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so-no-feint · 1 year ago

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don't let go of me - Lilith x m!Reader

a/n: wrote more Lilith x Reader!! A small foray into some smuttier themes. I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you all enjoy:) wordcount: ~9k cw: smut (minors dni, thanks), blood/biting kinks, angst, enemies to lovers summary: You weren’t quite sure where you first heard about the salvation of Sanctuary. Perhaps it was that raving old man outside the alchemist’s, or whispered rumors spread amongst the local guard. Rumors didn't do the Daughter of Hatred justice. (also on ao3 here!)

You weren’t quite sure where you first heard about the salvation of Sanctuary. Perhaps it was that raving old man outside the alchemist’s, or whispered rumors spread amongst the local guard. Word spread quickly — your small town in northern Scosglen had not much else to do besides work and gossip.

Sometimes travelers would pass through, bringing news from the rest of the continent. Some discussed their recently deposed king and his treacheries; others complained about their weariness. On rare occasions you’d heard echoes of a woman growing in power, inciting fear amongst the powerful and revolution amongst the working. “She has come to save us,” they would say in joy, as if their entire future had been safely secured.

What was her name? She had many, supposedly. What little information you could glean from these outsiders had resulted in a jumble of titles and names in your mind. Blessed Mother, Lylia, and most unsettling, the Daughter of Hatred. A strange way to address the one who was, supposedly, “saving” you.

To you, however, they were just rumors and tales, shared between hallucinating travelers as they crossed the vast expanse of emptiness to reach your village. A voice in the back of your mind would sometimes echo contrarian thoughts. What if they were telling the truth? If this woman was real, what did her salvation look like?

These ideas bounced around in your skull. The possibility of salvation seemed like a far-fetched idea, but at this point, you would believe in anything except for that damned Light. The so-called “angel” Inarius had wrought nothing but ash in his wake as he stampeded around the continent, disregarding the livelihood of those he deemed blocked his path. Farmland was scorched, burnt to dust by his knights most holy; the “heretics”, as they were called, were impaled on stakes and left to hang in town squares.

Those men and that immortal were fueled by their blinding pursuit of justice. How could you believe in something that agreed with killing the innocent?

And so your life went on, working the pitiful soil Scosglen offered until it became too cold to sustain crops, leaving you to visit the inn several nights a week for drink and talk. It was a peaceful, if not boring way of life. You’d never thought something, or rather, someone, would disrupt the monotonously secure life you lived.

And then the man called Elias visited.

He, too, preached about the Mother. Elias’ approach, however, was different from the rest of the travelers whose stories you entertained. Elias held conviction — no, confidence — in his speech. This man, dressed in fascinatingly flexible armor, knew something more than the rest who passed you by. Nothing was quite normal about him, and his eyes were no exception. Those deep black-violet orbs swirled with a power most men didn’t have.

You’d heard stories of mages and necromancers countries over, and whispers of the ancients who had saved man from the horrors of Hell. The Horadrim, you think. Whichever group Elias belonged to, he certainly wasn’t just human.

It had been perhaps thirty minutes since Elias had entered the inn, bouncing between patrons, talking to them like they were childhood friends. You stood along the outskirts of the group he was talking to, lost in thought as you watched his movements.

“So what say you, then?”

You were tugged back to reality as you looked around. All eyes at the table were trained on you, and Elias had his palm turned slightly upwards, pointing a finger in your direction.

“I—sure, yeah. Sounds good,” you stuttered. What were they talking about? It probably wasn’t anything important. You could likely get out of whatever it was in the morning.

Elias gave you a cold smile. “Wonderful.”

He gave a quick farewell before turning towards the door. Was he eyeing you as he left? You couldn’t tell in the dim lighting inside. Elias flung himself outside into the biting cold, his figure disappearing into the snowy winds as he walked off into the darkness.

You’re roused from your sleep by loud knocking on your door. Small rays of sunlight light up your little house as you sit up in bed, slipping on some warmer clothing as the winter chill begins to seep through your skin. Shuffling over to the door, you crack it open, wind buffeting against your face.

One of the men from the inn is at your doorstep.

“There he is! Oi, come on then,” he says, patting your shoulder. He’s applying pressure to you, trying to bring you outside with him.

Looking over his shoulder, you can see dozens of other villagers walking past him towards the mountains bordering your town.

You stutter in confusion. “I—what? Where?”

“Weren’t you paying attention last night, eh? Elias is bringing us to her!”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “To who?”

“You really don’t remember, do ya? It’s alright mate. Strong booze last night, heh,” he chuckles, nudging your chest. Before you can protest any further, he grabs your wrist and yanks you outside along with him. His grip is strong; stronger than you remember it being. He smiles silently at you, turning to follow the rest. There’s something missing from his gaze that tips your senses from unease to fear.

You walk, one foot in front of the other, until the cliff walls loom over you, blocking the sunlight from warming the air and ground around you. The temperature drop causes you to shiver a bit. The villagers were filing into one of the cave entrances that dotted the rock face, some carrying torches to illuminate the otherwise pitch-black walk through the mountain.

Eventually you can hear the echo of voices ahead as you enter an expansive chamber within the stone. The torchlight bounced off the walls, providing a faint red glow throughout the room, allowing the townsfolk to congregate in the middle and converse amongst each other. In the far corner you spot him. Elias leans against the wall, faintly smirking as more and more people arrive. He locks eyes with you, and you quickly avert your gaze.

