#beloved bloody creature

[cr0w-fr]

Hemorrhage

The strongest of the once existing knit-together trinity physically. Claws sharp and teeth sharper, she crushed the bones of many dragons in her jaws. Eyes flashing with malice and pure madness. She is the most unhinged of the bloody trinity, much more likely to snap at even her own siblings.

She snaps at all and any that wander near to her, doing nothing to redeem the fact she once was part of an Emperor, a beast that caused much death and destruction of the clan. She is secluded by herself, deep in the ice prisons. Be cautious around her, lest you feel her teeth and claws in your flesh.

[sunni-stuff]

Knight Johnny and Simon tasked with taking care of their kings beloved daughter. She's a gem and deserves nothing but the best in regards to security. A job only they were deemed worthy enough for. The kings daughter, a living treasure, required their constant vigilance.

Failure was not an option.

Your timidity startled them upon introduction. Their king's daughter - so meek? You mumbled, eyes averted, fidgeting with your silk gown.

They anticipated a bolder spirit, akin to your sister. She daily paraded knights Kyle and Price through the village, flaunting them like trophies. Her sharp tongue challenged them at every turn. Yet the duo knew how those knights truly managed their princess behind closed doors.

You were clearly the calmer choice out of the rest.

The first couple days, you gave them no strife, an obedient thing who likes to keep to herself and read in the library. A harmless gem. So why did the other servants regard you with such cautiousness.

"Do not let her fool you." A servant whispers hastily, their steps as quick as their warning.

Johnny scoffs, the warning falling on deaf ears. His princess reigns supreme, unblemished. You? A fragile creature in his eyes - wobbly legs, wide-eyed naivety. Soap erases concerns, leaving only blind adoration.

Across the room, Ghost's eyes narrow. Your fearful gaze meets his, then darts away as if scorched. He silently absorbs the warning, his intense stare lingering.

Innocence's wings concealed mysterious. What laid beneath your angelic facade?

Inside the castles keep, Simon shed his armor, his blunt words filling their shared chamber. "The princess doesn't sit well with the servants. We'd best tread lightly."

Johnny lounged on his bed, eyes closed, arms cradling his head. "These walls thrive on gossip," he retorted. "You, of all people, should know better than to indulge it."

Simon, stripped of his knights garb, turned to face Johnny, a twinge of mirth in his eyes. "Yer just saying that because she's not giving you work."

"A likely assumption."

"Likely? You end up nodding off in the archive with how quiet it is."

"Really now? And what about you getting all red eared when she offers you to sit for tea. You don't say anything then."

The pair continue their banter back and forth, their "friendship" one formed through bonds on the field and off.

Their banter could've lasted the entire night if it weren't for a gentle knock against the wooden door, causing them to halt.

Simon tensed. His first instinct was to reach for his sword, Johnny, however, already made to the entrance. No one ever visited them this late or even had the courtesy to knock. Cautiously, he opened the door, only to be met with you.

Candle in hand. You stood draped in purple silk. Your nightgown's trim trailed behind you. Johnny's eyes met yours briefly, taking in your sweet expression. His gaze then wandered downward, drawn to your décolletage - your breasts pushed up enticingly, spilling over like frothy ale in a brimming tankard.

"Jewel, what are you doing here?" Soap inquired, peeking his head out of the threshold to ensure no one else wandered the halls. "Come inside, it won't do good for your reputation if you're seen."

Johnny's gentle aura drew you near while Simon's barriers held you back. The candle flickered on a nearby table as you approached the stoic knights. Nightfall had brought silence, the servants long gone. Loneliness crept into your room, driving you to seek comfort in the oddest of places. "Might I rest here tonight?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper in the dim chamber.

Johnny crumbled right there. How could he say no to his princess? With a guiding hand pressed against your back tenderly, he leads you further inside. "Of course. You just have to leave before sunrise, my lady."

Clad only in underwear and an incongruous helmet, Simon looked absurd. "Johnny, this is bloody insane," he hissed. "If rumors spread, we're dead men walking. And her reputation? Shattered beyond repair."

Johnny tugs you onto his bed, smirking at Simon. "We'll be stealthy, jewel," he whispers, making room beside him. Your drowsy nod seals the deal. He drapes the covers over you both, triumph gleaming in his eyes. Who would turn down sleeping next to a princess?

Simon's fury simmered beneath the surface. Jealousy and caution warred within him, but he couldn't change the outcome. "Your choice, your consequences," he growled. Snuffing out candles, he retreated. His heavy steps and angry shuffles punctuated the air as he returned to bed, seething silently.

Simon's ears perked up late in the night. A wet sound broke the peace, followed by hushed whispers and moans. Until then, only slumbering knights, watchmen, and crickets disturbed the tranquil darkness. Now, an unsettling change rippled through the air.

"Shh, jewel," Johnny's voice cautioned.

"J-Johnny—I'm trying—"

Simon froze.

Johnny's whisper had pierced the silence and your muffled response - your voice, trembling, sent Simon's heart into a frenzy. His eyes fluttered open behind his helmet. Heart racing, he peered into the darkness, straining to glimpse the unfolding scene. Your stifled moans confirmed his suspicions, sending a shiver down his spine.

---

A/N

Trying out a new writing style, I don't like the way I write usually bc it seems way too casual? So wordhippo and analyzing some of my favorite writers on here are like toast and butter.

[sinizade]

B'ella, the Pale Child (Dark Urges Redeemed)

Class: Warlock (Barbarian subclass)

Romance: Bae'Zel

Besties: Scratch / Owlbear / Wyll / Gale / Karlach

One extra egg among all those eggs wouldn't make a difference, nor would they complain about having two extra hands to fight for the "glory" of their queen. This way, the hatching of this egg surprised the elders of that Creche a little, a child as pale as the moon and with eyes as red as blood that possessed a fury worthy of a demon, certainly that child had something inside it, but the Githyanki wouldn't get rid of a healthy child just because of surpestitions based on one of the babies' appearance... But should they?

B'ella was obedient, precise, deadly, her teachers could see and feel the almost insane pleasure she felt every time she beat her opponents in training, every time she made them bleed and beg... Something so... Sadistic... Even for a Githyanki child, it was unusual to have such an appreciation for death and the ways of killing, but then again, they weren't going to get rid of such a dedicated and useful fighter like her just out of superstition.

Her adulthood was only accompanied by an insatiable hunger, B'ella could have had her uses in combat, an animal, a monster, but when her abilities began to affect other Githyanki they finally realized that having her there was no longer safe or suitable for Creche, so in a clear desperate act they tried to contain B'ella, they tried to tame the monster inside her... The Slayer, but that obviously didn't go as they expected and her sadistic, cruel and psychotic fury spread to everyone in that Creche. Every teacher, every warrior, doctor, student, child, egg, all murdered, torn apart in a bloody dance that spread throughout each hall and that was when she heard a voice, a small creature that praised her... A praise that she never found she was going to receive, told her that there was a place where she could be who she really was, where she could know what it was like to have a family that truly admired her for what she did...

That male human, that Enver Gortash, intelligent man. Tasting Gortash, subduing him to her whims was satisfying, but her devotion was only to her creator, to her god, to her father, Bhaal... But everything had been thrown into the trash with the betrayal of that insolent child, that damned and jealous changeling who took her rightful place.

Waking up on a ghaik ship with no memories left her disconcerted, but her focus now was to get out of there and return to her people and achieve purification. Having someone as adept in battle as Lae'Zel made it easier since the rest of her companions with the exception of Karlach left the pale gith with disgust in her mouth regarding combat.

It wasn't so bad being around that bunch of big noses, they entertained her, they seemed to care about her dark desires, not just for them, but also for her? This was new, not even she remembered the last time she received any kind of help (literally)

Lae'Zel... Zhak vo'n'fynh duj... B'ella could barely understand what she felt, she could barely know what she felt, she didn't know or remember that feeling, but with Lae'Zel everything was clear. .. She was her world, her sword, her flame, the source of her joy...

Finding out that she wasn't a child of Gith broke her, even if she managed to hide it well, it destroyed her completely inside, knowing that the years she spent in her Creche, that her "egg", that her life, was a fake life designed by her "father". That wasn't for her, even if it once had been, now it wasn't... B'ella would no longer be a Bhaalspawn, now she would be a child of Gith and follow Orpheus and her beloved Lae'zel into battle against Vlaakith's tyranny

Some extra information about B'ella

Her memory was "reset" to her times at Creche as soon as she lost her memories, before her dark impulses took over.

She has a strange habit of keeping a lock of her enemies' hair for no reason, she just likes to have a memory of good battles, but when the enemy wasn't good enough she just crushes its head (She has a lock of hair with her from the hair of Minthara/ Ketheric/ Raphael)

Even though she appears to be reserved and cold, B'ella is considered TOO romantic when she is with Lae'Zel and only Lae'Zel, only her source of joy can see B'ella that way

[mo-aiki]

Maximillian Black

Summary: The imperial dog, the hero of the Bloody 10 Year War, a prestigious war hero that somehow became your personal guard.

Warning: obsessive behavior, violence, slut shaming

A/N: THIS ART IS NOT MINE, IT'S THE MALE LEAD OF I TAMED MY EX-HUSBAND'S MAD DOG.

Connected to Yandere Isekai M. Characters x F. Reader

A ball.

A stupid one at that.

A ball ran by the royal family for congratulatories.

How stuffy.

The amount of fake people with fake smiles that surrounded him. He hated it. He was used to these fake smiles when he was younger. Working as a stableboy for a prominent polo club before running away and becoming a knight when he was 11. Everyone around him were terrible people.

Nobles who'd kill over a horse and servants who are willing to kill for them. Money is dangerous.

He was always blamed for everything. He was the youngest and the son of a brothel whore, starving for money, in thousands of coins in debt and taken in by an old man who was a stable man himself.

If a horse wasn't as fast as one servant claimed, the servant would blame it on him.

If a horse wasn't available, he would be blamed.

If a beloved horse died, he was blamed for letting it die.

He didn't want to be stuck as a stable boy. He hated everything. To live only to be thrown under the carriage by savages, from both the poor and the rich.

But when he was 10 years old, he saw something, or more like someone. A girl. Her face, lighting up when looking at the horse. It spooked him when he was surprised by her. "I'm sorry, but I really wanted to see the horse!"

Her eyes sparkled in delight when looking at the horses. "Could I pet one, or is that not okay with you?"

He was speechless with her beauty. Her nice voice, her (e/c) eyes with glitter in them, and her kindness and asking him, even though he was a lowly stable boy. The old man spoke for him. "You can pet the horses young lady. I'm sure people you understand."

Her eyes lighted up. "Thank you Mister..."

The old man took off his hat and held it. "My name is Otto, my lady..."

She smiled, a beautiful sight for his eyes. "Thank you Mr. Otto!"

She petted the horses as he watched in awe. The laughter and the smiling face of that young girl, stuck with him as a beautiful sight.

When he ran away, Mr. Otto was on his deathbed. The only one to take him in. He had told him to run, as far as he can before he becomes like one of them.

He ran, and ran, and ran. He wanted to run away from those looking for the money from his mother. He ended up at a mercenary camp, where he learned about how to protect himself.

He spent a lot of time with them. He had a gist on how to use a sword, but it definitely improved from the mercenaries. They were kind guys but were reckless and a tad bit unhinged at times.

But something all of them brought up were women. How their dream woman would be, what they liked about women, and even the nasty parts, he all heard.

But all of it brought him back to the girl he met at the polo stables with the most beautiful smile and personality. He couldn't help but think of her often.

She had appeared and disappeared in his life, leaving him in regret of not talking to her, the first time. He can only imagine her growing up, as he grew up. He trained for days with a new goal in mind, to meet her at any cost.

The mercenary group he was apart of were sent off to war against the rivaling empire over territorial disputes 6 years after the war had started. He was, as described by his comrades, a monster on the battlefield. He was recognized by the higher ups as someone who could lead troop morale and someone who could monstrously deal with the many soldiers and the creatures that came. He had dealt with the dragon the enemy empire managed to tame with a single hit from his sword, Glamdring.

All of this came from his motivation to survive and to see her once again. He had planned on leaving to find her, but the war dragged him in. He had originally wanted to run, but he overheard the talk about the prestige it would bring to him. If that girl was a noble, maybe he would impress her with his title and newfound fame.

And thus it led him to be the monster that he was, on the battlefield.

And now back at the ball. He held onto his wine glass, dressed in something he had never worn before. A white, heavily embroidered suit with a cape and a sash of all the medals for his accomplishments in the battlefield.

He only looked in disdain as all the noble ladies around him were drooling at his fit.

He went outside for a breath of fresh air. Walking along the garden until, he got to a fountain. He then saw a woman. Her (h/c) hair, perfectly laid, her dress, well thought out, and her hand holding the wine glass of half drunken champagne. He didn't know why, but somehow he was attracted to the woman sitting on the fountain edge.

He walked closer, to be bewitched by her looks, but somehow she felt familiar. Like someone he has been longing for. He was right next to her when she got spooked and almost fell into the fountain, while he caught her before she got wet.

Guiding her up and letting go of her waist, she looked at him. "Hello, thank you for catching me at that moment. May I ask for your name? I would like to repay you..."

He smiled. "My name is Maximillian Black, what is your's my lady?"

She smiled. "My name is (y/n) (l/n). Maximillian Black..."

She seemed to ponder for a few seconds. "Ah! You're the star of the ball tonight!"

He raised his eyebrow out of sarcasm. "Am I? Really?"

She laughed. Her laugh was beautiful to his ears. It almost reminded him of the little girl he met as a stable boy.

They walked and talked. He had never had a more enjoyable time then learning about you. But all of it was interrupted when a man's voice came in. "There you are (y/n)."

He looked directly at him as the woman turned her head towards him. "I have been looking for you since you said you needed to powder your face."

The woman blushed out of embarrassment. "Oh...I seemed to have spent too long out here, Duk-"

"I told you, you can call me Augustus, (y/n)"

The man held her hand as he pushed her towards his body. "I'm your fiancé after all...", he said, looking directly at him with a cold glare.

He had never felt so pissed after that interaction.

"Maximillian Black....MAXIMILLIAN BLACK?!"

Your voice, shocked as he stood right in front of you. A couple days later after the ball, the Emperor asked him a wish he could grant. He said, "To become a guard for the (l/n) family."

"Oh? Why my boy? Wouldn't you want riches?"

To Maximillian, riches were small in comparison to her. The Emperor granted his wish, and thus he became (y/n)'s personal guard.

He is always near her or at least 5 feet away. He always enjoyed the interactions he had with you more than anything. His favorite words were always your nickname for him. "Maxi! Could you please help me pick this orange? It's a bit too high for me to reach!"

"Maxi, could you sit down with me. I'll ask Anna to come as well."

"Maxi, I can deal with it myself. Do not fret. I will be careful!"

"Maxi, have you ever read this romance book? It is so sweet!"

Your kind and tender personality, melted his cold, stoic heart. But he soon saw how there were pest around you.

First was the stupid fiancé who never let you leave his sight, but always shooed him away like he was a pest. Giving you gifts of jewels, ribbons, dresses, bows, and books, he would beat him by a long shot just from his wealth alone. He did overhear that he was a Duke after all.

Second was the childhood best friend. The son of an Earl. Nobody was closer to you both physically and mentally than him. He would cuddle with you, get lap pillows, and be cared for. He wanted nothing more than to break him in half and tear him to shreds, but couldn't from his lineage alone. He was stage extreme of clinger.

And finally, third were all the men trying to flirt with you on a daily basis. He would shoo them, glare, threaten, and maybe if kill them if they didn't listen. Didn't matter if they were a noble or a peasant, someone filthy stained your ears.

He had to get rid of them.

He was in love after all, but at the end of the day, you were still going to get married to your fiancé, that arrogant duke.

He had overheard about your plans of annulment. He felt ecstatic, but his face looked the same.

Now all he had to do was to kidnap you and take you away to a forest to live out each other lives in peace, away from those pests. Easy enough, right?

