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superectojazzmage · 3 months ago

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Just back from Alien Romulus and hoooo boy oh boy. Review/analysis.

Easily the best Alien movie since the first two, which isn't saying much, yeah, but it is legit a really cool and well-made movie, competing with Late Night With The Devil, Longlegs, and Cuckoo for title of my favorite horror movie this year.

In a lot of ways it's about harvesting the few good ideas from the post-2 movies that were squandered and doing them right, plus getting the series back to it's healthier roots, kinda the movie equivalent of someone doing physical therapy to get back in the saddle after an injury. This means it's not quite brand new ground like some may hope for and I've heard some people feel it gets a little derivative at points because of it. I can kinda agree and certainly understand that criticism, but I feel it does what it's aiming for really well and sets things up for future works to go in even crazier directions. Furthermore, it takes a lot of time to try and weld together the disparate post-2 movies in a way that brings the series back to a little coherency.

The atmosphere is really intense and cool, swinging between lovecraftian dread and build-up and high-energy chaos. The aesthetics and special effects are gorgeous, taking full advantage of the progress that technology has made since 2 plus really digging in to the used cassette future vibe of the older films. The characters are likable and actually intelligent (or at least understandable) in behavior like in the first two movies, so you care about what's happening to them instead of just waiting for them to get munched. The action and kills were really cool and creative, the cinematography in general was off-kilter in an awesome way - there's a definite attempt to make the movie feel claustrophobic and intimate. Fede Alvarez did a fantastic job in general, I'd love to see him do more with the series.

It REALLY cranks up the series' psychosexual, freudian, and sexual assault subtext, arguably to a point where it's just plain text. So if you're sensitive to stuff like that or if this is your first go at Alien, be warned for that.

More specific notes go under the header for spoilers. Highly recommend you go in as blind as you can.

Andy and Rain were wonderful leads, their dynamic was fantastic and Calie Spaeny and David Jonsson both turned in great performances. I direly hope they join the first two films' casts as "major" characters for the series going forward.

The effects to make Daniel Betts look like Ian Holms were quite possibly the one and only time the special effects failed. It looks very wonky, which is sad because Betts does a really good job copying Holms' mannerisms for Ash while still making Rook feel like a distinct character.

In addition to the usual themes of sexual unease, genetics, and parenthood, this movie adds in some really interesting themes of familial legacy, the rise of new generations, foundations, etc.. Andy and Rain are like Romulus and Remus of myth, orphaned and left to fend for themselves but growing into founders of a new age - both in-story with their carrying the XX121 substance and evidence of Weyland-Yutani's misdeeds to Yvaga and out-of-story with them being the protagonists of a new era for Alien. Likewise, the Offspring is the first example of an entirely new species, neither human nor alien but taking from the lineages of both through Kay and Big Chap, a Romulus-like founder of it's breed that will later bear fruit in Resurrection with the Ripley clone and Newborn.

I'm really not kidding when I say above that the psychosexual undercurrents are taken to the extreme here. This movie basically sees the ways the original film subtly pin-pricked at those themes, says "fuck that", and deliberately rubs it in your face in a way designed to make sure you can't ignore it. It wants you to be grossed out and to squirm in your chair and it knows exactly how to make it happen.

Alvarez noted in the lead-up to release that he took a lot of influence from Isolation and you can definitely see that in how he depicts the Xenomorphs and the general aura of the film. He further described it as a kind of halfway point between the first and second movies and you can also see that; it has the Lovecraft-style tension and horror of the first, balanced with the energy and action of the second, and it does a really good job finding a middle ground between Ridley Scott and James Cameron's styles while also doing it's own dance.

I mentioned way back at the start how the movie basically harvests the good ideas from 3, Resurrection, Prometheus, and Covenant and gives them the room they deserve while dumping the bad. It does that in both terms of themes/style and continuity/lore. Concepts that those movies bungled like xeno-human hybridism, the black goo, genetic engineering as a focus, and so on are done here more creatively and competently. Themes that those films tried and failed to tackle are handled with significantly more grace. It has the atmosphere and characterization of 3 but none of it's baggage and needlessly depressive tone. It has the body horror and weirdness of Resurrection without taking it to the zany, embarrassing areas that movie went. The effects and creativity of Prometheus and Covenant without any of their awful writing and clumsy messages. Alvarez takes on kind of an Al Ewing-esque "repairman" writing style here.

The Xenomorphs are absolutely deranged in behavior compared to most portrayals, attacking like either cruel sadists or raging chimps and rarely bothering to take hosts. I'm not sure if such a reading was intended, but I got the vibe that the idea is Xenos raised without a queen or hive grow to be basically sociopathic like how real world predatory animals grown without parental figures become feral and dysfunctional. Which would also explain a lot about how the Xeno in the original movie, Big Chap, acts there.

The Offspring's design is fucking wicked and I love it.

One of my few major criticisms is that Big Chap died off-screen instead of getting more to do. What was the point of having him be alive at the start if he wasn't gonna be used beyond a backstory point to set up the main story?

All in all, a very impressive effort and a great return to form for the series that I recommend highly.