Maybe he hadn’t seen you; you two were so far apart, he likely didn’t even notice—

You jump as a hand falls onto your left shoulder, spinning you around.

“Welcome to the ceremony,” Elias rumbles, tilting his head down towards the floor in deference. Or was it to mock you?

Wasn’t he just across the room moments ago? How did he move? You didn’t see him run or disappear, but his form was no longer leaning against the wall. Elias was most definitely in front of you.

“What did you do to them?”

“The villagers? I have done nothing. They have simply been set free.” His expression morphed into a dark smile as the words left his mouth. “It would appear that you have not, but that is no matter. It’s about to start. Come, sit and watch!”

Elias keeps his hand on your shoulder, exerting enough force that your instincts told you not to try and break free. You were by no means small, or inexperienced in combat — a decade of mercenary work and another of farming had broadened your shoulders and thickened your legs, and yet something about Elias had all of your hair standing on end.

The two of you circle around to the back of the growing mass of people, sitting slightly higher than the rest, providing an expansive view of the entire room.

“Enjoy the show. And good luck,” Elias whispers, dropping a small knife into your lap before vanishing from your side. You tuck the blade into your sleeve out of habit.

Looking around in confusion, and your eyes find his figure standing in the middle of the room, commanding the attention of everyone in attendance. His voice echoes loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Who would be so noble as to call out to Mother for us?”

A young girl excitedly shot to her feet, a strange gleam in her eyes. “Let me do it!”

Elias’ lips curl as he motions for her to stand next to him. He hands her an ornate dagger etched with symbols you don’t recognize. Bending down to her ear, Elias whispers something inaudible, and her expression goes blank.

As the realization hits you, the girl raises the dagger high into the air before plunging it deep into her chest, twisting and tugging as her chest is carved open and she collapses to the ground. The rest of the villagers watching the gruesome scene clapped and cheered as her life slowly spread out into an elaborate circle etched into the stone.

There was a low rumble as the air above the ground fractured and glowed with power as a doorway appeared from the girl’s blood.

Out of that doorway stepped something non-human. Demonic.

Your eyes widened, and you finally understood. The Mother. “Lylia”. Titles did not do her justice. Mephisto’s spawn, the Daughter of Hatred, emerged from the rift, standing tall and proud before the congregation. You had learned pieces of Hell’s history from your stints in mercenary work, stealing the occasional tome or fighting some group of cultists.

The “savior” so loudly praised was no human.

It was Lilith.

The torches caused her shadow to dance along the back wall of the cave as she spread her wings to their full extent. Despite the distance between the two of you, it felt as if she was staring into your soul while she surveyed the crowd. Her eyes, two multicolored orbs of power, pierced into each and every person gathered before her.

“Welcome, children,” she said, her voice razor-sharp against the silence that had fallen across the townsfolk. There was something irresistible about her voice and visage, an allure you couldn’t quite deny. Her purple and black dress flowed across her body, highlighting the ridges and curves that stretched across her skin. Lilith’s tail was held slightly above the ground, swaying absent-mindedly as she spoke.

“How pitiful that your chains have only been shed now,” she continued. “Sin is your birthright. It is only natural for you to reclaim it.” Her eyes darted around the room. “Sanctuary will not be saved by the weak. It will be freed by the strong.”

Her voice dropped a tone, danger lurking behind her words.

“Who among you is strong?”

Lilith smiled as time seemed to stand still. She reached out her hands towards the crowd.

“Show me.”

Chaos erupted as people began to fight and claw at those sitting next to them. You shot to your feet, scrambling back against the wall, trying to get as far away from the conflict as you can. The dagger in your sleeve slips into your palm, its handle a comfortable shape and weight. As your heart pumps into overdrive, sending adrenaline coursing through your body, your first attacker stumbles towards you in blind rage.

Your fighting experience takes over as your body moves on its own, stepping into his exposed side and quickly thrusting the knife into his neck. The man collapses to the ground, a gurgling mess of saliva and blood. You whip your head around as the scene before you unfolds. Dozens of villagers lay dead on the floor as the fighting spread across the room, while Lilith and Elias sat watching contently.

Elias motions towards you, and Lilith tilts her head in your direction. Your mind feels invaded and attacked. Is she looking into you?

You shout back into your mind, trying to lock your thoughts inside your skull. There’s no time to focus on her while there’s more active threats about.

The fighting continues on, until there are only four survivors left with you. Each of you are covered in blood and gore, reminders of the atrocities you have committed spattered across your skin. You recognize two of the others — one was the innkeeper, a chipped sword at his side, whose battle experience you had once encountered firsthand; the other was a farmhand you’d worked with on occasion, chest heaving, her eyes darting between the rest of you.

As you steel yourself for more attacks, the Daughter of Hatred breaks the tension in the room. “Well done, my children,” she purrs. “The weak shall perish, and the strong survive. Whatever the cost.”

It appeared that the others weren’t under whatever influence Elias had placed on the majority of the village. As Lilith stepped towards the innkeeper, he flung the sword with remarkable quickness directly at her chest. Her tail whipped around faster than your eyes could follow as she intercepted it mid-air, the would-be weapon clattering harmlessly to the floor.

She reached her hand out to the man, closing her grip around his neck and lifting him off the floor. At this close distance, you could see her power and size more clearly. Her muscles were taut like steel fibers, betraying the strength her body hid underneath the dress as they shifted with her movements. She towered over the rest of you.