"Night time would be safer to travel with a sleeping girl in my arms. Everyone is asleep after all..."

A/N: FINALLY DONE. NOW I CAN DO COMMISSION WORK OR IF YOU WANT TO REQUEST ANOTHER TYPE OF YANDERE, I'M ALL EARS!!!!

[the-s1lly-corner]

Helloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo I just saw your "CReepypastas walking the reader home" post, and I was wondering if you could do that again with some more characters! You can choose who :}

Various crps walking the reader home (part 2)

when the questionable and/or evil character does something good for someone else simply because they felt like it with no strings attached, my beloved trope characters: jeff the killer, eyeless jack, slenderman, bloody painter notes: reader is gn, you and the crp arent dating but youre at least on friendly terms, youre being followed home by someone, written on mobile cws: harassment/stalking from the person following you home, canon typical violence

JEFF THE KILLER

Honestly, it's only a matter of time before Jeff turns around and attacks the person following you, if his presence alone isnt enough to deter them

And hes not going to hold back- the chance of the person not making it out alive is high

Even before he loses it he makes it very clear that hes not too fond of the situation- loudly talking about how some people are creeps.. funny coming from him, someone widely known as a killer

Even using that as an out for the person.. not that it matters much, because as soon as you're home hes going to dip and find the person

SLENDERMAN

He doesn't even need to walk by your side to scare the person off- any normal person would turn around and flee at the sight of a tall faceless creature

And if they dont? He has his other ways...

Walks near the sidewalk, but still away from the street lights. But it doesnt matter, if he feels you're in any danger he can use his arm to pull you to his side

He hardly has to lift a finger to scare off the person, but the offer of him staying until your mind calms is still there

EYELESS JACK

To most he just looks like a weird guy in a mask and hoodie so he might not.. be the most intimidating to most, but having claws and sharp teeth come in handy if the person decides to escalate

And when they do? The person goes from trying to make a lunge at the two of you, to sputtering on the ground grasping their throat. Claw or scalpel, it doesn't matter

He doesnt even want to harvest anything from the corpse- usually hes so firm on that, waste not want not- but god... the air was so uncomfortable that it left a sickly feeling in his mouth...

If you want him to come inside with you when you make it home, he will stay for a while

BLOODY PAINTER

He doesnt want to kill them if he doesn't need to, they're not worth the time or effort.. he walks close next to you in new silence- you're the one left to fill it

What words he does say are said loudly and are a veiled warning for the person a few paces behind the two of you

His voice is.. cold, and leaves zero room to believe hes not making a promise- he will hurt someone if they get too close, the flick of light reflecting off of his partly concealed knife pushes it

He lingers around your house the next few nights to make sure everything is fine, as well as around your place of work

[starb3rrys]

Hi!! I stumbled upon your blog yesterday and have been binge reading your stuff cause I love it so much!!! I have a request if they are still open and if you are still taking them!! I crave a little angst with comfort at the end where the reader almost does for them?? But they’re just severely injured T_T Maybe for Tetchou and Dazai and Chuuya if possible?? Thank you so much for reading till here and hope you’re doing well <3

Hello!! Agh, it makes me so happy to hear you love my stupid little fanfics. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ I apologize for the lateness but no worries, as promised your request shall be answered! Who doesn't love a little angst? So let's get to it! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

The Things You Do for Love

Angst--> Comfort

Ft. Tecchou, Dazai, Chuuya

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

Tecchou

He knew he shouldn't have brought you...for god sakes its military business. But he just had to give in didn't he? He couldn't deny your pleads to join him on a mission, his defenses crumbled at your sweet pout...and now look where his weak will power landed you two.

With a loud thud, your body heavily slammed into a concrete wall creating a small crater...your eyes struggled to stay open as you slumped forward. What had just happened? He told you to stay behind him, he told you to run away and prioritize your own life if the fight got too bad. The attack was aimed at him so why...why on earth did you jump in front of him?! Tecchous mind ran in turmoil, his body frozen in a defensive stance, holding his swords hilt as his hands trembled. He was fully ready to take the blow, if he got hit he could get back up, but you...you...

"[Name]!!", his voice broke as he immediately dropped his guard off the enemy and ran to you. His steps were staggered as he dropped his sword and grabbed you. His unsteady hands grasped your shoulders, shaking you as his eyes were wide in panic. "[Name]!! Can you hear me?! Open your eyes, talk to me!!", his voice leaked with desperation. Tecchou moved the hair out of your face to inspect your injuries only to be met with the horrible sight of his lover unconscious in his arms as their head bled. "No..nononono, no come on wake up look at me. Look at me come on open your eyes!" He tapped your cheek and after getting no response he checked your pulse. His eyes grew wide as he felt a feeble weak little heart beat. His breath became shaky as he held you close to his chest, allowing your forehead to stain his already crimson uniform. His face darkened as his eyes ran over your sprawled out figure all bloodied and beat up.

"Weak useless pawns should not be on the battlefield", the deep stern voice of the enemy rang out through the large building. Yet to Tecchou, it was nothing but background noise. Tecchou stood up, his arms carrying his beloved. He turned and looked at the filthy creature who dared lay a hand on you. "You..." Tecchous voice did not spare the enemy of its threatening tone. Tecchou raised his head, revealing his blood shot eyes as he reached for his sword. "Useless are the ones who hurt and torment the weak.", he barked. Before the enemy could retort, he felt a deep pain on his arm...or at least where it used to be. A loud cry of agony shot into the sky as blood poured on the concrete floors. Tecchou looked at the enemies severed arm, the same arm that caused you suffering. He glared at it and stepped harshly, his sheer stomp was enough to crack every bone within.

*Shing* a single sharp noise from his sword was all that was needed to cut the enemy into pieces, forever silencing his cries. He spared not a glance at the enemy as he carried you away. His lips quivered slightly as his eyes were hidden under the shadow of his hat.

After a while, he stopped walking at the feeling of soft shuffling in his arms. He looked down at you with hope and his eyes flooded with tears at the sight of your half lidded eyes. "Te...cchou?", your weak voice was enough to break him as he immediately wrapped his arms around you. Burying his face into your neck, his hands found their way around your back and into your hair. "[Name]...you're okay, you're alive.", his words aimed to reassure himself. "Don't ever do that again..", he sternly spoke into your skin. "Tecchou...you would have gotten hurt..." "Then allow me to be hurt!", he retorted. He held you tightly, as if letting go would make you disappear forever. "Don't ever do that again...I don't know what id do if I watched you slip through my fingers like that again...please, don't put me through that again...", his voice broke your heart and you couldn't bring yourself to turn down his request. "I just didn't want to see you get hurt", you explained. He tightened his hold on you and whispered, "I would choose a thousand deaths if it meant you could stay unharmed."

Closing your eyes, you rested your throbbing head against his chest as his arms held you. Your ears picked up on the rapid beats of his heart, a heart so devoted to you that it would surely break if he ever lost you.

Dazai

High pitched ringing followed by muffled voices filled your aching head. What was happening? Did you successfully complete the mission? Why was your body so stiff? Oh right, you took a heavy blow to the chest to shield Dazai, but it’s nothing major you should be fine right? Whose unsteady hands were holding you? Why were they shouting? These were your final thoughts before your vision went black.

You awoke in a familiar room. Gazing up at the white tiles you could faintly tell you were back at the agency. Your eyes fell on a vase full of beautiful flowers in the prime of their bloom, adding life to the otherwise bland room. Looking past the flowers, a man sat in a chair with a pensive look, his eyes stared at the floor seemingly lost in his own world. “Dazai…”, your frail voice was like a call from heaven to your lover as he immediately perked up with hope. He quickly stood up and walked over to the bed. “You’re awake,” his voice was deep and raspy, deprived of its usual cheerfulness. His slender hands found their way around your body in a tight embrace, allowing you to take in his comforting scent. “You had me so worried,” the way he spoke was enough to show you just how anxious and agitated he had been. His appearance wasn’t any better. His coat seemed tattered, his hair was messy seemingly due to running his hands through it so many times, and his eyelids drooped slightly. How long had it been?..

“I had Yosano heal your injuries, if there is any discomfort rest is the best option. Although resting is all you’ve been doing for 3 days…” he explained aiming to ease your confusion. “Three days?” “72 hours and 15 minutes to be exact…Ive been by your side waiting for you to wake up.”, he pulled away and stared at you. His hands moved down and took a hold of yours. “Why?”, hearing no response from you he grew more upset and continued to probe. His hands squeezed yours as his voice shook with anger and frustration,“Why did you jump into the fight? I told you I had a plan all you had to do was stay where I said. I-i put you there for a reason, i always have a reason and a way to keep you safe so why- why did you move?!”, his voice was drenched in anger but his fury was directed at himself. How could he not have taken your stubbornness into consideration? The love and devotion you have for him and his useless life to the point you’d risk your own for his. How could he have overlooked this potential outcome and taken measures to protect you?

Solemn silence filled the room as your lips stayed sealed. You didn’t know what to say…you had never seen him so agitated and vulnerable in your life. At this point in time, no words could be spoken…only actions could bring peace. You both embraced each other for what seemed like hours, your eyes brimmed with tears as he melted in your arms. "Im sorry...", you muttered into his skin. Pulling away, you cupped his cheeks and placed tender kisses on your lovers tired expression. He relished the feeling and relaxed into your soothing touch as he spoke.

“Please, don’t leave this world without me…we go together. There is no point to this thing called life if I cannot live and die alongside you…I will not allow death to do us part.”

Chuuya

Chuuya was known to be violent and single-minded when fighting against an enemy. No building was spared of his destructive ability as he easily crumbled walls and floors to capture a single opponent. In the heat of battle all of his focus was placed on his enemy, disregarding his surroundings. Yet hearing your voice call out to him as the ceiling collapsed snapped him out of his reality. Time suddenly slowed down, he slowly turned his head but he was too late...you had already pushed him out of the way. He could only see your panic stricken face, hand still reached out from the push before, time resumed.

**BAMM** the sound of rubble crashing down nearly shook the earth. Dust filled the air and fogged the eyesight of both participants present. Chuuya stumbled and covered his mouth as coughs erupted from his throat. His stunned eyes scanned the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of you but he saw nothing...he fearfully looked down, hoping, praying even..that you hadn't-his heart sank as he stared down at a hand sticking out from under the rubble. There you were...

"[NAME]!!", he yelled as he immediately used his ability to lift and break the rocks above you. He cleared the area in an instant, his eyes turning bloodshot as he saw your body sprawled out like a lifeless corpse. He fell to his knees and grabbed your body- turning you around and checking for any signs of life. His breath hitched at the sight of your injuries; scrapes and bruises adorned your hands as blood freely leaked from your mouth and nose. The panic overwhelmed his mind, not allowing him to think rationally. All he could think to do was shout your name, shake you, and urge you to wake up. “Fuck- no no no, Come on dammit wake up! Open your godforsaken eyes. Don't joke around anymore come on!!! You have to wake up Plea- I can’t- I can't lose you too!”, his chest ached as his mind raced with thoughts of his old companions and how they all met an end. He couldn’t risk losing you too…you were all he had left. This cannot be real, he refuses to believe the love of his life is on the verge of death because of his own carelessness.

Seeing this as a perfect opportunity, the enemy quickly fled the scene yet Chuuya could care less. He held you in his arms as he clenched his teeth. The rim of his eyes turned red, glowing crimson lines began to creep up his arms, his emotions were so out of control that his own corrupted form threatened to erupt at any moment.

A frail cough erupted from your throat, some blood soon followed. Chuuyas eyes widened--the red marks of his corrupted form shrank back down-- as he immediately sat you up, "[Name]! Can you hear me?!" He cupped your cheeks, his eyes darting to all the corners of your bruised face. Your lovers heart thumped seeing your eyes finally open, relief spreading through his body as he pulled you into a tight embrace. His relief soon turned into anger, "What the hell is wrong with you?! How could you think of doing something so fucking stupid?! You could have died and for what, to save me from some measly rocks? Quit trying to be the hero and for once in your life prioritize yourself!", his hands dug into your shoulders as he blew up in pure frustration. But even if his words were harsh- you could hear the distress and worry behind his broken words.

Your body felt so weak to the point you couldn't quite rebuke his scolding, only small phrases left your quivering lips. "I'm sorry...just didn't want to see you...suffer anymore than you already have...", although these words were small they had a deep meaning, and an even bigger impact on your lovers heart. His eyes widened at this, he froze for a moment. He clenched his teeth, pulling you into his arms once again. Resting your face in his shoulder all you could do was hear the way his heart thumped and his form slightly shook. Chuuyas face was buried in your hair as muffled words left him, "Seeing you get hurt right infront of my eyes is the greatest form of suffering you could put me through...you idiot, you never think things through..." Although these words were unrelenting in their harshness, they somehow found a way to ease your mind. Causing you to melt against his body, loosely wrapping your sore arms around his neck. You held onto each other, the warmth reassured him that you were still here, he hadn't lost you, you were here to stay by his side...forever.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

I had so much fun writing this small fic for you!~ I am a sucker for the romantic sacrifice trope, but I honestly prefer it when they die in the end- (I LOVE ANGST, LET IT STING.) (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) Anywayssss, as always I hope you enjoyed this! Love ya! <3

[normspellsman]

This Time, Let Me Take Care of You

pairing: neteyam x fem!human!reader

genre: purely fluff

word count: 1.0k+

warning(s): mentions of injury, nete being a sucker for you taking care of him, teyam calling reader angel (blushing frfr), the teeniest tiniest hint of tail shenanigans, & mentions of kissing + cuddling

taglist: @aonungsmate @dearstell @goodiesinthecloset21 @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @universal-s1ut @optimisticblazetrash @amortencjja @liyahsocorro @arminsgfloll @sweetirilly @blushhpeachh @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @ihave500hubbiez @bigdikzaddy @cheyehc @tigermoon3 @httpjiikook

request details: here!

word bank: ikran — four winged creature used for flying + hunting, yawne — beloved, oeyä — my (possessive), tiyawn — love, tanhì — bioluminescence freckle(s); star, & syulang — flower

note: i hope you like it anon! i wanted to keep it short & sweet. let me know if you don’t or had something else in mind :)

“Sit.”.

The sound of your demanding voice made Neteyam nearly drop to his knees and kiss your feet in apology. He knew that he fucked up. He knew that the words you uttered to him before leaving for the scouting mission was something he was supposed to take seriously, but as always, they flew out the window when Lo’ak dipped and landed his ikran on the battlefield to get a little bit of action.

Your silence following your demand didn’t ease Neteyam’s anxiety one bit. His eyes following your figure as you walked around the healing tent and gathered all the herbs and paste you needed to tend to his wounds. An all too familiar scowl painted onto your face as you did so, muttering curses under your breath.

Before your lover had left on the scouting mission his Father put him on, you told him to be careful, resting your hand above his heart before he kissed your knuckles and promised he would be. Liar, you internally seethed, shaking your head at the thought.

You knew how much Neteyam preferred to put others before himself, often getting in trouble or injured when he did so. You always scolded him on the matter, muttering how he should put himself first for once. It was frustrating to say the least. Really frustrating.

“Ah, yawne, gentle,” Neteyam hissed out, groaning at your rough application of the paste onto his open skin. He knew that you were angry at him for breaking his promise to you. He could practically feel the annoyance radiate off of your skin from behind him. He didn’t blame you for feeling the way you felt. Neteyam was angry at himself too for always thinking of others and taking care of them before himself. Although it was something that frustrated you to no end, you knew that your lover was a naturally caring person and it was instinct for him to do what he does. It was one of the things you loved about him.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and sighing before dipping two fingers into the white paste and gently lathering it onto Neteyam’s azure skin.

You just wished that Neteyam had an equal balance of both. Of putting others and himself first. You hated seeing him like this, all bruised and bloody from trying to save his brother's ass.

“Oeyä tanhì,” Neteyam whispers, shifting his body to face you, taking your hand into his as he grazed his lips against your knuckles. “I am sorry,” he adds, “I know that I promised you to be careful. But, Lo’ak,” his eyes closed at his brother's name, sighing out a breath.