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little-diable · 1 year ago

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The Devil is Among Us - Tom Riddle (smut)

I just love writing priest!Riddle, he's def my fave. Nevertheless, remember: Don't like it, don't read it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is in a desperate need, asking the Devil himself to help her with the daily struggles she keeps on facing. But what will she do when suddenly her local priest turns up?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unrpotected piv, blowjob, loss of virginity, praise kink, sex in a church, mentions blood, power play, religious connotations, biblical beings

Pairing: Priest/Devil!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (3k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

The candles danced in the thick blanket of darkness surrounding (y/n), knees pressed to the ground, hands tightly gripping the leatherbound book she was reading. No sound could be heard, nothing but a bone-chilling silence that made goosebumps rise on her skin, unsure if she should keep on doing this.

For a moment (y/n)’s eyes flickered up from the page she was reading, studying the pentagram she had drawn on the ground, following every step of the ritual. Her heart was pounding, roaring in her chest in hopes of ripping her away from this scene before she could take the last step. But she was determined, set on following through with the ritual she had been studying for nights on end.

With a deep breath sucked into her lungs, (y/n) reached for the knife laying next to her, trembling hand pushing it closer to the candles. She watched the reflection of the flames dance in the shiny blade, heating up the material before she brought the blade back to her wrist. A hiss rolled off her tongue as she cut her skin, collecting drops of her blood in the old goblet she had thrifted weeks ago.

The first words began to roll off her tongue, latin words she knew by heart, forcing them into her brain. Her eyes fluttered close as (y/n) rose to her feet, positioning herself in the middle of the pentagram, letting the blood drip down onto the candles, while she kept speaking the words.

Her body couldn’t stop trembling, sensing the danger before her mind could pick up on it, but (y/n) couldn’t stop now, not after waiting for this very night to come upon her for weeks. She had prepared everything, carefully, not daring to tell anybody about what she was doing, trying to summon the Devil, the one that could help free her from the mess she found herself stuck in. All she needed was some of his help, ripping those from (y/n) that talked down on her, that pushed her away from gatherings, treating her like an outcast.

As soon as the last word was spoken, the goblet fell from her hands, clashing to the ground with a sound so shrill, (y/n) couldn’t help but jerk in surprise. She held still, kept her mouth shut, waiting for something to happen, anything, and yet nothing did. Seconds kept fading by, seconds turning into one minute, then two, then three – till the first wave of defeat began to flush through her.

With a sigh leaving her (y/n) found herself groaning, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion, wondering what she had done wrong. But before another sound of hers could echo through the dark basement, the sound of somebody slowly clapping their hands filled the room, making her eyes snap towards the dark corner across from her. The sound of chuckles rang in her ears, eyes desperately trying to focus on the person hiding away from her.

“I have to say, (y/n), I’m impressed.” A familiar voice filled the basement, and yet (y/n) couldn’t pinpoint where she knew the male voice from. Fear filled her body, thumping through her veins as she began to take a step back, almost knocking over the candles. “What? First you summon me, and now you’re afraid of me? C’mon, (y/n), I expected better from you.”

The sound of a chair being pushed back left her gasping, boots meeting the cold ground till the man’s frame was exposed to her. Her eyes met an all too familiar pair of pupils staring at her, making her gasp in surprise.

“Priest Riddle? What are you doing here? How did you –” the sound of laughter once again interrupted (y/n), forcing the young woman to keep quiet. The man kept walking closer, till he came to halt in front of her trembling frame, staring down on her with a smirk tugging on his lips. He picked the goblet up, thumb collecting a few last drops of her blood before he pressed his now red digit against her parted lips.

“So naive, so stupid, don’t disappoint me, (y/n). You know why I’m here.” Shaky breaths left her, shaking her head as if she was trying to wake from this nightmare. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be.

“You’re a priest, how – how could you possibly be Him?” It was nothing but a whisper, a sound so quiet even her own two ears struggled to pick up on it. He tilted his head, didn’t break eye contact once as his hand began to move down her throat, finding its way to her chest. (Y/n) felt her heart skipping beats, a power so strong was pressing down on the strong muscle, she failed to keep on breathing.

“Haven’t you heard? I like to keep those close who fear me, I enjoy their whimpers, how they ache for guidance because they fear ending up in my claws. It's pathetic.” Only as he pulled his hand away did she manage to suck another breath into her lungs, glassy eyes searching his firey ones. “You asked me here, because you want something from me. Speak freely, (y/n).”

“I,” she stumbled over her words, no longer able to remember why she had tried to call the Devil himself, no longer remembering the pain she was forced to endure day in, night out. Her eyes couldn’t leave his features, the smirk that had an awfully unfamiliar touch to it, not fitting the face of the priest she had known for years. “Do you remember what I told you last month? In the confessionary?”

“I do, of course I do.” The softness of his voice left her heart roaring, torn between her fear and her curiosity, body moving closer before her mind could pick up on the movement. His eyes followed her around, like a moth drawn to a flame, like a sinner drawn to the Devil, a perfect match.

