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trashmouth-richie · 28 days ago

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ad caelum vel ad inferos, tecum sum to heaven or hell, i am with you

the final part [4.6k] geta x reader summary: death, smut, GORE

🥀dulcis ut rosa 🥀dulex 🥀vitiosis + deliciosus 🥀frangere me

s/o to my beta @rxqueenotd , and anyone else i’ve screamed at with over this fic 🤎

Blue skies could never compare to the icy hatred that filled Caracalla’s eyes as he stood above you, flanked by soldiers on either shoulder. “Perhaps the dungeon will help you remember which Emperor you are to be serving? Hm?”

Blood trickled down your hairline, collecting in a slow drop from your chin onto the dirty floor. The cell was barely wide enough to lay down in. A piss pot stood full in one corner, its odor still more pleasant than the sickly aroma of Caracalla’s breath when he found you waiting for Geta.

You had been startled seeing him instead of the man you had spent the last many nights crying for. Trying to run you were hit hard and the rest was gone until you woke up here.

A swift kick to your legs and chest, had you doubling over, the pain boiling hot in your veins.

“How incompetent do you think I am?” Caracalla spit. “My brother doesn’t move throughout these walls without me knowing. Months! He’s been fucking your mouth raw, spilling his seed down your throat after nights spent in luxury with me!” A giggle bullies out from his lungs, “did you think I hadn’t a clue? An inkling as to why his chamber stood empty at the same moment that you left mine?”

You haven’t said a word and you refused to, he didn’t deserve an explanation.

A tear slips down his rouge painted face, “I confided in you, we were soulmates you and I. Geta is nothing! He feels nothing!”

You shook your head, unable to accept his words. “How did you do it, magae. How did you bewitch my brother to fall for your wickedness?”

Raising your chin in spiteful defiance, you glared into his disgusting putrid eyes, “You pathetic, sniveling swine— I am no such witch, but I can not wait to witness the carnage Geta will bestow upon you.”

Caracalla giggles in a high pitched tone, “oh my dear, he will be long dead before that shall ever happen,” he looks around at the moldy holed dungeon, “maybe you can charm the rats while you’re rotting away waiting for your precious Geta.”

—

Wind and insects scratched at his face as he pushed his horse faster, hooves kicking up sand and rocks in a storm as they raced for Palace Hill. Geta screamed with rage when Acacius told him of your demise, knowing exactly who was behind it. What a fool he was for leaving you unattended. Caracalla must have found out, and maybe he himself was too blind by Cupid’s lust to notice the changes within his own kingdom.

Tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes as he imagined the perils of danger you were now in— because of him.

His reins slapped sharply against the muscled backside of his horse as he pumped every ounce of strength from the mare to get home- to get back to you.

Whatever Caracalla had done, heads would fucking roll once he got back. That was a promise.

—

How many days had it been? Four? A week? The dark had made you lose count.

At times you weren’t sure if your eyes were open or closed, the pitch black was endless, curling around you like smoke and suffocating any happiness you had tried to muster.

The dungeon was crawling with vermin, caked with disease and body fluids from decades before you had been tossed in here like a rabies riddled dog. Food had stopped coming, water was scarce except for the trickle of fresh springs that siddled down the stone wall. At least you told yourself it was a fresh spring that you were consuming, but more than likely it was tainted water that kept you alive.

You prayed to the Gods that Geta would come for you. That he wasn’t head first into a war that he agreed to when you pushed him away. You were so stupid for doing so, but you couldn’t help the racking sobs when you pictured how hurt he was… and crying harder yet when realizing, that was the last time.

Days had passed and you could feel your mind slipping from you. Exhaustion, dehydration settling in had you hallucinating images of the Emperor. It was almost comforting the way your mind was protecting itself, throwing you into an alternate reality of laying in his lavish bed instead of the hard shit-soaked stones.

You could feel his blunt nails tickling your sides, but in truth it was beetles gnawing on your bare skin. Geta kept you warm and safe in your head, even though it was apparent from the lack of food, proper sunlight, and clean water—that you were falling ill.

—

It hadn’t been that long since Geta had left, but approaching the Hill had his skin crawling. Dismounting his mare, everything seemed odd.

It was unusually quiet. The air felt sharp against his skin. Smelled of pungent rot, souring his nose. The wind seemed to howl a song he hadn’t recognized— the sickly tune of a kingdom at war with itself.

His father had trained them both on how to rule with force, how to command an army, to hold rank and battle to the blood flowing end—their enemies head on a stake.

Caracalla by himself was juvenile when it came to war tactics, knowing the basics of stationing men on watch, high in the walls on the terraces. Two men for each direction, pointing their noses North, East, South and West. A handful of guards on the entrance.

If this was a war with any other enemy— Geta would have spent a full sun tracking their movements meticulously. But never had his enemies captured something so dear to him.

Acacius landed from his own horse beside Geta’s kneeled form, knowing his thoughts before he could even act on them.

“It’s unwise, my lord…” he said carefully, placing a weathered hand on Geta’s shoulder, “we cannot risk the element of surprise when our emotions are clouding our judgment.”

Geta’s eyes twitched as he stared ahead at the palace, his mind traveling to where you were being kept, knowing in his heart it was in the deepest part of the palace, the south dungeon.

He breathed raggedly through his nose before he spoke between gritted teeth, “I will paint all of Rome with their innards for what they’ve done, and I will not stop until their bodies are drained of all their blood.”

Acacius shook is head in worry, clearing his throat, “you’re mind is unclear, you should rest before—”

Adrenaline raced through Geta’s veins as he mounted his mare, “I’m going, with or without your help. What good am I to her waiting for calculated time?”

Acacius threaded a hand through his salty peppered hair, eyeing his emperor— his friend. His voice was riddled with pain when he spoke, “what good are you to her if you’re dead?”

Geta pondered this, but his reply was simple, and he said the most truthful thing that has ever passed his lips, “I’ll be the man she makes me want to be.”

—

“Up! Get up!”

Caracalla had figured once Geta found out that his precious whore was locked away and starved that he would be on his way to come and rescue you. He waited day and night for his brother’s return. And finally— there was a spec in the distance. His brother returning in all his glory.

He skipped down to the dungeon— literally skipping and hopping on one foot in glee as he came down to the depths of the palace to retrieve you for the final act.

A hand clasped harshly in your hair, yanking you from a deep sleep, followed by a taunting giggle.

You had grown weak in your time secluded from light and clean air. Unable to stand on your own properly, Caracalla brought you to your feet like you were a doll, the flame he held showed just how manic and possessed he had become.

He was like a poisoned animal practically foaming from the mouth with insanity. Biting his lip constantly, chewing and gnawing, infesting it with sores. He wore his best robes, bangles jingling as he brought you closer to his face.

Jumping back, he lets your body slump against the bars, a hand to his chest, “Yuck— you smell like horeshit! Maybe we should have fed you more, bathed you… I’ve never been very good with keeping pets…”

Caracalla rubs his chin for a moment, then as if he is brought back from a different time, he claps twice, “oh well, time to go, your precious Geta is here and it’s time to play!”

You try to fight back feebly, trying to shove his face away from you, your filthy fingernails clutching at his doughy powder coated flesh.

“C’mon!” he pleads like a child, pushing your hands down and bringing a blade to your neck, “you’re going to be the star of the production and you simply can’t miss the show!”

When sunlight hit your skin it was like you were being burned alive. Your feet scuffed against the stone steps, and you were winded from the climb. Everything was so bright as if you were looking directly into the suns beams.

Caracalla hissed into your ear, the pungent smell of fruit and fish combining into a stomach twisting aroma as he whispered, “you’ve been such a delight to us here, I will be so upset to see you dead… I’ve been practicing my tears and cries of mourning for when you’re laid to rest with my brother.”

“You won’t be triumphant against him,” you croaked trying to wiggle free from his hold.

Caracalla giggled before winding back and slapping your cheek, “why do you have to speak such lies? You will die by his hand— squashed like the gnat you’ve become.”

—

The palace walls roared.

Thundered like a storm of bees defending their hive. Clashes of swords and weapons gleamed like lightning against a dark sky. Amongst the clouds of dust from the lack of harvest rain, blood splattered the stones like oil paint to a canvas.

Geta’s revengeful carnage had begun.

Carnage was colored with maroon and deep sets of rubies in a hilt. Specs of pinkish brain membrane laid out like flower petals at a wedding.

Carnage was the sound of teeth chipping at the root being ripped away from the gum line, the sheath of a knife embedded into a lung, an abdomen, the muscular thigh of one of Caracalla’s more prominent men.

Carnage reeked of shit and death. The humble hands of Pluto himself, stretching his claws to welcome home another victim.

Carnage was Geta, annihilating anyone who stood in his way to get to you. A force built with bared teeth and rippling muscles, sweat dripping from his honey hair. Eyes as black as coal— soulless in every sense of the word.

The men falling dead by his hands trembled in cowardice when they saw him coming, forgetting how powerful he was with a sword.

Swords drew silent, the only sound being the pooling fountains now tainted with blood from the dead. Everyone in the palace was either lying deceased or were in hiding, waiting for this hell to end. But Geta had only just begun.

“Brother!” he shouted, his voice echoing against the marble stone, deep and ragged with exertion. He was standing at his throne then, bodies laying at a heap by his feet, his body covered in their blood, “I know you’re around, Caracalla—answer me!”

Beyond the pillars behind the tapestries, Caracalla stood with a knife pressed into the meat of your neck, his breath hot against your cheek— a giggle forming in his throat like a child tucked away during a game of hide n seek.

“It’s a shame, Geta,” he announced, his voice ricocheting off the walls, “a fucking shame that you are so soft for this common whore when you’ve had so many, father would be disappointed.”

Geta’s eyes narrowed, listening for any bit of noise underneath Caracalla’s feet to give him away. He moved on nimble feet, each move more quiet than the next as he waited with trained ears for Caracalla to speak again.

“What is between you and I, has nothing to do with her— she is merely caught in the middle of our feud— let, her go.”

Caracalla’s laugh pierced your ear, ringing loudly like a hyena as spit flew from his manic mouth. “She is much more than a simple bystander dear Geta… otherwise you wouldn’t care so proudly.”

Geta strode towards the direction of his brother’s voice, waiting in the shadows. “You have always been less, why do you think mother and father had me? I was to make up for your shortcomings, so that Septimius Severus would have a decent heir. One who could actually keep the family name in Rome.”

“Enough!” Caracalla screamed, shoving you forward into the clearing, his blade still pressed into your neck, a line of crimson dripping from it, his frantic panicked laugh bubbling behind a shriek, “there will be no heirs for you, brother! I was going to offer her life in place of your crown, let you both be on your merry little way but you just don’t get it do you? I will rule on my own, and you will both be left to rot in the dungeons. Poetic isn’t it?! Two lovers dead by my hand.”

With the way your head was arched toward the ceiling, you couldn’t see Geta. You could only hear a hitch in his throat at the sight of you. The sodden robes you wore, the filth caked to your skin.

Geta didn’t move, knowing that Caracalla would be more likely to accidentally cut you deep enough to kill you if he tried to do anything drastic. But the look of you made his stomach curdle like cows milk left in the summer heat.

The once plump and luscious curves you had were gone. The robes you wore were next to rags. You had been locked away far longer than he had imagined. Possibly weeks before he had even got word of it. If you truly had been with child, there was no tell of it now. Tears stung behind his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them drop.

“Mother should have drowned you in the river like a litter of pups,” he nearly whispered, eyes trained on his brother, “release her or I will slaughter more of your men leaving their poor wives to be widowed.”

“Now why would I do such a thing? I’m having the time of my life orchestrating this production.” They both moved then circling like the gladiators would in the coliseum, baiting one another to strike first.

Geta’s eyebrows furrowed at Caracalla’s choice of words… production?

“Must you be so dense? So surface leveled?” Caracalla answered, “Jessaphina, that wart—terrible actress but she did the job, made this concubine believe every word.” Caracalla grinned like a opossum eating a pile of shit, dragging you with him, your hair wrapped tight in his clutch.

Geta’s eyes never leave Caracalla, his movements smooth and languid as he counts his steps, seconds.

“Pliteus, the guard who told her to meet you at ‘your spot’ another spy, made actor by yours truly, for the Theatre, of course. And all that leaves is you, Geta. You will be the widower, the brute left in tears of sorrow pleading for a whore’s life. Gods!— I shall be famous when this is through!”

“You’re demented,” you managed against the sharp blade, cutting yourself in the process, “sickenly so.”

Caracalla wretched his hand twisting your head back with a snap, causing you to yelp, ”I’m an artist you rancid cow! Can’t you see that?! This was all a form of expression— your uneducated brain would never be able to appreciate such a thing— it’s why I put this all into motion!”

“So what?” Geta spit, “you were bored? Needed an activity to keep your cogs oiled enough for you to not slit your wrists in the baleneum, again? You’re a child!”

Caracalla giggled wickedly mad, “People will write about me for the end of time and how I bested Publius Septimius Geta! You will be nothing more than a myth—erased from memory entirely!”

Geta stopped, his sword pointing toward his brother. The wind didn’t howl, silence fell between them.

“It will be a true honor to breed my empress in a bed of your blood while she wears her crown.”

With a jerk of his head, Acacius moves, causing the distraction they had planned. The arrow missing Caracalla’s foot purposefully, causing him to lose his balance and hold on your body. You fell to the ground taking advantage of his blundered state, crawling on all fours away from him.

Just as the swing of Geta’s blade was centimeters from the skin of Caracalla’s neck, it was stopped with his knife, a crude smile licked onto his lips. “I know your moves dearest brother, you forget it was you and I as children playing these games.”

Caracalla pushes the sword from him and jabs the tip of the knife into Geta’s bicep. Tearing through tendons and muscles with each twist of his hand.

“War is not a game,“ Geta gritted, tripping Caracalla with a swipe of his foot until he was on his knees before him, “…and it’s time you realize that.”

A toss of Acacius sword into Geta’s open hand, and he pressed two blades crossed beneath Caracalla’s chin.

Caracalla’s throat bobbed against the sharp steel, accepting his defeat, “make it swift precious brother, I intend to see father before the sun sleeps.”

The blades sung as they severed his head from his spine. Blood sprayed and pooled from the limp teetering body of Caracalla, swords clattered to the ground as Geta stumbled to your side, holding you to him in a bone crushing grasp.

“You’re safe now.” A tear fell onto your head as he cradled your body into his.

Your body was still weak as you clung to him practically lifeless as he lifted you from the ground. He instructed Acacius on what to do with the mess. Geta carried you to his private bath, stripped you gingerly of your clothes and bathed you with exceptional care. His lips kissing tenderly to every scrape, every bruise.

He tutted through his teeth and hissed when your tears fell as he gently wiped the dirt and infection from your cuts. His own tears flowing down his cheeks, mumbling how sorry he is how stupid he was for ever leaving.

When you tried to speak he shushed you quietly, “not now my dulcis rosa,” he soothed as he scrubbed soap into your hair, you lifted a hand to caress his cheek, coaxing a small smile from him.

Geta called to his servants— that weren’t killed—to gather fresh robes and to fix you something warm and easy to eat.

He dried your skin once you were cleansed. Rubbing oils and ointments into each ache and pain, dressing the wounds in such expertise you wondered if he had done this often, probably to his own scars.

Up those winding stairs he carried you to his quarters, never wavering, never once adjusting you in his strong arms.

The room was thrown into its usual cozy dark ambience. His bed was made with enormous feathered pillows, a tray next to the bed with a plate of porridge dressed with honey and figs.

Once Geta had set you gently onto the pillows propping you up so you could eat, he shook his head when you reached for the spoon.

“Let me,” he commanded quietly, his eyes large and wet.

More tears slipped past your lashes as he sniffed largely, blowing gently on the bite of food. “When was your last meal?”

“I’m not sure of what day we are in,” you answered quietly, “or how long I was there… I lost track.”

Geta bit back a sob as he brought the spoon to your lips, “It shouldn’t have happened, I shouldn’t have left you so vulnerable.”

