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almightygremlinblob · 5 months ago

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In Every Life (AMAB Ver.)

In which Sukuna falls in love with the Reader without realizing it.

Word Count: 5, 466 of slow burn. ⚠️Content Warnings⚠️: True Form Sukuna, Heian Era, Sukuna fluff, soft Sukuna, mentioned cannibalism, slight angst, Sunshine AMAB!Reader but gender neutral expressions used, Reader is not a sorcerer and is implied to be the only non-sorcerer of her village. THIS IS NOT BETA'D and I am very tired while editing this. SO! If you spot any mistakes, esp. around the parts lmao, since I made two ver. of this, pls tell me! Minors and ppl not okay with anything sexual pls DNI and have a nice day 👍🏽 AFAB!Reader (with gender-neutral pronouns) here

⚠️Further Content Warnings⚠️: Virgin!Sukuna, Sub!Sukuna, Reader and Sukuna both switch from gentle doms to subs, size difference, soft & fluffy sex, very messy sex, Reader makes out with the tummy mouth, anal, cock worship, Reader makes out with tummy mouth, lots of fluids in general, lots of mouths, consensual blood drinking, this is getting worse the more I write lmao.

You were happy you managed to catch the attention of the King of Curses.

Sure, you didn't exactly know how you did it. You weren't strong, or exceptionally beautiful like the sons and daughters offered to him. You weren't even that smart!

You were clueless, as a matter of fact!

So clueless that, nearly two weeks ago, you gave the strange looking man with four arms a warm meal and a place to stay for the night - since it didn't seem like the storm would let up any time soon. He was pretty much shunned by the rest of the village upon his arrival…probably due to the overwhelming energy that sent people into fight or flight…but he was just born different!

Probably.

"What's your name, Mister?"

"…"

You quickly learned that he didn't speak much, and he does not like to be looked at. Only watching as you go about your day - trying your best to navigate through the judgement and, frankly, abuse of the other villagers; ever as judgemental about you as they were likely to talk down on you, spread rumors and try to take advantage of your endless kindness. Not that it worked, though - and for that, everyone pretty much hated you. Despite his silence, your visitor was the only one that seemed to regard you without any ounce of hatred.

Then, one day…

"Why do you entertain them?"

"Ah!" You visibly jumped at that moment - up until now you were certain he couldn't speak. His voice was lovely baritone, but held a quiet authority - much like him…and a very clear evil but you wouldn't dwell too much on that. "M-me? Oh…of course, me…"

"U-um…I'm not entirely sure, actually. I don't like them, b-but…" Those sharp, piercing eyes are distant, scanning the forest as you tried to think of a reason. "I-I guess they're my neighbors. Friends? No. But it wouldn't be right to just outright ignore them."

"Hmph, of course…" He scoffs, and rolls his eyes. "You people and your morals…"

"Do you not have friends?"

"No."

"Oh…" Your shoulders slump slightly. "Then, consider me your first friend!"

"No."

"Oh…"

When you visibly deflate, he laughs lightly, shaking his head as if he's heard something utterly ridiculous. "Why does that bother you? You hardly know me. I could be a mass murderer for all you know."

"Because you…you're…" You think for a while, before finding the right words. "One of the most unique people I've ever had the blessing of meeting."

His eyes finally land on you. "Blessing, huh?"

------

Eventually, the villagers turned violent towards you and your guest, but you did your best to keep him safe - urging him to leave, quickly. It was that day, when you were nearly beaten to death, that you learned the strange man's name.

"Die, you peasant!" There was something in the way these villagers attacked. A strange energy that made it hurt all the more. You were bloodied, bruised and beaten to the point you couldn't even find the strength to scream. A blade was pointed to your throat. "Any last words?"

Despite yourself, you manage to spit at him.

"I didn't think you had it in you." That familiar low voice, low and uninterested, sounds from behind you both. Then, before your very eyes, everyone was somehow cut to pieces. No screams, or cries…just the sounds of flesh and bone being cut apart. You were probably hallucinating...

You see your guest walk beside you - the gore, guts and limbs not affecting him in the slightest.

"Ah, you're okay…" His eyes land on you again. "B-be careful…t-there's an invisible…invisible something that's cutting people up…"

He scoffs. "And if I told you that was me?"

"What."

"Tsk." He promptly grabs you and, without you even realizing, your wounds begin healing, closing up, and suddenly you're more aware than you were a while ago. Then, with the flick of his wrist, the bodies get further chopped apart. The gears in your head start to turn and your eyes widen. "O-oh…"

"Go on, then. Go ahead." He grabs your face, forcing you to look at the disembodied people and the growing river of blood. "Run."

"No. No…" Your breathing steadies, and you relax into his hold. He must sense it with the way his whole body tenses for a moment. "Not from you."

In the silence, you can practically hear him thinking as he gets up. And when he made no move, you realized he was waiting for you. So you got up too, wordlessly, and began to follow him. After a while of silence, he graces you with his voice again - quiet, almost…soft.

"My name is irrelevant…but people call me Sukuna Ryomen, the King of Curses."

------

And that was the start of your new life, as a servant of the King of Curses.

It…wasn't so bad! Sure, you could be killed any day, like a few of the other servants and many of the courtesans, but you also didn't do much! And, best of all, no more of those abusive neighbors! Your days were mainly spent helping the head servant - the attractive one with white hair and a pink splotch - do things for the king, for only up to four hours. Four hours! Then you'd spend the rest of the day doing whatever!

This was not one of those days, however.

Today, you were cleaning the Lord's study, in his chambers, along with the attractive head servant. There were...a strangely high number of Dokudami paintings...

"The Lord seems to have an obsession with this herb. Does he like it?"

"That's an interesting observation. Though you're mistaken. It's more the symbolism of this plant."

"And…that would be?"

"Its flowers are delicate, pure. The plant itself is medicinal against many illnesses - it's endlessly helpful. Kind. But it grows everywhere, even in the places not many grow. A surprising resilience despite it's 'delicate' nature." The head servant explains, and you can hear the tinge of amusement in their voice. "Remind you of anyone?"

"Uh…no? No one comes to mind…"

They simply snort at that.

------

The first time you were called to his chambers, you thought you were going to die. Actually, everyone thought you were going to die. They were all giddy at the thought. You didn't expect to just sit there in silence while he practiced his calligraphy.

"I can hear you thinking. Speak."

You fidget around a little, before getting the words out. "I've always been meaning to ask…why…why me, my Lord?"

He clicks his tongue. "You dare question my choices?"

"N-no! Only…I'm curious."

Sukuna is silent for a while, hand perfectly still as he thinks, before eventually speaking.

"You calm me." He sighs as his brush continues to move. "Somehow, every time, you calm me."

------

The courtesans could see you from outside, and you could practically feel them glaring daggers at you - endlessly furious and envious that you could be that close to the Lord.

"My Lord, you…never seem to show interest in your courtesans. Have they, I mean…" You weren't sure how to word it without coming off as too brash.