“I want it all to stop, the rumours, the pain, everything.” A hum left the tall man, he pondered over her words, eyes flickering down to her fingers, watching her fumble with the fabric of her blouse. His cold hand found her chin, forcing her eyes back to meet his, the pupils that have seen more pain than one could even begin to understand.

“You know it’ll come with a price, don’t you?” Her pupils grew wide once again, clearly (y/n) hadn’t thought about the price she’d have to pay, wondering what he may ask of her.

“Do I have to sell my soul to you?” The words leaving her lips in nothing but a whisper left the man chuckling, head thrown back to release the sound. He shook his head, clicking his tongue as if he was trying to keep her frozen to the spot, not daring to let go of her warm skin just yet.

“Whoever told you that clearly wanted to frighten you, sweet (y/n). No, I don’t want your soul, but your body. Give yourself to me, and I will follow your request.” She choked on her breath, unable to rip herself free as he tightened his grip even further. Her heart once again picked up its pounding pace, roaring in her chest, begging (y/n) to pull back. No man had ever touched her, not one man had been able to reach for her heart nor her soul, hidden from greedy eyes and greedy fingers.

“Can I think about it?” He shook his head, wordlessly circling her in even further, forcing (y/n) to make her decision right there, right then. “Okay. I will do it.”

“Good girl,” the praise left her shuddering, straightening her back as goosebumps rose on her skin. All he could do was laugh, watching her body tense at his words, very well aware that he’ll have his fun with (y/n), the one he had been watching from afar, expecting this very day to roll upon them. “I’ll expect to see you tomorrow for my morning service, (y/n).”

And with a nod thrown his way, (y/n) watched him disappear in front of her wide eyes, leaving her to wonder if this had been a dream, a trick of her brain.

……

With her eyes set on the tall man, (y/n) followed the others, walking closer and closer to receive the body of Christ. Her heart was pounding, wondering if he’d say something to her, if he’d tease her once again. Just the mere thought about what she had experienced yesterday evening left her feeling uneasy, thighs trembling.

“Open your mouth, (y/n).” The command forced a sigh from her, lips slowly parting to expose her tongue to him. Without breaking eye contact he pushed the host down on the strong muscle, making him smirk as he watched her pupils dilate. With a nod thrown her way, he allowed her to turn back to the waiting crowd, none of them seemed to pick up on the shudders his touch shot down her spine, none of them seemed to pick up on the way her skin grew hotter with every passing second.

The Devil had her trapped, caught in a dark web of lies, of pretending, a web she couldn’t break from.

No longer could (y/n) spare any attention to the end of the service, hanging onto his every word without picking up on what he was actually speaking, imagination running wild, forcing sinful pictures into her mind. She could only guess that he’d be ruthless with her, he will take what he is aching for – that much she was sure of.

Only as he ended the service with one last “Amen” leaving him did (y/n) snap out of her trance, eyes watching the others pour out of the church, while she stayed seated. He leaned back against the altar, arms crossed in front of his chest as he wordlessly forced her to walk towards him, almost stumbling over her feet as the pull inside her grew stronger and stronger.

“Kneel.” The word echoed through the empty church, making her eyes snap up to meet his as (y/n) fell to her knees in front of him. She watched him loosen his white collar, plastic placed down on the altar before he began to roll up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. “Will you stick to your promise, sweet (y/n)?”

“I will.” Her whisper left him smirking once again, eyebrows raised as he waited for her to keep on speaking. “I will give myself to you. But how will I know that I can trust you? You’re fooling those around you, all of it is blasphemy, is it not?”

The man’s deep laughter rumbled through him, shaking his head as he reached for her jaw just like he had done yesterday evening. His thumb was forced into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue to make (y/n) suck on the finger, drawing a raspy groan from him. “You’ve always been my favourite, (y/n). I knew you’d be good, such a good girl for me. A deal is a deal, I won’t back out, you have my word.”

Trusting the word of the Devil, how pathetic, how naive of her.

“What should I call you?” Her whispered question was left unanswered, drowned out by the sound of him undoing his trousers, exposing his throbbing cock to her curious eyes. She stared at him without moving, unable to speak another word, mouth growing dry, throat growing tight. She had never seen a man naked before, had never even dared to imagine what she was seeing now, and yet (y/n) couldn’t stop the anticipation from thumbing through her veins, making her tremble for more.

“Part those pretty lips for me, darling.” He pushed his cock past her lips, leaving her to instantly choke. Water filled her pupils, blurring her sight for a moment. The man didn’t hold back, his hand found the back of her head, forcing her to pick up a bobbing motion. Without seeking any further guidance her hands moved up his thighs, grasping his cock.

It took her a few tries to adjust, but (y/n) was determined, set on pleasing the man who’d help her out, the being with a soul so dark, her mind couldn’t even begin to understand what he was capable of. Her hands trembled, struggling to move in sync with the speed of her bobbing motion, taking him deeper and deeper. He was a groaning mess, producing sounds that left her cunt begging for his attention, needing to be touched like she had never been touched before.