“Please,” you practically begged, swallowing the warm sweetened wheat. He looked broken, his under eyes dark and his eyelid twitching uncontrollably. Weeks the two of you had been separated and you couldn’t bear the thought of him spiraling for what had happened.

“We are together again,” you whispered, “I do not want to live in past mistakes. Caracalla is gone now, we must move forward, no dwelling.”

“Forgiveness of thyself has never come easily for me,” Geta admitted wiping a dreadful sigh from his face, “but I can only hope you now know that there has never been another for me—I am so deeply in love with you, gnat.”

You reached for him pulling him into you until the weight of his body melted with yours. Feverish lips tasted the sweat from his neck as you desperately ached for more of it, pressing your own devotions into his skin, your own words of cupid's love.

Geta’s strong arms wrapped around your back, holding you tenderly as if you were glass. pressing a single searing kiss to your collarbone before leaning back, his eyes staring into yours, “In this lifetime and the one that follows, I will forever be yours— ad caelum vel ad inferos, tecum sum.”

“Ad caelum vel ad inferos.”

—

Caracalla’s room was sealed off. His belongings burned in the coliseum along with his body, as if he were a monster that could only be considered dead by smoldering licks of flame.

Geta left the fate of the others up to you. He had wanted them dead the next day, hung from a rope by their necks as they swung with the breeze, paraded around behind his team of horses until they’re skin was pulled from their bones. But you… had other plans.

Animals from other territories were brought in by the shipload, each more vile and vicious as the next. They were hungry, trained to attack at the smell of garments worn by a certain woman with a healing broken nose.

It was maybe a bit too grotesque, maybe a bit unhinged the way you had Acacius’s best men tie Jessaphina up from her ankles and wrists one to each post in the center of the coliseum.

And maybe it was a bit over-the-top when you personally rubbed greasy fat and cow entrails all over her body to taunt the beasts on even further.

But Geta only smirked at your own impressive drive for bloodlust when you stood before your throne hollering for the men to open the gates, releasing the hungry scavengers one by one letting them sniff out their meal.

Geta watched in admiration as your eyes turned dark, black pools taking over your pretty gaze as Jesspahina’s screams rang through the air

You couldn’t get your hands off of him when her body lay ripped to shreds, her bones being tossed around between snarling teeth and sharp black claws. The sand colored in her crimsoned blood. You pulled him from his own throne by the front of his shirt, yanking him into a small private room covered by a drapery for a door.

“My little demonic empress,” Geta growled as he pushed himself further into you, groaning when you whimpered out, your lip bit between your teeth, robes rucked up to your chest, “you just might be more evil than I am, have my ways rubbed off on you?”

The passion between you two had never dulled. Each day it seemed to grow with fervorous desire. Some days Geta fucked into you until you were too sore to walk. Your bodies were both painted with stains from sucking mouths and marks from gnashing teeth. Each time better than the last.

You were soaked when Geta knelt before you, his nose pressed into your sex as you circled your hips onto it. He stood and shoved his clothing out of the way, yours already stuffed beneath your chin. and when he slammed his fat cock into you the darkness returned. Two demons fucking at the loss of life and smell of blood in the air.

“Practically getting off to a hideous murder in front of my mother and the others, my my…” he hissed, wrapping a hand around your throat squeezing until your breath rattled beneath his palm, “you truly were sent to me from the Gods weren’t you?”

You nodded, moaning when he attached his lips to your neck, pinching your nipple until it purpled. “Nothing makes me happier than seeing the deserved slaughtered.”

Geta groaned as your clenching pussy gripped him as you came undone, his own release following closely behind, yelling out your name.

“I have a surprise for you,” he breathed raggedly into your neck, adjusting your robes back into place, sweat pouring from his brow.

Your smile squeaked against his ear, “it is not even my birth date, Geta, you are spoiling me.”

Leaving the room Geta kisses your palm, “no,” he agrees, “it is not, but am I not allowed to gift my wife with divine luxuries?”

“You are, but you don’t need to give me anything…” you say, holding your belly with which the healer confirmed that you were indeed with child all along. Something Geta never let you forget that he knew you better than you knew yourself.

His lips pressed to your cheek, his hand laying delicately on your stomach as you whispered, “you’ve given me enough as it is.”

He smiled wickedly pulling back to lace your fingers with his own, “come,” he commanded, pulling you back towards the palace.

—

The great stone table stood bare except for a golden cloth. Acacius proudly stood guard next to it, bowing upon the sight of you.

“My lady,” he greeted, smiling at the sight of your radiant face, then facing Geta with the same warm smile, “Emperor.”

“Thank you,” Geta said, rubbing his hands together excitedly, “hope you didn’t have any trouble getting it?”

Acacius smirked and adjusted his sword on his belt, “not at all, they were quite thrilled to be rid of it.”

Geta rippled out a laugh from his throat as he stood behind the table, his large hands pressed into it, “I can only imagine… Gnat, my love, are you ready?”

“As I will ever be,” you said cautiously, stepping up to the table.

Acacius stood back as Geta pinched a piece of the cloth between his fingers, “presented to you, my undying devotion,” he said sweetly before pulling the cloth revealing your present.

Anyone else would have ran and screamed, damning him to hell. But you were unlike everyone else, and you saw the beauty in his gift and the meaning behind it.

Blood had been drained, the smell minimal, and judging by the way the darkness that filled Geta to the brim and now poured into yourself was clouding your eyes, the mad tick of your lips as they perked up in greed: you were pleased.

“It is exquisite, amor meus,” you smiled wider, getting closer to your present.

Geta looked at you proudly, his eyes inky and shining. His gnat, his dulcis, his wife, his empress— his tainted heart content for the first time in his life, and it was all thanks to you. “Where shall we put it, the mantle?”

You picked it up, holding it high to the sky for the Gods to see, “a gift more precious than gold deserves to be seen, for all—don’t you think?”

Sat on a pedestal, his name engraved on a piece of wood, a large red rose sewn between his lips, was the severed head of Caracalla.

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@rxqueenotd

#emperor geta #joseph quinn #gladiator 2 #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta smut

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deezbignutz · 2 months ago

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Redacted characters hc cuz idk i thought of one so I just need to make more ig :))))

Asher has excessive body hair all over his body. When David hit puberty and got taller and a deep voice, Asher, albeit a little sad that he couldn't bully one of his favourite people in the world, was excited to see what puberty would do to him. However, instead of getting a few more inches of height, he got hair. Lots of it. He was a bit insecure about it at first, but he grew to not give a shit about it eventually.

Anton is an avid crocheter and Love has a few crocheted plants he made them on their desk. He did try learning how to knit, but he got really frustrated with it and never picked up a pair of knitting needles ever since.

Lovely does origami to calm their nerves down and has a small stack of sticky-notes they carry around everywhere in case they get stressed or anxious. They have a bunch of random paper cranes and other origami creations around their living space bc why not. They're currently trying to make 1000 paper cranes.

Damien is a slut for Math problems. He was top of his advanced math class and really enjoys solving math problems, when he understands them that is. The rest of the crew don't get the appeal, especially Freelancer, but they support him and his weird tendency to try to find patterns in everything anyways.

Sweetheart doesn't take proper care of their health and would go days without eating, especially when they have work they are set on finishing. Milo (obviously) has picked up on this and has resorted to making up excuses to get Sweetheart to eat, like saying he can't finish his food and giving it to them for them to finish it for him.

Hush doesn't understand the concept of collections. He thinks getting something, wether you pay for it or not, just to put it on a shelf and just simply have it or stare at it is counter-intuitive.

Freelancer picks at the skin around their fingernails subconsciously when they're overstimulated or anxious. To fix this, Caelum and Gavin wrapped colorful bandages around their nails to stop them from picking around them.

Guy has an abundance of silly goofy random ass socks that he was been collecting for years. From toe socks to socks with ducks to sushi socks to socks with socks to socks with cocks, he's got a whole corner of his wardrobe dedicated to housing all his beautiful socks.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk :)))))

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meetingallyourstandards · 2 years ago

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you guys wanna see the first self ship drawing i ever drew from 2015? of course it was with papyrus lol

drawn in december 2015 after i had apparently been thinking of shipping myself with him for at least a little bit because the name of this image was me screaming about how i said i wouldn't do this and yet i did it anyway lol

#caelum's corner #i remember drawing this #i was frustrated because i was trying to draw something else and it wasn't working #and i had this idea so i very hesitantly started to draw it #and the whole time i just felt soo embarrassed because i hadn't drawn something like this before #but i reallyyy wanted to draw it #and so i drew it and then sat there like #this is illegallll i shouldn't have done thissss #and then i didn't draw another self ship drawing for like a year lol

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wannabepoeticischiya · 29 days ago

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fragments of caelum

It’s frightening… a love with a time limit. When he was the right person, with all the time in the world… and she was nothing but a fraction of time he’d experience. Something you know will end before it can even begin.

ao3: fragments of caelum pairing: sukuna x f! reader genre: romance, angst, heian era wc: 15.4k status: completed art by: usobuki_jj on twitter

Songs of the spring echoed in the courtyard, domed by an eternal blue sky, bordered by the stretching forests. Vines circled the barks of the trees, reaching far into their branches with hopes to touch the heavens. Sun rays thawed the dewdrops, casting them far into the depths of the sky.

Cradled underneath it all was the vessel of the King of Curses. The falls of his steps were the only rhythmic clatter clashing against the silence that blanketed the lands.

Haze of the early morning remained, tying everything to peace. No noise, no curses, no Sukuna.

Itadori continued his journey to the library where he knew no living sorcerer would ever step foot in. For what reason? Why, to run an errand for his all-time favorite teacher, Gojo Satoru, of course!

That place was as horrid as the curses they were trained to exorcise. It didn’t help that it was riddled in eerie quietness, or that the principal had these thick black curtains covering every window because he didn’t want those ancient manuscripts to crumble to ash and be blown away.

Quite simply it was a place he would never enter if he could help it.

Itadori pushed open the heavy wooden doors, hearing an ominous creaking sound emanate from it, going on and on for what seemed to be forever until the back of the door crashed against the wall with a loud bang.

The young sorcerer gulped, putting a foot forward, and trod as quietly as he could to the farthest corner of the room, where those papers (written with ancient runes no one ever really bothered to read) were dumped. Why his teacher wanted those, he didn’t know—Itadori wasn’t even sure if he could understand what was recorded in those, they were probably older than all of them plus Principal Gakuganji combined.

When he reached the very back, a dusty table greeted him along with a few books stacked up in the middle of it.

The sight had him asking, when was the last time anybody’s been here?

He sighed and picked up everything that cluttered the table. Mumbling about how the school needed to stop being cheapskates and hire a janitor.

One by one, he placed them back on the shelves, pondering which section they should go to, but it proved to be for naught since he couldn’t understand what most of them said.

Whether by accident or by fate, he knocked over a journal: weathered by the hands of time, pages golden with age. A compass was etched on its cover along with a name that had faded perhaps years before he was even born.

As he bent down to pick it up, an old picture slipped from one of the pages.

When his fingers grasped the object, Itadori realized it wasn’t a photograph, it was a drawing. One so detailed it deceived his eyes.

I guess cameras weren’t a thing back then, huh?

On its blotched page, a smiling girl could be made out. Her hands held up a peace sign over her closed eyes with one of her hands boldly slung over a man that only plastered on a ghost of a smile. Written on the side in messy little characters were:

'Ryōmen & (Y/n)' Auflage, 850

Itadori squinted, trying to see the face of the man—finding it strikingly familiar like someone he knew was tethered to the same features.

"Sukuna..." He called; eyes still glued to the sketch. Itadori wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

It was the King of Curses, feared by sorcerers and demons alike. But here, in this moment trapped in time he looked… human. As though he couldn’t be any farther from the names the world had called him.

"Oi! Sukuna! Do you know this lady?"

Itadori’s head remained free from thoughts. For a second he nearly believed that there was only a single soul inhabiting this body of his.

The silence remained, scattering like stardust through the stuffy and tense atmosphere. Itadori, who was once just curious began to worry about the demon king’s unresponsiveness.

It was strange. The oxygen in his lungs came in leveled breaths, yet his heart thudded so wildly in his chest he thought it would break free from its cage and start running to the ends of the world.

This woman couldn’t be any more than a stranger to him… so why?

"Where... where... did you get that?" Another voice, deeper in tune, laced with anger and sadness, broke the stagnancy.

It felt like his blood was pushing past its limits. His organs felt ignited, and his vision began to blur. This was Sukuna’s doing. To have him answer was rare enough as it is but to have him open the lid to his sentiments—have them pour in abundance that it became overwhelming for Itadori to handle—was never something so farfetched he couldn’t even dream of it.

"ITADORI!" Sukuna's voice echoed in his head, tearing apart his daydreams and bringing him back to reality.

"Okay... Okay... Relax.” He breathed, coaxing his body to stop its trembling. “It just fell from one of the pages."

You kept it… even after all of that… idiot woman.

Itadori inspected the fragile piece of paper, careful to not let any scattered sunlight graze it for fear that it might crumble and fade for good.

He flipped past the cover of the book and carefully turned the pages. The words of the owner were inscribed in ancient text, one so archaic he doubts there were still records of it alive to this day.

It's old, that's for sure. Have other people seen this? It doesn't look like it's been touched for years.

"Sukuna. Oi! Sukuna!" Itadori tried to call, only to be rewarded with disregard.

SUKUNA!

The young sorcerer grumbled, knowing he wouldn't get anything out of the—now surprisingly quiet—demon. So, he pulled out his cellphone and snapped a shot of the drawing, careful not to use a flash. He would get answers even if it killed him.

He slipped the drawing back into the journal, placing the artifact on the table.

Auflage's Hero: (L/n) (Y/n), the Little Liar.

Itadori ran.

Out of the library, down the winding halls, over the cobblestone pathway; drowsiness being overpowered by his overwhelming curiosity. He rushed to find the person he knew that'd know the answers he so desperately wanted to hear, Gojō Satoru.

Was this the reason why he sent him there? To find that? To see Sukuna in a way he never would have imagined?

Leaves of springtime began to fall, littering the grey sidewalks and roads with silver and blushes of pink. Puddles from last night's apparent rainfall made the scent of warmth linger in the air.

Glimpses of the open field slipped through the foliage, pushing him to hurry.

As he reached the final steps of the courtyard, he saw the person he was looking for.

"Gojō-sensei!" He called, trying to catch his breath.

The blindfolded man turned to look at the heaving form of his student.

"Itadori!" He enthusiastically bellowed before turning to face his students once more.

"See? You guys could learn a thing or two from him! You know... he can finish a 50-meter track within 3 seconds! Ain't that impressive huh? He could be a car!"

Itadori scrambled to his feet, approaching the happy figure of his sensei.

"Do you know someone named (L/n)?"

The albino-haired man seemed to be deep in thought, his pointer finger repeatedly tapping on his chin before joyfully declaring his knowledge on the topic. "I do! In fact, there's an entire clan of them! Bow-using priests and priestesses. Isn't that right, (Y/n)?"

"(Y/n)?" Itadori’s question rang, shadowed by a sonorous tune.

A mischievous smile plastered on Gojō's face, "You know her, Sukuna?"

Perhaps this was his plan all along, to rile the King of Curses into silence. Force him to relive a memory written down as one of the greatest achievements in sorcerer history.

"Tch. Who could forget?"

And it worked because the demon king never resurfaced for the rest of the day.

"What does he mean by that, Sensei?"

"Yeah. Why would someone as evil as Sukuna have ties with the sacred clan of (L/n)?"

"Why'd he suddenly get all chatty when he heard (Y/n)-chan's name?”

Question after question left the mouth of his students, flooding his ears, making his head spin.

"All right. All right, I'll tell you... just be quiet. Come on, let's all go inside."

---

Welcome to AUFLAGE.

The sign that welcomed visitors to the town was old, decorated in ivy and overgrown flora. Some of the white paint had already begun peeling off, and the wooden board where the words were engraved had its edges ridden by termites.