"Of course they try to bed me. They always do. Don't even try to hide that they're doing it to gain a semblance of power in my estate. The last two were just…" He waves his hand dismissively, tone making it abundantly clear he wasn't happy with the memory. "Had her head cut off and the second had his limbs strewn on the floor."

You feel his gaze on you, scowl evident in even his voice. "Why do you ask me about this?"

"It's just…you have so many, I thought, well..."

"Tsk. They only want something from me, and they think they can take it freely. From me. Me!"

"Surely not ALL of them…" You fidget a little. "Why would you keep them around if that was? There's…there's so many…"

You can practically hear his smirk. "Because their organs taste GREAT sautéed."

"A-ah…"

He snorts, seeing your discomfort. "Are you afraid of becoming like them?"

"I…hm…" You look up in thought. "Perhaps…"

He lets out a soft laugh. "Then you truly are a fool."

"But…I think, it would be a good sacrifice." You finish the last area, as he goes awfully quiet. "Like an offering to a god. I think…I think I wouldn't mind that."

His presence is more than clear behind you, strong and foreboding. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Liar. Everyone says that…" He scoffs. "…but, nobody means it. If given the chance…"

You hear a sound, sharp and strong, much like a blade. A pain blooms from your wrist, and you realize you're bleeding lightly - only a few drops of blood at a time. "They all run."

"No. I wish to stay by your side, my Lord. I have nowhere I'd rather be." When you relax and make no move to run, a big and warm hand engulfs yours.

"You…weren't lying." You feel lips against the wound on your outer wrist, and the swipe of a tongue against it before the wound starts to close. "You fool…"

------

Many in the estate didn't like you, jealous of how close you were to the Lord - but it wasn't everyone. Now, it was everyone. Rumors fueling jealousy and malice for the very obvious favoritism.

Taking little nibbles, you didn't want to take more than your share.

The food was beyond AMAZING. However, Sukuna simply scowls as you shyly keep your head bowed and you must feel his gaze harden by the way you flinch under it.

"I apologize. I just…don't want to take more than my share…"

"Do you mean to insult me? This entire meal is yours." He scoffs, grabbing your bowl. He grabs one of the sushi rolls and puts it against your mouth, which is still closed due to your surprise. "Eat. I won't accept this…whatever it is you're doing."

"O-oh, I-…thank you, my Lord." You open your mouth and allow him to feed you. Light blush forming from how good the food is. Yes, that was definitely why. "My compliments to the chef. This is beyond delicious, my Lord…"

And it was true, the sushi, the miso soup, selection of meats, everything tasted DIVINE.

"Compliments taken."

WAIT-

You nearly choke on your food. "I-I apologize…my Lord. I, you…for me???"

"Use your words."

"I mean, ah…" You shake your head, trying to recover from your mind going into overdrive. "You…made this for me?"

"Yes." He says it so plainly.

"What…what for?"

He doesn't answer and, for once, looks unsure. "I…I don't know."

------

When you came out of his chambers unscathed the second time, everyone - except for Lord Sukuna himself and his servant - went into a frenzy. The servants were appalled, the courtesans were fuming, and you made sure to steer clear of everyone who now seemed to loathe you. And, soon enough, all your duties were either with the head servant, with Lord Sukuna, or by yourself. Still, you didn't feel safe in the estate anymore.

Then, one night, the head servant came to your quarters, stating that "Lord Sukuna has requested I take you to his chambers."

If you weren't going to die physically, you would die of embarrassment.

Still, you followed the white haired servant to his chambers, entire form trembling as you nearly stumbled over yourself. Sukuna glances you once over, and can't help the snort that escapes his lips. You looked like a newly born fawn with how shaky your legs were.

"My sincerest apologies. I just…nervous…"

"That much is clear. Sit." Something is off and you can tell he's tense. "This probably isn't going to go how you're expecting."

You do as he says, sitting seiza in front of him. Something sharp is pointed to your throat, right where the artery is. Your eyes go wide, but after a little bit, you allow your entire body to relax. If you should die by anyone's hand, it would be his.

"Look at me." He commands and you look up, seeing him holding a spear of sorts. For the first time, you see him - truly see him. His form beautiful, terrifying and divine all at once. Your eyes and body must show your adoration, because he looks away - as if uncomfortable.

He shuts his eyes, and the spear is repeatedly pushed against your neck, as if trying. However, it never follows through. This was so easy for him, and yet…

"My Lord, if I should die today, it would be the greatest honor for it to be by your hand." Your body relaxes, eyes close and you lean into the blade of the spear. Sukuna tenses, and you feel it in his hold. "If it's by your hand, my Lord, I can only die happy."

"Yes. That much you've made clear." You hear him sigh, tired and defeated, as the spear drops to the floor. "To think this is how I'd lose…how pathetic…"

"M…my Lord?"

"Leave."

You see him, frustrated and defeated, and it makes your heart ache to see him like this. Without even realizing it, your hand reaches out and stops just before touching him. "Might I stay for you? Please, I only want…"

His glare nearly has you frozen. "THIS is how you want to celebrate a victory over me?"

"No, my Lord. I only wish to stay by your side and help how I can."

He's quiet, clearly upset. "Do what you will with me. I might as well be worthless like this anyway."

"Never to me, Lord Sukuna." You take his hand in both of yours, and bring your lips to his knuckles but he quickly pulls his hand away.

"What?!" He snarls. "What use is your loyalty to someone like me now?"

"You are my Lord, Sukuna. I serve you…" Your eyes meet his, full of longing and concern. "Anything I can do to help you, please let me…"

His eyes briefly glance at your quivering lips, leaning in without realizing before he turns away with a click of his tongue.

"Leave."

And you do as you are told.

------

"How is Lord Sukuna?"

Was one of the most frequent questions you'd pester the head servant's ears with. They roll their eyes. "He's not frail, you know. You don't need to worry about him like a mother hen."

"I just…it's been a week since I've seen him! If he doesn't want to see me, that's fine, but…I-I'd at least like to know if he's okay…" You sigh. "And what I did wrong…so I can avoid doing it again!"

"Just give him time to process." The head servant states nonchalantly. "This is new territory for him."

------

The silence was…

Awkward, to say the least.

Not a word uttered as he continued to paint those stupid edible weeds in the candle-light. It was already late…

"A-ahem." Your voice breaks slightly when you clear your throat, and you feel his gaze on you. "M-my Lord, if there's nothing else, I shall retire for the night."

"Stay."

What.

"Don't make me repeat myself." Clearly your reaction was evident in your body, and you choke on your words before they even get out.

"That night was my first defeat." He says, as if sensing your question, yet you hear a tired and heavy sigh. "As of now, it's been my only one."

"But…have you been okay, my Lord?"

"Always about me, hm?" He scoffs, and there's tension as his footsteps grow closer. Your eyes meet his, beautiful and terrifying, when his fingers gently tug your chin up - guiding you to look at him. Guiding your body to the mattress as he cages you underneath him. "And why not just claim your victory? I have no right to complain. Isn't that what you meant to do the night you defeated me?"