“I know, tiyawn, I know,” you cut off your boyfriend, understanding what he was trying to say.

You always tried your best at understanding the dynamic between Neteyam and Lo’ak. You didn’t have any siblings of your own, not including Spider who was the closest thing you’d get to a brother. So it was hard at times understanding just why Neteyam would risk his life for his brother and always take the heat from their Father. But, you really did try to grasp how much he cared for Lo’ak and that he’d do anything to make sure his little brother was safe.

All you want from Neteyam is for him to be safe and come back to you in one piece. But it seemed as if that simple request was getting harder and harder to ask for ever since the sky people returned to the planet of Pandora.

“Just…” you started, tears pricking your waterline at the thought of Neteyam not returning to you, especially after this mission, “Please try to be more careful. I would like for you to come home to me in one piece and unharmed.”.

The slight crack of your voice from emotion made Neteyam want to gather your face into his hands and place gentle kisses all over the skin before placing one on your lips, but that stupid mask you had to wear prevented him from doing so. Instead, he placed your hand onto his chest, right above his heart.

“I always do, syulang,” he responded, pushing some of your hair back as it fell in front of your mask. He leaned forward a bit to place a soft peck onto the exposed skin of your hairline where the mask had slightly slipped from.

You only hummed at his reply, quickly gathering yourself before sniffling, motioning for your boyfriend to turn around so you could continue taking care of him. “Turn around,” you ordered, hands pushing his shoulders to aid him in the action, “Let me take care of you.”.

Neteyam let out a small, gentle chuckle at your pushing, turning around so his back faced you. He’d never admit it, but he loved it when you took care of him. Whether that be lathering healing pasted onto his injuries or making sure he ate plenty throughout his day or dragging him to your room whenever he couldn’t sleep, knowing that he only got a full night's rest in your arms. He loved it all.

“After we’re done, we’re going back to my room and you’re taking a nap,” you said, seriousness laced in your words, leaving no room for objection from the blue teen boy sitting in front of you.

He loved how insistent you were to take care of him, pouting when you weren’t able to do so or when he got dragged away by his Father before you could. Neteyam always looked forward to your gentle touches and soft words as you took care of him, massaging his tense muscles or rebraiding his hair when it needed. He often thought about how you would take care of him when he saw you next whenever he got some alone time. He couldn’t wait for you to take care of him for the rest of your lives.

Neteyam smiled at your demand, tail wrapping around your thigh as you continued your task of covering his wounds in the creamy paste you held in your hand. “Of course, angel,” he replied, eager to get into your bed and cuddle up next to your soft and warm body for the rest of the night.

He really couldn’t wait.

[scarlet-ancunin]

Batstarian Zoomies

A/n: I saw this and immediately wanted to make a little Headcanon of Batstarion sipping Tav's surgery drink. Hope you like it.

Thank you @carooosa *gives you a cookie-shaped Bat*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧

Tav Decided since it was their day off it will be nice to just relax and try that new drink Karlach told them to try.

Tav has a bit of a sweet tooth and because their friends know this they made it their mission to find a drink that would satisfy Tav's addiction to sweets.

Did we mention Tav lived with their beloved Pale Elf? Who just so happens to achieve the ability to turn into a bat.

It was a surprise to them both when Astarion stumbled upon a book that showed the hidden abilities a Vampire Spawn can have and he was excited to try them.

Tav Supported Astarion as he studied shape-shifting into a Bat and once accomplished Tav made it their business to remind Astarion how adorable they looked as a white ball of fluff with wings.

Today was no different Astarion was flying about in his bat form when he suddenly landed on the table and noticed the drink.

Now while he was a bat he still has the curiosities of a cat and crawls over (cutely) towards the drink.

Normally he wouldn't try anything Tav drank because it was either too bloody sweet or tasted bland but right now he was thirsty which can happen at times to a perfect creature such as himself.

"Hmm... well what's the harm?" He said to himself though anyone with an animal-speaking potion would only hear a couple of consistent squeaks.

Astarion leans in his tiny red eye scaning the contents before giving a quick sniff with his leaf-like nose before lapping away.

By the time Tav returns from finding the perfect book to read he hears flapping and not the somewhat calm kind it is erratic and swift.

When they look up they just see a fast white fluff past their eyes quickly going into the next room along with loud rapid squeaks from Astarion.

Tav called out to his little love and ran after him but not before taking a sip of their drink not noticing half of it was gone

Needless to say it took a while for Tav to catch Astarion, who was squeaking happily and zooming back and forth around their house.

"ASTARION! Be care-" Tav winced because the moment they called out to him it was the moment Astarion felt his zoomies running out and he crashed face-first into the table in their recreational room.

In his defense, he had a sugar crash.

Tav tried not to laugh at how tired and annoyed their tiny love looked, but they were positive Astarion was not saying nice words at the moment. with or with an animal-speaking potion to understand him

"Don't blame me for trying my drink.... alright don't give me that look I'll make it up to you I promise"

With a gentle touch, Tav picks Astarion up and places them on their chest while they sit down reading their book and sipping their drink.

Batstarian remained asleep on their chest making tiny content noises ever so often.

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

A/n: I had to stop because more ideas kept coming but I really loved doing this Batstarion is just too cute and needs to be protected.

Hope you liked it darlings. Request for astarion is open

[romaritimeharbor]

SUFFERING. — In which Yaoshi's child is wounded.

— trigger & content warnings. mildly graphic depictions of wounds, mild blood, mentions of fainting, both yaoshi and the reader operate on questionable morality at best.

— pairings & notes. hurt/comfort. yaoshi & emanator of abundance!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). when yaoshi cries, it has a direct effect on those who have come into contact with the power of abundance, including xianzhou natives. 2.1k words.

— author's thoughts. pov lan and yaoshi are divorced parents and their children are fighting. i am very normal about yaoshi i promise 🫶 i made shit up for this fic fr, i am working with CRUMBS you guys 😔🙏 ik from experience that the yaoshi nation is starving so i offer this to my fellow aeon of abundance enjoyers <3 side note, writing two characters with they/them pronouns is so hard LMAO??!??!?!

       Stars dance behind their eyelids every time they dare to let them drift shut.

       The universe is an ever-expanding blur of stars and planets that seem to dance and spin the longer one gazes at them—that, of course, is a natural given.

       ...The stars behind their eyelids are, however, not a given; those are most certainly not meant to be there.

       Their chest heaves, lungs aching and burning as if lit on fire when they painfully expand to take in as much air as possible, lightning striking across their chest and side when they breathe just the slightest bit too forcefully.

       Blood drips from their side—slowly, thankfully, but they've lost so much at this point that it really could not have mattered less if the flow was slow or rapid. The amount lost would have remained the same, nevertheless, because their body vehemently refused to heal the wound that should have been gone within seconds. Minutes, at the absolute most.

       Whatever the Xianzhou Alliance had done to them was terribly effective, delaying their inhuman capacity to heal instantaneously and causing their body to convulse fiercely whenever they tried to force the healing to proceed. It was... less than ideal, but they'd try not to hold it against their siblings.

       (The Xianzhou Alliance just does not see it, does not see anything, the way they do, unenlightened and led astray by the Aeon Lan. That's fine. Perhaps one day they will all come to their senses, snap out of the misguidance, and recognize Yaoshi's benevolence.)

       The ground sways beneath their feet.

       A gasp is torn from their throat as they trip over themselves, ankles snapping inwards, unable to support the weight of their body any longer. Trembling, bloody hands shoot out in a weak attempt to catch themselves, and—

       "Beloved child..."

       —and they're fine, situated on the floor without ever having to fall to get there. The growing cold knawing at their flesh is chased away. Soothing warmth takes its place, and their wounds don't seem to throb as excruciatingly as they did before.

       They're certain that they are no longer where they were before—not hopelessly, blindly stumbling along a familiar planet in hopes of reaching one of its civilizations before the blood loss got to be too much for their body to handle, before they fell unconscious and helpless to the whims of the universe surrounding them.

       (Of course, it wouldn't have killed them. The fainting alone was fairly harmless. However, doing so out in the middle of nowhere while bleeding and wounded was not an ideal fate for any creature to experience. Maybe the blood loss would not have killed them, but if something else of equal or greater strength to them discovered their unconscious body when they were that vulnerable...)

       They're... elsewhere, now, though they haven't the slightest clue where. Truthfully, it mattered not. All they were concerned with was whose side they were at; they were earnestly grateful that their parent had sensed their suffering and seen it fit to bring them somewhere safer.

       Tones soft and saccharine yet richly smooth and vaguely rumbling with the power of something ancient danced across their skin; the sound alone was enough to send a shiver up their spine and to raise goosebumps on their fragile, bleeding body. Undertones of pity and sorrow overwhelm the voice—if it had belonged to a human, perhaps they might say it sounded more akin to horror and shock.

       Actually, now that they thought about it, the chills may have very well been the blood loss... it was hard—if not downright impossible—to tell at this point.

       ...Not that it mattered, of course. Now that they were here, any suffering their child had unfairly endured would be undone and amended.

       "What have they done to you?"

       An unsteady hand dares to reach out to them, and the deity's face twists, displeased, in a way their child cannot quite describe. The flash of displeasure makes them worry through the dazed fog of blood loss that they gesture was unwelcome. Their gaze is quick to move elsewhere—looking so bodly at Yaoshi's face has always felt rude, anyways, so they're quick to look away at even the most minor allusion to disapproval, even though something at the back of their mind reassures them that their actions are hardly the cause of the Aeon's unrest.

       As fast as the concern arises, it dissloves into nothing.

       They did not even have the chance to shift, to pull their arm back, before Yaoshi takes their hand stained wine red, and bestows a tender kiss upon their aching knuckles. The pain is washed away in an instant; there was no trace of it ever having been there in the first place. No lingering ache, no soreness, just relief.

       Sanctus Medicus' touch alone—let alone their kiss—causes their body to have a reaction. The most concerning wound of all has begun closing, skin stitching itself together anew, even without the Aeon extending any of their power to do so. Simply existing in the deity's presence has already guaranteed the preservation of their life. A concern of death did not exist any longer.

       It was only really a halfhearted concern, anyway. Truly killing something like them would have taken an insurmountable showing of strength and wit. The Alliance only injured them; putting a complete end to their life was something their estranged siblings horribly failed to do.

       "G— Guardian, I—"

       A wave of coughs that they cannot suppress no matter how hard they try wracks their body, and they wince, abdomen sharply crying out in protest of the forceful motions. The healing process has not yet concluded, and any excess force or strain put on their body still causes them great discomfort.

       "Speak not," the Lord of Longevity murmurs, chiding, as their many hands gently guide their little one ever closer to their body until their child is strewn across their lap. Blood soaks into the the Aeon's robes, though they pay it no mind and instead opt to focus on the source of it. "Poor, sweet child... how much suffering have your siblings wrought upon you? How much cruelty have they extended? Limitless child, struck down by your limited siblings..."

       The sulking lasts for quite some time, but they feel no compulsion to complain about it. It doesn't even cross their mind once. If anything, Yaoshi's love for them is communicated perfectly through their distraught musings, and the attention makes their little one feel quite embarrassed, if anything at all.

       Embarrassed for not being able to defend themselves? Perhaps, though they would attribute it more to simply being overcome by the ever-abundant love the Aeon carried for them.

       Merciful nails stroke the hair from their face, and the Aeon's tens of thousands of eyes flick across their body, thoughtful and contemplative yet riddled with monumentally expansive layers of all-consuming pity and sympathy. To some, it may have been deeply unsettling to be stared at by something so unfathomably powerful, but they have long since grown used to being gazed at so intently. Yaoshi's affections are not subtle in any way, so having the Aeon's complete and undivided attention on them was an overwhelming feeling that they have learned to welcome with open arms.

       (Well...

       More or less 'complete and undivided'; they're fairly certain that Sanctus Medicus is still keenly aware of everything going on outside of this little oasis, still hearing prayers sent to them, still feeling the pains of death and sorrow that they'll undoubtedly seek out and quell to the best of their abilities in as many societies as possible once they've handled the nasty wound left on their favored child. An Aeon's attention is always divided at least somewhat, but it was not their place to complain about something so inevitable. Divided attention was only natural for cosmic beings, no?)

       It is warm. Peaceful.

       ...But only for a moment.

       Something—disappointment, sadness, perhaps even what could be described as fury—rolls off of the Aeon's being in suffocating waves undoubtedly capable of drowning entire civilizations. It is hard to breathe, somehow even harder than it was when their ribs were collapsed inwards and poking agonizingly at their viscera.

       This is worse.

       In an instant, something deep inside of them shatters, and their chest is seized by the grief and agony of millions and millions of beings. A wheeze is drawn from their chest as any clarity they had slowly gained back is snatched away in a mere second, replaced with terror and pain and screaming, so much screaming—

       Their head spins.

       If not for the Aeon of Abundance's presence, soft hushes and careful nails dragging soothingly over and across their skin on as many areas as they can reach at once, they're certain that these conditions would have made their mara flare. It doesn't, thankfully.

       Something about being held by the very deity who had given them their immortality in the first place soothes that side of them into submission, like a dog kneeling at its master's feet. If they listen closely, beyond the screaming and wailing and pleading for the agony to cease, they can hear adoring yet vague and indistinguishable whispers in the corners of their mind.

       Their mara is sated for the time being, but the storm of despair rages on.

       When the tears begin to fall, it is far beyond their control, impossible to stop no matter how much effort they put into doing so.

       It is immensely difficult for them to see through the hazy blur of their uncontrollable weeping, but their gaze still instinctively shifts up towards Yaoshi's face, the terror and nervousness swirling in their chest growing to be too much. In that moment, they were hardly any different than a child seeking reassurance from their parent; of course, the Aeon was all too happy to provide that to them.

       However...

       To their absolute dismay, though the Aeon's expression remains detached, soft, and thoughtful as ever, they are crying.

       Whatever cracking bits of their will that were still somehow clinging together were shattered beyond repair in a quick instant, and they sobbed harder, pressing close to their God in a feeble and weak attempt at taking some of the agony that their parent endured away.

       Between the sorrow, Yaoshi's tears ignited rage, boiling just beneath the surface of their skin and threatening to consume those who stood in its way. It is one thing to take up arms against them, but to make the Aeon of Abundance cry? It is nothing short of a crime, unforgivable and worthy of only the greatest punishment. If not for said deity's gentle kneading of their skin, easily making the rage dissolve into dazed serenity, they may have very well cut down entire armies, wounds be damned.

       ...But that is blatantly against Yaoshi's will at the moment (and more than likely in general, for such destruction is not in the nature of the path which they emanate), so they allowed the anger to be soothed.

       Concern—what could possibly have made something as incomprehensible as Yaoshi cry? Was it truly what the Xianzhou Alliance had done? And moreover, what can they do to stop it? To amend it without being disobedient?—was there, but they were moreso overwhelmed by absolute horror.

       ...

       Aeons are far above mortality, so far beyond humans and their concepts of everything. Nothing that applied to mortals applied the same to Aeons. They were concepts personified. Living ideologies.

       Seeing a being they had come to recognize as infallible, as the purest form of existence above all other creatures, a being of love and light crying?

       Oh, it sent endless ripples of fear and uncertainty blazing across their skin.

       If their will—the will of someone with a deep and intimate connection to the Aeon, someone who had been spared a beautiful fraction of their strength—was so effortlessly shattered by the Abundance's tears, what were other beings connected to them feeling in this moment?

       ...Far worse things, no doubt, but maybe some of them deserved it.

       (The distant screams, a cacophany of confusion and horror, of their siblings rang in their head. Sick satisfaction brewed in their chest at the sound. If any of the Alliance's fleets were mid-battle, there is not a single doubt in their mind that the entire fight will now be lost and in vain. It is only a small fraction of the pain that they were put through by those people, but it is more than enough.)