“Mhm, I should keep you, make you mine for eternity. I know you’d do well serving me.” (Y/n) could only whimper around him, not expecting him to jerk his hips, fucking her mouth without a warning rolling off his tongue. Spit dripped from her mouth, strings of saliva connected her lips to the tip of his cock as he allowed her to pull away, catching her breath as her hands kept moving. “Fuck, look at you, so oblivious, so naive, and yet your hands know how to touch me.”

An unfamiliar sense of pride flushed through her, taking him into her mouth once again. (Y/n) was eager, set on proving her worth to the king of darkness, the one all sinners followed through the darkest night. She was his, had sold her soul without knowing so, and yet (y/n) felt protected, safe, and appreciated by him. A trick of his mind that forced her to do whatever he asked of her.

“Tell me, are you ready to take me?” The question left her swallowing, unable to reply, not knowing what was awaiting her. He didn’t give her any time to ponder on the question, pulled away from her to pick her up, setting her down on the cold altar. Her gasps rang in their ears, making him chuckle with a dark expression tugging on his features. There was no way out, she was stuck, forced to the being without any chance to snap the unbreakable bond.

He spread her legs, hands disappearing underneath her skirt, feeling the damp fabric of her panties. She didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move, wondering what would happen, how he’d touch her, how he’d make her feel. Her heart was pounding, mind racing, paying attention to his every touch.

“You’re soaked, dripping for me, so inexperienced, but your body knows just what it wants, doesn’t it?” (Y/n) could only nod her head, allowing him to pull her panties down her legs, making the cold air hit her warm skin. A moan ripped through her as his fingers brushed through her slit, pumping into her without giving (y/n) the chance to adjust. He fucked her with his fingers, rubbed her pulsing bundle of nerves with his cold thumb, making her writhe.

“Oh god, feels good.” Her head rolled back, hands finding his forearms, desperate to hold onto the ancient being. She barely picked up on the teasing words he spoke, couldn’t care about the things he was speaking, fully focused on the new sensation, hoping that this moment would last forever.

“God isn’t around, He won’t help you, not as long as you’re mine.” Darkness engulfed her as (y/n)’s eyes fluttered close, drawing sobs, moans, and whimpers from her body, sounds growing louder as he pulled away, as he stopped touching her. Her hazy eyes watched him align himself with her cunt, slowly pushing into her, making her body tremble in pain.

It took her a while to adjust to the stretch, needing to breathe through the pain, while he slowly fucked into her. With their eyes connected, he placed one hand down on the altar, while the other found the back of her neck, forcing her lips to meet his, officially sealing their deal without (y/n) knowing so. He had claimed her, had made her the devil’s toy, nothing would ever free her from him. The being tasted of darkness, of a rich darkness that was so unfamiliar she’d never taste it again.

Curses left her, words he found himself chuckling about as he built up the pace of his thrusts, ruthlessly, merciless fucking (y/n) on the holy altar. There was nothing sweet about the first time she was touched, and yet (y/n) felt grateful that he was the one touching her, that she had given herself to him, to him only.

Her walls clenched around his cock whenever he nudged her sweet spot, murmuring a soft “Touch yourself” against her neck. With trembling fingers she began to rub her clit, eyes fluttering close once again, arching her chest against his. (Y/n) felt him suck marks into her skin, marks she’d carry around with herself till her last day on this very earth, forever marked by the Devil himself.

No words helped her express the intense feeling building itself up inside of her, thumping through her veins, making her quiver. She came with a gasp, clinging onto her orgasm in hopes of prolonging the feeling. He kept on fucking her, even as her body trembled from the overstimulation, begging him to give in.

With his hand finding her jaw, holding onto her, he came inside of her, painting her walls white with a deep groan clawing through him. She felt his heat filling her, stretching itself through her body, a sensation she’d forever remember, stuck in the holy halls, closer to God than she had ever been before.

“I expect you to return, you’re mine now, you belong to me. I will take care of my end of the deal. But know that there’s no way back.”

#Tom Riddle smut #Tom Riddle imagine #priest fics #Tom Riddle x reader #harry potter

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thenameswinterfics · 4 months ago

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BOUND TO YOU

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Succubus!Reader Settings: Seven Kings Must Die Summary: Since becoming the new lord of Dunholm, Sihtric has ruled alone, with no woman at his side to call "wife". Things begin to change when you begin to appear in his dreams, a human so perfect that he believes he has finally found the one, a blessing from the gods. Little does he know that behind your appearance lies a devil in disguise. Word Count: 4,6 K Warnings: SMUT, mention of death, human/monster romance, monsterfucking, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v sex. A/N: This is for my beautiful woman @sihtricfedaraaahvicius: happy birthday again my beloved, I really really hope you have a wonderful day and you enjoyed yourself. I hope you enjoy this as well, in case you can cancel me from your existence ahahaha. This story is not outlined, so if you find some confusing and rushing parts, I deeply apologise. Double apologise because this is my first time writing this kind of creature, I hope I have done them justice. A special thanks to @foxyanon for the title and to her and @zaldritzosrose for the brainstorm, the beta reading and for having a lot of patience with me.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

Sihtric crossed the courtyard, one hand rubbing the bridge of his nose as he continued to fight fatigue. His eyes darted around, greeting with an absent nod of his head a few of his men who crossed his path, sighing nervously at the cold air that hit his face, making him feel more tired than relieved.

