, I will not hurt you. Nothing I do to you will end up with you wounded or dead. It may be a bit…eh, uncomfortable at first, but I think you will grow used to the feeling. I will even coach you through it.”

“Coach me? Coach me through what?”

The herald’s eyes burn. “Being drained.”

You go pale with horror when the middle of his mask slowly splits into a mouth, strings of black connecting between jutting, razor sharp teeth and saliva dripping from the roof like ugly droplets of oil. You stare into the cavern of hypnotic colors that pulse in and out like breaths, drawing you forth with whispers invading your brain, ushering you on, begging, pleading, please please come here come to us we need you we want you please. A long, serpentine tongue slithering out to lick your cheek makes you cringe back with the terrible realization of what is going to happen to you: you are about to be eaten alive.

You scream and flail. Shoving his fingers, trying to free yourself, not even caring if you drop to your death. “Stop! Stopstopstop, please! Don’t do this, I’m begging you!”

The herald ignores you. Feet first you are slipped into his mouth, tongue curling around your legs and slowly bringing you into the hot, moist maw. You grab the ends of his teeth and hold on for life, resisting the insistent tugs of the gigantic muscle. The herald sighs wearily. He brings a hand up and starts to carefully pry your fingers away. You yelp and try to latch back on quicker than he can release you, but he is smart, and quick. In a moment where both of your hands are off of his teeth, he tilts his head and slides you backwards, snapping his mouth shut. You are sealed inside, with no escape in sight.

Screaming and howling and clawing your nails into his tongue, you do everything you can to prevent what is going to happen. But you are too weak, too small, and the herald easily overpowers you. With a resounding gulp, everything is turbulent, and you are pushing past his uvula and down his throat. Psychedelic colors fill your vision, and you lose yourself, screams dying into soft whines. You feel the muscles of his esophagus squeeze you over and over, forcing you downwards, further into his body.

By the time you make it to the stomach, you are exhausted. The colors are gone and are replaced by the dull purple, near black color of his internals. Little spots resembling stars flicker as you are embraced by plush grooves that quiver with each heavy breath you take. You can practically feel the energy leaving you as you stare up at the belly’s faux ceiling. Fear grips you. Tears leak from your eyes.

The herald presses a hand over his middle, feeling you out. When he finds you, he begins rubbing you tenderly. “I can feel you in there. So wonderfully snug. So delicious.” You think you can hear a smile in his voice. “Thank you, little one, for nourishing me. This energy will not go wasted.”

“…I…don’t want to…die…” is all you whisper in reply.

The herald goes silent. His stomach gurgles sadly and moves in, giving you a tight hug. “Hush,” he soothes. “You will not die. In due time, I will release you. Though this won’t be the last time I’ll be swallowing you, I will keep you safe. I will keep you warm. I think you’ll come to love it in there. So don’t be afraid…please.”

You want to submit. You’re tired. So, so tired. His voice is lulling you, and you think you can hear his stomach talking, quietly cooing to you, telling you to sleep. You want to fight for your freedom…you really do…

“Don’t fight,” the herald says. “There’s no point. Just let this happen. You are okay. I’ll hold you. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

Your consciousness slips from your grasp, and you are lost in his consumption. With his presence all encompassing, you pass out.

#gator writes #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #pred!viktor #arcane vore #arcane #soft vore #safe vore #sfw vore #Giant tiny #sorry about this one guys #I love Viktor

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demonicbaby666 · 2 months ago

Text

Find Me Under the Sycamore Tree

One shot | Marvel Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Words: 4.4k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, kidnapping (kinda), blood play, degradation, asphyxiation, fingering, oral sex, pain play, restraints, orgasm denial, overstimulation, branding, sub/dom dynamic, sub!reader, dom!Agatha, dubcon

Summary: You’re scared and alone, running through an endless forest with no idea how you got there. You know you’re being followed. You know Agatha is hot on your trail, but what you don’t know, is what she will do when she finds you.

A/n: THIS IS A DARK FIC. The themes of it can be triggering and will not appeal to some. Read at your own risk, and please avoid if you believe anything in the warnings will negatively affect you.