“You would betray your own Mother? A pity,” she whispered, clenching her hand shut. The innkeeper sputtered out a cough which was quickly silenced by the crushing of bone and flesh as Lilith squeezed his neck inside her hand, dropping his lifeless body to the floor.

“Anyone else?”

None of you dared to speak.

“Good.”

Lilith walked towards the two survivors you did not know. As she came within an arm’s length, both of them turned and began to sprint up the incline towards the mouth of the cave. The Queen of the Succubi sighed, waving her hand towards Elias. He bowed his head once, before rematerializing in front of the fleers, lifting a shortsword from his hip. He slashed twice, cutting their throats open at the base, leaving them to drown on themselves as he walked back to Lilith’s side. Now it was just you and the farmhand.

Lilith approached the farmhand first, and you sighed in slight relief. At least you’d be last.

The Daughter of Hatred grabbed her hair in one hand, forcing her head to tilt up to look at Lilith.

“This will only take a moment, dear.”

Lilith knelt slightly, closing the distance between the farmhand’s lips and her own, forcing a kiss.

A kiss? Why a kiss? Was she not going to kill you? Your mind raced with possibilities. As Lilith made her way over to you, the farmhand’s only reaction you could see were her eyes locking with yours, a small shake of her head the only assuagement you could find in this bleak cave.

The Queen of the Succubi stood in front of you, trailing a finger up your arm, dancing across your skin. Her nails were sharp enough that you felt small cuts opening along the path her digits followed. “Interesting…” Her eyes scan your body, sweeping from your feet to your head.

She tilts your head to look into your eyes. You swallow hard. Lilith was toying with you, like a cat planning how best to torture the mouse it had just caught. Your strength and experience was nothing compared to hers — resistance was not an option anymore.

“Hmm,” she murmurs. “Strong muscles. A fighter, perhaps?” Her eyes lit up as the words rolled off her tongue, almost challenging you to attack. You clench your jaw, holding your tongue.

“Not talkative? A shame…” Lilith trailed off, circling around your back. She was drawing herself closer to your body, her hands exploring what exposed skin they could find. She traced down your neck and spine and walked along your shoulder blades.

You turn your head to look at her, charging your voice with as much hatred as you can muster. “What do you want, demon?”

One of her eyebrows — could you even call them that? — raised faintly. The ridges of scale and bone on the Daughter of Hatred’s face emphasized the mismatched eyes staring back at you, brilliantly blue and gray. Streaks of shadow fell away from her bottom lashes, spanning across her cheeks.

“I am offering mankind a choice: join me, and break free from the shackles the Heavens and Hells have set upon you in their Endless Conflict; or don’t, and fend for yourselves for the rest of eternity. A new Sanctuary will be created, home to the strong amongst mankind. Home to you,” she says, closing the remaining gap between your bodies.

Lilith stood nearly a foot taller than you, her wings held behind her back with elegance. Desire and acceptance nearly overpowered your mind as her scent wrapped around your head, a combination of earth and musk, dotted with the recognizable metallic smell of blood.

You utter a low growl. “And what do we get out of it?”

Lilith clicks her tongue, bending to your height. “Salvation.”

She strokes a hand through your hair, slowly pulling your face to hers. You had no idea what would happen if you accepted her now. Not like the Light would have protected you and yours, anyways.

A ‘sanctuary’ for the strong amongst men? Free from the ‘eternal conflict’? What did that mean? Those thoughts and others were silenced as the Queen of the Succubi pressed herself to your lips, and a sickening sweetness filled your mouth as her tongue explored yours. You tried to jerk your head back, but her grip was too strong; all you managed to do was break from the kiss, but not her grasp.

Lilith smiled against your cheek. “Don’t be so hasty, little one. I’m not finished.” She grabbed the back of your head with one hand and your side with the other, pulling you back into her cruel love.

This time, something told you not to fight it. This time you loosened up, just enough for her to notice. Her kisses grew more passionate, more violent. She bit your lower lip, piercing the soft flesh, letting out a faint hum of pleasure as she flicked her tongue over the blood seeping into your mouth. You pressed back in equal parts disgust and experimentation.

After what felt like an eternity, Lilith pulled away from you, leaving a confusing taste in your mouth of blood and sugar. Her lips, stained with a faint red, curled up into a smile. At first, you felt confused. That feeling morphed into a warmth, almost painful, that began to spread from your mouth and down your throat, reaching into the depths of your body, wrapping its way around every square inch of you it could find.

Was this what the farmhand felt? You almost wanted to fight it.

But why fight it?

The Daughter of Hatred’s invasion — no, exploration — of your body left a strange sensation within you after the warmth passed. You felt… aware. More aware of your surroundings, of your senses, of your strength.

Lilith narrowed her eyes on you. “So you chose correctly.”

Your gaze, somewhat unfocused, lands on her face. The rawness of all that you can feel is almost overwhelming.

Your voice is a low rasp. “Acceptance.”

“Perhaps the simplest way to unshackle your chains, my dear,” she says. Her figure is no longer imposing or frightening; quite the opposite, in fact. Lilith’s body, honed to perfection over the countless millennia she has seen, did not seem to tower over you. You felt a rising desire to submit, to let her consume you. It was inviting.

Your haze is broken by Elias’ voice grating against your ears.

“...Mother.”

Her eyes flick over to the kneeling man.

“Speak, Elias.”

“I shall take these two to the Exalted Terrace and initiate them appropriately.”

Lilith takes a small step backwards, pulling her dress away from the blood along the ground. “Good.”