       One of Yaoshi's hands pets over their head fondly, and they hum through the tears and pain, eyelids fluttering closed as they press ever closer against the Aeon's collarbone.

       "The actions of your siblings will not go unpunished, precious one," they murmur, leaning down and pressing tender kisses to the battered flesh of their shoulder. Any bruises or scratches in that area disappear miraculously. "The suffering you have endured is unjust."

       "I trust in your judgement, Guardian."

       They could feel Yaoshi's smile against their skin, a stark contrast from the Aeon's tears, burning and stinging their skin yet somehow perpetuating their healing process.

       "Good."

please consider supporting me if you enjoyed! the best ways to do so are as follows: comments, asks, reblogs, and reblogs with tags. tags: @aviiarie @corpsesticks

[mybworlds]

THE GLADIATOR

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader (no use of Y/N) | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: You and Marcus Acacius loved each other until society didn't separate you.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, use of you, some smut elements, some historical aspects may not be entirely accurate.

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Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

"This story began a few years ago, when I was little more than a girl, when I was a gorgeous creature wrapped in fluffy, fragrant clothes. . "

You were the daughter of a rich merchant, you didn't miss anything, you were always finely dressed, full of jewelry, you always have manicured hair and arranged in complicated hairstyles, you had dozens of servants who accompanied you everywhere. The only time you were free is when you slept or when you pretended to sleep and took advantage of it to sneak out the window and run away.

It was so nice to run on your steed and took in the scents and smells of the night, the silence of the night, when there were only stars to keep you company.

When you were far from Rome, you slowed down the race of your horse until you reach Marcus Acacius' villa, he was known only as General Acacius, no one could call him Marcus. He was a very powerful man, esteemed and feared by everyone. Except you. For you it was always just Marcus, the man you learned to love.

You and Marcus met during one of the many banquets organized by your father in your domus and immediately he attracted your attention for his stern look, his dark eyes and his proud posture. That evening, although from afar, because the banquet was intended only for the powerful men of the city, you didn't miss the opportunity to spy on him from around more corners of your domus. You still remember how his eyes immediately found yours and how his lips bent slightly upwards, while you hid embarrassed by being caught in the act of spying him.

That same evening you introduced yourselves, and a strong bond was immediately established between the two of you, which was seen with great enthusiasm by your father who encouraged your union, and he was delighted to be able to marry his daughter to one of the strongest generals in Rome.

Surely your father could not imagine that you would not wait for the sacred moment before the gods to consume your love.

"Marcus. . ." you sighed in his arms as he made love with you.

"My love," he whispered in your ear and kissed you until your lips turned red as a rose.

When your union was still frowned upon from all over Rome, you and Marcus could walk together during the public holidays, during the clashes organized at the Colosseum. You shook your hand tight, his big, strong hand wrapped around yours, and his single handshake was enough to make you feel safe, and his safe, sweet look made you feel like the strongest, most beloved woman in the Empire, then disaster and officially the end of your union.

Things were still going well for your father, but as a result of a bloody and violent battle that saw the Empire as a defeated party, Marcus was captured and enslaved and your father’s fortune ceased.

You were forced to leave your domus and you moved to the countryside, your jewels and your riches gradually were sold to allow you to survive, you had no more slaves who followed you everywhere. Now you were forced to clean weapons and armor before the fighting in the Colosseum to survive, your thoughts always went to him, to Marcus.

Many moons had passed since you last saw him, you hoped with all your heart that he was well and that he had not forgotten you.

One day, the Chief of Guards escorted into a heap of slaves, and your eyes immediately recognized Marcus, despite his skin covered in dry blood and dust, despite his hair being tangled in a tangle of dark curls of soil, despite no longer wearing the armor with his coat of arms on. When you saw him, your heart lost a beat and you had to make a huge effort not to run towards him and embrace him. He recognized you too, his gaze did not lie, he wanted to tell you something, you saw him, but the Chief of Guards imposed them the line and silence before putting back in chains the survivors from the last clashes.

Before leaving, the Chief of Guards approached you and slapped you on the ass and said that if he found you there later he would fuck you to death, you swallowed, but you didn't say nothing. When you were finally alone, you ran to the slaves and ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck and hiding your head in the crook of his neck. He could barely lay his hands on your back because of chains, but he kissed you and looked at you full of sadness and love.

"My love. . ." you whispered, putting your hands in his hair before kissing him again.

Your kisses were desperate, a couple of times you missed tears. You wished that time and misfortune had not rowed against you and that he had granted you the way and the time to be together, but the gods had not been on your side.

One night, you managed to sneak into the prisons and at that time there was no one controlling the slaves. You looked for him in the cell where all the others were gathered as in the previous days, but that night he was not there. Milo, one of the slaves forced to fight like Marcus, was now aware of your relationship and your desperate love and so told you where you could find him.

Marcus was in a separate prison, he was isolated from the others, his chest was bare and full of obvious signs of whipping, there was a torch that barely lit the cell, when he saw you, his look was different, he seemed worried and scared. That night he was tied by a wrist only and, like other nights, you ran to meet him and hugged him. He embraced you even more than other nights.

"You came," he said in your ear.

"I wanted to see you, how are you?" you asked him looking for his eyes.

He looked at you sad, "I need you to promise me something," he said.

"Anything you want," you replied, looking for his dark eyes.

"Tomorrow look for Juba, you find him at the gates of the city and say my name, he will take you away from Rome," you wrinkled your forehead and were about to reply, but he went on "he will get you a ride and allow you to find a safe place to live. From there, stand up for yourself, dance, sing, but get out of here. Do you understand?"

"My love, but then I wouldn’t see you anymore! Why? I don’t understand." he kissed you, it was a different, desperate kiss.

He drew you to him by sitting on the stone seat behind him, your mouths slowly devoured, "Promise," he whispered between kisses, "Swear,"

"I swear," you said kissing him as you could and stroking him with the delicacy of a feather, "I love you, I would do anything," you said.

He laid a hand in your hair looking for your eyes, "I wish our lives were different, I wanted to treat you like a queen, make you live in luxury, I wanted to see your belly grow and see my son come into this world. . ."

"Sssh, please don’t talk. . We will. When you are free, you will see your child come into the world, my love."

He closed his eyes with an almost desperate expression, "Marcus. . ." He opened his eyes, "Fill me, I want you here," you say, carrying his hand over your belly, "There will be your son."

Until that moment your intercourses had never ended with his release inside you, but not that night, that night you tried to be silent and you tried not to moan conspicuously when his cock filled you completely, "I love you, baby. I always loved you." he said between groans.

"I love you too so much, please don’t leave me alone in this world," you pleaded desperately, as his release filled you with painting the inner walls of your pussy.

"I will never forget you, as long as I live, as long as I live you and my son will be my only thought." he said to you going even deeper inside you, it almost hurt you, but you didn’t say anything, you limited yourself to stay with him inside you and to kiss him until your breaths allowed it.

"Please, join me when you are free. I wait for you. Forever."

His expression was unequivocal and his eyes filled with tears, he didn't answer, but he only nodded before kissing you again and again.

The morning came and you were forced to go, not before exchanging one last intense look. You never saw him again, never again.

"Outside the walls, there was really the man who Marcus indicated me, there was no need to say anything but his name and I left, I came here in this beautiful country house, surrounded by Spring flowers and I waited for you, my little one, to come into this world."

Your story was over. You found yourself fighting tears before looking your son in the face, before meeting the same dark eyes as Marcus, "You know, your daddy was a very brave man and he always fought for what he believed in." you smile bitterly, "Now rest, my son." you said, stroking his dark curls like his daddy’s.

"Good night, mommy." he said before you blew out the candle.

You came out of your house and went to the hill from which you saw Rome from far, far away. It was your way of looking at what you were sure was Marcus' grave.

"I will see you again," you whisper "But not yet, not yet. . ."

[crimsonmonsoon]

The wedding scene but its a cowboy/western AU HUZZAH!

I kinda wanted to write what this scene would look like in this AU... So read that below for funzies.

Side note my dad walked in after I finished this and said "wow! Who's the little princess?" so Xie Lian is now a princess, confirmed.

All the beasts, demons, creatures, and even the wind itself had gone quiet as Hua Cheng approached the wedding carriage. He'd waited a few moments after slaughtering every binu that remained, skulking about the carriage which held one person--presumably a bride, but of course, he knew who it really was, why else would he be there? One of the doors--curtain closed over the window--lay ajar, evidently bashed in by some beast which had dismantled the hinges. Though the wind hand no resonance, there was a slight cacophonous creaking from this door laying askew, gently rocking back and fourth in its tired frame. Hua Cheng approached and pushed the door slightly open.

He kept his head bowed, ensuring his hat cast a shadow over his face so that his beloved would not see the hideous monster that lay beneath. He picked up on Xie Lian--dressed in a frilly white and inconvenient wedding gown--shifting, his breath changing at the sight of Hua Cheng's outstretched hand. Hua Cheng could practically hear Xie Lian's anxious thoughts, knowing not to trust the dark figure before him while also deciding to give in, likely under the impression he could save someone. That's always what Xie Lian would do. He'd save someone he'd never know, even if it meant he had to suffer greatly.

But he wouldn't be suffering with Hua Cheng. At least, Hua Cheng hoped he wouldn't.

The light touch of a gloved hand against his own sent chills up Hua Cheng's spine. He kept still, allowing Xie Lian the time to shuffle to the edge of his bench in order to bunglingly step out of the carriage with a dress so large. Hua Cheng didn't even know what to think of the dress. He decided it best not to look at his beloved, lest he act stupid. He kept his patience, assisting Xie Lian out of the carriage.

The hoop-skirt beneath all those petticoats got caught in the door frame and Xie Lian, having no experience in matters like these, immediately fell forward. He gasped and Hua Cheng quickly caught him, holding him respectful and giving him a moment to gather himself. He noticed Xie Lian's eyes had caught the butterfly pattern on Hua Cheng's sleeves. However, the wedding veil likely obscured too much of Xie Lian's vision to see much further than that.

Hua Cheng helped right Xie Lian on his feet, careful to make sure that the white gown didn't touch any of the bloody corpses of wolves surrounding them. He could sense Xie Lian was wary of him, likely planning a way to attack if anything implied Hua Cheng might pull a stunt. So, he was as meticulous with him as possible, showing more gentleness to him than he had to anyone ever before. His pace was slow, so Hua Cheng matched is, nonchalantly leading him away from the wedding carriage, which had been cut free of horses.

As they passed a dense tree line into a carved path, wolves began to scamper in the distance, circling around and beginning to close in. Xie Lian's tender gloved hand clutched Hua Cheng's in anticipation. As one wolf, louder than the others, came particularly close, Xie Lian had actually reached for the gun at Hua Cheng's hip, to his alarm. However, he could help but smile as Xie Lian softened again, having heard that these wolves weren't circling them as predators, but were whimpering and creeping away in fear. The pistol was never drawn.

Then they came across a skull. Hua Cheng acted as if he had not seen it, purposely making an effort to crush it under his step. He could hear Xie Lian's small breath of confusion and mild concern. Xie Lian would be more surprised to hear the pitter patter of rain on the umbrella Hua Cheng had just drawn. However, it wasn't raining. Over the howling of wolves and the cold still air, a smell of blood arose, almost overwhelming to the senses. Hua Cheng remained composed, and Xie Lian relaxed again.

When the blood rain came to a stop, so did the two immortals. They stood beside each other, still hand in hand. Xie Lian side stepped away, lifting his head to get a better look at the man who'd guiding him away from the wedding carriage. It was clear he'd been waiting to do this, slightly lifting his skirt with his free hand to release the cattle-rope--previously hooked around his hoop-skirt--out and in Hua Cheng's direction like a striking rattlesnake.

The cattle-rope was met by an enormous eruption of silver butterflies, twinkling like a thousand stars. Hua Cheng had vanished.

[constantinerkives]

Unholy Matrimony, YJM // (M)

PAIRINGS: GP Demon! Yoo Jimin x fem violinist reader

WARNINGS: bl00d, demonic ritual, use of classical music as a means of summoning a demon, brief mention of religion, violinist reader, YJM is the daughter of the big man downstairs (if you get what I mean), reader's in her early thirties but she offered herself when she was twenty-three, Karina has poetic rizz, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, marking, mating, unprotected sex (stay safe ya'll), breeding, breeding kink, creampie, age-gap, Karina speaks IN LATIN, who are we kidding, KARINA IS THE MAIN WARNING

SYNOPSIS: It's amazing how desperation can lead from one thing to another. You crave to be recognized, to be valued. And it's selfish - but she approves. After all, it's humane - greed. And she'd be a terrible wife if she doesn't support your one-way trip to eternal damnation. But that's where she comes in, to stop it from happening and give you nothing but luxury and comfort. I guess you can say that being married to a devil isn't bad after all.

A/N: Hi guys! this is my first fic, hope you like it <3333 I've also made some modifications from the original story, hope you guys won't mind. Sorry to keep you guys waiting but I was fighting demons (lmao) for the plot of this one-shot, Happy reading <3!

WORDCOUNT: 9, 535 oops this was self-indulgent AHHAHAHA shi-

THIS IS ALL FICTITIOUS AND THEREFORE SHALL NOT BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY.

TERMS AND DEFINITIONS: Melodiam meum - means 'my melody' in Latin Dilecto - beloved in Latin Hermaphrodite - an organism having both male and female sex organs or other sexual characteristics, either abnormally or as a natural condition Brava - well done or very good. It is used to praise a female performer

It's ridiculous

The creature watches with amusement as it eyes the young lady standing alone in her spacious living room. Her silhouette is wrapped in darkness with no source of light other than the soft glow of five white candles circling her. Her face remains in the dark, veiled with desperation with a whiff of mystery. 

How desperation can lead you to commit the things you thought you wouldn't do. 

"Please," She whispers, "Please work,"

It inclines its head, watching as the young lady pulls out a kitchen knife. The blade glints menacingly in the dark as she positions it atop her wrist. 

Do you want to do this?

And cuts her flesh, crimson dense liquid oozes out of her flesh and she directs it to-

The creature sneers. A violin. Her blood coats the strings of the instrument, and traces of her drip down to the floor as she picks up the bloody violin and begins to play a familiar piece; popular with seasoned violinists. 

The Devil's Trill Sonata

You are a desperate girl...

She plays with feverish determination all while her wrist continues to bleed. The demon crosses its legs, arms crossed against its chest, and leans comfortably against the velvet settee. 

That's it. Keep playing. I am no stranger to greed. Play it with your heart's desires. 

Her fingers smoothly transitioned from one note to another, clean and precise. The first movement leads you to a false sense of softness and beauty, and slowly...the devil grins as the young woman slightly loses her balance. She's running out of time, running out of blood. Ah, poor soul. She hasn't even reached the second movement yet. It seems like another soul will perish for nothing. It watches with practiced dismay as the girl's body visibly pales, and she's beginning to lose her energy. She's one push away from knocking a candle and collapsing - losing her life to a meaningless offer. 

After all, what the devil played was far superior to what Giuseppe Tartini had played. The creature's lips curl to a sneer. No other violinist had come close to its execution. 

Then, with a stroke of luck, the girl regained her composure for some unfathomable reason. The devil blinks, surprised by the sudden change as she grounds her feet against the tiled floors pooling with her blood and strokes the strings violently; the entity's face beams with unbridled pride. The girl plays over four octaves of the note G, with her hands stretched out over three octaves. A move that the daughter of Lucifer can only execute. 

Interesting

The human plays with intensity now, and the entity finds itself leaning away from the backrest of the seat, watching with phantom hawk-like eyes as the girl pours every last bit of her living minutes into its piece. For centuries, no one has executed it the same way this mere human did. Anger and envy flash in its eyes as it flicks a hand. The candles' feeble light extinguishes, all except one, and the girl weakly gasps. 

The entity hastily stands up from the velvet settee and gracefully stalks toward the confused and terrified girl as she mumbles: "What? What the hell happened - did it work?"

Oh, it did pretty human.