"What? No! My, Lord, no! I-I'm sorry. It wasn't-I didn't mean-It's not what you think! I could never-" Your hands cover your mouth - shocked at the implication. "Oh Lord Sukuna, I bow to you! Only you! I-I will never, could never, force something like that on you! Not then. Not now…"

"Good. This was getting overwhelming." He sighs and then promptly rolls off you, plopping down to your side. Though your skins were still touching and, for once, Sukuna didn't mind someone this close to him in this way. He was relaxed, as if his worries melted away. You couldn't help the smile that grew. This was the Lord you know - a walking death and calamity, now pacified. You both face each other and he can't help but look away, cracking under the weight of your loving gaze - full of adoration, concern and awe.

Weak.

He was weak.

"Lord Sukuna, may I?" Your hand reaches out to him, stopping just before reaching the wooden part of his face. He was so terribly beautiful.

"Do as you wish." He mumbles, and you gently hold him - even though he doesn't show it, you can feel him tense.

"My Lord, what's wrong?" There it is again, the weight that makes him feel like he's breaking without being broken. "I know you don't need it, but I only wish to help in any way I can…"

His mouth opens and closes several times before he's able to finally find the worse. "You've broken me. Made me weak…and I can't even curse you, or wish we'd never met because I'd be lying."

You chuckle. "My Lord is far from weak."

"Yet I am powerless against you." His four eyes bore into you, in them a mix of desperation and longing, as you gently stroke the wooden part of his face. Finally, he closes his eyes, relaxing against you. "And I never thought defeat could feel like this…"

"Is it pleasant, my Lord?"

"It is…" You feel his fingers tracing along your collarbone, up to your jawline and you feel something wet licking your skin as his hand rests on your throat. A mouth on his hand, gently licking and suckling on the sensitive parts of your neck. "…but only if it's you."

"Lord Sukuna…" Despite everything, you feel he's still tense. "You're tense. Would you like me to…?"

"Yes. I meant to bed you tonight, but this…it's…" He sighs. "Overwhelming. I'm not clueless, but something about you makes it all…too much…"

"Then let me lead, my Lord." You gently push him down, and he lets you - following you as you guide him. His hand takes hold of your chin, pulling you in so your lips meet his. His kiss was tentative and unsure, or perhaps more accurately, scared. Scared of every feeling that threatened to overthrow him. You eagerly massaged your lips against his nonetheless. "Please…allow me to worship you tonight, Lord Sukuna."

His breaths become heavier when you straddle him, gently undoing his kimono while he easily rips your clothes to shreds with a flick of a wrist. Your lips mark his skin gently. Moving down to worship his mouth, jaw, his shoulders, both chests and finally to the mouth on his stomach - who was breathing just as heavy. Sukuna tenses when you take his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it and explore the much bigger one with your smaller tongue.

When you pull away, there's a small pool of saliva where the stomach mouth lay open and plenty on you where the mouth-hands had left their marks on your skin. Both his cocks, beautiful, heavy and fat, sat on his stomach where they were already leaking with arousal. Sukuna's breathing turned heavy, and as your hands move to his waist, stopping just before doing anything, you look up at him. "My Lord, if at any time you wish for me to stop, please say so. I will stop without hesitation or question."

"Always about me…" He chuckles and, in a sudden movement, easily manhandles you so your ass is on his stomach-mouth. "No, I do not wish to stop. But if you truly ask for nothing in return, then let me be gracious."

"M-my Lord, ah-" Your eyes roll back when you feel that giant tongue lapping at the rim of your hole, the both of you moaning as he did so.

"Delicious…" A hand finds its way to your length, giving it lazy strokes before a mouth opens up and begins licking you - before taking you in. The heat of his mouth felt absolutely divine. The mouths on his other hands suck hickeys and bite the skin of your neck, while they find the sensitive nubs on your chest and harshly tug at them with teeth and lips, too. You hear a noise that's half-way between a whimper and a moan. "…everything about you…so delicious…"

"That's it, my Lord. I'm yours tonight…" You sigh, mind in bliss as your hands find his cocks. He bucks his hips when you begin to stroke him - slowly, before building to a steady pace. His cocks were thick and fat, heavy and veiny and monstrously beautiful in all the ways that had you nervous to take him. They throbbed eagerly, dare you say even aching for your touch. Bowing down, you take one of his tips into your mouth, careful not to let your teeth get in the way. The way his tip had pulsed and the amount of arousal you had to swallow down, had you moaning and whining happily as you swallowed his cock. Amidst the low growling of his stomach mouth, you hear a noise that's halfway between a whimper and a moan, and feel him buck his hips into your mouth as you lick and suck on him eagerly - tongue, lips and hands feverishly worshipping Sukuna's heavy, monstrous lengths.

The tongue begins to enter you, and you nearly cum on the spot - choking on his cock. Slowly, it reaches deep, deep enough to hit that spot that has you seeing stars. When you continue to moan, Sukuna's hips move on their own - tip fucking your mouth while you drool and stroke him.

A guttural moan escapes Sukuna's throat when he releases into your greedy mouth, and you do your best to swallow everything he has to offer while his other cock paints you in white. Drool, precum and his seed still leak out your mouth, though - and you quickly find it's too much. Before you can stop yourself, you release into the mouth sucking you off - ass clamping down on the large tongue inside you as it continues to move inside of you, well past your high. You cum heavy into one of your Lord's many mouths, and it gags on your cock - the sensation making you spurt more into the mouth that greedily tries to swallow everything.

His tip leaves your mouth with a sloppy and wet pop and with a groan, both tongues take one final lick before retracting back. You both are breathing heavy, shaking a little as he repositions you to face him. His hand caresses your face, eyes completely dilated as he makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a sigh.

"Oh, gods, look at you…"

"My Lord, I-" Your eyes widen a little as you struggle a little in his grasp. "Wait-"

"Have you forgotten who you answer to?" He clicks his tongue. "You are in no position to make demands of me."

"I…answer to you, my Lord." You still, realizing what he was asking you. "I'm sorry."

There's a small silence as you look away bashfully. However, when you glance back at him and are met with a frown - there was the sudden realization of an unsaid question waiting to be answered. He hasn't moved at all. Immediately, you explain yourself, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "I-I'm still a bit sensitive, is all…but I-I still want this! Truly, my Lord! I-I want…I want you, still."

Your voice comes out a little higher than you would have liked, but it seemed to quell him nonetheless.

"As am I, but…" He sighs and before he looks away, you capture his lips in a chaste but wet kiss.

"I know." You bite your lip bashfully and your voice comes out soft and sweet in all the ways that make his cocks twitch. "But, I did promise to worship my Lord tonight. I shouldn't make a promise I can't keep."