He says nothing, bowing his head deeply. Elias motions for the two of you to follow him as he stands, but Lilith grabs your arm as you turn to walk with him.

She smiles cruelly at you. “You should listen to him. I don’t want your pretty face ruined from Elias’ punishments,” she teased. Her expression quickly hardened as she spun in the opposite direction, back facing you, and vanished into the open air in a whirl of red-colored petals.

The three of you pop into reality, the air crackling around you with energy as the portal you just stepped through closes. Elias had mentioned a terrace of some kind, but the scene before you was infinitely more beautiful than what you had expected. Lush ivy and unidentifiable flowers dotted trellises and sprawled along the ornately tiled floors. Fountains slowly sprinkle water into routes cut from the stone beneath your feet.

The air, however, betrays the horrors held deeper within the Terrace, in the pits of the mountain it was carved from. Blood and pain linger, a scent you have grown familiar with. You and the farmhand stood on edge; while Lilith’s control was spreading throughout your body, bits and pieces of the person you used to be remained, each and every one of them screaming at you to get out.

Elias says nothing, motioning for you to follow behind him as he weaves his way through a seemingly endless maze of stairwells and chambers, each one catching you off guard. Some were filled with bodily pleasures, men and women baring themselves raw in sex and indulging in the exquisite, aromatic foods and wines dotting the tables. Other rooms contained deep evils — summoning circles and sacrifices, the occasional scream of a victim and the following roar of a demon echoing down the hallways inside the mountain. Others still contained what you could only discern as rot, gore and viscera lining the unlit corners of these rooms, while the gut-wrenching smell of decay seeped into your nostrils.

The armored man holds up his hand, signaling you to stop. Your eyes flit over to the farmhand, whose gaze is set straight ahead and unfocused. Elias turns to you both, a faint smile spread across his face.

“I used to be a Horadrim, once. And how wrong I used to be.”

You’re not quite sure what to do with that information. The farmhand twitches subtly; this revelation had reached her in some way you couldn’t understand.

“Our Mother’s son showed me the proper way,” he spat. “The last fragmented men making up the Order are no more than pitiful excuses for protectors now.”

The Horadrim clears his throat.

“Circumstances notwithstanding, I welcome thee, Initiates,” Elias says with a low bow. Evil dances behind his soulless eyes as he raises to look at you. “It’s time for the training.”

The following weeks were, in all literal and derivations of the word, brutal. The first few days at the Terrace were spent doing what felt like grunt work: shuffling around bodies, cleaning the floors for the next ritual, and waiting on whichever people were lost in overwhelming euphoria during their innumerable orgies.

You had apparently passed whatever test he was measuring you against, and you were quickly inundated with markings and rituals to perform. Scars and twisted circles were scattered across your body, and a particularly intricate one stretched across your back. Elias made sure to never touch your face, but that restriction left the rest of your body open to his every whim.

Occasionally he would beat you, hard enough that you struggled and ached in every movement, but just light enough that he could do it again days later.

Your first summoning was almost autonomous — your mind had resigned you to a back seat as it executed its actions perfectly. You couldn’t stop yourself, only slow your movements. Vivid images of the sacrifice flashed through your mind: her naked body, with symbols and runes etched into the skin, lay mutilated beneath the dagger in your hand. Elias had instructed you to do something in a language the original parts of you didn’t recognize, but the rest of your mind did.

Nearly a month had passed of Elias delighting in your agonies until he pushed you over the edge. A summoning ritual he forced you to carry out had been too violent for your mind to suppress any longer. Once the sacrifice was made, you turned and threw the dagger as hard as you could at Elias’ form standing along the wall.

He dodged it easily, marching up to you and grabbing your neck.

“You will regret that,” he hissed. He delivered a swift punch to your lower jaw, knocking you unconscious. When you finally regained enough of your senses to be aware of your surroundings, you realized that you were restrained to a small cell wall.

You stared at the restraints and the cell itself before realizing you were not alone. The small and battered form of the farmhand laid in front of you on the stone floor, whatever fighting spirit and resistance she had when you both arrived now broken and dead. Her mouth was gagged, and her hands and feet tied together in an immobilizing knot.

You heard Elias before you saw him — the Horadrim dragged a blade at his side, scratching against the stone, until he stepped into what little light bounced around inside your cell.

“I will give you a choice, mercenary. Who pays?”

Confusion fills your mind as you stammer out a weak response. “What?”

“I said who pays,” he hissed. “For your transgression.”

Your mind crawls, trying to formulate an answer to him. What did you have to pay for? Why was she an alternative? You were the one who had thrown the knife.

“It should be m—” Elias cuts you off.

“Too late. I am choosing her.”

Elias rolls the farmhand over, and her breathing rapidly increases as he stands on her arm, exposing her wrist. The realization dawns on her, and then you, of his intent.

She screams, muffled through the thick fabric wrapped across her mouth, as Elias’ blade slams down onto the stone floor, cutting through sinew and muscle and bone, severing her hand. Her screams morph into aching sobs as the pain courses through her body.

You’re left little time to process as he steps over her, leveling the blade’s tip at you. “I think I’ll start with your eyes.”

Elias places the point at the edge of your vision, pushing just hard enough that the skin near your eyelids breaks and begins to bleed. He toys with it, lazily dragging the blade under your eye, carving into your check, then back up, holding the tip millimeters from your cornea. You see his muscles tense as his breathing freezes, lowering the blade to his side. Then you heard it. That all too familiar rattle of bone.