In the darkness of the witching hour, you find yourself hurling through an endless forest. The trees are barren of life–corpses after winter stripped them of their leaves and, with it, their colour. Branches wack against one another as though they’re trying to huddle together to stave off the cold and preserve what life force remains at the core of their brittle roots. The sound carries. It crackles and follows your every step.

From the very start, you knew this was a battle you couldn't win. But your defiance, your refusal to accept defeat, fuels your relentless pursuit of freedom. You race through the darkness, ignoring the pain of broken twigs and shrubbery alike as they cut at the underside of your feet, each step a declaration of your unyielding rebellion.

You’re cold, shivering and praying for a miracle in nothing but a slip, its fabric sheer and virgin white, providing no comfort against the brittle bite of clouded mist. The air is thick and wet, sticking to the growing sweat on your forehead as you race against the unseen presence of powerful magic. Your lungs, straining to steal air, make a desperate plea in the silent forest. But the air is too damp to replenish the dwindling fuel left in your chest, and every breath remains a fight with no reward, a constant reminder that the struggle you now face may very well reap the same futile fate.

You know she’ll find you if she hasn’t already. The chase excites her–watching her prey struggle as each step leads them further into her nest and closer to their death. It won’t be quick and no less painful. Agatha will make sure her eyes are the ones that haunt you in your grave.

Scattered burrows concealed by darkness leave the earth uneven. Caution is not something time affords you, and so you are left at the mercy of the woodlands, at the divots that seek to knock you off kilter, at the tree roots that jut out of tarmac mud, angry and unruly, cruel to use their network to ensure your pace is broken by constant stumbling.

Is this it? Is this how it ends? Only an hour ago, you were in bed, sleeping sweetly, blissfully unaware of how unencumbered your life had been. The TV is likely still on, reruns playing in the silence of a bedroom that may never see its occupant again. The candle on your bedside table is probably burnt down to its wick, the last dying embers of its flame flickering behind its glass prison. What you would do for some light now.

Despite the sweat marking your forehead, the constant burn of your hamstrings and exertion keeping your blood hot, you bristle against the unnatural frost marking the air. It's sharp and travels up your nose like a vine, stabbing its thorns into your head till all you know is the constant ringing of a migraine. Between the cold and adrenaline, the goosebumps raised on your skin stay with you during your every move. It’s a comfort—a reminder that you are still alive and human, and your body is still fighting.

But it's all for nothing.

Pessimism is one thing. Rationalism is another. Logic tells you Agatha is closing in, and your best option is to hide, but your head is ringing, and you can’t make out right from wrong or left from right, so instead, you keep forward. Condensation has bruised the forest soil, forcing it into a slippery, sponge-like substance that gathers in clumps above your ankles. It weighs you down and makes navigating through uneven terrain unmanageable. You slip and slide, forcing your eyes ahead, below, anywhere but behind you, too scared you'll see the lurking figure that marks your end like a bad omen.

A bird flies overhead, a sign of life in the desolate forest, an allying companion trying to flee. Hope. You avert your eyes upward, tuning your ears to the sound of fluttering wings and calls to freedom. You’re choking on the stench of death and moisture by the time you see a clearing. The moon’s silvery light is untouched by the forest there, peeking out from beyond tangled treetops and illuminating the dirt path to sanctified land.

Stupidly, you freeze, awestruck by the sight. Your body betrays you for only a fraction of a second before rebooting with the intent to sprint. But it’s too late. You’ve made a mistake, and the unforgiving woodland closes in. The open walkway is drowning in darkness as branches twist, shift and interlink. It doesn’t matter that you’re running faster than you have your whole life; the exit is sealed like a vault when you make it to the end of the forest tunnel.

The last embers of hope are snubbed out from beneath you, burying themselves in the hollow pools of earth your collapsing knees create. You can feel her, smell the sandalwood clinging to her skin, but there is no adrenaline left, no fight left in you to get up, to cower, to beg. Instead, you stare at the tiny cracks between branches and freedom, biting your tongue when something blunt and heavy hits the side of your head.

“Poor thing,” Agatha cooes, crouching beside you to gently pull sticky, bloodied hair off your face. Her wicked, toothy smile is the last thing you see before unconsciousness swarms you.