Please d i e slowly.

And that same sign gave travellers a very warm welcome.

Auflage was a little village near the end of society. Covered by thick forests of the west, flagged by towering mountains in the north and south, bordered by the sea in the east.

The isolation eased the nerves of its citizens, chains of brooks and rivers that circled around the town were considered a protective barrier by the old folks that resided there. They claimed that it was what protected them from the curses of the outside world.

In that same village resides a happy young woman. Easily swayed by strangers, fooled by travelers, and convinced by the shadiest of stories. (L/n) (Y/n) was what they called her.

The carefree girl that lived near the brooks. Always stuck in her own world. She came into town one day dressed like a shrine maiden.

None of the townspeople knew where she had come from, nor did they bother to ask. Perhaps she came from the next town over, or maybe even farther out in the cities. It didn’t matter. To have a new face linger for a few days was a delight, and they rejoiced at the news that she would be there to stay for a long time.

Her little home was far into the woods, a small humble hut littered with firewood, still, the people of Auflage accepted and loved her.

As the trees swayed to the rhythm of Mother Earth, her figure emerged from the thick mist. Her zori sounding in soft thuds as it hit the hardened earth. Thin golden armbands glinted in the faint light of the sun that slowly seeped through the cracks of the mountains.

The rest of her figure came into the scene, dressed in a pair of wide-legged, pleated trousers, dyed in bright red, a white kimono-style upper clothing held in place by a wide belt, with sleeves that flared at the wrists fluttering ever-so-softly in the wind.

Adults and children alike were scattered across the small village. The little ones chasing their friends around, laughing joyously without a care for the world.

It was a simple sight that she saw every day but every time she laid eyes on it, it grew more and more special.

The lady made her way across town and entered the local tavern, guided by one of the strongest shamans out there.

(Y/n) took a seat on one of the many unoccupied stools in the building.

"One mug of cider please."

Her forehead met the wooden counter, still drowsy from the early wake-up call. The sound of her plea got the attention of the flair man.

"Ah! (Y/n)-san! Always good to see you!" He cheered, wiping a glass to use for her request.

"Good to see you to Amaury-dono, how's the wife?" She raised a hand in greeting, eyes still rooted to the floorboards.

Amaury only smiled at the girl as he finished up her fill, "She's good, Arne is due in a few weeks so got to work hard."

He placed the mug of cider in front of her as (Y/n) mumbled a silent ‘thanks’.

Creaks of the opening door dragged Arne’s attention to the incoming patronage. "Welcome! What'd be for today Seizou-sama?"

Seizou shook his head and took off his sun hat, revealing his balding scalp and the wrinkles that etched themselves on his face, resembling the years that passed in his life. Hanging it on one of the hooks near the door.

"Nothing of the sort lad, just came here to issue a request."

Amaury nodded and smiled, nonetheless.

"Sure thing, let me just get some papers in the storage."

(Y/n) lifted her head to see Amaury's retreating form, his back getting further and further away until he disappeared around the corner.

Once she was certain he was out of earshot, (Y/n) faced the trembling man.

"What kind of request is it, Seizou-san?"

Seizou gave her a sad gaze, one where despair and hopelessness ravaged in those fading irises of blue. "Killing the king of curses."

(Y/n) pondered on the thought. In all her years living here, she only came across that title a couple of times when it was whispered amongst warriors and hunters or woven into a tale of caution.

Beware the demon king by night, With blazing eyes and fangs so bright.

The scrolls that the village owned were useless; moth-eaten, fading as the days passed. And even if they weren’t, the priestess wasn’t fortunate enough to know how to read—such a luxury reserved for nobility.

His whispers lure in dreams unseen, To snatch away the pure and clean.

Of course, rumors and stories flutter past her ears every once in a while. Parents told the tales of the demon king who will take you away to his palace if you don’t eat all your vegetables. Even depict him as a being with horns and wings with sharp jagged teeth. There were the occasional sketches that went around if a painter was visiting town, albeit (Y/n) doubts if they will ever ring true.

Walk the paths where lanterns glow, Stray too far and the dark will show.

"Say, what... what brought this on hmm? What makes you think that this 'king' even exists?"

It was difficult to believe that which you have not seen for yourself. Much more to fear a creature you have never once met.

The aging man only sighed, he couldn’t blame the young woman, really.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the seat near hers.

"Be my guest."

Seizou situated himself on the stool only a few feet away from the girl.

"The king of curses is no mere legend, miko. Few of my kin have encountered him during the hunting season, saying there lay a creature in the woods far too fast for the eyes to see, resilient to the sharpest of blades—the strongest of swordsmen. But it was no forest beast… it was a demon. The vilest of them all. No shaman could bring him down. Calamity falls on the cities he ventures. Towns reduced to ashes from his wrath. He spares no one, not women nor children. They say that he has four arms and a mighty build. His body adorned in ink; eyes dyed red from all his bloodshed. Only he had four, prodding at you every which way; so deformed one would think he had two faces. My son... tried to... hunt him down and never came home. Soon, my youngest also attempted to do it, he too... never returned."

(Y/n) listened earnestly to his tale as she shifted in her seat, resting her cheek on her fist. "Say he really does exist...” she entertained, still skeptical of the demon’s existence.

“Surely, you can’t expect people to do this for such a noble reason as vengeance?”

"Of course not. I’m putting all my fortune into this. At the very least, if someone were to defeat him... It'd do great for the future."

The girl looked towards the window seeing the clouds swirl and darken over the once azure sky, feeling something creep up her spine. "Oi, Mr. Seizou..." she called.

His fading icy blue eyes clashed with her (e/c) irises. "I'll do it. I'll kill him."

---

At the rise of daybreak, (Y/n) prepared for her estimated lengthy adventure. From sharpening blades to making wards to stocking up on food and other necessities that she needed to live.

The priestess wrapped her things in a large cloth, hiding the little things in the pockets of her kosode.

She barricaded her windows and finally locked the door. (Y/n) was sure she wasn’t returning here for a while. Although it was sad, for she had grown to love her humble home, it had to be done.

After grabbing the map (given by Seizou) that supposedly leads to the castle of the king, the priestess took off on what will be a year-long journey to the kingdom of the demon king.

As she walked the cobblestone path of Auflage—the last one for a very long time so it seemed—stores of all kinds and sizes that a great deal of things welcomed her vision. From bakeries to armories to the newly established livelihoods. For a town near the end of the world, it sure held a lot of variety.

Despite having been in town for a long time, the structures and the people still fascinated her.

(Y/n) decided to stop by one of the stores that recently opened.

A jingling sound flooded her ears, ringing all throughout the space, the moment she opened the door. A sign perhaps… that somebody entered the place.

The priestess observed her surroundings, weapons were fastened to the mahogany walls, huge beams of wood holding the building upright. Daylight streamed through the windows of the door, and there it lingered. Torches lined the posters, bringing luminescence to the room clouded in shadows.

What caught her attention were the odd-looking things lining the shelves. From swords to butcher knives to just rotten banana peel-designed wrappings.

(Y/n)’s stare drifted from one trinket to another, finding them so strange from the usual apparatuses used by the shrine maidens. What kind of shop is this? Is that a toenail?

"What'd it be for you, missy?"

Her curious gaze met the eyes of the man at the end of the aisle, clothed in a humble grey hakama and kosode.

"I see a lot of cursed energy pilling up inside you." He commented, eyeing the products he had for sale. Surely, he must have thought them odd, too.

"I beg your pardon?"

The tiny keeper laughed, clutching his stomach at how hilarious he was. His hunched form and disheveled appearance approached the weary figure of the priestess.

"You see that man over there," the woman looked to where his bony finger pointed to, "you're somewhat similar to what he is." He smiled, crossing his hands behind his back.

At the other side of the store was a muscular man, cautiously looking over the things that were on display. His ears catching patches of the conversation that was quietly weaving behind him.

"—could learn a thing or two from him."

The tiny old hunchback walked to the back of his shop, soon coming out with a bow and a case of arrows in his arms.

"I'll rent it to you," he casually dropped the weapon in her arms, not minding the clatter that followed as a few of the arrows fell to the floor, "if you come back alive, you can have it. If you don't, I’ll charge everything on your descendants."

If the wind could penetrate through the thick walls, (Y/n) was sure that it would blow everything away... everything including her.

She looked to the odd man; his posture, appearance—even just the fact that he was running some quack shop sent warning signals all over her head.

"Kill the king for me, too."

---

(Y/n) walked the final steps that would lead her to the ends of the village, one where the forest path lies ahead: the only entrance and exit to Auflage.

She passed through the large torii gate that welcomed travellers to the estranged town and soon, she also passed the broken sign that should've spelled drive instead of d i e.

Towering trees flagged her vision, the endless ocean of green and yellow littering the ground, accompanied by the rhythmic orchestra of the fauna made her head go into a frenzy of cautiousness.

(Y/n) had already made the journey through the woods halfway. If she kept at this pace, she would reach the town before eventide.

Still, it did not make her ventures a whole less eerie.

It's quiet. Too quiet.

The echo of a snap compelled her to turn her head towards the direction of the sound, to find a culprit for her startle.

The scene that greeted her was certainly, how do you put it...

Odd.

"Handsome, aren't I?" He smirked.

"More like strange..." The priestess countered cautiously, eyeing the man behind the trees.

"And handsome."

"It must be nice to have such vain concerns." She sneered.

The stranger emerged from where he hid behind the tree, his pink hair spiking in meaningless directions, clothes barely covering the areas it was supposed to cover. His body was packed with muscles, like he had all the food to eat with no one to share, yet he appeared somewhat wounded.

But what made (Y/n) halt her observations was the striking crimson pooling in his irises, as though every shade of red was made just so he could have it. It must be a trick of the light, surely. For what human could be blessed with such beauty that even the gods might envy him for it.

“If you draw me now, you might finish it by twilight.”

Alas, he had a foul mouth on him. And it irked the priestess—especially when he was saying such atrocities with that sickeningly haughty grin and a face drawn with ink. I’ll put you in your place, you pig!

"What're you doing in the middle of the woods?" She questioned, forcing her patience to reach further. "Almost naked at that."

(Y/n) gestured to his beaten figure.

"If you wanted a quick coin, you could at least have tried a town. You’re not going to sell much out here with tanukis and foxes."

Pinky boy tilted his head to the side, amusement glimmering in his red eyes. "Do you not know who I am?"

Taken aback by the sudden question, (Y/n) raised an eyebrow at him. "Am I supposed to?"

The stranger grinned wider at her retort, doubling over in laughter because to him, the tiny little priestess was oh-so amusing.

"Interesting..." pinky hair chuckled, wiping the water from his eye.

"I'm Ryoumen." He declared, spreading his arms out in a grand boisterous gesture.

"I didn't ask... but okay. I'm (Y/n)." The priestess bowed humbly.

Orchestras of birds hastily fluttering their wings and taking off interrupted their conversation. Soon, gray clouds blotted the sky, thunder echoing through every nook and corner of the forest.

“I can walk with you until the next village, it’s just around two hundred and twenty-five cho away*. If we walk now, we can reach it by twilight."

(*30 km or 18 miles)

“Heh?” He smirked, raising a brow at her bold offer.

“Or you can just stay here and freeze to death,” (Y/n) shrugged, turning her back to him, and soon started to walk away. “Either way, I offered so my conscience is clean~” she waved, “Don’t curse me if you die out here.”

---

"Gojō-sensei! Who's Ryoumen?"

"That's Sukuna's last name. Now shut up or I'll leave you all hanging."

"You want to kill the king of curses?" Sukuna laughed at her declaration.

(Y/n) forgetting all about her manners, hurriedly slurped every bit of noodle left in the bowl before slamming it down on the table. "So, what if I do?"

The man scoffed and flicked her forehead, "I think you're a hundred years too early to be trying that."

She slapped his arm away, ignoring his jibe. "I can do it. It’s what I always wanted to do ever since I arrived at Auflage. Besides, you wouldn't know until you try."

"Your optimistic attitude will be the only reason you'll make it to the gates of his temple."

His comment caught the priestess’s interest, eyes shining with wonder and admiration that agitated the pink-haired man.

"You've been there, old man?"

"Don't call me that.” He glared at her.

“And... yeah. I have. That's why you saw me in such a state." Sukuna crossed his arms over his—still naked—chest, defensively.

His statements were half a lie, half the truth. When he realized his hesitance, he briefly wondered, why in heaven’s name was he guessing over what words to say.

Sukuna had gone there, of course—it was his home, after all. And he got battered and beaten from destroying town after town, chased by some shamans who wanted to take his head.

Still, he lied just as easily as he killed. Finding that his resolve faltered when she looked at him with such shameless appreciation…

"Ain't that cool!" She beamed and flashed him a charming smile, "Hey~ teach me, will you?"

Sukuna broke free from his daydreams, shackling himself back into reality where he left no room for such foolish thoughts.

"No. I don't teach. I don't have anything to teach you."

The priestess deflated at his rejection, eyes watering and lips quivering. "You’re a real pain." she silently mumbled.

(Y/n) sniffed, intakes of breath growing more and more frantic by the second.

Then the tears came streaming down her face, gaining the attention of the people, and fast.

Oh... she's good.

"W-Why... why... WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!"

His eyes widened at her yell, "Wha—"

"After all we've been through?!" She stood up and slammed her hands on the table, making the porcelain and silverware that littered the furniture clatter.

Murmurs erupted from the people who silently watched the scene unfold. To them, it looked like (Y/n) and the pink-haired man were having a lover's quarrel... but none of them could see the glinting mischief that pooled in the eyes of the priestess.

She's worse than me.

Sukuna didn’t know what to make of this silly little woman. It unnerved him so, he could have killed every single person in this inn, even burn the entire town to cinders… yet he remained—staring at her with unmanned wonder.

"YOU DID IT WITH HER DIDN'T YOU?"

Confusion rattled his soul, "I don't know what you're talking about—" he really didn't, they haven’t even spent one moon together!

One thing was clear, (Y/n) was causing a scene... and it was a very convincing one at that.

"YOU RAILED MY MOTHE—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Sukuna’s hand covered her mouth. Eyes widening to bowls at her supposed declamation.

"Fine, I'll teach you—just... be... shut your foul mouth." He harshly whispered in her ears.

The curse really didn’t know how he agreed… or why. Perhaps it was the lingering murmurs, or the boredom waiting to be tamed. Still, in the darkest corners of his soul… it remained, this little spark that soon will blossom into raging fire—casting his world alight.

Sukuna grabbed her hand and led her out of the varying gazes of the people inside the establishment.

"Now that wasn't so difficult, right?" (Y/n) placed her hands on her hips and laughed at the painted expression of annoyance that colored his face.

“For a priestess, you’re pretty scummy.” Sukuna sneered.

“Hah! Jokes on you, I’ve heard worse than that, Ryoumen~”

He stole a glance at her at the mention of his name,��one of the many, he reminds.

Sukuna realizes it then… that it was the first time someone’s lived long enough for his name to be voiced in his presence. It had always been Sukuna-sama with him, or Demon king, beyond that there was nothing at all.

Despite having many titles, he was hardly called. As embarrassing as it was to admit, many years would pass without a living soul uttering his name. He would often forget about it, failing to recall that he had one in the first place.

So, to hear it now with his own ears felt strange. Sent him reeling back into the darkest corners where there was nothing but the familiar oblivion—away from that fickle flame.

Because how would he make of it when she lets it flow past her lips with such gentle familiarity? Like he was given that name so long ago just so she could call him that here at this very moment—that her voice will string with that title for every crimson moon to come. For every passing lifetime.

Silence covered the distance between them, leaving the faint rumble of people talking and laughing to echo in their wake. Flames that danced from the lanterns cast an orange glow over their faces, painting their shadows in elongating strokes.

(Y/n) exhaled loudly before she started prancing around him like a lost horse.

"What'll it be, huh? Martial Arts?" She ghosted punches over his form, pretending to kick the air.

Idiot.

"One of those fancy breathing techniques with the sword thing I keep hearing about?" She grabbed a stick and lightly hit the impassive man on both sides.