Destiny had worked with him in a singular way, and if many years ago it made him leave his birthplace as Sihtric Kjartansson, the bastard son of Kjartan the Cruel, it allowed him to return as Sihtric of Dunholm, a man forged in blood and battle, and who stepped up to rule a fortress that he had always seen through the eyes of a slave, never a leader.

Years had passed since Uhtred claimed his birthright over Bebbanburg, and with what little interest he had in ruling Dunholm, Sihtric became its new Jarl, without ever breaking the oath he had made to his friend and lord. And so he worked hard to make his own legacy, trying to obscure the trail of cruelty and violence his father left behind.

All this time he had ruled Dunholm alone, without a woman at his side to support and guide him, or even to share a warm meal and a bed in his private moments. Long gone were the days when he spent all his silver seeking the company of women, longing for the love he had never received in his life: his naivety even led him to fall in love with a whore he paid all his silver for, leaving him with empty pockets and a broken heart. With the battles he had to face over the years, Sihtric never found the opportunity to bind himself to another woman.

Until you started to appear in his dreams at night.

At first you were just a glimpse, a soft and soothing whisper that made his heart flutter in his chest, your laughter a melody carried on the wind. Each night his dreams became more vivid, and the mysterious silhouette transformed into a woman of disarming beauty, a being so perfect that she was forged by the gods. Sihtric was fascinated by you: he saw the way you carried yourself with your elegance, the way your long hair danced softly in the wind. He saw your eyes, two bright pools that sparkled with an irresistible glimpse of mischief. And he saw your smile. Oh, your beautiful smile. So warm and inviting that it relieved him of all fatigue, spreading a pleasant warmth in his chest and making his head spin with your unmistakable scent.

Every night Sihtric would reach for your hand and lean for your touch, wanting to feel the warmth of your body as close to his. But the morning would always come, and the Dane would wake up to the reality that you were not at his side, and with an unbearable void in his heart.

But the gods seemed to smile at him, and when Sihtric raised his eyes to see a familiar silhouette, he could hardly believe his eyes. It was as if one of Thor's lightning bolts had struck him, rendering him speechless for a moment. Sihtric's mismatched eyes blinked rapidly, trying to reconcile the image before him with the memories of the dreams that haunted him every night.

For the first time, here you were, made of nothing but flesh and bone. He recognised the outline of your face, the way your eyes held that sparkle of mischief even as your lips curved in that warm smile that clouded his thoughts, that same intoxicating scent that made the warmth in his chest rise again and spread to his stomach. The Lord of Dunholm shook his head at first, thinking that either fatigue or Loki himself was playing with his mind. But the more he rubbed his eyes, the clearer his vision became, and you were still there, wandering about the courtyard of the fortress.

As Sihtric gathered his courage and began to walk towards you, he was interrupted by one of his soldiers, who called him to attend to urgent matters within the fortress. Though he longed for your presence, he was still a man bound to his duties as leader, and he accepted the soldier's help by swallowing the bitter pill and disappearing behind the massive doors of the great hall. His mind was still on you, thinking that the gods had finally blessed him by sending you on his path.

Little did he know that beneath this divine appearance, there was a devil in disguise.

You arrived in Dunholm a few weeks ago, drawn by a life force so strong you could hardly ignore it. As soon as you stepped through the gates, your eyes scanned every hidden corner, licking your lips eagerly as you searched for your next prey, your body quivering with anticipation.

It was not the first time you had hunted humans: the young warriors were your favourite prey because of their high energy and strength. Draining the life force from their souls was nothing more than a sweet banquet for your evil essence, an elixir that fuelled your dark power and increased your demonic impulses.

You began by playing with their dreams, first appearing as a dark figure with a melodious voice, before revealing yourself as the most ethereal creature in the mortal world. And when you felt they were ready to receive you, you would appear before them, showing your graceful appearance and wearing the most attractive clothes.

You learned over the years that men were easier to bend to your will; your sweet smile and the fluttering of your eyelashes attracted them like a mirror to the larks. And only when they had let down their defences would you strike, your lips capturing them in a kiss that drained the essence from their souls, their life force flowing into you like an exhilarating rush of adrenaline. As their body fell to their eternal rest, your succubus nature revealed itself in all its dark power, seeking the next prey to hunt.

While at first the souls of young warriors were enough to satisfy your needs, your hunts became less and less satisfying, and you soon began to demand a strong life force to claim. You began to travel across England, intensifying your activities from Wessex to Mercia, from Danelaw to East Anglia, but nothing seemed to tame the beast growing inside you. And it was when you crossed the borders of Northumbria that you felt a strong and vibrant aura calling to you, and soon you found yourself living in disguise among the men of Dunholm.

There you met Sihtric, the fascinating Jarl of Dunholm, who carried himself with dignity. He was a man far too old compared to the young ones you were used to hunting, but it was his long experience on the battlefield that attracted you most, the power of his vitality telling you how much blood flowed from his hands and the wounds he had suffered. It was an irresistible force that drew you to him like an invisible string. You had to dominate him.