Everything that happens next comes to you in flashes. You register the bindings over your wrists and ankles, aware that no manufactured material can offer this phantom sensation, leaving magic the only culprit. The murky brown landscape around you spins, transforming into more of the same as you’re dragged forward, feet hovering above the ground. You can see Agatha. She’s about a yard away, one hand to the side, trailing ever so slightly behind with a bright cord of purple connecting your restraints to the emerging tendrils of magic gleaming off her fingers.

Your blood is molten copper, tangy and hot on your tongue. The metallic zing that lingers over your tastebuds keeps you present for the rebinding of your limbs. Your back presses against rough bark, sap oozing through the thin cotton of your slip, and you shiver against the cold, sickly substance as it sticks to your back. An incantation is whispered into the breeze, and roots peeking out from the dirt below take on a life of their own. They wind over your body till your arms are forced behind you, around the large sycamore tree, and your ankles are spread shoulder-width apart and held close to the base of the trunk.

A single swing of Agatha’s finger and your slip is torn clean down the middle, falling to each side of your shoulders and exposing the entire length of your body. An angry red line marks the travel of magic from your sternum to your sex, inked in red droplets. What had you expected? To be gently undressed and appraised for your naked form. No, that wasn't how this would happen. This wasn’t about you or for you.

Agatha hums quietly, looking you up and down as her fingers dip into the scarlet liquid pouring from your wound. Around you is more of the same: dirt paths littered with fallen leaves, tree carcases disfigured, withering away to winter, and beyond the horizon, peeking through branches, is the moon. Its light does not shine down on the woodlands. This place is unworthy of anything that could contribute to the sustenance of life. It is a no man's land, and anyone unfortunate enough to wander through its endless trails will surely discover the resting place for their last breaths.

“You’re quiet,” the brunette remarks, looking away from the gauged flesh of your stomach to your face, which she inspects speculatively. Her fingers remain focused on painting your stomach red.

You stare at her blankly, giving nothing away. If Agatha’s goal is to revel in your fear, she will find not a lick of fright from your trained features. The pain is more challenging to mask, especially when a sharp fingernail digs into your cut, tearing the flesh anew, intent to never let it clot. You make no sound, clenching your teeth together, flaring your nostrils and forcing yourself to breathe steadily through the pain.

Agatha tuts and, always one for the dramatics, has a sizable pout on her face, feigning upset, “You’re no fun.”

When you remain silent, Agatha’s mock sadness shifts into something darker, curious and unexpected. Her usual victims must have all begged, cowered and cried. Alternatively, they may have responded with anger, relying on brute strength that could only take them so far in the face of the unnatural. In the end, they all gave her the same. They all showed her how fragile and fickle the human mind is. They allowed her to penetrate their defences in one way or another, letting her sink her claws into their foundations and find what lies beneath bravado and tears—fear. But anyone given too much of the same gets bored.

“There is no one but us here. What good would screaming do?” You ask, levelled and calm. It’s tricky to tame the tremors of your jaw and the chattering of your teeth, but allowing them to disrupt your question's pace and timbre would paint a less-than-idyllic picture of your already declining resolve.

Her grin is one of triumph, and whilst the song it sings is laden with satisfaction, you can see the underlying relief trickle through the harsh bite of her smile, intrigue burning brighter behind her coral-blue eyes.

“It speaks,” she announces to an invisible crowd, arms wide and spread. “And you’re right, sweetpea. Screaming wouldn’t do you any good.”

In the following silence, you allow yourself to take Agatha in fully. Her plum slacks are clipped at her ankles, revealing only the tips of her black boots. A navy blue overcoat is draped over her white blouse, freshly pressed and framing her figure perfectly as it sinches her waist and falls seamlessly down her body. Her hair, wavy yet tame, is loose, falling over her breasts in layers of chestnut brown streaked with shades of dark caramel.

Time will always know Agatha’s name. Her murderous ways are etched into the fabric of history, tales of her unique powers passed down from coven to coven, witch to witch, and for you, mother to daughter. But one thing history has failed to highlight is the beauty of her treachery. She basks in her reputation like a conqueror holding their crown, surveying fallen bodies and foreseeing their gluttonous future in the reflections of pooled blood. The power suits her, even if she fails to wear it humbly.

There’s a pleased look on her face when you meet her eyes, and she says, “Ogle away.”