When your hands begin to stroke him again, slow and gentle, Sukuna practically throws his head back, biting back a low whimper while his stomach mouth shamelessly groaned and panted. He cursed as his hips began to move on their own, muscles tensing as his cocks grew hard again. Yet when your eyes lock he only sees adoration and longing in them as your hands worshipped him diligently. Not the empty lust he saw in everyone else who wanted him this way but could never get close.

"You look incredible like this, my Lord." Your voice comes out raspy and full of longing, and it tears a near animalistic sound from him.

"Enough." He growls, and you immediately stop. "Let me inside you."

"Anything for you." A mix of arousal, anxiousness and excitement overwhelms you as you climb on top of him, positioning yourself so his bottom cockhead kisses the entrance to your ass - readying you as it spurts those large trickles of precum. The both of you share a guttural groan as you sink down on one of his cocks, the free one throbbing delightfully in front of your own length. Sukuna was massive, to say the least, and despite how dripping wet he was your legs were still shaking from the wonderful strain. Although, your gummy insides took him in eagerly while being stretched to their limit.

The initial pain of the stretch was nearly drowned out by how wonderful he felt inside of you - fat and veiny cock completely filling you, dragging deliciously along the inside of your ass. You could feel him his arousal leak inside you, lubricating you plenty, and his length pulsing like a second heartbeat. And when you fully sheathed him inside of you, you both almost lost the ability to think properly.

"S-Sukuna, my Lord…" You'd be embarassed by how shameless you sounded with your Lord now fully inside you, his fat mushroom head leaking on and throbbing against that sweet spot. His hands rested on your hips, keeping your bodies joined with a messy puddle of arousal underneath you both. Sukuna's eyes were rolled back and fluttering slightly while his stomach mouth was open with his massive tongue lolled out, making a noise somewhere between a low growl and a whimper. Seeing him like this nearly sent you off the edge.

"O-ooh, gods…" He groans when he feels you clamp down on him, and a hand pulls your head into a clumsy kiss. You feel his breath turn into full on panting when he tasted himself on you, the hands on your hips now painfully digging into your skin as he begins to thrust up into you - sloppy, slow and languid, as if trying to get even deeper and split you apart. Your free hands, once caressing the wooden part of his face, now move down to stroke his free cock - earning you a low growling from the stomach mouth as it started panting.

"Oh, you feel heavenly, Lord Sukuna…" As if encouraged by your words, his thrusts start to get faster, harder - a steady rhythm beginning to build. "That's it. You're doing so well, my Lord."

"Ngh, ah…" Your Lord made such sweet sounds.

Neither of you were going to last long, it was all too much.

"A-ah, it's so good my Lord…" The pain had long subsided, replaced only with ecstacy. Sukuna's fat and heavy cock dragged along every part of your insides, and the feeling of the warm arousal dripping from his tip and the throbbing of his veiny length had you near screaming into his mouth. Your Lord was completely filling you and leaving no part of you unloved. While your ass, already sloppy and wet with Sukuna's arousal, desperately sucked him in every time you and him moved, only to be rewarded as he thrusted back in and you bounced back down on him, wet velvety insides squeezing him tightly as if never wanting him to leave. Without you even realizing it, your body was unconsciously and sweetly worshipping and loving your god. "I love you, Lord Sukuna!"

Something in Sukuna snaps upon hearing those words, which were otherwise empty - had it come from someone else.

"I want to taste you." He practically whimpers into your mouth as you both pant and continue to knot tongues. The kiss is clumsy, inexperienced, but you were far too lost in love to care - exploring your Lord's mouth eagerly while you struggle to ride his beautiful, monstrous form. The tongues on his mouths sucking, biting and tasting your skin; marking every bit of your body they could. This would hurt, but you didn't care. You only wanted to show your god how much you loved him. "Let me taste you…"

"Yes, my Lord. Anything-" This would hurt, but you didn't care - only wanting to show your god how much you loved him. "Anything you wish of me…"

With the flick of his wrist, there's a sharp pain on your tongue and a metallic taste floods both of your mouths - there's not enough damage to fully cut off your tongue, however, only a cut.

"Swallow me." Sukuna's breath hitches as he continues to kiss you, letting out a noise between a growl and a whimper, and you realize that it wasn't only your blood in both of your mouths. An offering of a devotee to their god, and a god to their devotee. You eagerly swallow each other's blood, moaning into your mouths as you share the messy, bloody kiss.

"Y-yes, keep going my Lord…" You continue to encourage him, as one of his hands moves to take both of your lengths and stroke them together. You and Sukuna both throw your heads back and nearly yell as the mouth on his hand opens up and swallows the both of you - tongue working eagerly on both your tips while your hands work on the shafts. "Cum for me, my Lord. Please…"

His thrusts get faster and harder, and you bounce on him just as fervently. What was once a steady rhythm has now turned sloppy as you both rode each other into your high. Sukuna reaches his orgasm with a choked yell, and you reach yours with a scream - bodies tensing as you both get lost in each other and neither of you stop moving. His warm and thick seed floods your insides, far too copious and spilling over. Your ass spasms and clamps down on him, almost painfully milking and sucking him in, desperately trying and failing to keep his overflowing love inside. The mouth that held both of your cocks greedily tries and fails to swallow all of the overflowing love as you and Sukuna both cum heavy into it.

It feels like forever, but you eventually collapse on top of him - both of you too tired to pull out of either hole. Though the mouth that held both of your cocks still lazily licked up at all the overflow. Minds completely muddled neither of you could think, bodies shaky with the high and tranquility of post-orgasm. There was nothing but the sound of your breathing for a while, before he silently cups your face and you feel the sting on your tongue disappear. With shaky hands, you touch your tongue and find the cut was healed.

"Thank you for sharing your blood with me, my Lord." You bury your face in the crook of his neck. "If I may, might I stay the night?"

"You'll be staying here every night, from now on." Without realizing it, his lips reach your forehead. "And for the rest of eternity, you will never leave my side."

"Yes, my Lord. I swear it." It was one simple, powerful vow that had you staying by his side for the rest of your life…

And made you return to him, in every life after.

-----

My GAAAHD was this difficult to write. Not the writing part itself, NO. But finding the time for writing. YEEESH. Anyways, have a great day!

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kyri45 · 2 months ago

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✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 08/10✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: I feel like in cannon baby MK was the kind of kid to eat glue, mainly because he hatched from a rock and doesn't know what anything is.

isn’t it like how all babies are? I think I also used to eat glue

@purpleprinceblood ha chiesto: In the spicynoodles bit where you explain how Red Son was charmed by Mk's beautiful personality and kind nature (/silly), you said Mk is Demi sexual Do you have other sexuality headcanons for the cast, or is it just "they're gay for each other"?

Pan for Mei, Bi for Redson, both Wukong and Macaque are in a way pan, in the sense that they don’t really care about gender, but are only gay for each other.