Sukuna, irked at her ministrations, grabbed the stick and broke it into two then threw it to the sides.

"Can I breathe fire?"

"What about water?"

“Hey! Wait up!” (Y/n) chased after the form of the walking man.

"What about those chakra things? With the psschhooww and the wham and bam will I be able to do that?"

Sukuna dragged a hand over his face, silently questioning the decisions he makes whenever he had nothing to do with his time.

Man, she's annoying.

The priestess and the king of curses continued their journey, treading the path until the cobblestone faded into hardened earth and the midnight sun shone overhead.

They halted in front of a small hut on the side of the road, with shattered windows, fungi blanketing the roof of the small shack. No flicker of fire could be seen inside the humble house.

It kind of reminded (Y/n) of her home back in Auflage.

"We'll stay here for the night." Sukuna forced his way into the house. If this was compliant with the Shogun’s law, the priestess didn’t want to know. She just hopes that whoever owns this shack wouldn’t mind if they occupied it for a little while.

Clinks of glassware being broken, wood scraping against the floors, thuds of heavy objects hitting the ground. The sounds made her worry.

Soon enough, Sukuna emerged from the doorway, leaning his forearm against the threshold, his other hand holding an unlit lantern.

"There's no light though..."

"Really? You're gonna worry about lights when you're literally going across the country to kill the king of curses?" He stood to his full height and towered over the priestess.

The gentle breeze of the evening swayed the (h/c) threads that were planted firmly on her head, a shiver crawling up her spine as the cold wind bit against her body.

"Please don't kill me!" She wailed in mock panic, shutting her eyes tight.

"I'm not going to kill you, you maniac. I should be worried if you're gonna kill me." He defended.

"You don't have to be so defensive about it." (Y/n) ceased her act and rolled her eyes at him.

I want to kill her so badly... she's so annoying.

(Y/n) turned to face the man, the light of the imprisoned fire casting a faint glow of orange on her face. How he managed to set it ablaze, she had no clue.

For a moment she looked at him like she wanted to say something, but she held back. Probably something stupid, he thought.

Her pondering continued until she let out a laugh, eyes glinting with scheme and mayhem, smirking up at the tall man. "You're not going to take advantage of me, are you?"

A flash of fire rushed past her head and blew a hole through the wall of the already rundown shack. "WHAT WAS THAT?"

"I'm not gonna take advantage of you... you sicko!" Sukuna fisted his free hand, restraining every bit of anger in his soul. To think this—this demon spawn could even be the least bit grateful!

Oh, he's mad.

"That was a curse. That's what you'll be learning first thing tomorrow." He lectured, handing her the lamp and pushing her through the doorway, "NOW SLEEP!" before he slammed the door shut.

The King of Curses remained standing under the stars, trying his best to restrain the bubbling urge to incinerate everything in his sight.

What in the world am I doing? He sighs, walking further into the rice fields.

Sukuna sat under a tree, a great distance away from the hut. The cicadas sung their melodies into the night, frogs croaking from the side. He watched aimlessly as the curses circled around the area of his energy, seeing them lurk around the edges of the forest, or peek from the foliage yet remained a means too far for them to be harmed.

If only that idiot priestess was the same.

The light from the lamp gradually faded, a sign that she was yielding to slumber. Curses weren’t tethered by such earthly needs. Sukuna had no need for food or water either. He simply indulged in the flavors they brought but he held no obligation to them.

She held a striking difference to him.

Long after she had passed from the memories of every person she had met, their children, and their children’s children, Sukuna would live on for the centuries to come.

The priestess was so painfully mortal. A hand from him would send her soul to the borders of death. A slip—a mistake. A burst of anger, an annoyance, if she were to be at the end of his temper…

Sukuna pondered then, if he should leave.

This has been nothing but a simple detour. A way to kill the time he just had so much of.

But she shone like fire through the abyss that it made looking away impossible. Because when you’ve known nothing but resentment, you’ll latch yourself to any form of kindness that shows your way.

---

Light of daybreak refracted the early morning dews like prisms, casting the colors of the sun into the haze of dawn.

"WAKE UP RYOUMEN!"

(Y/n) banged together a metal ladle and a metal pot while repeatedly saying her new favorite phrase, 'WAKE UP RYOUMEN!'.

"I'm up! I'M UP WOMAN! STOP YOUR DAMN NOISE!" He grabbed the utensils out of her hand and threw them out the window. “You’ll wake the entire village with your racket!”

In the end, Sukuna returned before the break of sunrise, telling himself that he’ll play along until the act gets old, or he grows too tired to keep up—until his patience wears thin, or she dies. Whichever comes first. He didn’t know then… that those were all just excuses.

For a priestess, she has such a terrible attitude.

“Hey, um…”

Sukuna looked from the broken window (a lot more broken than last night) to the priestess.

Her cheeks were dyed as scarlet as her hakama, hands behind her back as she bit her lip.

“I just… wanted to say… that—”

Irked by her stalling, he snapped. “Spit it out, miko!”

“THANK YOU FOR COMING ALONG!” Startled by her words, (Y/n) quickly covered her mouth like she could hardly believe she had said those words of her own free will.

“What I meant was that… that… uhmm…”

A firm hand covered the expanse of her head, ruffling the already unkempt threads.

“I said I would, didn’t I? I don’t break promises.”

The king would never know how his simple truth would tether the priestess to him. How the words he spoke on a whim would be the frail vow that would shackle her until the day she dies. That it would latch onto him as tightly… just like he had held onto her.

(Y/n) beamed at him from under his arm, grabbing the shoulders of the tall man and shaking him back and forth, "Teach me then, o great one."

Sukuna led the priestess to a large clearing. Far from the prying eyes of any other mortal.

Reaching the area with a large tree (the same one he had idled under last night). He told her to stay a few steps back.

Sukuna spiralled his focus in a single breath—

“Ready when you are!”

“Be quiet!”

Once more, he breathed in, his posture upright and relaxed yet brimming with intensity. Sukuna’s eyes narrowed sharply as he channeled his cursed energy, hand rising with fluid grace. His fingers parted in deliberate gestures, steering the power that sparks and swirls to take the shape of a fiery arrow. In a controlled motion, he draws his arm back, the flames burning brighter every passing second.

Then he fired, sending the arrow straight to the tree, burning through it, and blasting open a boulder on the other side of the field.

Pleased with the small display of destruction, he turned to the priestess with sheer delight. Finding that she had her jaw dropping to the ground from shock.

“You’ll be learning that miko.” Sukuna smirked, jutting his thumb at the fiery wake of his technique.

Snapping out of it, she shut her mouth and readied herself to protest, “Are you kidding me?! I can’t do that!” (Y/n) crossed her arms, glaring at him all the way from where she stood a hundred feet away.

“It’s the only beginner trick I know!” He hollered, silently snickering at her predicament. “Kids could do twice as much if they tried!”

“You cheat! That’s a lie and you know it! You’re the worst teacher ever!” The priestess fumed, snarling at him from the distance, shaking a fist in the air from sheer annoyance.

Sukuna slowly crossed the distance between them, taking in her angered image. It amused him seeing her so riled up from a single comment. Human emotions were truly as fickle as their lives.

The sun glared brightly over their heads. Still, its rays fell warmly for what seemed to be the first time in half a century.

As he drew closer, he craned his neck to catch her gaze. “You’re already giving up?” He teased, shaking his head in disappointment, “What happened to all that hope? Come on~”

“Why you—”

“OI! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU SCOUNDRELS ARE DOING? YOU BURNED MY TREE DOWN!”

The priestess looked to the raging villager in panic, getting ready to kowtow for forgiveness while Sukuna didn’t even spare a passing glance as he stood uprightly.

“I think… we should…” She looked to Sukuna with a diabolical grin, finding that he did not even show the slightest bit of emotion on that inked face of his. With a shake of her head at his indifference, the priestess intertwined her hand with his and tugged him forward breaking forth into a—“… run.”

“Hey! Get back here!”

She laughed, the melody echoing between the borders of the valley and his ears, feeling his soul calm at the sound.

The unusual duo ran from the angry man, stopping only once they heard no footsteps chasing after them.

Sukuna has never run from something so obscenely foolish—he reckons he never ran away from anything at all. There existed no creature who could make him fear for his life or sweat from nerves.

Still, even as he tried to deny, he could not shake off this excessive thrumming in his heart—screaming that getting dragged by this human was just a teeny tiny bit fun.

---

For days and weeks on end, that became their routine: wake up because of the loud banging (whether it be a broken sword, a wooden stick, or an out-of-tune biwa), eat (mostly just for the priestess), go to a clearing, practice techniques that can easily be done by a kid if the teacher wasn’t such a jerk to his student that obviously wasn’t a kid but a priestess who could only try so hard!

If they were lucky, angry mobs of people wouldn’t come chasing them out of the village… that was very rare. It had them sleeping in marshes, openings of an old tree, caves.

(Y/n) didn’t mind. In her heart, so long as Ryoumen was there for her every waking moment she was certain that everything would be alright.

But it could not be said for the rest of the world.

Soon enough, tales of the king of curses traveling with a priestess began circulating from town to town. Undoubtedly originating from the folks they startled half to death, given their flashy explosions and endless bickering.

In twilight's glow, the priestess strides. The demon king at her side.

They knew nothing. All those foolish humans and shamans conjuring their own truths to soothe their fear, to vanquish uncertainties, to pin their accusations on whoever was close enough to be suitable.

His eyes aflame, her heart of grace. Souls entwined in a wicked embrace.

But if the world ran on scales being tilted to fair and unjust then there would be no need for rulers. Reality remains: the truth can be muddied and lies can come as clear as water. If people in power put their faith in that notion, who were the unfortunate as to question them so?

Calamity awaits this dark dance, A fate in ruin, a cursed chance.

Stories of the king’s companion reached the ears of power, binding the unknown priestess in a place far from where she actually stood. It was simple, really. If one cannot get to the root, you stick the poison in the bark until it seeps in and kills it from within.

For those who lived in torment of his existence would stop at nothing if it meant eliminating him from the lands.

O priestess pure, who dared to scheme, With demon king, forsake your dream. In shadows deep, your light shall wane, A traitor's fate, eternal pain.

Bound to the fiend, your soul will weep, In eternal gloom, your spirit keep. For conspiring with the devil's might, In endless night, lose all your light.

“Curse the traitor who dares to walk the shadows.”

Wades of grass swayed from the broken gale, leaves rustling until the breaths of their life got carried into the blue ether.

“Oi, get up.” Sukuna loomed over the hunched form of the tired priestess, looking down on her with bordered patience.

The woman panted and tried to catch her breath, pushing her palms against her knees to hoist her body upwards. “Yeah… just… give me a… second.”

“I can see the sun go across the sky, that’s how long you’re taking.”

“That’s so rude—” her body was suddenly shaken by violent coughs, sending her crumbling to her knees. "I think I might be coming down with something." She laughed, looking up and flashing him a forced grin.

"Yeah, the wrong idea." He jeered, poking her forehead.

"It might be a cold." The priestess tried to put forward, grabbing the hand that continuously knocked on her head to help hoist her upright.

"Don't be ridiculous.” Sukuna scoffs, prying his arm from her once she’d found footing, tucking it under his battered kimono. “Idiots are too dumb to catch a cold."

“Right? That’s why you’ll never have to worry about getting sick!” She laughs, walking past him and onwards the path they had to tread.

Sukuna, frozen where he stood, could only stare and watch as her figure got further and further away. Draped over by the daylight that lingers around her, loyal as they come. Clothes that fluttered in the wind like waves crashing against the shore. Eyes that looked back at him when she noticed his footfalls weren’t anywhere near hers.

He wasn’t so sure if he was angry at her comment… or relieved that she was alright.

Even now as she waved at him from so far away, her sleeves waltzing with the breeze, Sukuna couldn’t see any of those hurtful resentments—the ones that he was most familiar with—as though they had not existed at all.

“I’m leaving you if you don’t hurry up!” she yelled, cupping her hand near the side of her mouth to have her voice reach him.

Foolish little human, he would think. He could cross that distance in the blink of an eye, even appear at the gates of his home without a single breath passing. Still, he chose to walk alongside this priestess… wasting the time he just had so much of.

But deep down, he knew. He was happy that he was wasting all his time with her.

---

“If you don’t feel well just say so, idiot miko.” Sukuna knelt beside her heaving form, his shoulder being the only thing stopping her from falling to a crumpled heap on the floor.

“No… I’m… I’m fine.” She caged the fabric of his clothing between her fingers, chasing the breath she kept on losing even from a simple exercise like walking to a clearing. “I just… need—I just need to catch my breath… that’s all.”

Sukuna shifted in his position, slumping on the hardened soil, allowing her weight to fall on him completely.

“You’ve been saying that for the past week.” He reminds, planting a hand to support both their weights.

“You don’t seem to be getting better.” Sukuna’s fingers carded through her hair, wanting to untangle them… only they stuck to his digits like glue, bunching up in his hand like he had yanked it straight from her scalp.

“Yeah… sorry about that.” Her chuckles sounded tired, as though it took everything in her to even force it out. The priestess loosened her grip on him, letting her hand fall.

Time felt warped in those few arbitrary seconds, perhaps he was just imagining that it did; never quite admitting the bothersome whirring his heart would emit when he saw her struggling all this time. It was fine when he was the one to cause her little setbacks, because she, too, took part in riling him up. But it was an all too different matter when it was caused by something else.

Still, in those few passing moments, the pieces seemed to gravitate together. And he yells at himself for ignoring the warnings. His agitated energy, the flutter of his power, the unsettling gloom trailing past her shadow. The coughs, her hair… the patches of green and violet decorating her skin.

Even from a few moons ago, he shouldn’t have brushed it off. The priestess would wake in the dead of the night screaming—yelling that something was out to get her. She’d jump at the slightest rustle, asking if Sukuna felt it too… that someone was watching them. Her sadness from the hostility of the animals from the villages, or that she wasn’t as happy as she used to be… that it probably killed her inside just to pretend that she was alright.

Sukuna pushed the priestess, not enough to get her to let go, but far enough for him to be able to see the dark circles under her eyes and within them, the hazy reflection of the one that had been cursing her.

---

“Your wife seems to be in terrible condition.” The shaman from the village inspected the priestess, squinting his eyes in what looked to be pretend observation. Of course, anybody, be it human or curse, could see that she wasn’t doing well.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, not even bothering to correct that the woman was not his wife—he’d rather eat his own fingers than be bound to her for eternity.

“Well, let her stay here for a few days to get her energy back. It’s a long way from the one hexing her so she should be alright.” The human excused himself from Sukuna, leaving him to stare at the bedridden form of the priestess.

With every stutter of her breath, the twitches in her closed eyes, even the faintest mumbles that slipped past her lips, Sukuna found himself clinging to the moments when her laughter would ring in his ears, that she’d poke fun at him and say he was walking like an old man, or when she’d complain and say she was tired… that she wanted to sleep and eat until she couldn’t breathe.

Back then, it all looked so foolish; annoying if nothing. On days like those, he wished she would just cease her endless chatter—even if it was for less than an hour—or that she would tire herself out from running around like a child, or that she would stop asking all those unnecessary questions.

Why is the sky blue?

What’s your favorite season?

Where do you want to live once this adventure is over?

But one would never really know the value of a moment until it’s forced to become a memory.

He drew closer to her, raising his arm in a languid manner, a spark of blue flame dancing on the tips of his fingers.

Sukuna’s hand lingered above her body, hesitant to cast the spell that would end her torment. He wouldn’t have admitted it, and he knew that he never will, but in that space in time—a little rift that belonged to him alone—he trembled in fear.

What would she make of him if she ever found out? That the king she had so desperately sought was the same being walking alongside her. The same one who was at the receiving end of her kind smiles and warm affection. What would you think of me… if you knew the truth?