The Daughter of Hatred entered the cell, cramping the space as she slightly extended her wings. Something within you stirs at the sight of her. A desire, a necessity — like she was the food and water you needed to sustain yourself daily — blossoms inside your chest. Lilith, however, is not in a good mood. Her eyes are dark and narrow, focused on Elias’ figure before you.

Her voice was barely a whisper, but it hid a boiling fury echoed in her gaze and posture.

“What did I say, Elias?”

This was the first time you had seen the Horadrim feel fear. He swallowed once, before turning to face Lilith, kneeling into a deep bow.

“I believe I said that I don’t want his face harmed,” she bristled.

Elias said nothing. Lilith stepped to his side, crouching down to the farmhand’s arm leaking blood across the floor.

“Did you not deign to wrap it? Pitiful. Your grievances cannot come before our goals, Horadrim,” she muttered. Lilith moved her hand over the girl’s bloodied stump, a dull red glow emanating from her palm. The farmhand’s sobs had reduced to a stream of tears falling down her cheeks, dripping onto the stone under her head as her breathing slowly came down to a lower pace.

Lilith’s tone demanded attention. “Leave. I will deal with them.”

Elias stood, head still bowed, and quickly walked down the hallway before disappearing from sight. A small sigh escaped you, until you remembered who was left in the room with you. Your eyes darted between Lilith’s silhouette and the farmhand’s slow, ragged breaths.

Lilith lowered her wings, the muscles across her back and shoulders losing tension as she steps close to you. Still restrained, there isn’t anywhere you can esc— why would you need to escape? Lilith was here, and you were safe. The Blessed Mother had come to save you.

A sense of serenity washed over you as she stooped to your height, her hands coming up to caress your face as she inspected the damage Elias had done to you.

“She will recover,” Lilith says softly, still looking over your cuts and bruises. “For now she is asleep.”

The uncertainty of your own fate crept into your voice. “And what of me?”

One side of her mouth tilted upwards in a slight smile. “What of you indeed,” she said. The Queen of the Succubi turned one of her nails against your skin, tracing the cut from Elias’ blade with weapons of her own, engraving into you. A mark of her possession and power over you.

You whimper in pain as her nail begins to create a new wound on your other cheek. Lilith’s expression turns to a devilish grin as the cries escape your mouth. She’s enjoying this. Her hand slides up your face along the side of your head, her fingers winding their way through your hair.

“You’re doing so well, little one,” she whispers to you, her face mere inches from yours. So that’s what she wanted. Her breath overwhelmed your brain with its sweet intensity, as if you were surrounded by a thousand blooming flowers, as Lilith pulled your head forward to meet hers in a deep kiss.

Some piece of yourself locked deep inside your mind banged on its cages in protest to no avail. The rest of you felt like you had just inhaled fresh air after surfacing from being underwater for too long. She tasted like bittersweet fruits and love, a dizzyingly powerful combination that melted into your mouth. Your tongues mingled as you engaged in a back and forth of exploring each other. You pushed into her mouth, dancing across her sharp canines. She pushed back in response, each time nearly overwhelming you with her power. Her hands crawled their way from your face to your shoulders, and then your back, her nails scraping along the engravings and runes carved into you. The sensation was nearly overwhelming, and you let out a low moan in equal parts pleasure and pain. She responds in kind, vocalizing her excitement at yours.

Just as you begin to drown in Lilith’s love, she pulls back, one hand still gripping your hair firmly in her grasp. She tilts your head to the side, exposing your neck.

“This will sting,” she echoes into your ear, before dipping her mouth down to your neck. She plants a kiss under your jaw, and then pulls her lips back as her canines pierce through the soft skin beneath them. You grunt, your body shuddering slightly with the pain — it’s almost euphoric. Lilith wraps an arm around your torso and holds you still as her teeth reach their mark in your flesh, and she drinks of you. Oh, how wonderful it feels to serve your Mother.

Nearly a minute passes before she removes herself from your body, your blood dripping from her mouth onto her dress. She licks her lips clean of you, reaching behind your head to unpin the restraints holding you in place. Your light-headedness causes you to stumble forward into her waiting arms, catching you gently as you fall into her chest. Your eyes slide shut as the last of Lilith mixes into your bloodstream, coursing through your body, the final resistant pieces of you wilting in her presence.

The Daughter of Hatred stands to her full height, carrying you in her arms and raising the unconscious farmhand off the floor with her tail.

“There is much more fun I want to have with you,” she teases, gazing at your resting face. She scoffs once, turning to leave the cell and return to her throne.

Your eyes fly open as you bolt upright, instinctively covering your head and chest with your arms in defense of Elias’ unrelenting blows that never came. Lowering your hands from your face, you realize you’re not in a cell — you’re lying on a massive bed in an even more massive room, bigger than most you had seen in the Terraces since your arrival. Your chest is wrapped in bandages, and the hole in your neck closed, but the faint smell of blood hasn’t faded from your skin. The metallic scent winds your memory back to its last feelings and images before you’d lost consciousness.

The feeling of Lilith pulling herself off of your neck, your life pouring from her mouth and the wound she had opened on your body; her hands exploring as much of you as they could. A gentle warmth blooms in your stomach, clawing its way to your heart and throat as desire for the Daughter of Hatred permeates your entire being.

You shake your head and center yourself back into the present reality. Focus. You had work to do. You had to serve your Mother. You wanted — no, needed to be by her side, at her every whim.