@kehideni ha chiesto: Whatever happened with never drawing a background ever again? :D On a more serious note: may we know the exact relation of DBK and Chiyou(did i spell that right?)? I'm just the nosy type :3

Chiyou has 72 brothers, one of them is an ancestor of DBK

@marcusalexander ha chiesto: I have a question is spider queen in your comic, and if so, is she like a part of the team or enemy or anuite? I'm just curious since she isn't that evil. By the way, I love your comic shadowpeach parents

The AU is set after S5, so I guess she’s enemy

Anonimo ha chiesto: Macaque HAS to be doing a little happy dance in the bio parents AU that murder isn’t considered distinct from self-defense Imagine being like… a legitimate threat to the world around you, and getting put down to defend it, and then being hailed as “the less bad one” because you were killed But this also means that MK probably views himself as a murdered for killing the LBD/Azure Lion too cause again “killing in self defense/defense of others= murder

most likely MK feels super duper guilty for what he did, and will continue to be until he get some extra comfort.

@goldenthecat ha chiesto: I'm wondering, since you watch lmk do you watch other Lego shows too? Like Ninjago or friends

does having saw the ninjago movie and a 4 hours video essay recap about the first 14 season count?

@haruwashere29 ha chiesto: Did wukong put his head over macaque’s chest to hear his heartbeat? 😭😭😭

OH OK NOW WE ARE ON WITH THE ANGST. YES 100%

Anonimo ha chiesto: You said Wukong is warm , change my mind that macaque has absolutely put his cold feet straight on wukongs back while he was sleeping not just cause he was cold but because he thought it was funny

hehe he has cold feet poor boy.

@og-glitch-punk ha chiesto: I'm haunting you at thisnpoint im so sorry but your lmk comic gives ideas and thoughts bro lmao /gen SO HERES ANITHER THOUGHT... If you technically think about it, MK is basically an clone (not but words are EHHH) of Sun wukong because they came from the sane rock. But what about our spooky Macaque? We have no knowledge of how he came to be but we all may assume it's the same way with MK and Wukong. but.. BUT. If Macaque had his own stone somewhere in the shadows then what if there's an basically MK but Macaque verison? Even if not, that would be wild to think about lol

like a slightly more emo version of MK? Something like the OK KO situation?

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello I just wanted to say I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR COMIC it's sooooo good I'm obsessed and the recent part... I have no word only emotion Even though I use Tumblr for a while I still getting use to it so.. do you know any other Shadowpeach comics? I couldn't find any 😅

mmmm @kristea9ay is doing a shadowpeach parent story that’s really cute!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I NEED to see wukong and macaque having a cute moment and accidentally touch each others tails yk? 🥺🥺🥺 (and mk quitting is a stab to the chest, i dont think there is anything worse in store... Right?... RIGHT?!)

at this point they ain’t touching the tails “accidentally” anymore these bitches are too gay I can’t anymore-

@amyrosewithoutshadow ha chiesto: I think the next one that will need Sandy is Wukong, lol I always thought about one thing, how Wukong deal with traumas and crises? We only saw him dealing with it during his sleep, but what about a daylight crises? Love your art 💞

he has a “I can do it with a broken heart”-by-taylor-Swift-masking situation.

@alizardonfire ha chiesto: I understand why MK doesn't want to be their successor mostly because I think he needs time to think about all of it. There's a lot to unpack! I love how wukongs more shocked about it. And I think macaque kinda saw it coming?

i think Mac forseen that MK would have changed his view on Wukong for sure. But he didn’t know in which way.

@siennabanana ha chiesto: HDBDJDBDHSHDV NEW HEADCANON UNLOCKED: sometimes he misses his human form but he doesn’t tell wukong and macaque bc he feels like that would be an insult to them and plus he still thinks his monkey form is cool but eughhh dysphoriaa

awwww he might be sometimes! Good thing they are starting to hang out outside FFM as well!

@blazerratbluefire-blog ha chiesto: If Wukong ever manages to be able to control his kaiju form, I could easily see Macaque's kaiju form using him as a bed, and along comes MK wanting in on the action. Then, he proceeds to lay on top of Macaque, squishing him with his kaiju and making a wholesome monkey family bonding session. With Wukonh laughing that Macaque is being squished. Just a funny thought I had.

oh my I think he would be waaayyy to big for the other two ahah

Anonimo ha chiesto: For your LMK shadowpeach AU will Ironfan be making up for all of MK's birthdays she missed? (Dropping off a mountain of presents at FFM?) (My partner joked she would give Redson in a box, not in a bow or anything just in an open box like a cat.)

she would probably make a courtnapping room for her son to gift him, and Red Son would die from embarrassment right there.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Dose macaque sometimes cook for MK and wukong since wukong tends to eat his fur/hair and macaque fonts approve of it

I think yes, he would cook probably really basics but nutrient-full meals, the few times they don’t eat noodle from pigsy shop

Anonimo ha chiesto: TCan we get Red Son and MK Angst because Red Son technology tried to kill MK a lot of times?

just bc of the AU main plot I don’t think so, also bc at this point traffic light trio are all friends with each other.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Speaking of birthdays, I assume Pigsy and Tang celebrate when MK showed up in their life or a random day when MK first asked about his birthday. Would Wukong and Macaque ask Nuwa the day he was put in the rock/broken out of it (I assume he came out and was immediately brought to Pigsy the same day but idk) or is that sort of a sore subject still, with the whole harbinger thing?

I think the best thing would be to celebrate it the day they found it!

@yuk1yun ha chiesto: Giuro che è un mese che provo a rendere il mio cosplay di mk simile alla tua au (perché anche se è semplice è stupendo), ma non so come fare le orecchie... Sono di nuovo qui per dirti quanto adoro la rua au btw :)

ADUYDJYTDY SE HAI BISOGNO DI RIFERIMENTI FAMMI SAPERE! E MANDAMI IL RISULTATO QUANDO HAI FINITO!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I'm just waiting until Mk realizes the other things Wukong and Macaque did, yk like what Sun did to Redson, what Mac did to some of the monkeys all that

I think with time MK will slowly learn everything, but for example I guess now Red Son and Wukong are at truce

Anonimo ha chiesto: I'm just obsessed with your shadowpeach comics!!✨✨ But heey~ how about bai he!? l think it will be super amazing if add her in the future to this little cute monkeys family

awww baby!! I hope she went back to her family honestly! But I also hope sometimes she visits MK!