You scoff, looking anywhere but at the witch and willing the cold to taper the heat emanating from your cheeks. The sound of leaves being mercilessly crushed under Agatha’s boot is crisp. The clean crunch sounds once, twice, and you stiffen, hating how your feet beg to scurry and hide. You’re better than the fear and the cowardice urges, but at the end of the day, you’re only human, and your body acts without the restraints of your mind in perilous situations. You reign in the jitters, force your limbs to remain still, and your face stoic.

She’s close. Her breath is tickling your face ever so gently, her finger and thumb pinching your chin to force your gaze forward, and it’s increasingly becoming more challenging to ignore the electric sensations that are zapping about in your stomach. It was a stump of wood that knocked you out, magic that tethered you to Agatha as she dragged you through the forest and the vines that are now what keep you bound. Leaving this, the first time you’ve felt Agatha’s touch.

“I quite enjoy the attention.” Agatha grins, staring directly into your eyes, keen to sink her nails into the steel armour that holds your tears at bay.

It’s odd. Where her fingers should be imbued with murderous intent, they are far from roughspun on your skin. Her grip is harsh, but her thumb is feather light as it grazes the underside of your lip, and her finger soft as it brushes the length of your jaw, catching wisps of sodden hair soaked with sweat, blood and condensation. It sends another jolt of something sharp and hot down your spine.

“Don’t,” you whisper through a shaky breath.

There’s no reason the older woman should heed your command, and there are no consequences if she doesn’t. She’s in control and knows it—is unafraid to show it.

The shivers are back with revenge, but it isn’t the cold or fear that fuels them; it’s the weight of a palm resting against your stomach, warm and heavy as it meanders over your ribs. With no preamble, her hand comes to lay over your breast, and her fingers tighten around the globe of flesh, squeezing before they move down to circle your hardened nipple.

“Stop,” you whisper, miserably aware of how your voice is weakened by lust and holds no authority.

It shouldn’t feel good. You know it shouldn’t. But your body disagrees, chest arching forward into the heated touch of Agatha, and much to your chagrin, there’s a trapped moan tickling the sides of your throat that you vehemently fight to keep at bay.

Your refusal to submit only makes this more fun for her, and your submission would guarantee your imminent demise, so you’re left walking a tightrope, fine-tuning your responses in a waking effort to remain alive. It’s that awareness, that constant cycle of methodical thoughts, that helps you realise a moment too late you’ve chosen the wrong course of action.

“I said stop,” you shout, slamming your head forward to collide with Agatha’s nose.

The older woman’s smile corrodes with anger, momentary but fierce as fire and hotter than the blazing end of a poker stick. When you blink away your fears, the fury is gone, but its effects are lasting. Agatha grabs you by your throat, cutting off your airways with her powerful grip, and slams your head back with a quick shove that has you seeing stars.

“That wasn’t nice.” Something is alarming about her smile. It’s plastic and appears false, but beneath its exterior, there’s some sort of maniacal truth to it, like she’s overjoyed by the prospect of seeing you dazed at her hand, which isn’t hard to believe.

With a drawn-down motion of her free hand, another cut marks your flesh, and pain overwhelms your senses. It's blinding and oddly familiar—something you can hold onto like a crutch to keep you planted in the present. You bite down the weak urge to vocalise your suffering, swallowing down a strained cry that feels much too similar to sandpaper.

If Agatha is unhappy with your lack of response, she doesn't show it. In fact, not even a second is spent surveying you or her work before she’s three fingers knuckle deep inside your cunt, stretching you out over and over as she pumps with both speed and vigour.

“Tell me to stop,” she growls. “I dare you.”

You mutter a quick, “Oh fuck,” under your breath and try to focus on the blood trickling down your stomach and dripping onto Agatha’s wrist instead of the way she’s playing your body like a fiddle. It’s all-consuming; the pleasure swarms you from every angle, turning your legs to jelly, leaving you at the mercy of the vines that hold you up and Agatha, who keeps you upright with her unrelenting grip over your neck.

“Come on, pet. Tell me how much you hate this, and I’ll stop.”