One of the extravagant doors dotting the walls of the room creak open, revealing a succubus standing behind it. She quickly meets your gaze, her eyes locking with yours before she spins around and marches down the hallway outside. You say nothing in your confusion, instead sinking back down onto the bedding. It was impressively soft, and your thoughts wandered as you grew used to the comfort.

You didn’t have much time to relax as the doors swung open again to reveal Lilith walking into the room with you, shutting the doors behind her. She was no longer covered in armor, the lack of spiny bone and silver catching you off guard. Her purple dress was stretched tightly over her body, and the elegant curves of the Queen of the Succubi showed prominently under the fabric. Free from the armor, the movements she took towards you rippled with strength, the powerful muscles in her legs flexing with each step.

Lilith stands several feet away from the bed, resting her hands on her hips, pinching the clothing in even tighter. Your eyes dart down to the movement quickly before coming back up to meet her gaze. One of her brows was angled upwards ever so slightly in… mockery? Curiosity? Excitement? Her emotions were almost impossible to read behind her pale face.

She broke the silence first.

“I see that the soldier has recovered,” she teased, a slight smile spreading across her face.

You lowered your head in deference. “May I ask a question, Mother?”

You waited for an answer, but instead of speaking, Lilith’s palm reached under your chin and tilted your head to look at her. She had closed the gap between herself and the bed, now standing at its side.

Lilith’s voice flowed over you like honey. “You need not look away in fear. You’ve earned this.” Her last words echoed in your head and you nearly forgot what you wanted to ask.

“Why help me?”

“Don’t you remember? You still have to entertain me.” Her smile grew wider, conveying the truth in her words. But her eyes flickered something more sinister.

You move to hang your legs off the bed, putting Lilith between them. You ask the question that both of you were waiting for. “And what does that entail?”

The Daughter of Hatred’s excitement is unmistakable, and she bends down to you until your face is inches from hers.

“Do you want to find out?”

A thousand different scenarios play through your mind and your breathing quickens slightly. Lilith hovers above you, eerily calm, a gleam in her multicolored eyes.

Was this not the pinnacle of service to the Daughter of Hatred? You had the opportunity to offer up your entire being in her honor, allowing her to pore over you, finding every use for you she needed. Lilith had welcomed you as one of the first saviors of Sanctuary; the least you could do was give yourself to her.

So you nodded in silent affirmation, your walls crumbling, leaving you raw and open for her to ravage.

The Daughter of Hatred’s assault on your body was not carried out through lashes and strikes, but instead with gentle caresses. Her hands traveled across you, mapping out every feature they could find — the ridges of your cheekbones, the muscles curving from your neck to your shoulders, the old scars and fresh markings that dotted your skin. She felt all of them, felt all of you, until she wanted more.

Lilith kissed you with unbridled passion as she pushed you down onto the bed and climbed on top of you. Her legs straddled yours, trapping you under her as her lips worked their way around your face and neck. You reach your hands out to her face and she pulls back instinctively, just for a moment. The words come to your lips before you can stop them.

You pull your hands back and look at her. “Are you afraid?”

Lilith freezes, and you can see her jaw clenching. Her wings are held slightly above her back, unmoving and rigid. And you can sense it. Her sorrow and loss pours off of her in waves, choking the air around you, and that gleam in her eyes morphs into a flash of regret.

“There has not been an equal, in these moments, since Inarius,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the name as the chinks in her armor slowly surfaced. Your brows furrow in confusion. Inarius, the Angel-Commander? The self-righteous killer?

“He was my mate once. Ages past, at the dawn of your creation. We created you and yours,” Lilith continued, gazing back into your eyes. “We had a son. Linarian. And he was stolen from me. Stolen. By the very being that helped bring him into Sanctuary.”

Tears of anger slowly rolled down Lilith’s cheek as the memories she had suppressed boiled to the surface of her mind. She remains still over you as her breathing deepens, the wetness from her eyes falling from her face onto your chest. You raise yourself up once more, extending your hand to her cheek as you wipe away her sadness. Lilith presses her head into your hands, and the two of you sit in silence as her millennia of suffering and regrets shatter before you like glass.

The Daughter of Hatred leans away from you, putting her weight onto your legs as she sits back with her head held high. Several seconds pass, and the only thing you can hear is your pulse in your ears.

“Inarius is no longer here. My son lies dead. But I am not. I am here.”

She leans back into you, almost in… comfort?

“And so are you.”

Both of your fears are washed away by Lilith’s passion and your willingness to surrender to her. To you, she is an incomparable sweetness. Her thighs tense against yours as she moves around your body, planting her lips on every square inch of you she can find. And when she has exhausted all of your exposed skin, the Queen of the Succubi removes the bandages from your torso, strand by strand, devouring you slowly, savoring every bite. As Lilith drops down to your navel, you grab her horns gently and pull her up to your face to deliver kisses of your own.

She falls to your side and her dress tightens even more with the twists of her body. It’s your turn to explore; your hands crawl around her face, mapping the structure of her face into your mind. They reach to the back of her neck, and you feel the soft skin under your fingertips turn to scale and bone where her wings join to her spine. You travel back to her front, grabbing onto her chest in carnal desire.

Lilith lets out a low moan as she rakes her hands across your back and throws a leg over your side. She sits up, her lips pulled back in a smile, revealing her sharp teeth you are all too familiar with. She stands and turns around, pulling your legs towards her. Sinking to her knees, she leans against the edge of the bed, eyeing the growing bulge in your pants.