It was easier that way. To hide. To run. To cower away from all that he deserved from the one person he didn’t want to look at him that way: In fear, in hatred, in contempt. Because beyond that, Sukuna didn’t know where to be. He couldn’t bear to know what would become of him if the priestess would see him the way humans did. The vile curse who killed anyone in his wake. Sukuna. Calamity bringer. Demon king.

But the sight of her in pain, plagued by the nightmares conjured by a wicked sorcerer, weakened by the spell wrongfully placed on her, haunted by the waking thought that it would never get better.

No. that’s too much.

Sukuna let the fire fall, burning away the remnants of harm thrown at her. Swearing to himself that he would not let her suffer for his sake.

If she were to wake one day and realize her mistakes, then it would just have to be the monument of his retribution. He would take it, so long as it was not right now… here, where the fervent longing in his heart blazed for nothing but the priestess. Burning so fiercely, blinding any other thought, because he didn’t want anything, not the humans or the curses, to take her away from him.

Not the human who fearlessly led him through the forest, clung to him like he was the one who held all the answers, looked at him like he had hung the stars in the sky.

Not when he wished for nothing but to stay by the miko’s side.

---

A hundred million lights shone on the midnight canvas overhead, illuminating the world in a soft glow, casting faint drizzles of warmth to cover the face of the sleeping girl—no longer running from the darkness.

Sukuna never left the room. For if she was here, then there was no need for him to be anywhere else.

Yet once more, the world—or rather, his subordinate—begged to differ.

"Sukuna-sama."

The demon king spared not even a passing glance at the sudden entry of the white-haired servant, choosing to keep his crimson stare pinned on the priestess.

"Oh, Uraume." He acknowledged emptily.

"I have been looking across the country—"

"Get lost. I don't need you right now." He was quick to dismiss his servant’s urgency with a wave of his hand.

Uraume placed a foot in protest, although hasty to rescind when a sharp glare emanated from the eyes of the demon king. "But Sukuna-sama, the sorcerers..."

Fed up with the useless rambling, Sukuna let out an exasperated sigh, "What? Are you so weak that you can't take care of a few little humans?" he ridiculed.

"They are dabbling with the forbidden arts, Sukuna-sama." Uraume tried desperately to raise even a grain of attention in the king’s heart, yet he remained impassive to the situation all the same. "One was recently sighted to have cursed a few nobility—"

Sukuna leaned back in his chair even more, resting his cheek on his fist and glancing at his servant from the corners of his eyes. "Since when have I cared for others, Uraume? Let them die."

His words were cold, uncaring, and cruel… but not once has he torn his gaze from the soul resting on the cot.

Uraume thought it to be strange. The king of demons had spent so long treating the lives of others as nothing less than dirt under his foot, yet he held this fleeting human he’s known for less than six full moons as a treasure he could not look away from.

It wasn’t any of the servant’s business. How Sukuna chose to spend his time is out of Uraume’s concern. Uraume merely has to report to Sukuna and take care of all the things he didn’t want to concern himself over.

"She did from the grounds of her home, Sukuna-sama." Uraume tried not to falter from Sukuna’s heavy stare, choosing to bow instead of facing the angry expression painted on the king’s face. The servant did not want to be at the end of his wrath.

"Pink eyes? Blue hair?" His footsteps echoed within the small room, and Uraume was soon looking at the seams of a white kimono.

"Yes, Tsukumo Ren, are you perhaps acquainted with her—?"

"Kill her." Sukuna’s hostility forced the servant to the floor.

Now that Uraume has confirmed it, Sukuna had no doubts. Tsukumo Ren was the sorcerer behind those pools of (e/c) staring back at him that day. The same ones that used to look at him with all the hope in the world. The same ones that were glistening in pain—begging for him to put her out of her misery.

"Kill that sorcerer. That's an order."

The sound of fabric rustling had Sukuna withdrawing his energy, looking down on his servant in contempt before he tore his gaze and walked away.

“Leave.”

Uraume wasted not a single breath and teleported away. Either the servant obtains the sorcerer’s head, or Sukuna would be the one to take Uraume’s.

After what felt like eternities dragging on, the priestess had finally woken.

Sukuna pushed the gnawing sensation of relief down the depths of his soul.

He felt silly… feeling like that, for a human, no less.

"Were you… talking with someone… just now?" She rasped, hoisting herself to sit up.

But he would admit to it just once that in this moment, Sukuna was happy to be the one who stood here. To be the first thing she saw, the first voice she heard. To be the first person she thought of.

“No.” Sukuna was quick to deny, as he handed her a cup of water. “You were hallucinating.”

After being the object of contempt for many, many centuries… it was nice to know that beside her, he was wanted. Above all else, beyond rhyme and reason, when he was with her… he felt seen.

The priestess downed the liquid, feeling her the tightness in her throat diminishes. “I see. Have you eaten yet?”

“Worry about yourself more, idiot.”

He felt loved.

---

The demon king, in twilight’s glow, Found solace in the priestess he’d come to know.

Not a week later, the renowned shaman who could curse anybody from a distance was proclaimed dead. Shards of frozen water bordered her home that had exploded into splinters. Sorcerers investigating under the command of the shogun found her body sliced to pieces, her blood painting the walls.

For her, his heart would fiercely burn, And vengeance swift would soon return.

Soon enough, rumors emerged from town to town. Iterating the tale told by one folk to the next, each one a lot more diverted from the truth than before. Still, it would not matter. For the chants written down in history would prove every other legend wrong—yet this one will always remain true, even as the world is raised to ruin.

To those who dare to bring her pain, His wrath unleashed will reign like rain.

---

"Who ever knew I'd be so famous that others would want to curse me?" (Y/n) walked joyously, swinging her arms back and forth divergent to the falls of her steps.

Sukuna trod alongside her, as he told the priestess the truth, finding no need to withhold it from her. If his servant held life second to Sukuna, then the sorcerer would be no more.

"Yeah, waste of a perfectly good incantation if you asked me." The king shrugged nonchalantly, purposely saying the words that would add fuel to the fire flickering in her.

Sukuna could feel the sharp glares she was sending his way all while he pretended not to notice them, suppressing the laugh that threatened to burst from his throat.

The priestess huffed in annoyance, turning her head away from him and walking at a much faster pace, leaving him behind.

“Oi! I was just joking!” He yelled in protest, hurrying his strides to catch up with her who was now turning the next corner of the street.

Sukuna stopped moments before he could collide with her back.

People walked past them in every direction while they stayed stagnant in the midst of it all, like an iceberg adrift in the vast ocean.

"So, how do you intend on paying the healer?" The priestess turned to face him, inclining her head to meet his stare.

Her question took him by surprise. They had to pay? For what? That quack doctor didn’t do shi—

"Uh... I wrote my name; they can ask for something in return when they want to." Sukuna looked away, scratching the back of his head. Like hell he’d do something for a lowly human—

"You know how to write? That's so cool!" She looked to him in adoration, the same one she had always worn before that sorcerer took it away—and heavens was he elated to have the light of those eyes end its journey behind his own.

"What you don't?" Sukuna smirked, flicking her forehead.

"Nope! Not even my name!"

Sukuna was left staring at her, at a loss for words, like he had seemed to be for the past twilights. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, how this little human squeezed through the tight crevices in the walls he built so high—or perhaps it was him who tore them down.

"You wouldn't even know if you're a national criminal." He laughed, tucking his hands in his sleeves, and continued to walk.

"Right?” She grinned, skipping every now and then to match his lengthy strides, “I do know how to write Auflage."

Sukuna scoffed, slowing his pace so he could poke fun at her from a nearer distance. "That's useless."

"Correct again! Wow, you're really smart, Ryoumen!"

There it was again, that little stutter in his breath at the mention of his name. One of the many, he continues to remind.

Even with the chatter of the townspeople, the clatter of their sandals hitting the cobblestone path, the late afternoon breeze singing their melody, he feared that knocking of his heart would be too loud—that it would overpower all the resounding restrictions he so desperately tries to put on himself and he would end up giving in to all this… all this happiness.

"You're just an idiot..." He whispers halfheartedly.

"Hey! Teach me how to write your name." The priestess bounced on the balls of her feet as she looked to Sukuna with a heart full of hope and stubborn determination.

"Shouldn't you be more interested in yours?" Sukuna raised a brow at her, pushing the priestess to move with the rest of the crowd towards the river.

"No. You probably know how to write that but it's not fair that I don't know how to write yours." She shook her head and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"What?"

They halted near the bank of the river. The setting sun sank behind the horizon, painting his face golden; striking the priestess with shadows.

Then she turned to face the rushing river, half her face dyed in aureate light, casting the illusion of eternity.

"How am I gonna find you if you go disappearing on me? I can't write. I can't read, and I can't draw."

Slowly, humans came occupying the fields of grass, scattering their laughter in the once silent atmosphere.

"At the very least, if I know how to write your name, I'll be able to look for you in the future... and find you again."

As the last rays of daylight faded into the earth, she looked to him for what should be no-less than second nature… so why? Why did his soul scream at him to go to her? To be near her no matter what life she lived? To be the one within arm’s reach… to be the one she looks for, the one she asks to see.

How ridiculous her words were. To him who ardently believed that he was born and reincarnated to be the object of everybody’s contempt, that he lived only to hurt other people.

Still… why does she look at him like those didn’t matter? As though they never held importance to begin with. She was the one being ridiculous! Not him!

“Hello? From the magnificent miko of the land to Ryoumen? Is anybody home?” The priestess waved a hand over his face, the one who stared at her unblinkingly.

But Sukuna realizes then that he too was accountable for some of the blame.

“Sit down and pay close attention.” He grabbed a small branch and sat on a log away from the rest of the crowd.

Because even as he harbors these doubts, he still finds himself looking for her. Everywhere. In everything. In everyone.

Through fire and flame, where darkness holds its sway, The demon king feels something start to sway.

When Sukuna turned to see if the priestess obeyed his command, his soul nearly descended to the depths of hell as he sees her sitting so painfully close to him, staring at the undisturbed earth with such fervor.

As moonlight dances on her gentle grace, A flicker warms his cold and distant face.

The king began drawing lines on the dirt, glancing at her from the corner of his eye to see if he still had her attention. He did.

兩面

“How do you read that?” She gazed at him in wonder as she pointed to the characters on the ground, written so neatly it would have passed as a calligrapher’s penmanship (the priestess has never seen a calligrapher’s penmanship. This is the first handwriting she has witnessed).

“Ryoumen, you idiot. Now you try.” Sukuna flicked her forehead and handed her the stick.

In her presence he sheds his ancient rage, And finds his soul anew free from its wretched cage.

As the priestess glanced back and forth from Sukuna’s writing and to her own, the king finds himself sinking more and more into the warmth she gave. When he looked at her, he would often think to himself, how lucky am I to have been right here where you existed. Even now as he drowns his crimson irises in her image, in this time, in this life… he finds himself wishing for this moment to last just a little bit longer.

“There. All done.”

Sukuna peeked an eye open. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting to see from someone who hadn’t written anything in her whole life. But it certainly wasn’t this.

“What’s with the scrambled sticks? These look like summoning runes!”

The priestess inhaled a breath of offence, holding a hand over her heart. “I haven’t written anything in my entire life! You’re supposed to be encouraging me to do better.”

He desperately tried to hold back the harsh criticisms flooding his tongue as he grabbed the twig from her hand and erased the characters they’d both written.

“I’d be lying to your face if I told you that you did a good job.” Sukuna gave the stick back to her, looking at the priestess with a deadpanned expression.

“You’re supposed to follow certain strokes not write whatever you want wherever you want.”

He moved closer to the priestess, holding the hand she used to write and guiding it to draw on the ground.

The priestess held her breath for all the seconds she felt him so close to her. She could have sworn her vision dotted from the lack of oxygen flowing in her lungs, but she feared her heart would crawl out of her mouth if she so much as let out a sound.

His hand felt cold over hers, like he was plunged in eternal frost before coming to wake in the vernal freshness of the sun.

Yet to the priestess, he was like a cool breeze during the summer heat, or the anchor in a raging storm, the moonlight in the illusions of midnight.

He felt like home.

And she swore she could have stayed like that for all the eternities to come, caged in his hold, safe from the cruelty of the world, seen amidst ten thousand people.

If only her lungs didn’t burn from the breaths she didn’t want to take.

“On—On second thought…” The priestess broke free from his half-embrace, standing up and fisting the fabric of her clothes, “you—how… how about you find me instead!”

Sukuna’s eyes widened at her yell, he thought for a second that the miko was giving up, that is until he saw the scarlet coloring her cheeks all the way to the peaks of her ears.

“You’re smart, and you know how to read and to write. So—uhm, I’ll just wait for—for you to come and get me… if I get taken away.”

“Okay.”

“It’s more of a situational condition anyway, it’s not like I’ll be—wait, what did you say?” The priestess ceased her pacing and faced the man still sitting on the log, watching her with radiant glow.

“I said okay. I’ll find you in the future.”

She broke out in a face-breaking smile and sprinted to where he sat, beaming down at him with all the happiness the world could offer, “Really?” She spoke in a joyous, hopeful tune.

Before Sukuna could berate her for asking too many questions, something shone from the corner of his eyes.

The king watched as the villagers, one by one, then all together, lit up the objects they held, letting them float into the midnight ether. The lights flew into the sky, disappearing as though they’d become one with the stars.

He once deemed the festivities foolish, looking at them from far away, alone in the courtyard of his temple. Humans throwing their trash into the sky or letting them sink into the rivers. What was the use of such fleeting moments, he would think. For what good is there to laugh and cry knowing it will come to an end sooner or later?

But the humans remained happy either way, even if they knew their lives were as fickle as the lights they set off into the night.

Sukuna looked away, not liking the feeling of something brewing in his chest. He turned to tell the miko that they were leaving, away from all this frolicking, only to find her holding one of those lights.

Ah, why am I like this?

“Hey, c’mon hurry. The light’s gonna burn out.” With haste, she grabbed hold of his hand, placing it parallel to hers on the lantern.

For so long… it was all so strange to him. How do humans take it? All these happy memories will crush them one day, he knows it. What greater heartbreak is there than realizing that these will pass… just as everything else does.

That you will pass… just like all you mortals do. Scattering the lands with all your laughter that it echoes even after you’ve gone. Long after your death, for many centuries to dawn.

“Now make a wish. If the light reaches the heavens, then your wish will come true. Ready?” The priestess closed her eyes, squeezing his hand with ardor.

The light of the lantern painted her face in a warm glow, setting alight the fervency of her desire.

But Sukuna only had one wish.

“Now.” He felt her hand push his to raise the light afloat. “Look at it go! Our wishes are definitely going to come true.”

She watched the lantern ascend to the heavens and Sukuna watched her. For what good was the promise of paradise if heaven was right there.

---

Beneath daylight, the demon found, His heart for her was tightly bound.

As the days of their journey neared its close, the very last meadow they stepped foot into was half a wasteland.

"Hey, Ryoumen..." The priestess sat under the shade of a tree that had miraculously survived, watching as the clouds drifted by in shapes and sizes blotting the earth with shadows painted in their likeness.

Sukuna sat a little ways off, in the middle of a small patch of flowers. He looked out of place, or so he had believed. To be embraced by life when he only brought death.

"What is it?" he asks, not tearing his attention from what he was doing.

The priestess, innocent and kind, Knew not the feelings within his mind.

"A shop owner gave me this," She pulled out a large bow and a case of arrows, one she had forgotten about until she was so painfully reminded of their existence (tripping over it as she was packing her things), "he told me that I was somewhat similar to a person nearby at that time..."

Sukuna faltered in his activity, thinking back to that moment she spoke of. One that transpired nearly eleven—no, twelve full moons ago. Once, he would have thought of the time passed as nothing—if you’ve lived long enough, everything starts to blend together at some point. But all these days to him have felt like a lifetime, a lifetime that wasn’t nearly enough.

Similar to me, eh? Very wrong, filthy sorcerer. She's nothing like me.

The priestess threw the weapon at Sukuna, thinking that perhaps he had the answer. But the moment it made contact with his skin, a sharp hissing sound emanated from his skin.