@yainmy ha chiesto: Oh gods I when I found this bio parents au I got HOOKED. I love it so much and the shenanigans and the angst are just *chef's kiss*. I have some curious questions if you don't mind me asking, but if a similar situation happens in the future like when mk got baby-fied, but instead his forms get split up (human and monkey demon) would he have that child crisis of fear "if im not this certain way they wont want me as theirs anymore", considering he is still learning about the whole monkey business? Also in a shenanigans sort of question, I don't remember how stone monkeys are made in their world but it would be hilarious if mk asked wukong and macaque that since they both are male and they technically "had" him then does that mean they can give him a sibling if they wanted? Sorry if it's to long of an ask 😅

i think MK would mostly feel a sense of loss for the fact that in a way, things should have been like this, like when he “hatched” Wukong probably would have found him if it wasn’t for the fact someone or something brought it to Pigsy shop. He would have grown up with someone who could tell him how to be a stone Monkey and teach him his power. Surely, I think Wukong wouldn’t have been as good as a parent as Pigsy, and MK doesn’t regret a bit how things actually ended up happening, but it’s a bit of a case of “sometimes I imagine how my life would have been if it went this way”

Anonimo ha chiesto: I know it's a bit out of the scope of your comic, but I'm wondering if Mei's design is just stylistic additions as if they were always there due to her dragon heritage, or if you have any ideas of scenes that took place as she grew more dragon features?

she started to grow more and more into them after she was accepted by her family sword and started to use her dragon form more and more.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Do you ever think Macaque and Wukong argue over who the little monkeys on the mountain like more? Like Im 100% sure Macaque wouldn't really care but the idea of not being the favorite bothers Wukong

the monkeys go crazy for soft fur Mamacaque. Wukong will always be pissed at this.

@snsp6 ha chiesto: do u like the hc that Mac has naturally snow-white fur? cs when u showed him wo glamours I realized that u don’t rlly color anything so I wanted to ask if it was still black or some type of mix between the two

akjdkajsbkaj I love for that shit YES. Yeah I don’t really colour my comics but yeah he cover it with glamour

Anonimo ha chiesto: I don't think MK ever really acknowledged that Wukong is a person, still a glorified deity. As mentioned MK hasn't really read the actual book and really didn't know his flawed side. MK has seen the worst parts of Macaque and still accepted him.

and now he knows about Wukong worst oarts and still accept him :D

@alistairliddell ha chiesto: What is FFM?

Flower Fruit Mountain

#ask box #shadowpeach bio parents au

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ventique18 · 2 months ago

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I feel like such a bitter person lol. The scenes are so beautiful, of course they are. But at the back of my mind a thought keeps nagging at me: how dare you murder Maleanor, forcefully seize the kingdom that she owns, lay claim to her castle that she made for her and her beloved husband and child, and turn it into yours? How dare you try to erase her memory and rewrite it with your own?

I know the Knight was good and so was his wife, but their family was evil and they contributed to their evil no matter how good their hearts truly were. And so they paid for it with neverending grief and conflict. And died.

The only one who remained unharmed was their son. Their innocent son who had no part in their mistakes. And that's good, because even if they cannot clean the sins from their hands, at least their hearts could have rest assured that a part of them lives on and has a chance for a better life than they deserved.

#twisted wonderland #twst silver #ventique rambles #twst book 7

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cillivnz · 1 year ago

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Hi 👋 I see you write for Lord Dimitrescu (miss a spot, hit the spot was brilliant and I would devour more) and I saw that you are taking requests, what do you think about monster hunter!reader x Lord Dimitrescu? You can take this in whichever direction you like best, but I do have a prompt idea!

Lord Dimitrescu and his sons find a trespasser on their land and Dimitrescu takes her in as his guest/prisoner thinking that she is a clueless lost traveler, not knowing that she's a hunter willing to get close to him by any means necessary, even if it means seducing a monster. Gaining access to his infamous library full of books on how to kill every monster known to man is just the first step, what she really wants is to find out the family's weaknesses and get lord Dimitrescu to let his guard down enough for her to kill him and every last member of his twisted family. Or at least that was the plan...

I just love villain gets the girl/ corruption stories and the idea of someone rolling up into that castle with every intention of wiping out the evil that lives there, but getting seduced instead... 😍😍😍

Love your work!!!

façade of seduction [lord dimitrescu]

PAIRING — LORD DIMITRESCU x MONSTER HUNTER!READER

WORD COUNT — 12.6k+ (i’m so sorry, it’s for the plot!)

WARNINGS — SMUT. eighteen+. AFAB!reader, dark arts, necromancy, the supernatural, mentions of murders, beheadings, cannibalism, vampirism, extremely dubious consent, cursing, extreme gore (blood, cuts, stabbing, mass murder, executions, etc.), reader uses seduction as a tactic, death of family, size kink, age-gap, degradation, pet-names, mentions as well as performed oral sex (talk of male!receiving, performed cunnilingus), fingering, female masturbation, mentions of male masturbation, unprotected penetrative sex, weird & unspecific AU, creampie, cum-eating, breast/nipple play, clit stimulation, extreme descriptions (?), kinda sorta brat-taming.

A/N — whoa, baby! she’s done! firstly, let me just shower this anon with kisses for trusting me such an amazing prompt! thank you, you beautiful soul. i had a blast writing this, and i’m sorry i couldn’t finish it sooner :’( you��re a literal genius, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this, and thank you for the kind words! secondly,

i tried incorporating as much lore from the game as i could, majority of the plot is my own fictional work, and the rest [credited to the game] may have been tampered with to suit the plot of this fiction.

Lady Elvira Natalia Stoica is an original character — INCLUSIVE OF ETHNICITY, RACE, COLOUR, BODY TYPE, etc. the only definite characteristic she has is that she is reader’s doppelgänger with an identical appearance, and that her family is of the same origin as The Dimitrescus (Romanian).

Alcina Dimitrescu’s gender-bent version is named Alcides Dimitrescu in my fiction. the credit of his sons’ names goes to @angel-hawthorne ’s comment under this post.

there’s some deliberate references to my other Lord Dimitrescu fiction. read it HERE!

NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations]

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" : You idiots! Is this how you treat our guest?

"Oaspete? Dar ea—" : Guest? But she—

"Scuzați-vă." : Excuse yourselves.

căprița mea mică : my little doe

cameristă : maid

Pentru dumnezeu! : good god/for god’s sake!

𝓗unters.

Your father before you, and his before him. Monsters, demons, deities; anything of supernatural order, possessing paranormal traits needed to be laid down, and your family was bestowed with the responsibility to do so. They told you, you were god-gifted; possessing an astounding memory. It was as if you soaked in every word you read in journals rich in paranormal history, and carved every word into your brain with your own hand.

Those ungodly creatures fumed at the audacity of a mortal family killing the abysmal aristocracies in the name of slaughtering abominations.

How proudly you awarded yourselves the title of Vânători de urâciuni — Hunters of Abominations. Soon enough, though, the leaders of the Four Houses knew a lesson needed be taught, example be set; actions have consequences, and after all, you were mere mortals. Audacious, dangerous mortals.

The last of the Four Houses needed to be hunted down. Your father, your uncle, your brother managed to wipe out the other key members, before it was about time the reaper caught up to them. Weeks, months went by in weeping for them, never letting their caskets dry, but it was about time you stopped mourning. This isn't what you were raised to do — whom you were raised to be. There was no way in hell you'd let the last Family standing think that the danger was over, not when you found out that it was on their cue, their command, that the guillotine that slashed through your family's head held high, became the inevitable demise of the men of Vânători de urâciuni.

'Fuckers even had the audacity to send the heads back, all nice and packaged, and signed. It was then, you realised, the weight of your name's responsibility lies on your shoulders, now. Mother was too deep in the waters of depression, perhaps, vengeance would serve as her lifeguard, and you sought to get it. For her sake, and yours.