The wet sounds emanating from your sex seek out the deep-rooted shame that lives in the pit of your stomach. It’s the realisation that some sadistic part of you enjoys this that hits you like a ton of bricks, and you want to deny it; deny Agatha the victory points, but your mind and body are bending to her will with the curl of her fingers and another gush of arousal.

“You like this, don’t you?” Agatha purrs, her hot breath clammy as she bites down on your earlobe. “Your cunt was practically begging for my fingers.”

All hopes of refuting her statement are stolen by the myriad of kisses and bites Agatha trails down your neck, halt over your pulse point, where she takes the beating flesh between her teeth and marks you with a bruising imprint of her savage affections. At a loss for words, the only thing you can focus on is the maintenance of your restricted airflow. The pace at which Agatha is overturning your body makes it hard to sustain a regular breathing pattern, but you force the minimal oxygen into your lungs and heave it out through crackled gurgles.

Slender fingers carry you to the edge till all you feel is the pent-up pressure in your abdomen, overpowering the anguish and anger directed towards Agatha.

The distraction lasts for a brief second.

Your release is not what floods your body. Instead, there is only searing, blistering pain. Agatha’s fingers, previously nestled within the walls of your pulsing cunt, now lay over your fresh wound, skating through the dark oozing red liquid, pressing into your abused flesh.

It’s one too many times you’ve had to hold in your agony, and this time, you can’t control your blood-curdling scream. It’s not directed at Agatha. Instead, you fling your eyes up to the sky, begging it to produce a single star bright enough to peek through the twisted branches above.

There is nothing but darkness and gloom and no break from the constant torrent of flooding stimulation as Agatha drops to her knees. The image should have you feeling superior, yet all you feel is the steady thrum of nerves and residual pain, ghastly aware that the older woman is probably the most in control out of the two of you. Even if the way she’s staring at your slickened pussy can only be described as crazed.

When the first swipe of her tongue glides through your slit, something breaks in you. Your crippling hold on your restraint wavers, and the foundations begin to crack. You know you can hold on, but for how long, you are no longer sure about. Your body is betraying once again, hips cantering forward to push Agatha further into your sex, moaning through your clenched jaw and humiliatingly writhing as pleasure floods every nerve ending in you.

Agatha buries herself into you, tongue fucking your pussy with scornful ease till you’re hanging on the precipice of another orgasm. Then, she stops again, pulling back with a smug smile and rising to her feet to say, “God, you’re needy.”

You want to cry, and you want to scream and shout and demand she touch you again. But you can’t. You can’t because that’s precisely what the older witch wants. She wants you pliant and pleading, easy to manipulate in the palm of her hand until she tires of your compliance and gifts you to death.

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing does anymore. Not until Agatha is back inside you, pulsing her fingers in and out so fast you can barely breathe, hitting spots deep inside you that haven’t been touched in years. You’re screaming, and you’re yelling and screaming and screaming from the ever-mounting pleasure that feels like it will never reach its peak, and the pain—biting, sharp and constant as your muscles tense over and over again, and your limbs wrestle to be free. The presence of your blood is everywhere, shooting through veins, racing in your ears and dribbling down your stomach. It’s heaven and hell, ecstasy and delusion, breathing and drowning all at once. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

Your fight against the vines keeping you restrained doesn’t go unnoticed by Agatha. She’s dipping her eyes to and from your face to your wrists, trying to figure out something beyond your grasp. The witch maintains her grip around your neck, crushing your wide pipes, and oxygen deprivation is beginning to take effect, but it’s not so all-consuming that you fail to feel the pressure ease around one of your wrists.

It’s a risk on her part and an opportunity on yours. You can feel the warm allure of your magic dance over your fingertips and the chance to strike with a closed fist and brute force.

You do neither.

The trees are becoming blurred, the ground beneath you clouds and your pain a lullaby to your mind's erratic pleas to resist. For once, everything is silent, and in some kind of moronic fucked up sense of gratitude, you move your hand up and curl your fingers over Agatha’s, strengthing her grip over your throat. You can feel your pulse beat between both your fingers, see the pleased smile Agatha is wearing, and hear the beauty in your unrestrained moans of pleasure. Maybe, just maybe, dying like this - after this - wouldn’t be so bad.