Her eyes widened at the scene, standing up so fast and rushing to his side to cast the bow elsewhere.

"Hey—what... why is there... steam? What? Are you okay—"

Sukuna held up a hand and that stopped her from reaching out for him, "It's nothing."

Sukuna rose from his position and returned the weapon, feeling his hands burn from the contact.

“Hey! Wait just a moment, Ryoumen. You’re hurt, aren’t you?” The priestess tried to catch up to him when the sun had mysteriously gone out, and the scent of flowers invaded her nose.

"Let's go to the village. Might be the last time you'll see a human. You never know..." His voice echoed in the wind, coming from everywhere all at once until it faded to a distant buzz.

In silence deep, his truth concealed, For she knew not what love revealed.

Her fingers found solace in the circlet he draped over her eyes, a wreath of flowers.

When her vision narrowed to search for his presence, to call his name—ask what he means for every gentle touch, warm smiles, and kind undertakings—she found he was already up over the hill, standing there… waiting patiently for when she’d be ready to depart.

Perhaps then, it all became clear…

Under the azure canvas overhead, painted over with the silver water of light, surrounded by the passing zephyrs, she knew.

The hustle and bustle of commerce from the town strung from one corner to another. Streets were littered with people. Children ran around, keepers and vendors opened their businesses for travelers and residents alike. Banners that vary in size and color were hung all over the place. Laughter and chatter of everyday life danced in the happy and uplifting atmosphere.

It made the priestess smile; it was exactly what she missed most about her town.

"Get yer Ambrosia here! Buy one get one free!"

"Rat poison for sale! Up for free taste!"

"Expired milk! Fit for your cheating husband! Get two for the price of one! Limited time only."

The demon king and the priestess walked through the lively streets. Her hand clutched firmly against the cloth of his light-colored kimono that he only got after the rest of his torn and beaten clothes crumbled and got taken away by the wind.

"Get your portrait drawn by the greatest artist around! 50% off on people with companions!"

The priestess dragged Sukuna to where she heard the calls of the advertiser. His hand intertwined firmly with hers as she dodged and avoided people as much as she could.

"Hi there, onee-chan! Here to get drawn?"

She nodded her head, and the little boy beckoned her to follow him. The priestess tugged at the unwilling hand of Sukuna who stood firmly and unmoving outside the venue.

"C'mon Ryoumen! It's to commemorate the finish of the training thing! This may be the last thing we'll have to remember each other... never know..." She tried to use his own words to convince him, continuously pulling at his arm trying to get him to agree.

Still, he refused.

The priestess sighed, ultimately deciding that it was her pride or this absolute need for remembrance, and she wasn’t going to leave with either so she pulled out the greatest weapons any girl could have... the look.

"Pwease~"

The pink-haired man showed a look of disgust and shivered from the image engraving itself into his head and slammed a hand to cover her horrifying face.

"Alright, I’m going. Just—just stop it with that face."

"YES!" She cheered and circled around him—the space she occupied for herself.

Sukuna silently watched her, a faint smile gracing his usually annoyed face.

What a weirdo...

"Onee-chan, Onii-san, this way please..."

---

"It looks so cool!" The priestess gushed, ogling at the portrait that took almost 3 hours to make.

"It's not half bad. I guess..." Even Sukuna couldn’t put it in himself to deny.

She turned to the little artist, "Do you have a quill I can use?"

The little boy nodded and handed her a spare.

“What for? You don’t know how to write.” Sukuna smirks, looking over her shoulder to see what she was up to.

“Currently not entertaining the jeers of bashers.” She swatted him away and continued to write albeit in slow, messy strokes.

'Ryōmen & (Y/n)' Auflage, 850

Sukuna took notice of the writings she engraved at the bottom of the paper. Had she been writing? All those times she had her back to me… she was practicing?

"Why Auflage?" He found himself asking. Sukuna knew it was one of the three things she knew how to write: her hometown, her name (which he demonstrated after many, many pleas and cries from the priestess), then Sukuna’s name. But she could have easily asked him to write it for her. The priestess would have only needed to say, and he would have made it so.

She looked up at him and flashed him a beaming smile, "Because that's where we first met, silly."

When did I start seeing you like this?

The gentle breeze of the early afternoon danced around her body, rays of the bright sun highlighting the curves and bumps on her face.

How can you still look at me like that? After knowing me… wasting so much time… on me—

"I will treasure this for years to come! Maybe when we meet again, I can laugh about how you showed up in front of me half-naked!" She lightly chuckled at her suggestion. “The great Ryoumen!”

When did I start thinking that my name had a ring to it whenever you would say it?

"Thank you." The priestess handed the quill back to the boy and continued to wander around the town with her companion.

She held the portrait up and inspected it for the hundredth time that day, "Wow! We look like a couple here."

That I'd do anything for you over and over again if you'd ask me to—if I knew it will make you smile.

Sukuna stole a glance at the drawing with mock disgust, and an evident flush of red dusting his inked face, "A couple of jackasses."

"HEY!"

---

What Sukuna said had rang true. No, not the 'couple of jackasses'. The part where he said that that'll be her last human contact for a while.

It had been three full moons since that last village, twelve since she had set foot in her home. Still, the seconds ticked by as though they were but a grain of sand in the endless desert.

Sukuna and the priestess traveled for a long time, passing by a long, deep ravine, walking through dark, creepy forests, and eerie swamps. As they crossed the distance to his castle, the more he began to feel the heaviness in his chest grow.

The curses lingering in the shadows began to act more unpredictable, fearing nothing, believing themselves to be the strongest.

“What is going on in that head of yours…”

Sukuna diverted his attention from the darkened borders of the woods and towards the priestess who had her hands supporting her head as her elbows rested on her knees.

“You always look so out of it ever since we came here.” She pointed out, tilting her head in question. “If you’re scared, we can just go back—”

“Whoever said I was afraid?”

“You don’t have to say it when it’s written all over your face.”

Sukuna scoffed. Why would he need to be afraid of himself? He could care less. At least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

Still, why didn’t it cease this hurricane of sadness wreaking havoc in his soul?

Crackles of the fire permeated the space between them. There existed no cicadas’ orchestra, no rustles of the foliage, the king even doubted if the zephyrs dared to venture into his domain.

It was just him in a place far too big for a single soul to inhabit.

“Do you think the king ever feels lonely?” The priestess stood and walked near him, not knowing that the person in her question was already at the receiving end of her words.

“So vast a kingdom for there to be no citizen.” She sat next to him, keeping her eyes on the dancing flames.

Sukuna didn’t know what to say. He was the king, renowned in all the lands. Demon king. King of curses. Calamity. He has had so many titles for the past century, be it as a curse or as a human. But he never chose to be labeled by any of those.

He had a name once, just like the rest of them. He once turned to see who uttered it so long ago, he would know he was needed at the mention of it, and he would be reminded of his own self—breathing, living—just like the rest of them.

“Maybe that’s just his fate. To be the abomination in everybody’s eyes.”

But now, his name was buried under the titles he was bestowed, woven in tales of terror, burned in history as the vilest demon to have ever been born. Perhaps he was far too gone in the oceans of his sin to be called by his name.

“No one is born to be hated, Ryoumen.” The priestess nudged his shoulder with her own, “I would know, the head priestess in the shrine I used to work at told me. And even if she didn’t, I’d still think so.” She smiled, seemingly proud of her belief.

“The same way no one is born to be revered by the heavens, no one is born to be the basin of everybody’s anger.” The priestess tossed a few sticks into the fire, watching as it burst forth to blaze once more. “Because that’s just cruel, isn’t it?”

“How do you bring yourself to love a world that did nothing but reject you?”

Sukuna stared at her in wonder. For so long, he lived his days believing that there was nothing in this world for him to have, nothing for him to hold dear, nothing to be blessed with. So, he took what he wanted… even if it already belonged to someone else. It wasn’t fair. Why does everyone have something while I’m here with nothing? Yet here she was, wholeheartedly believing otherwise. As the light of the fire painted her face golden, Sukuna found himself thinking, how could anyone… be as marvelous as her?

“That’s why I’m glad… that I met you. It really feels like a stroke of luck! After years and years of nothingness, nothing but this spiralling darkness, all of a sudden—there was you. I didn’t really know why I was born all those moons ago, but now the answer just seems so simple. Maybe, just maybe… I was born so I could meet you.”

He believes it then, if the world had so selfishly kept it all from him, letting him believe that it didn’t need him… Sukuna will just have to keep living for someone who does.

---

Her words shone like daylight in this never-ending darkness. At the falls of twilight, in the wake of dawn, mists of the afternoon, shadows of midnight, there existed not a single second where her warmth had ceased to be near him.

Sukuna recalls the tender falls of his name from her lips, and all her kind affection. All that happiness, all those adventures, and everything in between. He treasured them all, carving them deep in the shrines of his soul, promising himself never to forsake them, resent them, or throw them away. Even if the sorcerers of the future were to damn him into eternal suffering, he would never forget.

I would rather be pained by the reminder of you, in every corner and every turn, than to live a life without a single memory of you.

Because he knew that after this, there was no going back. There would be no tomorrow. No lanterns to keep the roads alight. No fires to keep them warm. No nagging miko to keep him company.

It would just be him all over again. A single soul in a world that was far too big.

"His place certainly fits the description." The priestess looked up from the sketch and towards the looming temple in front of her.

Towering pagoda-like spires, carved with serpents and grotesque faces, reached for the skies. Beams of darkened wood stood at held the obsidian tiles covering the expanse of the roof. Screen windows were sealed shut, leaving no room for glances as to what secrets it held inside all that ancient malevolence.

There existed no clear route to the palace-like structure, for it looked to be as if there was no need for one. Not a single soul had ventured here in one piece, nor had anyone been fortunate enough to leave with it intact. The grounds were overgrown with thorny brambles, shadowed by the foliage that left no room for the gale to weave through.

An eerie, dim sunray streams through the dense canopy, painting the cracked stone pathways with unsettling patterns.

The priestess looked to be hesitant to go through the thresholds of his home, although Sukuna guesses her reasons were far too different from his. She had probably feared for her life, much like many mortals do… yet he feared that beyond this, nothing would exist. Just like how it had been before he had come across her being.

“Ryoumen I—”

“Move forward, miko. The king is ahead.”

Sukuna led her through the winding corridors of the temple, finding every torch ignited to a fault, leaving no room for shadows to linger. Crimson and obsidian tapestries depicting the waking nightmare of mortals hung from the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of incense blended with something acrid.

"Who knew he was such a collector huh?" The priestess jested, trying her best to give him one of her grins—yet she, herself, found it difficult to perform such a gesture when she was walking under the ceiling of the place serving as the foreboding citadel of demonic power, within the realm where the demon king reigns supreme.

“Listen, Ryōmen—" she faced him and looked at his weary eyes, "maybe we should leave.”

She gave him a halfhearted smile as silver began to brim the horizons of her lashes. “We can just tell everyone that they were mistaken, that the king doesn’t exist. Or that we killed him—anything!” The priestess drew closer to where he stood, clutching the fabric of his kimono, scared of letting go.

“I thought this was your dream?”

"Please…" her words were silenced by the sound of doors sliding open, crashing against the walls with a resounding bang.

No… it’s not. It hasn’t been for a long time now.

The priestess felt her chest rise and fall as her breath slowly dwindled. With a guilt-ridden heart, her gaze trailed upwards, like those lanterns from all those moons before. She found herself desperate to trace the contours of his inked face, memorize the shade of crimson dyeing his eyes, see the hints of warmth decorating the plains of his cheeks. The priestess treasured them all knowing that after today… she will never get to see them again.

You were my new dream.

A searing pain flowered from the beds of her stomach, casting her vision to tunnel to the image of him—so profound, so out of reach… so pained.

“Su…kuna… ah, I finally… got to call… you that…”

In his bewilderment, ropes of blinding white erupted from the shadows of the corridor, binding the king in a heavy hold.

Sukuna clenched his fist in protest, desperate to break away—to catch her before she fell in a crumpled heap on the floor. Only to falter when it dawns on him that this was her scheme all along.

For so long, people called my name in fear, resentment, like I was the very scum that walked the earth.

Sorcerers emerged from the corners, flooding the halls in numbers. Dressed in white kosodes and black hakamas.

“Well done, girl.”

A man rounded the corner, his hair shaded in the likeness of snow, eyes refracting the color of the sky. Sukuna recalls those features, having been inherited from the clan they labeled Gojo.

Sukuna looked to where the miko lay, a hand clawing the floors to reach where he stood, bound beyond escape, while the other was dyed red from holding her wound. A very prominent arrow nock blooming past that kosode she so devotedly wore.

Beneath the stars, the demon grieved, For love was true, yet hearts deceived.

The stranger knelt to where the priestess was, face down and holding tightly onto her wound as her blood flowed out of her body like waterfalls.

The man fisted the threads on her head and held it up, forcing her to witness the fruit of her crafted scheme.

The priestess, pure, in love so deep, Had no intent for harm to reap.

Yet to Sukuna, it remained clear as daylight, that she wanted no part in this. Even as her life is held at the palm of another, ready to be taken away, she remained looking at him… like she had always done.

“Your precious demon king, about to be sealed away.” Seizou shook her head back and forth while the priestess could do nothing but clench her eyes and endure the pain.

“Finally, after all these years.” he dropped her to the floor, choosing to draw closer to where Sukuna was bound, “Your reign will finally come to an end—”

Seizou’s words were swallowed by the white-hot pain searing through his chest, blood pooling in the back of his throat.

“Too bad yours will, too.” The priestess twisted the knife, imbued with a thousand curses, deeper into the heart of the man, hilt painted crimson—the color of her life… the color she had come to love so ardently.

“SEAL HIM AWAY!”

But darkened plots from hidden hands, Sealed his fate with cruel commands.

“It’s over—demon!”

The binds burned brighter, forcing him to revert to the form he was known for. One whose face was so deformed that humans were quick to conclude that he had two, his four arms tearing through the fabric of his kimono—the same one he recalls that she had held on so fervently.

Ah, the miko…

Everything slowed down. Her fingers freed the knife from her bloodied grip, staggering in her place and Sukuna closed his eyes.

As cowardly as it was, he didn’t want to see her turn away in resentment. He didn’t want to see the light, he had once been the center of its orbit, dim to leave him in the darkness. Sukuna, above all else, didn’t want his last memory of her to be one where she looked at him like he was anything but himself.

Humans prayed with their lives clutched so tightly, afraid that I'd be the thief that would take it away. Did they really deem themselves so precious that I'd steal their breath? It's kind of arrogant, really. The ones who declared themselves to be the humblest in the lands had held their souls higher than the heavens.

He was ashamed. Over and over and over again, he believed himself to be foolish—to have fallen so low as to crave the affection of a human. The priestess who was so painfully mortal.

But it remained. Every fervent thought. All the waking daydreams. Glimpses of heaven in you.

When did I get strung in such sappy things?

When did I...

Sukuna, feeling his fingers be burned from his limbs finally raised the curtains of his irises.

The hallways were free from noise, not a single breath in place.

“…hey.”

Aside from the priestess who lay beside his feet, tugging weakly on the seams of his clothes.

"Pretty... aren't I?" She laughs weakly.

"More like strange..." Sukuna could have sworn he heard those words before.

"And pretty."

"Sure, and pretty."

“I’ll… write your name. I promise… and they… won’t look like… summoning runes.” She coughed, casting away the substance that gave her life, no matter how painfully short it was.

How do mortals bear such anguish, knowing all that they loved would meet this end?

Sukuna spoke her name, one tethered with such earnest longing—a desperate plea for her to keep her life—to keep living, far longer than any other human. To outlive these sorcerers who gave him such a fate, even if it was just for a second longer.

“You… finally… called me… by my name.” The priestess smiled, letting her hand fall to the ground.

As the binds grew brighter, encasing everything in white, Sukuna caught the sight of a lone tear falling from the side of her eye, along with the words… “find me in the future.”

---

In realms where twilight meets the darkened sea, A priestess loved the demon king, though doomed to be.