“Don’t worry,” she coos, her hands gliding from your chest to your waistband. “I’ll be gentle.”

Lilith slowly slides your pants down, enjoying your twitches of pleasure and impatience as your erection is revealed to her. She raises her eyebrows at your size, licking her lips at the thought of conquering your body for herself.

She drags her fingers lazily up and down your length, smirking as you shudder. Lilith moves close, planting a gentle kiss at the base of your cock before she slides her tongue to the tip. She kisses your glans with a devilish look in her eyes before opening her mouth to swallow your entirety. The wet heat of Lilith’s mouth envelopes your dick as she moves her head back and forth, pushing herself deeper with each movement. She swirls her tongue around your shaft as the tightness of her throat stimulates your head, sending pulses of warmth through your body.

Your breathing quickens as she pulls you to the brink of orgasm before she pulls your cock out of her mouth, taking a deep breath as strands of saliva fall against her chest. You’re almost begging for release. “Please, Lilith,” you exhale heavily.

A coy smile dances across her face as she strokes you with a tight grip, and then plunges your throbbing erection as deep as it can go, her nose pressing into the flesh below your navel. You cry out in ecstasy as your legs flex instinctively. Lilith’s hands press you down, keeping you still as your release floods into the back of her throat, and you can feel her muscles clamping down around you until she’s finished. She moans and swallows, her mouth relaxing.

You fall onto your back panting as Lilith pulls back from your cock, a mix of her saliva and your cum dripping from her mouth. Lilith hums in contentment as she pulls herself over you, kissing her way up your stomach. The blood in your lower body doesn’t drain away; instead, your erection grows even harder, almost painfully so. Her potent aphrodisiac took quick effect, the saliva covering your dick making you throb in want.

Lilith had straddled you once more, locking your face between her powerful legs. The Daughter of Hatred’s body was poised above you in all its divine beauty. Her breasts obscured the better part of her face from your vision as you could only see her eyes peering down at you. Dominating you.

She grabbed your hair with gentleness not to hurt, but to control. She bent over you slightly, spreading her wings to their greatest lengths.

Her voice was dripping with sin. “Your turn,” she purred.

Lilith moved your face to her sex, the intoxicating scent of her femininity overpowering your senses as the smell of sweat and slick infiltrated your nose. In one quick motion, Lilith spun onto her back, carrying you with her, putting you prostrated at her base. You needed no further guidance; it was time to please your Queen.

You brought your hands under and around her, gently caressing the inside of her legs. You started low — your careful kisses working their way up from the middle of her thigh to just outside her slit. You navigate your way around her with soft licks, burning the surface of her skin into your mind.

Lilith’s impatience grows, heavy breaths escaping her mouth as you circle your tongue around her clit, her hands raking themselves through your hair in pleasure. Your attention finally drifts into her as you dart your tongue in and out, first in careful laps, then in deep passion. Her wetness spills from your mouth onto your chin, Lilith’s sweet-sour taste melting on your tongue. You only break your pace to give attention to the rest of her, walking your lips up her stomach only for her to push you back down where you belong.

Lilith’s pleasure spills from her in slow moans and low curses in a language you can’t recognize. Her breathing quickens as you pull her to the brink, her grip on the back of your head firm. She presses you deeper into her, rolling her hips against your face. You glide your fingertips over the top of her sex, toying with her clit. Electricity wracks the Daughter of Hatred’s body as you push her over the edge and waves of pleasure light up her every nerve. Her moans rise in pitch as she crests, and her labored breathing slowly returns to normal.

There is an unspoken union between the two of you, inextricably linked through the sins of the flesh; through your mutual consumption of each other, through the devouring and savoring of the other’s taste.

Your cock throbs as Lilith motions for you to come forward, reaching for your face to kiss you. Your messes rub against each other, eliciting a low groan from your chest. She arches an eyebrow and grabs the back of your neck, pulling the side of your head to her mouth.

“I will conquer you,” she whispers into your ear. She nibbles on your earlobe and grabs your hard erection, directing it to her sensitiveness. Your tip rubs against Lilith as she toys with you, stroking her hand up and down your length until she finally grants the begging wishes falling from your mouth. You slide into the Queen of the Succubi, her slick folds enveloping your cock as you begin to thrust.

Your vocalizations of pleasure synchronize with hers, and Lilith’s impossible strength holds your body down against her own. Your mouths explore each other to their fullest extent, your tongues battling for dominance over each other. She pulls you into her as deep as you can go, your flesh slamming against hers. With each motion, Lilith clenches around your shaft, overwhelming your brain with endorphins.

Your pace quickens as Lilith’s nails dig into your back, her eyes begging you to continue. And continue you do.

Just before you’re about to finish, she pulls you down to her face and cries out in ecstasy, her own body shaking with yours as you paint the walls of her womb with white. She clamps her mouth down on your shoulder as you pulse inside of her, breaking your skin and biting into your tender flesh. The pain barely registers through the rest of your overloaded senses as your spasms stop and Lilith’s walls relax around your cock.

The two of you sit in silence as your heart race slows. You can barely focus, and your voice is low and gravelly.

“Oh my god.”

Lilith turned to you, a fire in her eyes.

“There are no gods here.” She lifted your head with a finger and you melted under her hardened gaze. There was power written across her face as she grabbed your chin with her thumb and forefinger, pulling you to your knees to follow her. Her nostrils flared as you knelt on the bed beneath her, the blood from your shoulder dripping from her mouth onto the satin under you.