“I need,” you stammer, removing your hand from Agatha’s, placing it on the back of her neck and pulling her forward. It’s bubbling inside you again—the ardent need to cum. It lives in your muscles that are tension-bruised and exhausted. “I need to-”

“Oh, sweetie,” she coos before her lips come crashing down on yours in a demanding kiss that’s all teeth and tongue.

The roots wound around your body remain the only thing keeping you up, and at Agatha’s behest, they disappear, burying themselves back within the earth, where they belong, leaving the push of her body against yours the only thing that keeps you upright. She takes her role in earnest, removing her hold on your neck to hoist your legs over her hips and keep you steady, continuing to drive deeper into you at this new angle.

Bark has all but torn through the thin material of your slip, and in an effort to move away from the brittle sting of microscopic splinters, you tangle your arms around Agatha’s neck and lean forward, burying your moans and whimpers into her shoulder. The position would not be far from intimate if it weren’t for the way your body bounces over the fingers fucking into you and the force at which they do so.

The presence of a thumb is featherlight over your clit, teasing you with its potential. And, of course, nothing comes free. Not when tiny remnants of your dignity remain intact that need removing. You let free a whine, and when that doesn’t work, a meek ‘please,’ and instantly, the older woman’s touch becomes crushing. She’s rubbing quick, consistent circles over the bundle of nerves, fueling the engine that carries and dishes out sparks of pure, unadulterated heat down your spine, filtering through your veins and capillaries till it reaches your head and manifests into burning need.

You’re being pushed back into the harsh surface of the sycamore tree, yet you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when Agatha’s hand is back over your breast, her mouth on your neck, and you’re on the cusp of a long-awaited orgasm.

There is no interruption to your peak this time and Agatha revels in every second of it alongside you. She pulls back to watch like you’re a performer, and she’s waited a lifetime to secure a ticket to this show. Every jut of your hips, shake of your jaw and cry from your mouth is reflected back at you in her spangled eyes, drinking you in a breath of fresh air.

You’re so taken by the pull of euphoria you don’t register the heated touch over your breastbone. You can hear your skin sizzling and see the scorched initials of her name when you glance down. Still, all you seem to feel is your never-ending orgasm as the stimulation continues, throwing you headfirst into another release and even then, Agatha doesn’t stop. She’s consumed with the sight of your bliss, hungry to live in it forever as she keeps fucking into you with her fingers, circling your oversensitive clit till it stings, and you’ve got tears swimming in your eyes.

You’re unsure how long it goes on for, how long she pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you. You’re dipping in and out of consciousness, and with the emergence of every new blacked-out spot obscuring your vision, you’re dimly aware the forest around you is beginning to take on a new life.

Branches are illuminated by the balmy glow of the emerging sun, and the frost coating their exterior thaws under its warmth, turning thin layers of ice into water droplets. Dirt paths littered in corpse leaves are no longer a muddy brown. Now, they are canvases splattered in the tawny colours of autumn. The smattered shades of honey and marigolds are a welcome sight as Agatha pushes your legs off her and leaves you to stand alone, breathless and weak. Dignity was something you lost between the baring of your skin and branding of your flesh, so you allow your knees to buckle beneath you and welcome the soft embrace of dirt. It is kinder to you than bark.

“What will you do with me?” you ask, keeping your eyes levelled with the changed woodlands. Conviction bleeds through your demand, even if the silent wracking in your chest and the crack of your voice slightly diminishes it.

“Come,” Agatha beckons.

You fail to stop a full-bodied shiver from tearing through your body. Its shadow echoes in the clattering of your bones as you look up to see the older woman hovering above you. She’s staring, scrutinising you before coming to a hasty decision. She removes her jacket and crouches down so she’s at eye level, and your straining neck thanks her with a quiet crack. Then, satin material is over you and Agatha’s body heat - still embedded into its lining - sinks through the cold outer layer of your bare skin.

“Now,” she begins with a quirked brow, slapping her knees as she rises, “up you get.”

You cringe at the crippling pain that shoots up your legs, but you’ve swallowed your discomfort for too long now to show yourself incapable of doing something so simple as standing.

“I don’t understand.”

Agatha smiles, delicately tracing a finger over your heart, along marred skin marked ‘A.H’, “You belong to me now, pet.”

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#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness #agatha all along #marvel

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