It grabbed the candle as it willed itself to manifest a physical form. The young woman gasps as the creature grabs her by the collar of her blouse, and with its' other hand, it holds the candle next to her features. The woman lets out a pathetic yelp as she looks up only to see two rich ichor irises looking down at her with scorn, envy, and dare she adds amusement.

The demon examines her delicate features, soft brown eyes, fair skin, and a whiff of innocence that crumbles down to greed and desperation. 

And fear

It's beautiful

"Have I satisfied you?" The girl meekly starts. Her voice sounds distant. She's hanging on for dear life, and the demon wanted her to fall into the pits of eternal damnation. But it begrudgingly longed for her to play it again. For no human played it as well as she. 

The entity narrows its' eyes as the girl begins to lose her balance. Her knees were about to give out if it wasn't for the being holding her by the collar. 

The demon leans close, and the girl's eyes visibly shake. It slowly lets go of her collar and reaches out for her cut wrist, its talons almost cutting into her skin. She gasps as she felt a searing burn crawl over her cut wrist. 

"Be seeing you," It said, vowed. Before the demon drops the candle and lets go of the girl, allowing her to collapse into her pool of blood before it disappears into thin air. 

Years have passed, and you are a renowned violinist of your generation. Here you stand in front of your devoted fans, playing the piece that brought you money, power, and glory in the world of music. 

A small smile graces your lips as the curtains close, and the theater erupts in cheers and applause. Another successful concert lands on your plate. You return to your first stance as your posture relaxes, and you make your way backstage. Your handler, Park Sooyoung, her fair complexion glows underneath the lights. Her exquisite red dress hugs her body flawlessly as she approaches you with a wide grin and drapes her arm around your shoulder. "Another successful concert - this calls for a celebration!" She wriggles her brows, and you merely chuckle in reply. 

As much as you want to, your muscles crave rest. And a drink. 

With an apologetic smile, you reject your handler's offer for a celebratory dinner, promising to eat with her tomorrow, but for now, you need a night's rest. 

She understands with a soft smile and gently pats your shoulder. "Of course, you deserve it after playing The Devil's Trill Sonata for almost fifteen minutes." Sooyoung chuckles. "But I'll escort you to your private drinking booth before I, too, call it a night. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," You agree, and the latter takes you to your destination and leaves you to your drink of choice, red wine. Château Lafite Rothschild. 

A pleased sigh leaves your lips as you unceremoniously collapse on your seat. Tired eyes examining your surroundings, your booth is a spacious room. Walls wrapped with high-quality velvet wallpaper, expensive paintings depicting pagan Gods, the lights were the same, albeit softer to look at, and plants to give the room a bit of life. 

A relaxing sight. You pour your wine and lean comfortably against your seat, your head thrown back, allowing your neck to rest whilst your right hand holds the stem of your wine glass. 

That's what life's about, luxury. 

And you bathed in it. You crave the beauty of wealth and luxury that your way in life has brought to you. 

Just as you're basking in peace, a figure emerges from the shadows in a black blur. You didn't notice it until the atmosphere grows heavy, your skin prickling at the sensation that someone is watching you. 

"Indeed, that's what life's all about. Isn't it? Basking in luxury." 

"You've done well tonight, Ji Y/N." Says a feminine voice, steely, low, and churning. You snap your head towards the owner of the voice; your face turns bloodless, even at the warm glow of the light, and there sits a resplendent woman wearing a black cropped blazer; underneath it is a matching black tube and matching back trousers and heels. At the base of her slim neck is a layered gold necklace. The outfit was simple, but her features made up for it. The woman sitting before you has a fair complexion that will put the moon to shame, a sharp jaw, plump lips, luscious black hair tied neatly to a high ponytail, and a small face. Not to mention her lean stature and posture. Judging by the way she gracefully sits, she's taller than you. And just like you, she too is holding a wine glass, slim fingers, and perfectly manicured nails secure the stem of her glass. 

But something's amiss. Yes, she is human, a beautiful human, and you're no stranger to all things beautiful - but something about this woman's beauty throws you off. 

A trip to the uncanny - something about her doesn't match humanity at all. 

She lacked warmth, not only in her eyes but her overall presence. 

"Who are you?" You demanded, "What are you doing here?"

The woman's lips curl to a grin, showing you her perfect set of teeth. "You don't remember?" She asks in return, unperturbed. Your face twists to a scowl, "I asked you a question." Posture bristling with guarded animosity before you peered over her shoulder. "Security!"

The air grows heavy as the woman holds an open palm up. She is no longer smiling. "That won't be necessary." Her voice was cold and cutting, booming with authority like no other. Then, her grin returns. "Perhaps this shall jog your memory, pretty girl." 

She blinks, and her cold, brown eyes change to a rich hue of gold. Menacing and distant.��

"Be seeing you,"

On cue, your right wrist burns, causing you to drop your wine glass against the carpeted floor. You back away from her, standing up too hastily, and in return your seat tumbles. 

"You," A sharp gasp leaves your lips. No, it's too soon. A cold, hard laugh tumbles from the latter's lips. "My," She sips her drink before gently setting it against the tabletop. 

"Are you here to collect my soul?" There it is again, that meek tone. The devil inclines her head to the side, brows furrowed. "Me? Collect you? Oh. No, no. Not yet melodiam meum." You don't know what it means, but the way it rolled off her tongue made your gut churn. 

"Then why are you here?" You voiced out. 

She eyes you up and down. "You know, my beloved. I am offended by the turn of events." She stands up, and you instinctively back away as she circles the table and stalks toward you. Her hips swayed in a sultry manner as she did. She keeps advancing until your back is pressed against the wall, hands pressed to your sides while the raven-haired enigma delicately brushes her knuckles against your cheek. The contact sends shivers down your spine. Her proximity allows you to inhale her seductive scent. The blend of florals with amber and musk is a perfect balance of femininity and masculinity. 

"For years, I watched over you. I made sure no harm came to you and only commanded success to fall into your plate. I blessed you with concert after concert - and I know your love for all things beautiful." The devil purrs.

"So I made myself beautiful for you, dilecto." 

Not a single lie in sight. "Who are you?"

"Karina," She replies, "My name is Karina Yoo." The latter pauses. Her gold eyes trailed down from your eyes to your lips. 

"Do remember that, my bride. I will walk the earth with you until your time here is due. And the world will know me as your companion, your spouse." 

And your vision turns black. 

You woke with a groan, your head throbs with pain, and you shift in your bed. The white sheets cling onto your skin as you lay on your side, the sun peeking through your curtains, blessing your suite with its light. You stare up at the ceiling, rubbing the sleep of your eyes, and as you regain your awareness. Well, so are your memories of last night. 

Your body quickly turns cold, and you sit up, muscles aching in protest, but you ignore it as you check yourself. You are wearing your sleepwear as opposed to the form-fitting dress you wore for the concert last night. Nothing else seems to be wrong except for the fact that you did not change your dress last night. Who brought you to your suite, then? It couldn't be Sooyoung. She went on her way first.

"You're awake," Says a familiar, cold voice. 

The hairs at the back of your neck rise. 

Slowly, you turn your head to the tall figure leaning against the doorway to your lounging area. Karina, as she calls herself, is no longer wearing her black suit. Instead, she's wearing a white button-up shirt, black trousers that reach three inches above her ankles, and black oxfords. Her rich, black hair cascaded freely like a black waterfall. 

"Karina," You rasped, and the devil's lips curled to a smile. "You remembered."

You press your back against the headboard, posture brustling with animosity as your hands' fists the sheets. "What did you do to me?"

The latter frowns, "I did nothing, pretty girl. I merely allowed your body to rest for tonight before-"

"Before what?" You cut her off breathlessly as your forehead begins to sweat, and your body becomes warm with each passing second - soon, your body is veiled by a thin sheen of sweat, making you uncomfortable as you throw the duvet away from your feverish body. 

Your stomach churns harshly, and your eyes sting as you fall onto your side, hands clutching your stomach as you look at the entity standing at the foot of your bed, eyes studying your writhing figure. 

"What did you do to me?" You sob as the pain doubles, fiery, almost. 

Karina's features break to a knowing smile as if she had seen this before and approaches the side of your bed, the mattress dips at her weight and reaches a pale, slender hand towards you, and you find yourself not moving, too feverish, so you let her touch you. And her touch was soothing. 

"Shhh," The raven-haired enigma coaxes, "Your body is reacting to its new owner. Best to let me handle this, Y/N." 

New owner?

You couldn't process anything, distracted by her touch soothes your hot skin as you slowly relax into the sheets. A relieved sigh leaves your lips as the pain ebbs away. 

"Easy does it," She remarks, "Are you feeling better now, delicto?" 

"Yes," You reply curtly as you eye her warily. "Wonderful," She gracefully stands from your bed, "Now rest. I'm sure you have questions for me once you recover." 

"No," You protest, and her gaze turns sharp, making you shrink in your bed as she tilts her head. "No? What do you mean no?"

"I have a meeting with a sponsor," You stammer under her piercing gaze. The latter pauses, "You have plenty of time to prepare, rest. I'll take care of it." 

"Take care of what?"

She flashed her bright golden eyes at you, and once again, your vision turns black. Three hours later, a scandal broke out.

Italy is known for its warm, Mediterranean climate. Summers are always hot, sunny, and dry. 

But no amount of summer dresses can protect you from the cold, piercing gaze of your handler who sits across you in a cafe with her arms crossed and her expression blank. 

After Karina took care of your meeting with a sponsor, word got out fast and a controversy broke out with your fans shocked at the fact that you are married. Hence the meeting with your handler, who also knew nothing of the situation. 

"So," She begins, "You're married?"

You tried not to cringe as you looked at Karina; who was sitting beside you, drinking her espresso with gusto. She wore a black coat with red lapels, a black turtle neck, trousers, and heels. 

"Yes," She replies as she sets down her mug. Sooyoung slowly turns to your 'wife' before looking at you. "And since when were you two married?"

"Seven years," Karina smoothly replies. You two shared a glance. Seven years ago, you offered your soul to her.

"And how come I only knew about this after Mrs. Yoo talked to your sponsor?"

"I wasn't feeling well," You wince, "I told my wife-" This coming off from your tongue is a foreign sensation. "That it can wait, but she insisted." 

"Y/N was bone-tired last night." Karina adds, "I'd be a terrible wife if I insist that she gets out of the house to speak to the sponsor, so I took it upon myself to go." You softly cleared your throat, "How did the public react to this?"

"They've seen Karina's photos." Sooyoung leans against her seat, "They approve of her." A wry smile graced her lips, "That adds your wife to their list of 'celebrity crushes' I believe."

You repressed a sigh of relief, "That's good news." 

"Don't be too relieved yet," She massages her temples, "You have yet to address this at your conference. I'll have your script ready, and of course, your wife has to follow it as well." She turns to look at the devil disguised as your wife. "Is that okay with you?"

Karina grins and suddenly interlocks her hand with yours. The sudden action surprises you, and she flashes you a look. Your lips form a practiced smile, and you duck your head as if you are flustered. 

"Yes, I'm fine with it. So long as this keeps my wife happy." 

"Good, the conference starts at 2 PM sharp. Let's get you both ready before then." 

Addressing your marriage to the public was easy. The press loved ogling at your 'wife'. You can't blame them though she looked ethereal in her outfit; a form-fitting black, high-neck dress and a black blazer draped over her shoulders, and her hair was freely cascading down to her breasts with diamond earrings as her accessories while you wore white dress. Both of you looked exquisite during the conference, and you didn't forget the way the reporters begin talking all at once upon announcing your next concert and the piece you'll be laying next. 

The Last Rose Of Summer by Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst. 

Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst is not the biggest name in classical music, but his ‘The Last Rose Of Summer’ is notorious among violinists for being a complete nightmare to play. Ernst was an obsessive devotee of Paganini, the original violin rockstar, and he loved to include stupidly complex pizzicato in his music. Karina's soft lips curl to a smirk as she ends the event by taking your hand in hers. You eye her cautiously. This wasn't part of the script? 

Still, she raises your hand and brings it to her soft, warm lips, pecking the back of your palm. Your cheeks warmed as the cameras flashed. Your spouse looks at the press and flashes them a jaw-dropping smile. "We'll get going now. May you all have a nice afternoon." Without another word, she leads you down from the stage and to the exit, where a sleek black car awaits the both of you. 

"Take us back to the hotel, please." You told the driver. The man nods and was about to close the partition before Karina speaks up. "Take us to Ratanà, Mr. Giovani. I'll treat my wife to a nice meal after the conference." 

"Very well, Mrs. Yoo." The driver replies with a thick accent before finally closing the partition. You glare at the latter while she leans comfortably against the leather cushion and looks at you. Karina arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Why the surly look, wife?"

"What are you going to do in a restaurant?" You snap at her. Karina guffaws in amusement. 

"I'd like to see how the world changed after centuries." She simply answers. "I'd like to see more of the world with my two eyes." 

A huff leaves your lips as you turn away from her and cross your arms against your chest. "You still have some explaining to do." 

"Which is why a restaurant is a perfect place for it." 

"People will hear you." 

"I've booked us a private booth." You snapped your head towards her, "You did what?"

"I won't repeat myself, beloved." She chuckles, "As you've said, I owe you an explanation. 

The people inside Ratanà gawked at the two of you as soon as you entered the restaurant. The clattering of plates and utensils stopped as well. You flush at the reaction while your wife places her hand on the small of your back. Even with your dress, you can't help but shudder at the contact as she flashes the crowd a charming smile before leading you to your private booth with a female waiter stationed outside your door. 

"We'll order later," Karina's smooth velvet voice coaxed the woman into an agreement before finally entering the private booth. 

She pulls out the chair for you to sit on, and you begrudgingly obey as she sits across you. Silence permeated the air. Gone is her alluring aura, replaced by enigma. As if all of it was an act - it is. 

"Where to begin, where to begin." She mused wryly. 

"Why are you here if not to claim my soul, then?" You snap, "Why waste your time tagging along?"

Karina tilts her head. Her intelligent eyes regarded you.

"Well," She begins with a distant smile. "I visited you every two years, watching from afar while you amassed your concerts just to see how your talent has bloomed."  

You wait for her to explain further, "I'll be frank, darling." Your gut churns at the endearment. "Throwing you into the pits of hell after your time is done is nothing but an exercise of futility, a talent like yours deserves to have a place next to mine." 

Your brows furrow, "Next to yours?"

Her lips curled, "Why do you think you offered your soul to me out of all the demons out there?"

You replied with silence, and Karina narrowed her eyes in disapproval. "Something tells me that you didn't gather the slightest bit of information about who I am, delicto." She leaned away from the backrest of her seat and interlaced her fingers together. "Tell me, do you know who I am?"

"A devil who named herself Karina Yoo." 

A scoff befalls her lips, "Foolish girl, you're lucky to have offered your soul to me." 

"Why?" You snarked, "If I'm so lucky, why?"

Her eyes flashed, "My father," She hisses through gritted teeth, "Is the angel of music. Lucifer was the angel of music. After his fall, he reigned in Hell and has simply lost interest in that title." Her expression darkens, "Which is why I took that spot while I helped humanity discover it with my profound ability that I inherited from him."

Your eyes subtly widen, "Yes," She growled.

"You're sitting with the daughter of Lucifer. His finest creation, second to music." Her eyes glowed to cruel gold. "And you tied yourself to me, Ji Y/N. You offered your body and soul to me. That makes you mine as I am yours."

Something's not right. Why is there an indirect statement of equality?

As if reading your mind, she addresses it with a softer tone. 

"As I've said, my beloved: leaving you to burn in hell would be a waste. I have taste in talent just as much as you have taste for beautiful things. In my millennium of harvesting souls, I am nothing but a sponsor to those who offer themselves to me. I will keep you. I've decided to keep you after hearing you play all these years. And I confess that I envy your ability, albeit you're human. I am still superior to you on all levels, but when it comes to music, we are equals."

"So that makes me your actual wife, then?" You squeaked. Karina lets out a rumbling chuckle, "Oh, yes, darling." You hold her gaze, and this time, it's intense. 