“Good boy.” Lilith’s voice melted over you, pushing you into total subservience. You meet her gaze as she whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

“I may have use for you yet,” she says with a vicious smirk. She drags her finger up your chin, her sharp nail leaving a stinging cut in its path as she lets go of your face. The Queen of the Succubi walks back to her discarded robes, pulling them on in a neat fashion. The only evidence of what transpired was smeared across her red-stained mouth; the rest of you remained deep inside her womb.

Lilith takes a deep breath, examining the drying fluids on her hands. She shifts her eyes to you, laying on the bed and still recovering from her dominion over you. Her tone is commanding. “Behave.”

You nod your head as she turns to leave, but pauses before she exits the room.

“Make sure you clean up the mess. I don’t like my quarters dirty.”

You blink in acceptance, the door slamming behind her.

Lilith’s scents hover faintly in the air as you get to work stripping the bed and finding water to wash out both of your stains. You shut your mind off as you idly scrub, replaying the events prior.

You catch a flicker of movement in the corner of your eye. As you spin in its direction, a hand slides up around your face, clamping down on your mouth as you try to shout.

“Shut up! It’s me, you bleedin’ idiot!”

Your eyes grow wide as the farmhand’s voice fills your ears. You spin around in disbelief. She stands before you, alive, but you’ve seen her in better conditions.

“We don’t have a lot of time. There’s a way out, a back passage. I’ve tried exploring it before, but the succubi don’t like—”

You cut her off, holding your hand in the air. You’re confused: why does she want to leave?

“Didn’t she show you, too?”

“Show me what,” she asked in slight irritation, peeking down the hallway.

“The truth?”

The farmhand turns back to look at you, a mixture of pity and anger in her eyes that disappears as soon as you see it.

“I… yes, yes she showed me! That’s why we need to spread that truth to the rest of the outside world. Come on, now!” She hisses the last few words, grabbing your hand with her good arm, her malformed nub wrapped in front of her chest. The next several minutes were occupied by a rushed walk, until you arrived at crumbling walls down a dim hallway.

“It’s here. Let’s go, come on, hurry!”

She pushes bricks and stone aside, revealing a small tunnel just tall enough for you to crawl through. She vanishes inside, the blackness surrounding her form until the only indication of her presence is her breathing.

You follow on your hands and knees for an unknown amount of time. Eventually she gasps in relief as slivers of light peek through cracks in the stone ahead. The farmhand elbows away the choss, coughing away the dust as the rocks fall away before you. The scene in front of your eyes is a familiar countryside — you’re back in Scosglen, the mountains you first entered dotting the horizon.

“Listen, I’ve got a friend — look at me!” She slaps your cheeks lightly as if trying to re-energize you as your mind wanders back to your Queen. “I’ve got a friend that can help us, yeah? We’ll go meet him.”

She set off down the rocky hills you stepped out to, motioning for you to follow. Your head splits in a piercing headache, and then you’re brought clarity by Lilith, her voice serene in your mind.

“Go with the girl, Wanderer of mine. Trust her — but do not forget your pact with me,” she says.

You silently thank her, and finally address the farmhand directly.

“Thank you, N…” Her voice was on the tip of your tongue; you’d interacted dozens of times before. Why couldn’t you remember it?

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “...Neyrelle? Did you hit your head? What did the demoness do to you?”

Something told you to lie. “I — I can’t remember.”

“Good thing this man can help you, then.”

“Who is he?”

Neyrelle turns towards the rising sun as beams of light break over the horizon and shine into her face.

“Lorath Nahr.”

With that, the two of you began to cover the miles of empty, silent wilderness between you and the nearest trade outpost. From there, Neyrelle had told you, you’d take a horse to Ked Bardu where the man called Lorath was waiting.

And so it was: that the two lonely wanderers seeking to regain their humanity together searched for the Horadrim Lorath Nahr, who would lead you to believe that you needed to help mankind fight against Hell’s threat. Each sliver of doubt you had was assuaged by your Mother’s voice in your mind. Your battles took you across the continent, joining forces with many allies and fighting against even more foes.

All the while, the Daughter of Hatred sat in her throne, watching over your every action; she prodded you with gentle affirmations in each and every direction she needed you to go. And when the time came for the Horadrim to battle Lilith, you had joined them to put her down once and for all.

The Queen of the Succubi, revealing herself to those who so wished her dead, simply smiled at their insults and aggression. She knew what they did not. Lilith’s eyes locked onto your own, her head held high as her gaze focused through to your soul.

Your sword left its sheath. Lilith laughed from the depths of her chest, a haunting mockery of all the effort the Horadrim had made to get to this point.

Burning hatred erupted from her, permeating the air around you all with its tension. “It’s time for you to serve once more, little mercenary.” The Daughter of Hatred smirked as she vanished in a swirling mass of blood-red petals.

It was finally then that Lorath understood what had happened as you stalked towards him, your arms poised for a killing strike.

He turns to you with tears pouring down his face, shielding Neyrelle behind him. “Why?”

You growl your answer back. “To please the Mother.”

Lorath looks to the ground, muttering under his breath. You pause just long enough to recognize the Horadric he’s chanting, shouting as you lunge forward into the open air where your victims just stood. Simple runes were carved into the stone under your feet and magic energy stained the air around you.

It didn't matter. Lilith had given you an order — you wouldn’t fail your Queen, no matter how long it took.

You had prey to hunt.

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