And so you worked like your former prey, appearing in his dreams, feeding his insatiable desire to have someone to call his wife and love to the end of his days. When your trap bore its fruit, you began to show yourself more, wandering about like a common and innocent woman. And you knew that every time you crossed the courtyards, his eyes yearned for you from afar, and a small grin formed on your face.

Sihtric would be yours, no matter what the cost.

The night was filled with a vibrant atmosphere, the dim lights of the houses illuminating the streets in warm colours that mingled with the pallor of the moonlight. Several warriors gathered outside to share mugs of ale and stories of their days, their chatter and loud laughter the only sounds of the night, along with the song of some night bird. Other soldiers were stationed on the palisades of the fortress, making sure no surprise attacks could be launched at night.

You slipped outside, out of a small door on the east wall usually used by the servants. You quietly followed the small stream until you reached a small pond not far from Dunholm, but isolated enough to give you some peace.

Normally, you would join the chaos outside, as it is one of the easiest places to find a prey, take it away from the group, work it and seduce it as you please. But tonight you didn't find yourself enjoying the noisy company of the soldiers, or company in general. You had not absorbed any life force for days, the weak auras of the young men's souls could hardly satisfy the great hunger that was growing within you, forcing you to get away from crowded places: you did not want to hunt multiple prey in the night and cause a terrible mess, preferring to work methodically and continue to keep your identity hidden. In the end, it was just you and your inner beast, desperately asking you to be fed with some powerful human elixir.

“A gracious lady like you should not be walking around alone at this time of night,” was a deep, male voice that brought you back to reality, sensing a life force so strong as to make your head spin and your core trembling in anticipation.

And as you turned, you recognised the voice as that of Sihtric, the Lord approaching you cautiously so as not to frighten you. You could see the moonlight illuminating his features, its pale rays gently caressing his sharp features and highlighting the scars on his forehead and cheekbones. It was indeed a charming man, his hair half shaved, half combed into plaits that revealed a tattoo that started at the side of his head and reached down to his neck. But it was his eyes that struck you most: two beautiful bicoloured irises, barely covered by his dilated pupils, looking at you with a gaze full of love and anticipation.

“This gracious lady can defend herself against the pitfalls of the night,” you retorted back, feigning offence at his words, which were welcomed with Sihtric’s loud chuckle. "I have no desire for protection,” you continued, noticing his fingers gripping the hilt of his swords, his body tensing in alarm.

Your words make Sihtric calm down, his body relaxed and the grip on his sword became weak. “If it is not protection what you seek, then allow me to keep you company,” the Dane politely asked you, and you took this as an opportunity to finally feed your unsatisfied hunger: never had a prey voluntarily approached you.

“It would be an honour to spend this peaceful night with you, Lord,” you replied in a soft and soothing voice, the same tone you used in his dreams. Your voice was music to his ears and Sihtric swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling his body heat up and his cheeks turn red at your words, the lust growing inside him.

And the two of you sat by the pond, watching the moon cast a beautiful play of light on the surface of the water. There was silence at first, the air filled with a thin layer of intimacy, then a brief pause in conversation as you became accustomed to each other's presence. You told Sihtric a half-truth, concealing your true identity and introducing yourself as a traveller who had travelled far and found her next resting place in Dunholm before continuing her journey. Sihtric told you his story, of how he had escaped his father's cruelty to serve a true lord, of the endless battles, from the simplest to the most violent, that he had fought to help Uhtred reclaim Bebbanburg, of how he had become the new lord of Dunholm, ruling over a land that knew nothing but cruelty and fear. He also told you how he struggled every day with his loneliness, and how not even the company of his friends could fill that void.

“But then I saw you in my dreams,” Sihtric continued, closing the remaining distance between you. There was a fire in his eyes, a burning desire that could tame the fiercest of the beasts and the darkest of the creatures. A chill ran down your spine, and for the very first time you felt like the prey you hunted all your life. “And I could not believe that such a perfect creature could have been created by the gods,”

You held your breath, your head spinning, for many reasons: his strong, vital strength so close to you, an inviting, tantalising temptation; his gaze, dark with desire, looking at you as if he were peering into your soul; his deep, warm voice echoing in the night, a velvet murmur that hid such a powerful force to alter your senses and awaken your hidden desires. Sihtric was nothing like the ordinary men you had seduced and drained in the past: he was an experienced warrior and a handsome man, and a great challenge that stimulated you.

Without your spirit faltering at his declaration, you raised your hand, one of your fingers tracing the contour of his throat and Adam's apple until you forced his chin up.

“I did not think you had such a strong devotion to your gods,” you replied with a smirk, your eyes dark as well. “But I am afraid I must warn you: I am anything but what you think I am, Lord,” your voice toned down, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him close.

Your foreheads almost touched, your scent inviting enough to cloud Sihtric's mind, the Lord of Dunholm confused but not frightened: part of him would not believe your words, but the other part wanted nothing more than to make you his, craving your touch and the way your bodies would melt together.