"That makes you mine as I am yours." She husked, her eyes tracing your features possessively. "So if you had any lovers or flavors of the day, forget about them." 

"So possessive," You remark shakily, and the latter lets out a wolfish grin. "I am a demanding creature, Y/N." She then leans away from you. "We can order now. After this, we can return to the hotel, and you can start practicing the piece you'll perform at your concert next month. The earlier you master it, the better. And I will help you along the way." 

She's right, of course, but you wouldn't admit it to her face. 

"Alright, call in the waitress." 

Your routine is divided from going out with your wife to practicing until your fingers go numb. 

The Last Rose Of Summer by Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst was the last of his Six Polyphonic Studies for solo violin. It is a set of incredibly difficult variations for the violin. The first few weeks were nothing but agony as you practiced in a private setting, preferably away from the devil of music. 

For days, it's either you couldn't transition smoothly to another note, or you struck a wrong chord. Either way, it's still a mistake.

This complex set—full of every imaginable and unimaginable technical difficulty—includes an introduction, theme, four variations, and a devilish finale. At first glance, an impossible task. This one requires both physical and mental fortitude. And each mistake drains it out of you. 

"Jeez," Sooyoung hisses as soon as she sets foot into the room. "Y/N, get yourself off the floor and sit on the couch, will you?"

A tired groan leaves your lips as you force yourself to get up. Your muscles ached in protest as a result of standing for hours. 

"You know what," Sooyoung sighs as soon as you unceremoniously plop on the couch. "How about we call your wife, hm?"

"No," You sigh as your tired mind thinks of a lie. "She's busy."

"Busy doing what?" Shit

"Managing her family's financial reports." Yeah, that should do it. 

"Don't be ridiculous," The latter admonishes, "Your wife is never too busy for you. I'll call her."

"Sooyoung no-" Too late, she had dialed her number, and you tuned out their conversation. "She says she's on her way." Your handler informs you as soon as she drops the call, "See, I told you she isn't too busy when it comes to you." 

"Whatever," You mumble as you close your eyes to get a few minutes rest. 

By the time Karina made her presence known, it was already evening. You scowl at her as you groggily sit up. "What took you so long?"

"You looked peaceful," She snorts, "And besides, you're more tolerable when you're not scowling at me all the time." 

"What time is it?"

The devil checks her watch. She bought it a few days ago from Bulgari. "6:37 PM, why?"

"Shit, that's late." 

"You needed rest," She reminds you as she sits next to you. You lean away, taken aback by her proximity as she looks down at your fingers, "And your fingers were turning purple. You practiced for quite some time and ignored your body's protests for rest. Hence why you collapsed next to this couch." 

How did she-

"Sooyoung told me," She answers. "Why force your body to such limits?"

You rolled your eyes, "You sound like my wife," 

"Because I am your wife," She grins, "So take care of yourself." 

You blink at her. For weeks that you spent with her, the older woman did nothing but make sure you were comfortable and safe, sure there was bickering, and dare you say banter. But she performed her duties as a wife should. It's baffling, to receive this treatment from a devil of her caliber. 

"Why are you staring at me like that?" She questions, her eyes beaming at your attention before you tear your gaze from her. "Nothing, I'm hungry." 

"Perfect," She grins, "I discovered a recipe that you might like." 

Oh?

"Cooking, you?" You mused, and Karina lets out a carefree laugh. It sounded pleasant. Not that you would say that to her face. "Why yes, pretty girl." She grins, "Now come. I want you to be a witness of me cooking a dish created by humans." 

She grabs you by the hand, and your pulse quickens at the contact as she leads you out of the building and to your car, a sleek, gray Bently Continental GT S. The raven-haired beauty opens the passenger door for you. You didn't say anything and entered the vehicle. She closes the door gently and enters the driver's seat, finally driving to your designated hotel. 

The smell of roasted lamb chops floods the dining area of your suite. Karina said that it'll be done in a few minutes. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of the delicacy in Karina's bare palms as she places it in front of you. She dusts the lamb chops with garlic, rosemary, salt, and pepper. Your mouth waters at the meal she prepared for you while she sits across from you, eyeing your face with mirth before finally gesturing at your dinner. 

"Well? Dig in." 

You didn't need to be told twice and began wolfing down your food. 

Karina watched you carefully as you ate with gusto before stopping midway. The older woman frowned, "What's wrong?" 

You look up at her, "It's not poisoned, isn't it?"

She placed a hand over her chest in faux offense. 

"Poison? You?" The raven-haired woman continues: "I would never. You must have faith in me, beloved. I would never poison a pretty girl like you."

Your cheeks change their color to a subtle hue of pink. "Faith is foreign for someone of your caliber, Karina."

"Trust me," She grins, "We're more direct than your trusted angels, beloved."

A hum leaves your lips as you continue to eat. Karina once again watches you before you pause for the second time. "Aren't you hungry?"

"We have a different diet from you humans. Souls, that's what we feed on, your intense emotions, energies." 

"Are you feeding from me right now?"

The latter replies with an unbridled smirk, "I am, but at least we're both benefitting." 

"Fair enough," You shrug before finishing your dinner. 

"Are you having a difficult time practicing your piece?" She asks after you've finished your dinner. A pause, "Yes, but I'll get better." 

"Not very reassuring, delicto." She replies as she interlocks her fingers, her expression serious. "Your concert is in three weeks, and your piece has four sections."

"Then what can we do about it?"

"I can help you." Karina offers - no, states. "It'll be quick, and you will save time." 

You arched a brow, "By what, cutting my wrist and pouring it over my violin?"

The devil guffaws at your snarky reply, "No, no. You perform. I will proctor your performance and give you feedback accordingly." 

You contemplated her offer. It's not that big of a deal. Perhaps guidance from a devil of music could save you time. "Alright," You rub your palms together. "Perfect," She purrs.

"When can we start?"

"Tomorrow," Karina checks her watch, "We'll start after lunch. Is that okay with you?"

You have nothing to do anyways, "Fine by me." 

"You missed a note," She looks up from her book. "Again, from the top." 

You bite your inner cheek and return to your second stance before slowly stroking the strings. Minutes later, she stops you again. 

"Your timing is off." 

"Don't I know," You grunt as you return to your first position and begin again. 

Hours turn into days. While yes, having Karina monitor your performance saves time, you can't help but feel your patience waning whenever she stops your performance. 

"Again,"

"I didn't even miss the note!" You asserted. Karina closes her book and looks at you. You stop yourself from saying more as your bones ache from standing for two hours. 

She lets out a hum, a tone that holds no consequence of your assertion.

"I forget that you're human." She says to herself rather than you. "But you have to keep up with me, beloved. Let's take a break. How do thirty minutes sound to you?"

"Wonderful," You groan before you sit on the floor of your lounging area. 

It went on for another week with the devil being surprisingly patient with you. Even with your patience cutting short, Karina allows your jabs to fall on her with every mistake you make improves under her watchful eye. 

You are forced to stop when you couldn't reach the note. "Crap," You cursed as you messed with the transition to the ending of the piece. Karina took notice of this and tilts her head, "Try to position your hand once more." She instructs, and who are you to disobey? She is your wife, your mentor. And so far, you learn quickly with the techniques she's amassed through the years. 

She examines your hand before standing from her settee and moving behind you. You stiffen at her proximity as her pale hand hovers atop yours while the other grasps your waist. A soft gasp leaves your lips as she presses her front against your back. The latter smirks but resumes correcting your finger placement. 

"Position your hand like this," She husked. A shudder leaves your lips as her warm breath fans the outer shell of your ear. Your skin tingles at her touch. 

"There," She purrs, "Very good,"

But she doesn't let go. 

She retracts your hand from the fingerboard of your violin and places it on your hips, securing you against her. "You know," She rasped, "This is by far the closest we've been." She flushed herself against yours as if she couldn't get enough, "As your wife, I've never received an embrace from you, beloved." 

"If you wanted a hug," You breathily reply as you lean into her touch. Karina's lips found themselves on the exposed expanse of your neck, ghosting over your skin. "Why didn't you just ask for it?"

She chuckles deeply, and it has your guts churning. "Oh, can I ask for one now?" You balk up a response, and Karina's patience wears thin as she spins you around. Her strength forces you to face her and drop your violin and violin bow. Your eyes blew back at the cruel glow of gold in her eyes. Her black veins surface on the sides of her gorgeous face. Her skin is paler than normal. She uses one hand and grabs your hair from behind, forcing you to look up at her with a hiss. 

Your eyes traverse from her eyes down to her kissable lips. Karina notices this and licks her in return. You swallow harshly at the sight. 

"I can sense it, Y/N." 

"Sense what?" You breathe out, and your wife sharply inhales and leans close. "Your hunger, no, not from food, but for me, beloved. I don't see the point in holding back." Her other hand traverses upwards; to your neck and gently squeezes it, eliciting a gasp from you before she uses that same hand to pull you impossibly close to her. 

"Be selfish, be lustful - lose your inhibitions to me, Y/N. I am your wife, your mistress, your servant. Use me as I will use you." She leans closer to the point that your lips are almost touching, her plump lips begging to be kissed by yours. 

"Sin with me, darling." Her voice distorts, "For sin is your birthright. Your faith has taught you to deny your desires and it has imprisoned you. Break your restraint. As your wife I encourage it, my love." She sighs as your hand caresses her cheek. 

"I am selfish, needy, and demanding. Y/N. And you shouldn't be less than I am. Let me have you, let me spoil you some more, even with the riches that are foreign to the world of the living, allow me to embrace you - you will be my queen. Fair as the sea and the sun." 

And while she pours her declaration, Karina Yoo's lips fascinated you. It sickens you all at once, but that is what seduction does to you. Her lips; were plump and inviting. Though you find her frightening at times, you can't help but feel as if you've known her before, that you are perfect for her. If you wanted something beautiful, this woman would be would give it to you. If you have an ideal type, this woman would be your ideal. 

You had not known before that you wanted all these things. That you preferred dark hair and a slightly cruel expression, that you wished for tallness, or that a woman embracing you and pouring her confession might thrill you. A whole young life’s worth of slowly collected predilections coalesced in a few moments within you, and Karina Yoo, her eyes glowing with desire, becomes beautiful and perfect. 

You shivered, and without thinking, you leaned in to capture her lips with yours. Not on the cheek, not chastely or unchastely, but greedily with your whole mouth. She reciprocates this, she eats your breath in the kiss, and you feel like she would swallow you whole. Your hands shamelessly claw her silk shirt from behind, crumpling the expensive fabric as the daughter of Lucifer deepens the kiss by tilting her head. Her grip on your hair tightens, and her other hand's nails dig against your hips. 

Together, your lips move languidly against each other, and the world feels like it's so far away. 

You two kiss until your human lungs burn for oxygen, and you push your wife away begrudgingly. 

Here you two are, panting and wanting more before she chased your lips with hers. Her mouth is hot against yours. You can taste the feverish desire from her. Suddenly, she bites you. You pull away from her, hurt and surprised as you raise your hand to your mouth. Your fingers are bloody, and Karina's lips were smeared with it. Her eyes gleamed. 

You balked. Your lips pulsed where your wife's long, thin canines had cut you. 

If you allow her to do this to you, what else will you let her do to you?

Anything,

Anything,

Anything,

Karina Yoo, your wife, your mistress, your slave, wiped your crimson blood from her lips. She eyes you with hooded, glazed eyes as she licks it clean. 

"Beautiful," She closes her eyes and slowly opens them before her arms circle around you greedily, and your back is suddenly pressed against the mattress of your private quarters. 

Her bright eyes are predatorial as she stares down at you. She wasted no time putting her hands on your waist. Her sensual scent invades your nostrils as she presses her lips against yours. You can taste your blood on her tongue as your hands cup her jaw. Karina's tongue glides against your lower lip before breaking into your mouth; only because you let her. She swallows your moan as she slides her tongue in your mouth, and she lets out a guttural growl in reply as your skin becomes hot under her touch. 

The older woman leans away and unravels your button shirt, and harshly pulls it off your body, leaving you alone with your bra. Her ichor-hued eyes visibly darken to a hue of copper before her lips attach to the column of your neck. Her hands smoothly go to your back and unclasp your bra, and haphazardly throw it somewhere in the room. 

You let out a mewl when she softly bit the center of your neck, followed by a gasp when her tongue smoothens it, she pulls you into an all-consuming kiss, her hands let go of your wrists, and your hands hastily gripped her biceps as her weight doubles making you press against the mattress, her lips muffling your groans and grunts as her teeth bite your lower lip, forcing a gasp out of you and allowing her to insert her tongue inside your mouth, your grip on her tightens as your lungs burn from the lack of oxygen. 

She pulls away for a split second, allowing you to breathe before connecting her lips with yours, her hips bucking and thrusting against your clothed core, making you moan into her mouth as lust ignites between your legs. You tilted your head to meet her kiss as your legs circled her waist. 

Karina groans, and she thrusts her hips against yours. You feel something poking against your clothed core. It's hard, and it feels good. 

As if sensing your curiosity, Karina chuckles deeply. "We're hermaphrodite beings, beloved. I can pleasure you as a man, or woman, or both." She breathes against your lips. "Which do you prefer?"

"You," You mewl as she kisses your neck. "I want what you are right now, even forever." 

The latter grins and bites into your neck, eliciting a yelp from you as she traverses her kiss downwards until she reaches the waistband of your pajamas. Karina's lips curl to a smirk, her hands latching onto the fabric of your pants before she effortlessly rips it and throws the torn fabric away. Your eyes widen while hers light up in amusement as she licks her upper teeth. 

"Relax," She purrs as her finger hooks the hem of your panties and yanks down. Your cunt flutters at the exposure, toes curling with anticipation as your wife dips down, her tongue takes a bold lick on the seam of your pussy and shuddering when she retracts and swallows. 

"Divine," She darkly grins as her hands pry your thighs to spread and latch onto your folds, eliciting a yelp from you as her tongue breaches your walls. You throw your head back when the warm, wet muscle begins to messily move in circles. Your arousal drips down the seams as she alternates from sucking and circling, eyes closing shut as carnal desire begins to take over the both of you. "Karina," You softly moan, "Fuck, so good - more, give me-"

She cuts you off with a growl, sending vibrations against your cunt. The sensation has your eyes rolling back as her tongue thrusts in and out. You plant your feet against the mattress and buck your hips against her face. "Fuck!"

Karina grunts and bites your clit, this sends white-hot pleasure through your body with carnal rapture seeping inside you as the woman withdraws. "Oh, you like that, don't you?" Des[ote your flustered state, your cheeks reddens. Karina hums and licks her lips which are covered in your arousal and her spit. "Let's try that again, yeah?"

She didn't let you reply and connected her mouth to your folds. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as heat bubbles within your body. You bristle in lust as the woman kept lapping your juices, her tongue working hard on sucking and thrusting inside your core, the obscene sounds were enough to lubricate you, your hand takes a purchase of her hair, tugging on it as moans and mewls befall your lips, evidently pleasing the woman who in turn moaned at the taste, doubling the sensation as she bites your clit again. 

Your back arched as does this again and again. Triggering a bundle of nerves. "Karina," You whimper, and you can feel her smirk as she finally decided to have mercy on you, her teeth retracting from your clit and deciding to continue back to eating your out, both your juices and her saliva drip down from your ass to the sheets as she continues to ravage you. 

And when her tongue manages to find a spongey spot, she immediately flicks it. Her ministrations made you see stars, hips jolting and accidentally grazing your clit against her teeth, making her moan while eliciting a pleasured cry from you. Walls clenching against her tongue, the woman in between your legs is determined to finish you off as her teeth keep biting your clit; helping her stimulate your orgasm as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, back arching and sweat dripping off every pore as your undoing hits you, knocking your breath out of your lungs.

The woman groaned at your nectar, lapping it up until you were whimpering, thighs shaking, and hands trying to pry away her head.

Karina decided to have mercy on your state and pull away with cum-smeared lips that formed into a smug smirk.