Packing the the remnant of your belongings, primarily, lore on whatever mutation resembled that of what you've heard the family to be; barbaric, and vampiric, you set voyage to Castle Dimitrescu, the Lord's stronghold within the vicinity of a titular Eastern European village; Romania, in other geographical terms.

After weeks on foot, travelling from place to place and squeezing in some good o'l slash-and-dash of monsters into your quest, you reached the abysmal castle. The oppressive aura surrounding The Dimitrescus' colossal abode could be felt miles away from its actual foundations, the monotonous venus blue atmosphere, the trees that have been decayed for decades, peering into your periphery, mortifying the sight of Castle Dimitrescu, even more. You shake off a shiver, determined strides leading you forward. An ominous forest welcomed you, seemingly, the flora responded to every step you took on the onyx soil; you were not too far from the gigantic gates of the castle, deciding to take a breather and assess just what you were dragging yourself into, the massive mountainous foliage providing a safe haven, temporarily.

Rummaging through the contents, page after page, you landed on Wendigo. You knew your ancestors categorised mutations in the same category as a Wendigo, it being the severest form of inhumanity; the mutated man would resort to cannibalism, still humanoid — tall and pale with elongated limbs and pale yellow eyes. If the Dimitrescus were anything like a typical mutated Wendigo, you hadn't thought this through. Then, you remembered your brother's journal.

He was vague with words, often scribbling up a précise at the end of a hunt. Too consumed by your tears, you initially forgot about it, until you realised halfway through your voyage that your mother packed his journal for you, and some documentations recorded by your father and your uncle in their youth, though, you highly doubted you'd be coming across an extinct creature.

There it was — the last page of his journal — the twenty-seventh page to be precise, with triple the pages still empty; clean slates like a reminder of his unlived life, the life that was taken away from him.

You smiled fondly at his handwriting, letting your fingertips trace the scribbles, how deeply the quill was engraved into the paper. You remember laughing at his handwriting, growing up, how your mother would ask him to get a doctorate to match his stereotypical physician's handwriting, but this is all he knew — all you knew. Hunting was your profession, your life and lifestyle, and now, inevitably, your demise, too. You began reading, as I said, your older brother, a master at scribbling précise.

You were unsure, however, when he'd got the time to write down about The Dimitrescus, having never come face-to-face with the tyrants. It seemed your brother's first guess, too, was 'Wendigo', which he scratched down, only to pen it down again, bigger and emphasised, once he enlisted 'Cannibalisme'.

Your heart sank at the etchings.

Even for someone like him, these were too cynical, like he were losing his mind at the mere thought of them: 'one LORD — THREE SONS', it read. 'Blood disease??', 'PARASITE??', 'VAMPIRISM'? That would mean— "Oh." You stood corrected when just below the analysis was a remark, "NO WEAKNESS TO SUN OR WEATHER". Sometimes you swore you and him had the same braincells, always jumping to the same conclusions, which only made the desire to avenge him overpowering.

Your eyes traveled to the end of the page, the last of ink spilled on the worn out pages of your brother's journal, 'NEOPAGAN CULT', 'BLACK GOD'. With widened eyes, and a sinister feeling you couldn't yet shake away, your eyes dart to the next, last page.

There was a symbol maniacally delineated, labelled as the same reports on the previous page. 'NEOPAGAN CULT SYMBOL', and at the bottom of the page, the last thing your brother ever did write was, 'THE CULT OF THE BLACK GOD'. You subconsciously traced the diagram, only to see the graphite taint your fingertips. Your mind was racing two hundred miles per hour, trying to put the pieces of a fatally intricate puzzle together. Your brother's journal, the last of the contents were mere observations, unlike the rest of the pages that are filled with methods of executing generations of monsters.

But for The Dimitrescus, the fact that 'most powerful family' was written with emphasis only made you scowl. You searched frantically in your bag for the journals of your father, your uncle; anything that spoke more about this parasite and the said Black God.

Glancing back at the foot of the palace, you had to do a double take when you saw the guards leave the premises, bread and wine in hand. Their chuckles could be sound from the heart of the forest, even though they repeatedly 'shushed' one another, saying "the Lord" would put their "heads on a stick".

You take their departure as your cue and pace quietly towards the castle. You stood face to face with the colossal gates, doing your level best to push them open, just enough to sneak in, but the big dumb fuckers wouldn't budge. Scoffing, as fate would have it in your luck, you began scanning the perimeter for any safe way in, otherwise, you sure as hell knew how to make an entry.

"Ain't no fucking way," you'd pretty much lost all hope, not realising when your brother wrote down, "tall", it included the infrastructure, too. It was then your eyes noticed one particular stone brick placed slightly outward, and the one above it, and then the one above it, outward enough for you to step on, up, and grip the grotesque grill, securing the premises from people exactly like you.

The first step up was easy, the stone steady enough to carry you, or so you thought for when the second you stepped onto the next one, the one below fell to the ground, shattering to bits. You eyed the stone your foot was on currently, leaping when realisation hit you. By the time you rock-climbed your ass up to the top, the whole way up had crumbled down. You gripped the gothic grill, not taking the maker of it to be a sadist, for it sliced the flesh of your palm even through the slightest contact. You winced, looking back at the broken rocks, perhaps, a good omen; no one would suspect you climbed up the wall, now.

Crossing the grill, you jumped down as silently as a human could, looking back at your newfound enemy, the grill, only for it to be leaking with crimson. You groaned at the sight of your blood, thinking you were better than this, letting some metal get the best of you, but the immense pain from the cut made your head a little dizzy. Shaking the odd feel off, you proceeded leftward, walking further in to be greeted by what seemed to be a courtyard.

No servants, chamberlain nor staff was seen out and about, quite contrary to what one would expect from the functioning of a castle this mighty. Though the odds were in your favour, it didn't seem so; it's quiet, too quiet. Nothing other than a raven's screech and the flap of the wings of a murder of crows was heard for miles. Your steps had quickened at the sight of a door, finally leading you inside. As you inspected it, you sensed a magical aura around it; you could use a spell to crack it open, but that would cause bring attention you did not need at the moment. So, you pull a pin from your hair and apply the cheapskate thief method, and lo and behold, you were in.

Fuck yeah.

Closing the bulky door as silently behind you as you could, you were slammed right back into it, while what felt to be a talon instead of a hand wrapped around the back of your throat. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Said an anonymous voice, cuing laughter from two more.

Fuck, no.

The last thing you remember was a pair of hands squeezing your waist, one choking you, while one hand ghosted over your face, causing a wave of unconsciousness to pass over you.

Chained; you groaned, a pounding ache ringing in your head like an alarm, your eyes blinked, close to a hundred times to get accustomed to your dark, unfamiliar surroundings, while your nose burned with the stench of— burning bodies?