Their passion burned where stars and shadows blend, Yet destiny decreed their hearts would never mend.

She fell to darkness, he was bound in chains so tight, Their love a fleeting spark in endless night.

#chiya's head rent 🎐#jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ao3 #jjk sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #ryomen sukuna #gojo satoru #yuji itadori

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 5 months ago

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Keep Moving Forwards, Part 21

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Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3.7K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Caelum stood before you, leaning casually on the corner of a stone building. You took him in, and he seemed almost larger than the last time you had seen him. His shoulders, under that wool hunting jacket, seemed broader, his legs longer, and his hands larger. His blond hair, which you used to trim back to keep tight to his scalp, was now much longer, the tips of it barely brushing over his shoulders. His beard, usually kept in stubble, had now grown in more fully, but those green eyes were still the same, filled with the same hatred and lust that they always had been.

You pushed yourself back so your back hit the side of the barn as he just looked at you, his eyes tracing you up and down as he took you in. “You look good,” he continued, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps forward.

Your eyes widened as he closed the gap between you two, the overwhelming scent of spruce and sage filling your nose as he stood a mere arm's length away. He gazed down at you again, “You’ve put on some weight,” he commented nonchalantly as your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, your voice barely above a whisper, “Please, Caelum, just leave me alone.”

He smirked, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer, “Oh, love, you know I can’t do that. You’re my mate. Sacred and forever.” You pressed harder against the barn, feeling the rough wood digging into your back. “Two parts of one whole creature,” he said, placing his hand firmly beside your head while his other hand traced the side of your cheek. He smiled, a catlike grin as you flinched away from his touch. Your entire view was consumed by his body as you whimpered. “Forever destined to roam the world in search of the other.” He placed his other hand to the opposite side of your head, closing you in. “So many others spend lifetimes searching for their mate, and now that we found each other, you would want to throw that all away? And over what?”

You hardened your gaze on him, “Over you beating me, and screaming at me, and making me wish for death.”

Caelum merely rolled his eyes, “You were always one for drama, my love, you always did love little stories.”

You pushed your hands against his chest, though he didn’t move. “You beat me!” you screamed.

“I never hurt you more than you could handle.”

“You broke my nose and jaw!”

Caelum raised his eyebrow, his fingers drumming the wood, “I seem to recall you fell backward and hit your face on the counter.”

You shook your head as you stammered out, “You put me on the kitchen floor and kicked me.”

His mouth turned down as he seemed to search through memories, “I can’t seem to recall that. You sure you weren’t just dreaming?”

You just shook your head again as you said, “No, no, I know that all happened.”

Caelum let out a sigh, letting one hand drop to his side, the other still firmly planted next to you. “Y/N, I know that I had problems—”

You shot out, “You’re a psychopath.”

Caelum’s face fell flat as he continued, “With drinking. But,” his face lifted, “I’ve stopped drinking altogether.” You scoffed out a laugh as his face became more serious, “Honestly, Y/N, I haven’t had a single drink since you left.”

You tried to steady your breathing, “Good for you.”

“For us,” he corrected, taking your hand in his. You recoiled at his touch, but his grasp was tight enough that you couldn’t pull away. He pulled your hand to his chest, placing it over his heart. “I know I’ve done things that I regret, and I know that I’ve hurt you. But things are better now. I promise.”

You looked at his eyes, seemingly innocent but also void of any emotion other than greed. “You can’t change who you are.”

“You have to give me a chance.”

You screamed back, “I gave you over a century's worth of chances!”

“We have a lifetime, my love.”

“A lifetime of brutality and rage?” you spat at him.

His face turned harder, “Of love and adoration.”

“Two feelings you are incapable of having.”

A flash of anger ran across his face as he stared down at you, his chest nearly pressing into yours as he leaned in closer. Your heart caught in your throat as he gently moved the braid from your neck, leaning into it and breathing in deeply as he went to place a small kiss on the soft flesh behind your ear. But he paused, breathing in again. He pulled back, a smirk on his face as you caught his eye. “So you’ve been whoring yourself out?”

You furrowed your brow, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He merely scoffed, nodding his head as he bit down on his lower lip, his head tilting slightly, “I know my mate’s scent. And I know that that stench on your neck isn’t yours. And unless someone isn’t almost on top of you, you won’t hold that scent this long.”

“Caelum—” you warned, trying to wiggle your way to the side and away from him, but he planted his hand firmly on the opposite side of you. “Caelum, stop it. You’re being idiotic.”

“Is he charming?” he taunted. “Is he so kind, and sweet, and gentle?”

“Stop it,” you hissed.

“Does he know that if he runs his fingers on the small of your back that it will make your toes curl and you’ll melt?”

“Caelum—”

“Does he fuck you softly?” Caelum moved in close to your face, merely a whisper, “Does he know that you like your hair pulled?”

“Please—” you pleaded.

Caelum traced his tongue up the side of your throat, “Mm, I can almost taste him,” he whispered. “Was he in you this morning? You little slut.”

Your body shook with terror and revulsion. You tried to push him away, but he was immovable. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your vision blurring with tears. “Caelum, please, just go.”

He laughed softly, a chilling sound that made your blood run cold. “I’m not leaving without you.”

You pulled back slightly as he leaned against you again, “Just let me go.”

Caelum pressed a kiss into your neck which made you whimper in fear and disgust, “You are mine. You bonded yourself to me and promised that you would always be mine, and I would always be yours.” He pressed in another kiss as you gulped down the rock that had formed in your throat.

“I am not your property.” You hissed.

Caelum gripped your chin, pulling you to look at him as he hardened his gaze, “You didn’t get to decide that, love. The bond was formed. It’s unbreakable. You are mine, and I will always come for what is mine.” Caelum leaned in close, pressing his lips hard against yours as you struggled against him. Your mouth twisted into a scowl as you shoved him back, but his strength and large frame kept him planted in place.

You shouted out, “Caelum, stop!”

Your mate grabbed you around your waist, holding you in place, continuing to force himself onto you as you struggled, crying out for him to stop.

“Hey!” you heard from behind him. Caelum did not immediately turn. Instead, he took a deep inhale, grinning like a predator.

He turned slowly as your chest heaved, your eyes wide. “So you're the one who’s been keeping my mate warm and limber,” he said.

“Kai,” you called out, reaching your hand forward, but Caelum threw his own back.

“Not now, my love. The males are talking.” Caelum took a few steps forward, casual as Kai met him with a hard gaze. While tall, Kai had nothing on Caelum, who towered over him, and for as muscular as Kai was, your mate had at least forty pounds on him.

When Caelum approached, Kai merely stared up at him. “She doesn’t want you here.”

Caelum scoffed. “How can you know what she wants?”

“You don’t have the right to come and force her back with you.”

“Oh, but I have all the right. She’s my mate. She bound herself to me.”

“She doesn’t have to stick by that choice.”

Caelum smiled, a light laugh pushing from his nose. “See now, maybe you don’t understand because you don’t have a mate, but when you bond with someone, they enter your mind, your soul, so to speak.” Caelum turned around, wrapping his arm around Kai’s shoulders as he pulled away and pointed at you. “And the lovely female before us decided almost a century and a half ago, give or take a decade, that she would devote her life to me. And I to her.” Caelum turned his attention back to Kai. “So by reasonable understanding, I would say that she made her choice, and as adults, we stand by our choices.”

Kai’s gaze hardened. “Your sick interpretation of the mating bond means nothing to me.”

Caelum’s lips dropped, and he shrugged his shoulders, taking a few steps back towards you. “It doesn’t have to mean anything to you. You’re not involved. And even if she somehow, in a world that doesn’t exist, decided to continue running from me and deny the bond that so rightfully was agreed upon, I would still live forever in her mind, for every little moment.” Caelum pressed his finger to his temple. “Because even while she can be so incessantly frustrating, closing down the bond, or trying to shove me back, she can’t do it all the time.” Caelum turned back to you. “In those little moments, when you’re asleep, when you’re in pain, or even when you’re in ecstasy, the moments where you forget to shut me out, I feel you.” Caelum took a few strides towards you. “And I’ve been so patient. Feeling your ribs crack and break, listening to your screams, feeling the terror coursing through you while you watch your friend be slaughtered in front of you, or the rush of arousal when you touch someone else. All those moments, I sat by and watched, waiting for you to beg me to come get you and come home.” Your eyes widened, suddenly aware of everything that he might have seen in the months since you had been gone. Caelum closed the gap between the two of you, his breath hot in your face as you stared at him. “You, my love, so strong, and yet also incredibly weak. Sorry to hear about your mother, by the way. Perhaps you are more like her than you thought.”

From behind, you heard Kai, “What? What is he talking about?”

Caelum’s eyes widened, his smile lengthening as he raised his brow. “Oh, so you haven’t shared that little detail with him?” You gulped. “Well, let me fill you in on the details, Kai.” Your mate turned to him, Kai’s name in his voice filled you with venom. “You see, while you were out with your friends last night, my mate went on some soul-searching journey back home.” Kai looked to you as you tried to plead with him through your gaze not to listen. “And she learned that mommy dearest had been raising her in a pleasure house and had a rather nasty habit of using drugs to get through her day.” Caelum turned to you. “Isn’t that right?” You said nothing, the lump in your throat seeming to constrict any words from leaving you. “And who knows what all my mate witnessed,” his eyes flicked to you, “or felt.” He turned back to Kai, who looked only at you. “And it turns out that all those memories my sweet mate has of her mother aren’t really real, are they? No, her cute little head as a child just thought mommy was that caring and generous when really she was whoring herself out around the city for drugs.”

You whipped your head to your mate. “Shut up,” you hissed.

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” he asked back. “All of it? And then your mother took you into the woods and raised you there until she left you. She left you to go back and get high again.”

“Stop it,” you warned.

“And then, when you were so, so sad, you went out to find her.” Caelum flashed his gaze to Kai. “Does he know this part? It really is my favorite.” Caelum rested his arm against the barn. “I found her lying in the dirt and the cold, almost dead, and I brought her into my home. And she begged me to let her stay. She told me about her poor mother and how she was lost in the woods. And all it took was me giving her a place to sleep and some food to eat, and she wrapped herself around my finger.” You gulped down as tears began to fall. “And then she told me this long story about mates, and about how before the fae lived, the gods split creatures into two forever cursed to wander the world looking for their other half.” Caelum looked at Kai, smiling, and then turned back to you. “So you’ve shared your little bedtime story then?” he asked. “And then, just like her mother, she threw herself at me, begging me to let her stay, all because I smiled at her and fed her.” He smiled at Kai. “She really is so easy, isn’t she?” You felt the tears burn hot trails down your face as you glared at him, your gaze cast away from Kai. Caelum continued, “And then, the very first time we slept together, the bond snapped, and I’ve never seen so much relief on someone’s face. She started insisting, ‘We have to be mated,’ and ‘we can’t be apart.’” Caelum placed his hand on your shoulder. “And I couldn’t let you down, not after I took you in out of the kindness of my heart, and I fed you, clothed you. Loved you. So we accepted the bond that she so desperately wanted.” Caelum turned back to Kai, his head tilting slightly. “Now, my love, am I forgetting anything?” You gulped down your tears. “Oh yes, that’s right. What about when you begged me to build you that cabin in the woods so we could move away from my family and into a place of our own? And how I spent months up there, hauling trees, and slaving away to build you that home?” Caelum leaned into your cheek, pressing a kiss into it. “But it was all worth it because I was going to spend my time with you. My mate. My whole life. You promised me that.” Caelum turned back to Kai, “She sure does love telling her sad little stories, doesn’t she? And she performs them so well, with her puppy dog eyes and her quivering lip.” Caelum faced you, his voice dropping. “So why don’t we just go home, back to the life we know, and we can pick up where we left off?”

As he turned away from Kai, he slowly pulled back his jacket, revealing two large knives strapped to the inside. Your gasp caught in your throat. “It doesn’t have to end badly,” he whispered. “You can decide how this goes.” You looked between the knives and his face, feeling your heartbeat thumping in your ears. Caelum was a skilled hunter; you had seen him take down prey by hand much larger than Kai. You’d also seen him fight with his hunting party, and even though that was mostly for fun, the fights were brutal and often left the others bloodied and bruised. Caelum would have Kai bleeding on the ground before Kai could even know what happened. You swallowed and nodded lightly. “Good choice,” Caelum whispered.

He let his coat fall back into place, shielding the knives from view before reaching his hand out to you. Your breath quivered as you slid your hand into his, his grin purely primal and sadistic. Caelum turned back to Kai. “Seems we’ve reached a conclusion.” Kai’s mouth dropped when he saw you hand in hand with your mate, his head shaking lightly.

“Y/N,” Kai started, “You don’t have to do this.”

Caelum brought his hand to his pocket, right over where you knew the knife was, and he squeezed your hand. “No, Kai,” you said, your voice shaking lightly. “No, it’s okay.”

Kai’s face scanned yours in utter confusion as Caelum smirked. “She’s come to her senses,” he called. “Seems she finally remembered her promise to me.”

Kai made to take a few steps forward, but you lightly shook your head at him, your eyes widening. As you glanced toward Caelum’s hips, Kai’s eyes followed your own. In a moment of understanding, Kai stopped and looked at your face, still shaking a subtle no.

“We’ve got quite the journey home, so we’ll be on our way,” Caelum said, smiling at Kai, whose gaze never broke from yours.

Caelum gripped your hand tighter as he stepped away from the barn, pulling you alongside him toward the large iron gates. Your heart pounded in your chest, your head swimming with the reality that you were being taken back, and that no one here knew for sure where you were going. Not to mention that since you fought back, there would be a certainty of pain when you got back to the cabin that you hadn’t known in a long time. You took a few weary steps, your legs shaking as Caelum pulled you alongside him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Without much warning, you heard a few fast-paced steps from behind, followed by a grunt as Kai leapt onto Caelum’s back, his arms sliding around his neck in a chokehold. Caelum stumbled backward, throwing his head back and meeting Kai’s nose with a blood-curdling crack. Kai released his hold and fell to the ground as Caelum steadied himself, reaching into his jacket pocket and silently pulling out a large, serrated hunting knife.

You turned to find Kai on the ground, propped on his forearms with his hand to his nose, gushing dark red blood. He scurried back as Caelum let out a low growl and started walking towards him, gripping the knife in his hand.

“Stop!” you called out, running after your mate, who was determined to gut Kai. You knew the look in Caelum’s eyes too well—when red had shadowed over his vision and reason no longer existed. You grabbed his shoulder, pleading for him to stop. “Caelum, please, let’s just leave. I’ll go home without a problem, I’ll never leave again.” But he didn’t respond, continuing to trudge forward as he shook you off towards Kai, who had stumbled back onto his feet.

“Please, Caelum,” you screamed, trying to grab at the knife. You gripped his hand in your own as he turned, his face curled in angry rage. “Please, my love, let’s just go.” You heard Kai groan a few feet from you as he backed into the wall, his face reddened with blood.

You ran your hands up the length of Caelum’s arms as he looked at you, and for a second, the world seemed to stop turning. Your eyes pleaded with his, searching for a sense of pity or empathy. But there was none to be found. In a moment, Caelum raised his hand and slapped you hard across the cheek, causing your whole body to fly sideways as you let out a screech and gasp.

In the same instant, Kai rushed forward, knocking his shoulder into Caelum. Caelum raised the knife, poised to stab down into Kai’s back, but Kai raised his own arm to stop the blow. Kai struggled under Caelum’s pressure as the knife slowly inched down towards his face. Regaining your bearings, you jumped fully onto Caelum’s back, gripping his arm in your hands and trying to pull the knife back. The three of you grunted in determination until you finally brought your teeth down into the soft flesh of your mate’s wrist, tasting his blood as he cried out in pain.

Caelum brought his other hand up to try and pull you off, calling you every name he could think of. He gripped you by your hair, yanking you back and throwing you to the ground. Your body hit the wet cobblestone with a thump and splash. In that moment of distraction, Caelum drove the knife right down beneath Kai’s left shoulder blade, all the way to the hilt.