Despite your blurred vision, you can see your wife resting her head on the side of your thigh, kissing the expanse of skin before trailing up to your lower abdomen, giving it a soft kiss and mumbling something incoherent before kissing her way up to your lips, her body looming above you her hands trapping your sides as her lips mold with yours, giving you a taste of yourself as your hands caress her upper body, fingers working on with the buttons and belt of her suit to touch her bare, dewy skin.

Karina made it easier for you by snapping her fingers; she is just as bare as you.

Your eyes shamelessly trail down her body. Karina's body is lithe, though her biceps are slightly defined, so are her collarbones, her toned stomach, and...

Your eyes trail lower, and your core throbs with excitement. 

So this is what a hermaphrodite being looks like. 

Or maybe, that's just Karina adjusting for you. Either way; you'll take her as she is. 

The latter grabs your jaw, forcing you to lock eyes with her.

"Let's see," She rasped, "Just how much you can take from me, pretty mortal." 

Her body is never far away from yours, always flushed as her lips wrap around the exposed skin she finds. Your hands grabbed her strong back helplessly as she lodged her cock deep within you, veins rubbing and drilling with vigor while you moaned beneath her. "Fuck," She breathed, pulling out before thrusting back in, eliciting a gasp from you as she fucks you with abandon.

Her talons clawed the sheets, eyes screwing shut with every pound. 

"Fuck, beloved." Karina softly moans as she drills deeper into you. The force behind her thrust pushes you upward, and she had to lock her arms around you to keep you from leaving her. 

Your lips bite her shoulder to muffle a scream when she hits a spongey area. You heard Karina groan softly when your wall clenched greedily, hips snapping back and forth, your stomach coils, your skin burning with carnal want as your legs lock around her waist, ankles pressed against each other as her essence leaks from your abused cunt to the sheets after going at it for hours. The older woman felt her balls tighten, and her cock swelled as she pressed her forehead against yours, mewling as your release made your walls feel tight. You smell the mix of perfume, sweat, and sex from your bodies as her thrusts get sloppier and shallow to the point that she isn't pulling out anymore, her hips pistoning the same vulnerable spot that she had to muffle your strained moans with an ardent kiss as Karina stills her hips, thick spurts of cum painting your walls; you can only whimper; cunt accepting what she has to offer as this also triggers your orgasm, unannounced.

Karina pressed a kiss against your clammy temple, your walls convulsing, clenching around her incessantly.

Your hair is tousled and unruly, and your neck and collarbones were covered in her marks. The woman above you growls and sets her speed, her warm, thick cock drilling in and out in carnal want, ichor-hued eyes veiled with devouring lust as she throws her head back when you willfully clench your walls around her. Your lips chased her neck, nipping her Adam's apple, and she slightly falters. You can see the veins prominently bulging from her neck, beads of sweat running down her beautiful skin, and her sharp jaw on display for you. You drink in the sight as you pull her back to you, her wet hair sliding back, her kissable lips twitching to a smirk, gasping and whining with every clench of your needy cunt. 

The raven-haired beauty presses you harder against the bed, her weight doubling as she flushes her body against yours, her dick pistoning in and out of you, raw. Her pace bristles with an animalistic drive, her breath fans your lips, and grunts and hush moans break past her lips with every pound. 

"Are you close?" She couldn't control the distortion of her voice while you shamelessly raked your nails against her back. "Fuck," You mewled, "Yes - close."

The daughter of Lucifer mouths your cheek, mapping your features with her mouth as her toned stomach flexes. Your thighs burn with every pound and tears trail down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you choke a sob. The latter groans and withdraws her cock until only the tip remains and slams back in. You dig your nails harder, leaving crescent shapes and red vertical lines along her back to the point that you're aware of how much that would be painful for her.

"Harder,"

You briefly pull away to lock eyes with her, the obscene sounds of skin slapping reverberate in your room, and she looks at you with a small smile. "Use me," She pecks your lips softly, "As I am using you."

And who are you to refuse?

You hide your face against the column of her neck as the appendage kisses your cervix, and she does this again, and again, and again. She fucks you harder on your mattress, deeper, and you are on the verge of letting go. "Don't hold back," She moans.

Her cock twitches inside you, her hands move to the sheets, crumpling it as if her life depended on it while she fucks you carelessly, and your body heats up.

You bite down on her neck, muffling a scream as you cum, and milk her cock dry, legs trembling like a leaf, and your vision blackens. Karina sighs in pleasure as her cock savors your nectar. She bites the juncture of your neck and keeps fucking you through your orgasm.

And finally, she lets out a high-pitched moan and cums. She stills her hips and hides her head in the crook of your neck that's littered with marks. Her cock spurted out thick warm spurts of her seed, her soft lips kissing the side of your neck, your hand circled on her hip while the other one held her nape, both of you panting for breath.

After a minute of silence, she looks up at you. "Can you do one more?"

You nod mindlessly. Of course, one more always meant more than what you thought Karina said. 

Because even as a devil, a daughter of Lucifer; she took you to heaven's door multiple times. 

You knew that once she had a taste of you she'd never stop. 

Karina...that woman is insatiable. 

And of course, you'd let her do anything to you. 

A moan leaves your lips, only to be silenced by her hand clamping over your mouth. 

You'd let her fuck you an hour before your concert. 

The devil looms over your face, the light shielding the smirk on her lips while she fucks you against the sectional couch. The raven-haired beauty moves her hips languidly against yours. Her pace is desperate and strong and you claw her Brioni suit that you bought for her two days before your concert. Her pants pooled her ankles, while you're still wearing your bathrobe, or rather what's left of it. How did this start? You just finished taking a bath and walked past your 'wife' who's already done preparing. She said you smelled good. Bullshit. 

"Do you want me to go faster?" She asks, mockery evident in her tone. "Fuck - yes!" You choked a gasp as she jogs her hips firmly, and you let your head fall against the couch chanting: Yes, and fuck, your pussy clenches in gratification eliciting a moan from Karina as she licks a line from your neck to your ear. 

"Is that better?" She husked, and you moaned again in reply. The devil growls and sets her speed, her used, hard cock drilling in and out of you in carnal want, her blown, brown eyes flashing gold and veiled with lust. She throws her head back to move her hair that's sticking against her sweaty face. Sweat runs down her pale skin, her sharp jawline in display for you. You drink in the sight - like a lewd statue exclusive to you. Not to mention the suit that compliments her lean form, her hair wet and slid back, soft lips twitching to a gasp, chuckle, and groan with every clench of your needy cunt. 

You lean up to capture her neck with your lips, tongue licking her Adam's apple before biting it. Karina moans loudly, and you peck her for it before she turns it into a tongue-dancing session. Karina's hands cup your face and press you harder against the couch. Her weight doubles as she flushes her body against yours, her veiny cock pistoning in and out of you, her pace bristling with an animalistic drive, breath fanning your lips. 

Karina maps your features with her eyes before she brushes a familiar spot that have you rolling your eyes in return. Her stomach flexes, your thighs burn from her ramming, and tears trail down your cheeks. You're thankful you haven't put any makeup or skincare on for it. Karina gasps, the sight enticing her, and she momentarily stops thrusting. The devil pulls out eliciting a breathy whimper from you as you pull her close, head shaking sideways as your eyes begged her not to pull away. Karina slams back in. You screw your eyes shut as she abuses the spot again. A vicious grin graces her lips as she fucks you harder, deeper in your fitting room with her other hand clamping over your mouth. 

You've reached your limit.

You bite her hand to muffle a scream as the strong wave of your orgasm hits you. Karina bites your shoulder, pointed teeth piercing your skin as you milk her dry, your legs shaking like a leaf, and your vision blackens - your energy drains and your skin is covered in a thick veil of sweat. 

"That's it," She groans as she cums inside you. Warm, goopy, and generous. She lays on top of you, her arms snaking on your hips while you caress the back of her hair. 

While you're fucked out, the latter seems to bask in the afterglow of fucking. Her golden eyes examine your state before grinning and pressing a kiss on your clammy forehead. "Rest," She gently commands with a soft voice, "I'll fix you up later, okay?"

You swallow harshly, throat dry. "Fix me later or fuck me later minutes before the concert starts?"

Karina's chest rumbles with a chuckle, "The former, though I wouldn't mind fucking all night after the concert." 

You groan in reply, and she laughs, "I'm serious, beloved. Rest and I'll take good care of you." 

To master 'The Last Rose of Summer' is an ambition for most violinists, and with the devil of music as your wife, success never tasted so good before as you have the audience at the palm of your hand. 

The spotlight at your divine figure, at your hands that transitioned from one note to another with angelic grace. 

Your eyes are locked with the devil in the front-row seat of Teatro Alla Scala, one of the most famous theatres in the world. It was built in the late 18th Century to plans made by the architect Giuseppe Piermarini, at the request of Empress Maria Theresa of Austria. A range of operas, classical concerts, and ballets are performed during the theatre season, which is one of the most important appointments in the Milanese social calendar.

Karina sat there crossed-legged with a smile, wearing her navy blue, double-breasted wool Plume suit, and trousers, inside, she wore a white turtle neck, and her hair is neatly combed and slid back. Her black hair cascades beautifully for you to see as she watches you with pride and acknowledgment. 

You couldn't help but mirror her smile. 

Something has changed within you, you can't help but glow at the fact that you've brought back a long-neglected virtuoso piece, creating a performance of pure musical delight. 

Your body feels like it's on fire. You didn't care to fathom at all as you basked in the attention. 

Yes, be selfish, be cruel, my beloved shouldn't be lesser than I

And as you brought the audience to an explosive end, while everyone else applauded, your eyes were only trained on your wife who stands up, amongst the cheers and howls of the crowd, it was only her voice that gave you clarity. 

"Brava," She commends with distortion that no one else seems to hear. No one but you. She spoke again in another language, and this time, you understood it. 

"Omnis, surge et accipe sponsam meam et aequalem meam. Aperi portas inferi novae reginae tuae; Ji Y/N."

Everyone, arise and welcome my bride and my equal. Open the gates of Hell for your new princess; Ji Y/N.

Fin.

Thoughts? Oh and if you have requests, feel free to flood my ask box skksks

[leighsartworks216]

A Spawn Could Get Used To This

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this on 1 hour of sleep. I did proofread it. I am so so sleepy. I'm going back to bed after this

Warnings: embarrassment

Word Count: 1,163

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

In the few weeks he’d been traveling along with this not-so-merry band of weirdos, Astarion got used to a lot of things very quickly. Gale loudly explaining anything at the drop of a hat, Lae’zel and Shadowheart fighting, the smells. Some things were positive, too. The sun was always nice and warm, and the odd sort of comfort being with a group of weirdos brought was nice. And, of course, some things were neutral.

One of the neutrals he’d adjusted to came in the form of you, their leader, and in fact the forms you could take on. He wasn’t sold on the whole druid thing before - all of them were tree huggers who cried over a crushed blade of grass - but, well, being romantically involved with one came with some quirks.

Quite often, almost any time you weren’t busy exploring or risking their lives, you would transform into a cat and go about the camp. If Scratch and the owlbear cub were any indicators, small fluffy things raised morale. Most everyone would scratch along your spine or behind your ears, all their woes forgotten for even a brief moment. It became rather commonplace. Mundane. What an odd thing to be called mundane.

Along with this came another little quirk.

After you did your rounds, getting pets and listening to their smaller issues, you’d come back around and rub against his leg. This very quickly became a way of asking for him to pick you up. You rather enjoyed being close to his chest and purring as loudly as possible.

Today was just like any other. You’d come back with a sack of stolen goods and bloody armor, drop everything unceremoniously in a pile, and transform to make your rounds. Well, he assumed that’s what you did. He was a little preoccupied when you disappeared, but he didn’t think much of it when a cat started wandering around the tents.

So he stood and flipped through his book and busied himself, waiting to drop the act and pick you up and cuddle. It was a rather good act, he thought. He’d furrow his brow or lightly chuckle, and become so engrossed in pretending to read he stopped noticing the passage of time, until something small and fluffy rubbed against his leg.

He closed the book carelessly as he looked down at his feet. Sure enough, a cat rubbed its cheek against him, already starting to purr. He grinned, though not too wide, lest the others begin to think he went soft. “Hello, my love,” he cood. “Want me to hold you?”

The cat meowed, head butting him. He chuckled and tossed his book onto a pillow, before bending down and lifting the darling creature - his darling creature - into his arms. It flipped to its back to be cradled like a baby in the crook of his elbow, paws stretching out and claws latching lightly to the fabric of his shirt. It purred so loud he was sure everyone else for a mile could hear it.

Unusually, it didn’t seem to like when he tried stroking its belly. He thought, perhaps, you just didn’t want that kind of contact today. He’d been getting used to the boundaries touch should have, and the fact you would respect them. It was only natural to have the same grace in return.

“Awe, you got yourself a little friend!”

Astarion startled at the voice, jostling the cat slightly, who mrowled at the movement. Sure enough, standing beside his tent toweling their hair dry was his beloved druid. Not in cat form. He gaped in confusion and awe.

“Darling, don’t take this the wrong way but, where the Hells were you?” The cat rolled to its side to knead biscuits into his chest. He barely felt the pinpricks of nails.

You gave him an odd look. “I went for a wash. Our battles were a bit bloodier today, and while you may like the smell of blood, I, personally, don’t. Especially when it’s up my nose.” You scowled, rubbing your nose at the memory. “Why? Did something happen?”

His frown didn’t disappear as he slowly replied, “No, nothing at all.”

You gave him another odd look. “Are you alright?”

He blinked, shaking himself out of his dumbfounded stupor. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but…” He looked down at the cat in his arms that seemed to settle down and prepare for a nap. “Well, dear, I thought this was you.”

The laugh bursts out of you unbidden, and Astarion glares embarrassed at you. You try to bite down the giggles trying to escape. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just,” you giggle and step forward to pet the cat. You have a bubbly sort of mischief in your eyes. He prepares himself for the worst. “You can’t tell the difference between us?”

“I didn’t think I had to memorize the precise hairs, no,” he bit. “It looked like you - why would I have any reason to believe it wasn’t?”

“You don’t need to be defensive,” you assure sweetly. “It’s cute! And it seems to like you.”

He huffed and looked down at the creature. The points of its fangs peeked out as it drifted off into sleep. The purring persisted, now almost reminding him of snoring. He pouted, though he hated when you called it that. He preferred the term brooding. “Yes, well, I was rather hoping it was my darling druid come to join me for a lazy evening.”

You chuckled and kissed his cheek. “I can do that. But I don’t think your new friend is going to want to leave you alone.”

He peeked at you from the corner of his eye. “I could be persuaded to share myself with both of you.”

“What if I turned into a cat and purred, too?”

He hummed, pretending to consider the deal, but the slight lift of his mouth gave it away. “I don’t know, darling. You know how much I simply loathe sharing. I think you can do better than that.”

You smile. “Okay, what if I throw a kiss into the mix?”

He grinned, the points of his fangs peeking out just like the cat’s in his arms. “That might even it out.”

You do your best to avoid disturbing the cat as you lean in to catch his lips. You taste of fresh spring water and the barest hint of a health potion. And he loves it. The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before you pull away and kiss his cheek. “Get comfortable. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“I’ll count the seconds,” he teases, though there’s no hint of a lie in his voice.

You chuckle and walk away, back to the pile of stuff that Wyll and Gale are already sorting through, counting 1, 2, 3, 4… And 97 seconds later, when you and this stranger cat are both laying atop him, purring incessantly, he finds he could get used to it.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

[dark-dragon-8]

A Supernatural × Batman crossover where the Batfam are actual cryptids and the brothers are sent to hunt them, only to find out that these guys are pretty much immortal, god like beings whose only weaknesses are each other, the sun and some weird sentient manifestation of their home city that they seem to care about, and most of them already grew out of the second one, since, apparently, the sun only affects them when they're newborns/newly transformed/changed.