"No witch is a product of the gods, for you have bewitched me," he whispered, tensing slightly as the word witch escaped his lips. He leaned closer again, the temptation to taste your lips strong, but you pushed him away slightly, shaking your head with a grin.

"I am more than a mere witch, my lord," you replied boldly, your hands intertwining in an intricate embrace, his tattooed, calloused fingers meeting the smoothness of your skin. "I am a superior being, the darkness itself. Nothing a human can control," you continued, squeezing his hand in a tight vice. The conviction in your voice soon faltered when you felt his lips brushing against your wrist, kissing your veins with a tenderness that made you feel weak.

"Then tell me who you are," Sihtric murmured against your flesh, his lips trailing down to your forearm. "Tell me your name."

You sneered, shaking your head as you looked at him with your piercing gaze. "My name has power, and you are not yet worthy to bear it. But I am generous today and will allow you to call me whatever you wish."

With slow, fluid movements, Sihtric's lips shook your entire arm, reached for your shoulder and nibbled gently. Then he lifted his head, your lips almost touching.

"Then allow me to call you mine," he whispered huskily, closing the distance between you with a deep, passionate kiss.

The night air warmed with a burning heat and unspoken desire, the sound of your muffled moans and gasping breaths echoing with the songs of the owls. Your lips met again and again in fierce kisses, your tongues dancing together as you swallowed each other's moans, your hands exploring your clothed bodies. Sihtric’s hands firmly held your back, pulling you close as his mouth claimed you again, a glimpse of his life force flowing in your veins.

All rational logic gave way to the most animal thoughts, an aura of lust enveloping you as a battle of possession took place between you: the two of you teasing each other, Sihtric rubbing your pulsing and sensitive spot as the palm of your hand brushed against his arousal, your touch so seductive it made him growl in your mouth.

Sihtric arched his head back as you took him in your mouth, your head resting between his legs as you playfully teased the tip of his length, swallowing the salty taste of the pre-cum before wrapping your lips completely around his thickness, your head bobbing up so you could take all of him. He rolled his eyes and nibbled at his lower lips as you began your slow pace, ignoring the firm grip he had on your head, a few strands of hair held in place by his fist. Enjoying your sweet torture at first, his impatience grew and forced him to act, his loud moans turning to ragged breaths and heavy grunts as he began to move his hips in a desperate motion, lust destroying any resistance and ignoring the trembling of his legs.

He soon came, allowing you to take all he had to give. As you released him, Sihtric felt his head spin, a sudden dizziness hit him as he tried to sit down on the grass, his body suddenly heavy and drained of energy. His eyes closed quickly as he rested his head on your shoulder, falling into a deep sleep as you tended to him.

You absently scratched his head, licking your lips as you savoured the taste of his life energy feeding your primal hunger. However, the way he made you feel, how he boldly challenged your dark nature and how well he satisfied your lustful desires made you spare him. For how long you craved for his life to amplify your powers, you could not ignore the way he made your heart feel, the thump so ferocious you thought it could escape from your rib cage.

With the thump of your heart you could not ignore, you leaned your head and gently kissed his forehead, watching him sleeping peacefully in your arms while the spark of the attraction had ignited, destined to burn brightly.

It was supposed to be an easy hunt, to have him at your mercy. You were supposed to weaken him with your charm and your aura, kiss him and drain him of his life force, and then resume your hunt, your hunger sated, eager to feast on your next victim.

But in truth it was Sihtric who tamed you: from the first moment you allowed him to call you his, to the way your head turned with each of his kisses, the touch of his calloused hands so diabolically seductive, the ghost of his lips still trailing across your body. No man had ever accepted you with such devotion, nor had you ever allowed him to go beyond the boundaries of a simple brush of your lips.

But the truth was that you liked his attentions: you loved how Sihtric was a caring and attentive partner, the way he treated you made you forget you were born as a demonic creature. He ignored the trail of victims you left behind in the past, as well as your urge to quench your hunger and have a taste of his strong life force: he would be willing to sacrifice his own life to show you how strong his love was for you.

You allowed Sihtric to be tempted by the devil, but in return you burned yourself in the flames of his heart. Sparing his life was your greatest act of love, not a mere act of mercy, as you always told yourself.

The days passed and your secret meetings continued after that night at the pond, each time finding a secluded spot when you both craved privacy. The flames of pleasure engulfed you each night, bruising kisses and grabs mixed with strangled moans and high-pitched whimpers as you fucked each other into oblivion, both of you leaving marks on your bodies and pulling at each other's hair. And each time the two of you came in unison, Sihtric's head would collapse in your lap as he allowed you to feed on his life force every time you needed to, as you accepted his physical act of loyalty to you, to finally be loved for who you really were and not hated for being a creature from hell.

The more time you spent together, the stronger your bond became, an invisible thread that drew you closer together: a bond forged by the forces of the underworld, a dark twist of fate that led a human and a succubus to love each other, a sinister tapestry that defied the logic of fate.

And the strength of your bond reached its peak when Sihtric, on a cold winter's night in his room, enjoyed your company before he was forced to leave you behind. A message had come from Bebbanburg and he was to rejoin Uhtred and Finan, summoned to resolve urgent matters. He had heard that King Edward’s rule was soon to be faltered, but never could tell that things would escalate so quickly.