Kai roared out in agony, leaning forward into Caelum, who twisted the knife in the flesh, causing a sickening squelch as blood poured from the wound. You cried out for Kai as Caelum tugged the knife free, now dripping with blood, and sheathed it. Kai fell to the ground in a heap.

“No, no, no!” you screamed, crawling over to Kai, who lay wheezing.

Caelum twisted his head, as if trying to work out a spasm, his hand coated in blood as he wiped the knife on his pants and sheathed it. You pressed into the wound on Kai’s back as he groaned in pain. “Just stay with me,” you ordered, looking around as Caelum seemed to reorient himself. “Help!” you screeched, “Someone please help me!”

As your cries echoed, the sound of heavy footsteps came down the street. Caelum stepped forward, wrapping his bloodied hand around your mouth to stop your screams and hauling you upwards. Behind you, the gates of the city shut as Caelum hissed out a curse, his hand still pressed over your mouth as he considered his options. You still looked down at Kai, who was turning pale as the blood drained from his wound, wheezing out. Tears clouded your vision as you fought against your mate’s hold, but his grip was too tight.

As the footsteps pounded closer, Caelum took off with you in his arms down the side street. As he turned the corner, taking you out of sight of the stables, you saw Kai’s face, clenched in pain, one hand extending out to you.

....Sorry: @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @rhysandorian

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 7 months ago

Text

Summons: Incubus!Noctis Caelum x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Incubus!Noctis, biting, breast worship, vaginal fingering, mating press, creampies, dirty talk

"Did it do anything?"

"It didn't work."

"Nothing happened."

You tossed the chalk to the ground and sat back down on the floorboards. Your friends all had a mixture of emotions painted on their faces ranging between skeptical and really fucking bored to disappointed. You looked back to your side to where the old "tome" sat opened, the spell it was opened to was obviously just a bunch of doodles and jumbled words.

"At least we can say we tried something for Halloween," you shrugged before eyeing them all.

One of your friends stood up, grabbed their backpack and slinging it over their shoulder.

"I gotta go. My dorm stops letting people in soon and I don't wanna wake up my roommate," they sighed before waving goodbye.

The others also started to trickle out one by one until you had been left alone in your dorm room. You stood up, dusting the powdery chalk off of your legs and snatching up the old tome. You and your friends had found it stashed in your school's library behind some of the older books in the fantasy section. One of your friends had slipped it into their back and brought it to your dorm room, showing you all bookmarks they had made with some of the spells and enchantments and summons they wanted to try tonight. Only one could've worked, however; a summoning spell for a demon, the description of the damned devil had been faded and even scratched up leaving so much to the imagination.

Your friends all joked that it would either be a big, brawny and very handsome demon while the others weighed that it could be an actual fucking problem like in the movies. Curiosity killed the coeurl, though, and pretty soon you had drawn out the summoning circle in great detail on your dorm's floors. You had to admit, you were a bit disappointed yourself. You were secretly hoping for a sexy demon to have some fun with, but now you were left with a mess to clean up.

You turned your back to the circle and flipped through more pages of the tome, walking towards the broom and dustpan in the corner when you suddenly felt a pair of eyes on you, burning a hole in the back of your head. Spinning on your heel, you gasped and dropped the dusty old tome to the floor.

You had company.

A man- fuck that, a demon was sitting in the summoning circle. He was on the floor, one leg tucked up while the other was stretched out. Dual black horns curled out from cool black messy hair. Eyes that looked as though he captured galaxies in them bore right into you. He was shirtless, showing off his pale and ashen skin, wearing nothing more than a pair of pants that looked like they were ripped straight from a fantasy game. An ashen tail curled behind him, swaying back and forth, snaking around his leg before brushing around like a cat's.

He eyed you lazily, raising his brows almost as if you were the one that was summoned and he was waiting for you to do your own little tricks.

"Holy shit," you mumbled as you eyed him up and down. "What the fuck?"

"I don't care much for crowds," he uttered as he gave you the same treatment.

"What kind of demon are you?"

He cocked a brow seemingly out of amusement, but you couldn't quite pin it down.

"An incubus. What kind of human are you?"

"Shouldn't Incubus have wings?"

He shot you a look.

"Shouldn't humans not be summoning demons?" Touché. He stood suddenly when you realized he was very much taller than you. He walked towards the edge of the summoning circle, stopping just where the chalk started. His tail twister behind him in curiosity as he eyed you. "You're rather interesting for a human. I'd love to know how you taste."

You were very much aware of the sharp teeth in his mouth. You caught the glints of them in the low lighting of your room.

Your cheeks heated up at his comment.

"Is that so?"

"It's true."

His eyes were staring right into your soul, reading you like an open book. He knew exactly how you were feeling, he probably knew exactly what you were feeling too. It doesn't take a fucking demon to know you were craving something crazed in the sheets. You felt a tingling feeling building up just behind your belly button, you felt your core tighten and warm up.

His nostrils twitched a bit, no doubt he could smell your arousal from where he stood just mere feet away. His eyes flared an even brighter blue. He looked like he was starving for passion and love.

"I can smell your need for me," his smile was handsome even with the fangs. "It's divine."

"Thank you?"

"All you have to do is say you want me," he stared you down, "and I can give you what you want." He eyed your pants before looking back into your eyes. "Just say you want me."

Was this real? Yes. Was this a smart thing to do? Fuck no, it was a damn demon that you just summoned from a nasty ass tome from Astrals knows when. Did you want this? Oh, absolutely!

"Take me," you barely whispered.

He broke from the summoning circle, stepping over the chalk and before eyeing knew it you were pinned against the wall of your dorm. You were thankful that you didn't have a roommate and even more thankful for the Halloween parties that were raging on across campus.

His hands were planted on your shoulders, his sharp nails dug into your jacket and pierced at your skin. His tail wrapped around your thigh and snaked its way upwards. You hissed when it teased at your sex through your pants, pressing against your warmth and tempting you even further into that little pool of list you were so damn adamant on swimming in. His tail tightened around your thigh just enough for it to start to tingle.

You whimpered, craning your neck to to meet his eyes as he stared down at you in pure hunger. Something feral lurked in his eyes and you were loving every second of it. Your body was on fire, your skin reacting so well to his touch. Was this wrong? You were about to make love with a demon. Was it really wrong?

If it was wrong, you didn't want to be right.

He captured your lips with his. He fisted your jacket and brought you as close to his body as he could. Your hands fumbled across his body. He was pretty chiseled with pecs and faint abs on the cusp of being something straight out of a porno. Your hands grabbed at his broad shoulders, anchoring yourself against him as your lips moved in tangent. Your teeth clicked against each others by accident a few times from how rough he was using your poor mouth. You could taste blood starting to linger into the kiss, traces of hearty iron tainting your tongues as he greedily drank you up like he was some vampire.

His tongue rolled over your lips before forcing them apart himself, not caring for you to allow him in. You've already sealed that fate. His tongue was warm and wet and eager to explore. He loved to explore your mouth, eagerly fighting with your tongue as you moaned softly into the kiss. Your fingers tugged at the hair that tickled at his shoulders, earning you a fierce growl from the demon as his claws sank into you more.

When he grew tired of your mouth, he parted from it and trailed his tongue down your jaw to your neck. He pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to your jugular, lapping at your pulse and nosed at the column of your throat. He inhaled your scent like he could get high off of the smell alone before licking at it again with that tongue of his. Oh Astrals, what you want him to do with that tongue alone.

He pressed hot kisses to your throat right where your pulse was the strongest, each kiss getting rougher than the last until he finally sank his sharp teeth into your delicate skin. You cried, sinking your nails into his shoulders to anchor yourself against him as your knees wobbled and threatened to give out under your weight.

Your head rolled back and smacked against your wall when his tail teased at your sex, pressing firmly against the swollen flesh, teasing at the wet spot that was slowly growing in the crotch of your pants.

His teeth unlatched from your throat and he nosed at your ear, nibbling at your earlobe and smirked.

"You're already hot and bothered and I've just been kissing you," he purred in your ear. "So eager for me."

"Please," you whimpered.

Your hands caressed up his ashen neck, toying with his locks of soft black hair.

"What do you want? Tell me."

"Please, just fuck me already. Please?"

He pinned you to the bed, his clawed hand wrapped around your jaw as he hovered above you. His palm covered your mouth, muffling your moans and pants. His eyes were wild, his teeth bared. He looked like a wild animal.

"You're very interesting for a human," he thought out loud, "I think I'll keep you around when I'm done here."

Your clothes were suddenly missing from your person, your skin chilled and your body hair stood up on its ends at the sudden loss of protection. Your cheeks lit aflame under his intense gaze, heat crawling up your face as your mind grew slightly embarrassed from the whole situation. Your hands tried to cover at your nude body, shying away from his sight as you turned your head away as the demon’s eyes lavished over your perfect form. He batted your hands away, clawed fingers wrapping around your wrists and pulling them away, planting them on either side of your head as he locked eyes with you once more.

“Don’t hide from me,” his eyes lit up like neon signs you would see cutting through the darkness of downtown Insomnia.

You were hypnotized by how beautiful his eyes were, you didn’t feel his hands release your wrists until you felt them gently caressing your body. He started at your hips, squeezing at your soft flesh before he followed the curves up to your waist and soon found his claws dragging up your ribcage right to your breasts. Your nipples had already pebbled from the cold, your body felt as though it was set on fire. Your nerves crackled with life when the calloused pads of his thumbs rolled over such sensitive flesh that it had you flinching, sucking in a quick breath through your teeth.

For a demon, he was surely being gentle with you.

His hands squeezed at your breasts, his fingertips digging in deep enough to just teeter on the brink of eliciting pain but not pushing past into that threshold. He kneaded at your breasts for a minute, drawing out soft sighs and delicate moans from your lips as your eyes fluttered shut. He slowly brought his head down, removing his hand that fondled with your left breast. You felt his warm breath hit your skin followed by wet warmth as he latched onto your nipple. You cried out loud, suddenly slapping a hand over your mouth as you suddenly remembered you were in a dormitory with dozens of people on your floor still bustling around you.

You felt his smirk into your tit before he nipped at the bud of your nipple. You hissed, your free hand coming down to snatch at one of his horns to tug his head even closer to you. You cried out again into your palm this time when you felt his sharp teeth gently sink into your nipple, tugging at it as he sucked at your supple skin. He growled sexually into your skin at the noises you were making.

You felt his tail caressing your thigh, slowly working its way between your legs and nudging them apart just enough for him to slot one of his knees between them. He pressed his knee right up against your throbbing cunt that was slick with your arousal.

He released your poor breast only to latch onto the other. Instead of replacing your now sore and tender breast with his hand to knead the soft skin, he instead brought it down to your aching pussy and caressed your dripping folds. You jumped at the feeling of his cold claw slowly slide against you, parting your cunt as the rough pad of his index finger rubbed at you. You groaned, digging the back of your head into the rumpled sheets below. He was careful with you still, never going too fast with your delicate skin, never drawing blood as he rubbed at your pussy with his clawed finger. He quickly added a second one, arching it just enough for the tip of his claw to scratch lightly at your cunt and pull a gasp from you before you suddenly choked on a moan. You screwed your eyes shut as a surge of something electrical shocked your entire body, your limbs suddenly going a little numb as your body twitched and trembled at the feelings he was pulling from you by just sucking at your tits and fingering you as best as he could.

He pulled away from your breast and looked up at your face when he felt you look away, your grip on his horn almost faltered, sliding down the curved base until you moved your hand to grasp lightly at his dark locks.

“Look at me,” he growled darkly. He quickened his pace with your cunt. You felt your legs start to tremble, your core start to tighten, you didn’t have much longer. “Look at me when you cum.”

His voice sounded more demonic at that statement. You loved the sense of danger that washed over your senses. Your eyes shot open despite your eyelids pulling with exhaustion and made eye contact with his galactic eyes. They bore into you, read your entire soul as though it was an open book.

You came suddenly on his fingers, eyes squeezing shut again only for a brief second as your vision went white. Your body shook and locked up, your hands clung to his body burning hot with desire. Your eyes fluttered open once more when you felt his fingers massaging deep into you before he pulled away. You watched as he sat back on his haunches and stared at his two fingers covered in your sweet nectar, the clear and thick fluid clinging to his skin as it shined in the low lighting in your dorm. He brought his fingers up to his mouth and lapped at them, his sharp tongue tasting your sweet orgasm with a satisfied groan, his eyes shutting as he enjoyed how perfect you tasted. Once he had licked his fingers clean of you, he opened his eyes and looked down at you still trembling from your climax.

“You taste so divine,” he praised. “I could eat you out for days on end and never get tired of how perfect you taste to me.”

His eyes lazily looked down at your cunt now slick with what remained of your climax before he looked back up at you.

“Please,” you whimpered pitifully.

“What do you want me to do to you?” he asked coyly.

“Fuck me. Please?”

You saw his sharp teeth when he smiled devilishly at you.

His pants were quickly discarded and your eyes went wide at the side of his cock. Would that even fit? Your thighs tried to close themselves on instinct, your body in sudden shock at how hung he was. Why did it surprise you so? He was a demon after all.

He climbed over you, his clawed hands snatched at the sheets on either side of your head as he brought his trim waist down close to yours. You flinched when you felt the head of his cock press against your folds and parted them with ease. He dragged his cock along your sweet little cunt, lathering his head with as much of your spilled climax as he could until you felt a tap at your passageway.

He connected his lips to yours, swallowing your cries when he thrusted into you. Your hands snatched at his shoulders, nails biting into his hot skin as his cock speared right into you. You felt so horribly full with just the little bit he had pressed into you, your walls stretched so painfully yet so deliciously that you craved more. He sank his hips down as low as he could before he bottomed out inside of you. You screamed against his lips, cried into the cavity of his mouth as his tongue explored yours when you felt his head tap at your cervix.

He suddenly broke the kiss to snatch at your ankles. He gave you no time to adjust and prepare, he gave you no warning as to what he was about to do. He suddenly brought your knees up to your chest as he held your ankles up over your head as far as they would go. He spread your legs apart and sat up straight, towering over you as he pressed himself almost completely into you. Your head craned back, mouth hung open as you moaned out loud. You didn’t care who heard you at this point.

He gave you very little time to prepare before he started thrusting at an inhuman pace. His hips smacked against yours, his heavy balls slapped against you, his cock stretched you out to the point you thought your poor cunt would tear. You were once again teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain and you were living for it.

His claws sank into your ankles just enough for blood to start to bead at the marks he left behind. He kept his eyes on you as he fucked you like an animal. They were full of lust and drank up your sinful desires like his life depended on it.

“Fuck! You feel so good-” he panted between thrusts. “I’m not letting you out of my life.”

“Please! Ah- I- fuck,” you struggled to catch a breath.

Your legs strained uncomfortably at the stretch he was forcing. Your knees being tucked up to your chin left little room for you to breathe.

“I’m gonna cum inside of you, make you mine,” he snarled down at you through bared fangs.

You could feel his abs twitching with his thrusts, you could feel his cock harden and flinch inside of your velvety walls.

You came apart once again, your walls fluttering against his cock as you cried out loud. It felt as though the air had been punched out from your lungs, it felt as though your mind was hit with a flashbang.

His thrusts became sloppy and harsh. With every thrust, he growled and snarled and moaned. He suddenly latched a hand onto your jaw and forced you to look at him. His galactic gaze made the heavy feeling in your chest grow all warm and fuzzy.

“What are you?” he snarled.

“Yours,” you whispered back. “I’m yours.”

He thrusted harshly into you one last time before he suddenly came inside of you. He roared, throat flexing as his larynx bobbed. He shot thick, hot ropes of cum right into your waiting womb, painting the poor thing white as he filled you until you were full. He refused to leave you at first, he loved the euphoric feeling of how your walls milked him for everything he had. You groaned softly at how full you felt, and the demon above you shushed you softly, slowly dropping your legs down as his cum started to drip from your abused cunt.

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #noctis lucis caelum #noctis caelum x reader #noctis x reader

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