The whole reason they ended up in Gotham in the first place was because of some online rumors saying that there is a demon cult in the city, as well as Blüdhaven [it's true, partially, the Bat clan has had several cults and/or religions painting them as godly beings/saviours of Gotham throughout the years, still do (imagine the colonies from F'ing Demon Bats, only this time the cryptid part of them is actually real)] along with shrines for human sacrifices.

At first they thought the locals sold themselves to a Pagan God in exchange for their safety, that the shrines and "holy grounds" spread throughout the city were for blood and human sacrifices and the creatures were feeding on the souls of their followers or something.

Turns out, that couldn't be further from the truth. Yes there were bloody sacrifices at the shrines, but most of the time those were just grieving kids bringing their dead pets to silence's holy grounds for them to be healed, or taken care of, by the spirit and have their souls at peace. But, again, that was rare, and only occurred at the holy grounds themselves rather than the shrines people attended to daily.

Majority of those shrines were filled with books, art supplies, music boxes with ballerinas and, sometimes, you could even find a few trinkets and computer parts, as well as the occasional plates and plastic boxes filled with home cooked meals, sometimes they even put pots and kettles filled to the brim with savory goods and nice tea. Nobody ever touched the food, not even the poor and desperate, when asked why all the brothers received were looks of horror and hushed whispers about how "The bats don't like thieves" and "They'll stop coming by the shrine, maybe even destroy it if we do that"

Dean didn't like it, neither did Sam, they didn't like how the locals, people who barely even bat an eye when they see a dead body on their way to work, get so scared and terrified as soon as they hear of something that might displease the Bats. They tried asking around, trying to figure out what is it that makes them so scared of their dearly beloved deities, after all, they talk about them like such a wonder, like they're the best thing that ever happened to them. Hell, one of them is named Mercy and was revered for its compassion and understanding of those around them.

They only got their answer when investigating a place called Crime Alley. They locals were all the same, if not even more reserved than their city's counterparts, but there was one person, a young girl who couldn't be older than ten that said she'll be willing to answer their questions in return for some money and stories from their time as hunters. They were reluctant at first, but seeing as they haven't had much of an option, they agreed.

"So, Masey" Dean started

"Missy" she corrected

"Right, sorry, Missy, you said that you could tell us what's up regarding those demons"

"Deities" she said sternly, the man simply nodded "And yes, I can do that, but you'll have to do something for me first"

"And what would that be?"

"You said you were a hunter, right?" He nodded "And you also said you have some money. So I want you to give me two hundred dollars, cash, and a written story containing at least three of your adventures with your partner. You can't use big fonts, lie or omit any details from the story, it needs to be one hundred percent real and legible and needs to be at least fifty pages, understood?"

Dean was confused, confused and worried. Why would this child need a story about them hunting monsters? And why did she need it to be so long and accurate? Was she trying to sell them out to the Bats or something? Why was this so important?

A million questions flooded his head and looking at Sammy, he could tell the feeling was very much mutual.

"Um Missy" it was Sam talking to her this time "Why would you want a story of us hunting like that? We could tell you about our time together on the field, if you want, but why do you need that written so meticulously?"

The little girl shook her head before he even finished speaking "No, no, I need it written"

"How so?"

"For Passion, of course"

"Passion?"

"Yeah, Passion, the component watching over Crime Alley, it loves reading stories but only when they're worth it. It doesn't like when people give them stories only to please it or for it to give them undeserved attention. It needs to be good and interesting, a story about two hunters will definitely do that"

The two hunters met each other's eyes, both their expressions filled with worry, apprehension and suspicion.

"And why all the other rules? Why does have to be so long and accurate?"

The girl tilted her head, looking at them as though they've said something stupid "Because you're introducing yourself, maybe"

"I can't just tell you guys all there is to know about the Bat without at least one of the components acknowledging you guys and giving me permission to share that information with outsiders"

"And what makes you think it won't just kill us as soon as it realizes what we do for a living?" They might've been desperate, but that doesn't mean they're going to give an essay about their weaknesses and hunting methods to a freaky, probably homicidal spirit on a silver platter

"Because they like people like you, people who put their lives on the line in order to help those around them. Also" she leveled her gaze with Dean's, which was pretty impressive considering she barely reached his hip "Had it wanted you dead, you wouldn't have been able to take two steps inside Crime Alley without having a heart attack, or your head magically disappearing"

The two brothers tensed, the taller's eyes rapidly scanning their surroundings, hands fishing out a weird cellular device, probably an EMF reader or maybe a bottle of holy water, as the shorter failed to keep up his confident facade in front of the (probably) ten year old (because Dean isn't going to be spooked by a kid that hasn't even reached the double digits yet, he's 𝘯𝘰𝘵)

The little girl laughed, completely ignoring their - very justified!!! - panic "Relax, would ya? Passion doesn't kill people unless they feel like it's necessary"

They didn't seem to be very relaxed, she didn't care, she just told them to meet her again on the border of Crime Alley and its neighbor city in a week, before leaving.

Two hours later, Carrie Kelley was skipping into the main living room of Wayne Manor, where several of her siblings played video games and with their father reading the newspaper on the side, the perfect illusion of a normal, happy, completely human family.

She walked up to Bruce, sitting on the arm of his sofa as the last of her illusion magic slipped away

"Did you do it?"

"I offered them the deal, still not sure if they'll end up actually agreeing to it"

"Mn. You did well"

The young teen preened under the praise, thanking her father before going off to boast and scheme with the rest of her siblings, they were up planning contingencies and devising plans until Sundown.

[gladiatorcunt]

- A BLACK RAM AND A BLACK EWE | XI.

unable are the loved to die for love is immortality

nay, it is deity. unable they that love - to die

for love reforms vitality into divinity.

cw: kinktober prompt (blood), vampire!aemond, reader has a vagina, reincarnated reader from my first kinktober w/ aemond, body horror & body horror fantasies involving his eye, “bride” mentioned but it’s relating to dracula, not quite modern times as in the immediate present 2024 but at least a millennium after house of the dragon (at least after dracula came out) , reader is intentionally silent, blood loss & hazy vibes you are just going through the motions,

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“What am I to you, sir?”

A fish to be gutted, you’ll be too empty to be whole without me. “The tide that turns in my favor.”

You wear your own freshly spilled blood like a new dress. A gift for being a wandering traveler and a curious historian, Westeros is a country with so much backstory and you’ve spent all your life only scratching the surface. It’s different from the Kings and Queens of the olden days obviously, though those titles remain in use loosely today. You have recurring dreams where you’re one of them, hanging off a prince's arm, tenderly pecking the corner of his dead jeweled eye, and waving to all the people below you.

Roars of an old gargantuan dragon haunt you, when your car engine won’t start, when your tea kettle freaks out, when the world is silent enough to be left alone with your thoughts. You’ve become obsessed because the only connection you feel is to a world that existed almost a thousand years ago.

Dracula, you’ve wandered into this crumbling red castle as a curious academic only to end up as a bride. Perhaps the locks are clicking into place, history repeated, you passed portraits of a royal who bears a more than striking resemblance to you before the decrepit creature looming in the shadows noticed it too.

“Your clothing is still in your chambers, I have each piece cleaned every moon.”

Aemond, your mind whispers you that name, trails bloody kisses from your weeping neck down to your weeping cunt, inhaling the iron musk simmering under your folds.

“Transcendent. It takes me back in time, my rose. So slack and willing too, of course my darling would not require being compelled to spread their legs for their husband.”

He stands upright, swiftly turning your around so your back is flush against the cold stone of the castle wall.

You take initiative, raising your leg to hang your heel on his shoulder, resting the limb against his torso. Aemond curls a hand around the back of your knee, keeping you splayed open in this position even past the point of pain.

He nudges his hard cock between the lips of your cunny, gliding it through your wetness but never plunging inside. The aphrodisiac from his bite would have you eager enough to not need any preparation, but he fingered you with your blood dripping off his fingers anyway. Partly for the sake of keeping your nectar where it belongs and partly because he wants to paint your statuesque form with your crimson, a painter of a single subject. You’re his muse even now, fueling the melancholic isolation instead of the ravenous war.

You whine weakly, irritated because there’s little room to writhe and roll your hips into him. “Please, sir, husband, I-i’m lightheaded, just fuck me already.”

Aemond chuckles and gently parts your folds with the red tip of his cock, giving your pearl a thousand little kisses. He eats with his eye, the scarlet liquid lubing his length and surrounding it as he warms himself in the chubby cradle of your mound. He’s not normally such a messy eater, but reuniting with your beloved after centuries will drive a man of the night to places he would not go with a sword atop his dragon.

“Shh, my love. The creaking doors in your mind will be right as rain in just a moment, this cunt must be starving, just as I am. We understand each other, this delicious little cunny and I.” He rasps into your ear, encouraging you to slide your hands in his long flowing hair by tilting his head back.

You flutter like a moth into a bonfire and create a path of bloodied handprints up his muscular back and into his silver hair. You’re getting it all dirty now, but Aemond closes his eye and moans hoarsely, as if you have given him a great and uncomparable gift.

He’ll ask you to braid it after, the red intertwining with the near white, your husband now the last weirwood tree in a Godswood.

You project the thought of squirting in his empty eye socket, sitting on his face and positioning your pussy right over the gaping wound. To feel the scarred flesh squelch and twitch, only seeing your cunt in its shadow. Charred black, the bits of wriggling skin remind you of burnt bacon. You both are silent then too, preferring to wade in the waters of comfortable silence because what words are needing for this consummation other than screams?

Aemond is not easy to provoke, in truth, it takes years after years of relentless and snide jabs and barbs for him to go off the deep end into the God’s Eye. However, you have been sunken and ghostly longer than he had been poked at by his brother or the strong bastard dyad. The moment he caught the scent of the ripe fruit in the middle of your thighs was his last brush with sanity.

You wail when he plunges to the depths of you without any warning, only a guttural cross between a hiss and a snarl. Aemond squishes you into the wall of what was once the throne room, where he had dreamed of taking you completely naked and unrestrained until all the new citizens of the kingdom were your children.

You only had the one before the dance, before you were slain like a sheep devoured by an uncaring beast.

“No matter.” He declares aloud. “What better conception tale could we spin for our offspring than this, my rose? With a cunt as tight as yours, strangling me in the same godsdamned fashion, I fear it will be quite short.”

Your blood sticks his skin to yours, the wet smacks of your chests pushing and pulling apart like magnets compete with the squelches his cock makes in your bloody cunt. You thread your fingers through his hair, increasingly strengthening your grip to entice him into a violent kiss.

New blood gushes from your bitten lips and oh if you knew the humiliation Prince Aemond would have felt back then to be lapping at them, hungrier than a mangy dog and grotesquely beautiful. Your head spins, wobbling back and forth on the precipice of a dark cliff. He laughs, genuine in his happiness as he places your head in the crook of his neck.

“Do not fret, I shan't feel a thing, beloved. I crave your teeth in my neck like nothing else.” He coos, an order and not a suggestion.

Your husband's blood runs down his body onto yours when you bluntly bite down after a few clumsy tries, aged wine mixing with the freshly harvested. You feel the burn in your stretched leg as he speeds up his thrusts to fuck you back into the wall, so you teasingly apply kitten licks to the minor bite wound.

You’re making a gruesome mess, bone deep groans and swathed in life’s essence. Aemond’s cock spears you like he’s truly out to kill you, stabbing into your cervix with a passionate rhythm. The gory sight of your combined blood trickling down to the floor from his pendulous balls is driving him to madness. Through the shallow connection he can sense that the earlier blood loss and newly regained high from his devotion have you at your peak.

“There you are, my treasure back where they belong. In my home, on my cock, your magnificent body is bleeding dry for me.”

The hand not holding your leg grasps onto your bouncing breast, his talons scrape your pebbled nipple, pinching the bud as a means of fastening the learned brutality of his affection with a shiny bow.

“This is the wedding in the traditions of my valyrian ancestors that my grandsire never let us have, is that not greatly amusing?” Aemond jokes as you lick into his mouth to harass his fangs.

Your mind is lost in the sanguinary love making that follows, snatched by the claws of a greedy dragon.

A soul born in winter, never to flower in the spring.

[madhatterbri]

Just Hear Meow-t | K.M.

Summary: I was thinking Kol Mikaleson x Reader. Where Reader was finding blood for Kol because he was hungry. She found some blood bag from the hospital and she heard a tiny meow and she found a cute small kitten. It has brown eyes and mixed tan and brown fur, and it reminds her of Kol. She brought the kitten back, and Kol was eyeing at her, looking for suspicious. When she told him what she found, she gave him the cute baby eyes to convince him that Kol and Reader could keep it. :)

Author's Note: I'm incredibly corny. 😂😂

Requested by @twinklestarslight

You waited behind the hospital and tapped your foot impatiently. The nurse should have been out here by now to give you the blood bags. They weren't for you, but for your boyfriend, Kol Mikaelson. The pain in the ass, temperamental, sexy, handsome vampire that you grew to love. You loved him so much that you drove miles to a hospital to get blood bags for him.

"About bloody time," you snapped at him. "What took you so long?"

"They are getting suspicious. I had to go a different route," he answered quickly. He didn't want to be on the hit list of any vampires. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the cooler from him.

"Figure it out, or next time he'll be coming for a visit and not me," you threatened. "And you won't like it when he pays a visit,"

He nodded quickly. He had never seen Kol before, and he didn't want to. You told him plenty of horror stories from his past. He wasn't so bad now, but he definitely wouldn't mind tearing this man up. He muttered an apology and scurried back inside.

You turned to go back to your car but stopped. A tiny meow sounded from behind a garbage can. "The hell?"

You looked behind the can to see a kitten. The kitten mewed and took a few steps back. Brown eyes stared at you in wonder. Eyes similar to your beloved.

You set your hand down and moved your fingers around. The kitten walked slowly to you. His paw swatted at your fingers. You chuckled and stood up. You really needed to get the blood to Kol.

The kitten meowed at your sudden departure. As you went to pick up the cooler, the kitten jumped on your jeans covered leg. He climbed your leg to not allow you to leave him. His brown and tan fur is almost similar to Kol as well.

"I guess you chose me, huh, baby?" You asked and picked the creature from your jeans. You placed the cat on your shoulder. He snuggled into your face while you walked with the cooler to the car.

He slept in the passenger seat the whole ride home. You figured he hadn't had a full night's sleep in a while. He woke up once you stopped in front of your apartment. He yawned and looked at you. His big brown eyes full of wonder.

"Welcome home, little guy," You smiled and placed him on your shoulder. You grabbed the cooler from the trunk and walked to your front door. Your keys unlocked the door and you walked in. "I'm home, darling,"

The kitten meowed, and you tensed. Kol was never a huge lover of animals. His footsteps could be heard down the hallway. You grabbed him and placed him behind your back. "Stay quiet,"

"What?" Kol asked once he came around the corner. He eyed you suspiciously. "Did you say something?"

"Your blood bags are here. Sorry for the delay," you apologized. "The nurse was late,"

"Should I go over there and tell him that my girl's time matters?" He asked and kissed your lips. He ran his hands down your arms and noticed you were hiding your hands. "Do you have a surprise for me, darling?"

"Not exactly," you giggled nervously.

"What is it?" He asked trying to peek over your shoulders.

"Nothing. Just some trash I found that I have to throw away," you answered. You backed towards the kitchen counter. He followed after you, not believing you for a second. The kitten meowed in protest at being called trash.

"Was that a kitten? Did you bring a kitten home?" He asked. You sighed and brought your hands forth. The kitten stared at him.

"Honey," he started.

"Please? He reminds me of you, and he was hiding behind a trash can. You should have seen him in the car. He slept the whole way home. I'll take care of him," you begged. Kol picked him up from your hands. He rubbed under his chin. The kitten purred in delight. His eyes closed.

"You trying to take my girl, little guy?" He asked and held the kitten like a baby. The vampire sighed. He knew how lonely you were when he left to help his brothers. "Fine, you can keep him, darling,"

You squealed in delight and kissed lips. You looked down and smiled at your new kitten. He was fast asleep in Kol's arms. His little ear twitched as he snoozed.