You both lay down in his bed, your hands exploring each other’s curves while your lips met again in a head-spinning kiss, none of you seemed to want to say goodbye to the other. For how long you refused to admit yourself, your heart ached at the feeling of spending your days without Sihtric at your side, and the thought you could lose him on the battlefield was a death sentence even worse than spending your eternal afterlife wrapped in the flames of Hell.

"Let me come with you," you protested weakly as his lips pressed against yours, his bare arms holding you close as he feared you might escape his embrace. You had become extremely needy of his touch, your defences so low you could hardly recognise yourself.

“No,” was his firm reply, as he kissed the contour of your lips, trailing down to your jaw and your neck. “This is not a war I will ask you to fight on my behalf,”

He then gently pushed you down, your back resting on the furs. “I will always find a way to come back to you,”

His lips trailed down again on your neck, his touch as light as a feather as his lips kept brushing on your skin, an attempt to cool your anger and to fill your disappointment. But this time you were not fooled by his actions, and you pushed him back with firmness.

“Are you really casting me aside, Sihtric?” you hissed, pushing him back again as you felt him approaching, a regretful expression painted on his face. “You cannot me leave me behind, not after the bond we built-“

“A bond I do not intend to break because I have answered the call of the lord I’m still serving,” Sihtric interrupted you with an authoritative tone, pushing you back on bed and caging you with his body. He could see the tears forming in your eyes, a sight that breaks his heart. Never had he seen you so vulnerable, nor had you ever allowed yourself to lower your defences.

“I swear to you, on my Thor’s hammer, that I will do everything I am called to do to survive and to return to your arms,” the Dane spoke with a low and soft voice, lowering his head so he could kiss your forehead. “For now, let me take care of you for tonight, my devil lady,”

With a faint nod of your head, you let him close the distance, sealing with a bittersweet kiss, a soft touch that soon became a desperate embrace of two souls forced to separate for a time you both could not quantify. And for the very first time you allowed yourself to raise down your barriers, crying in his arms as he squeezed you, his mouth swallowing all your faint sobs escaping from your throat.

It was no longer a stay at his side for his life force, despite the fact that your demonic nature would yearn with all his being. You fell in love with everything about him: for the way he looked in his eyes, for the way he touched and loved you, mostly risking his own life to tame your demonic impulses: a respect and delicacy you would never find in another man, should you ever start another hunt.

And with the same delicacy he took you that night, your lips exploring every nook and cranny of your body, whispering sweet words and praising you softly, his tongue crossing your throat as he found his way to your breast, teasing you with his hands and mouth, pinching and sucking your hardening nipples. Soon, your sobs turned into sharp breaths and moans, trembling at how good he made you feel.

His hand slipped down to your stomach, his thick fingers rubbing down on your pulsing core, already wet with anticipation. A loud gasp escaped your lips as you felt one of his fingers inside you, your eyes rolling back at the slow thrust of his hand, fucking you with a steady pace. Sihtric lips trailed over your neck, kissing and nibbling as he quickened the pace, his self control abandoning him completely once he felt how good your walls were clenching on his finger.

“Look at you, my sweet devil is already so tight for me,” Sihtric murmured against your lips, swallowing another loud moan with an eager kiss. “I cannot wait to see how tight you will be around my cock,”

You muttered nonsense words, pleasure engulfing your mind as you felt your head light as well as your body, your eyes shut from the pleasure you were receiving. You felt as if your own life force was abandoning you, letting you weaken and trembling.

You whined as you felt Sihtric’s finger slowly pulling out you, frustration rising as you well ready to reach the peak of your climax. When you opened your eyes you saw Sihtric holding your hip with one hand, the other hand giving himself a few strokes on his cock, throbbing with anticipation. He entered inside you with a swift motion, an inhuman grunt escaped his throat at how deliciously tight you were around his length. He set up a rough pace, fucking you restlessly as he could not control himself anymore. Whimpers and groans were the only audible things in the room, both of you teasing each other with kisses and nibbles, you often pulling on Sihtric’s wild curls, forcing him to expose his throat and biting it eagerly, leaving visible marks on his fair skin.

The climax between you quickly raised as you both simultaneously were reaching your peaks, and his grip on your hips became rougher.

“Yes, come for me, my devil queen,” the Dane praised you with a low groan, loving how good was ravaging, how vulnerable you were under his control. “I want you to hear you shout my name while I fill you up,”

“Sihtric,” you whispered between loud moans, and while chanting his name over and over you both reach your peak, him spilling inside you while you coming over his thick length, a blissful feeling hit both of you as you both collapsed on your bed, his strong arms wrapping you as he left soft kisses on your temple.

And it was when he fell asleep several minutes after that your demonic form showed up, your slender fingers rubbing over his curls as you watched your lover one last time before leaving you for war.

You both know, deep in your heart, that neither death cannot break your bond.

Because he was bound to you, and you were bound to him.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

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#sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson x you #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson fic #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fic #tlk fanfic #tlk fic

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