You lifted your head to see three tall figures illuminated by the feeble attempts of a torch. "Alas, sleeping beauty wakes." You heard one taunt, a raspy baritone to his voice, "No fun — I prefer them unconscious," said another with a similar tone. "Well, you're no fun if you don't like to watch the fear in their eyes when they beg you for their life," said the third. The conversation flowed more amongst themselves, quite rude to not have included the meat of the matter — you, but what more could you expect from The Dimitrescu Boys? Oh, you were sure it was them. 'One lord — three sons', you remembered, and no odds suggested they were servants or guards. Not with the way expensive jewels embellished their stallion necks not-so-subtly, like an all-time reminder of their aristocratic status. 'Pathetic,' you thought, it seems no matter the day or age, the breed of "daddy's money" remains as obnoxious as ever.

While they bickered amongst themselves, you took the time to take in their appearances: Handsome, irrelevant. Tall, but no more than an average case of gigantism in most villages. Yellow eyes, but not humanoid — no, fully, thoroughly (so it seems) human. Could this be another variety? Hybrids, perhaps, since Vampirism was in the books of possibility. That could explain their immunity to weather conditions. Their facial features became vivid all of a sudden, and you noticed the blood smeared all over their faces. Paying heed to your iniquity, perhaps even irked expression, the boys smirked devilishly; not charming, dangerously, Lucifer-ishly, but satanically. You weren't into the lighter side of magic like your mother, only using it grotesquely, but you knew aura-reading, even envisioning, like the back of your hand, and theirs was sinister: an abysmal shade of black surrounding them, with occultism dancing between their physical forms in the fiery colour of hellish hues.

"Tell us, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" One questioned, "Hm, never seen one so beautiful." "Is she even real — ethereal." "Makes me almost not want to eat her." Your eyes widened at the last remark, "Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely." Their shark-like smiles grew wider, subconsciously causing you to back away from them while they inched closer, ready to pounce on you and relish your beauty. "What do you have there, boys?" Asked the deepest voice you'd ever heard, from the other side of what you now realised was the dungeon. You were taken aback at the intrusion, silently thanking your saviour, even if it were the man himself — Lord Alcides Dimitrescu, head of Familia Dimitrescu.

His sons scattered immediately, letting their father rest his eyes upon you. "Food, father," one spoke eagerly, as if trying to impress his old man. "We saw her trespassing in the courtyard, and then she came inside." Spoke the other. "You could have her," said another, "If you save us a taste." Your face lost its colour when a ice-cold hand wrapped itself around your throat, yanking you up with one lift, and throwing you towards the bars between you and the mammoth Lord. His devilish expression— softened? "Elvira!" He exclaimed softly, reaching for your face, but the second his hand tried to snake past the bar, he winced in contact, the metal bar hissing with effervescence. Weakness?

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" The man was fuming: a flabbergasted expression on the said idiots' faces. "Oaspete? Dar ea—" "She can do as she pleases in my home." The man spat venom like thunder, his hateful expression turned to apologetic and caring in the blink of an eye when he turned to you. "Let her out this very instant." He glared at his sons one last time before turning away and saying, "The longer you wait, the more severe will be the outcomes."

So you were rushed out the dungeon and sent to the guesthouse.

The chamberlain had been waiting for you there at the direct orders of her master. "Lady Stoica, We're truly very sorry for the inconveniences caused to you. The Lord gifts you these gowns as his sincerest apology. He'd love for you to join him for supper once you have freshened up. Step out of your chambers, when you're done, and I'll be happy to take you there." You didn't acknowledge her, only awaited her leave so you could examine the gowns she had motioned towards while babbling courtesies you didn't give a fuck about. It'll definitely take more than four gowns to earn forgiveness for the treatment meted out to you down in the dungeons, but you wanted to give the tyrant lord a little bit of credit, for the gowns were stunning.

As you took in the details of each cloth, you came upon a note, which read: Sweetest Elvira,

Forgive my imbecile progeny, if you think they are worth it, but let us celebrate your presence, still, in my abode. Would you be so kind to accept my invitation for dinner? I have long yearned your company since the last time Lord and Lady Stoica visited.

Hoping to have you with me,

Alcides Dimitrescu.

Your blood boiled at his handwriting. It was the same intricate, royally cursive writing that signed the parcel of your family's heads.

You headed into the bath with murder on your mind; no matter how many times you'd sink into the warm waters, the heat only aggravated your fuming self. It was rosewater, the scent made your mind trail back to days of yore: when your mother would set up baths like this for you, the sweet scent of herbs and nature's warmth filled your hateful mind with nostalgia, then worry. Your mother had the most fight in her, no doubt about that, but that didn't mean she resorted to it easily; always seeing the best in people, giving them countless chances to repent. A generous, godly trait, but fatal in a world dominated by people like the man you were to meet with for dinner— supper, or whatever. You were just glad you weren't being served as the main course.

For now.

As you dried yourself up, your mind replayed the conversations, the characteristics and behaviours of the family. How he called you, 'Elvira'. Yes, Lady Elvira Natalia of Familia Stoica, another noble household your family put an end to. The irony lay in her appearance: the two of you looked alike — no, identical. Perhaps minor attributes set the difference between you two, or the fact that you put a bullet between her eyes — eyes just like yours; it was the reason why the Vânători de urâciuni men hesitated to kill her — sister, daughter, and niece. Not you, never had you hesitated. It's what set you apart in a man's world. If a woman's emotions got the best of her, than lucky for you and unfortunate for the whole world, the only feelings coursing through your mind like the blood in your veins were bloodlust. Blood and Lust, as your mind trailed back to Lord Dimitrescu—

Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu.

He was tall, so tall, he had to crouch to an uncomfortable extent just to get a proper look at your frame through the dungeon bars. His raven locs and beard: neat as a lord, rugged like a pirate; his sharp nose, his thick, furrowed brows, his luscious lips and those eyes. Those fucking amber eyes, captivating, devouring you like a fox after literal meat. Their hue was as fluorescent as a Wendigo's, then how was he not like one? How is he so devilishly handsome?

Stuck in a limbo, half- hypnotised with hazy memories of the Lord, memories you were yet to make with him, you were left enchanted; like he had cast a spell on yo— "Holy fuck." That's it. It's the only logical reason behind such profound emotions. He had cast a spell on you. It could've easily been the waters, you had bathed in them, let the rose waters soak every inch of your skin. Or worse, his eyes? You had definitely not been that out of it to imagine them glowing in the dark, but if he truly practised necromancy at such a profound level that a mere look in your direction left you enamoured, then you had to come up with a plan, and come up with a plan fucking fast.

Despite your certainty that the only way you'd feel something so unlikely for a man who was responsible for the death of family, was via nécromancies, you still had to be sure. So, you performed an indication ritual. In a vessel, you stored the possible method of enchantment — the bath water — along with the blood of the enchanted. You prick your finger deep enough to get ample beads of crimson out, letting them drop into the vessel. Now, if by dawn, the contents of the vessel turn potently black, your suspicions are true, and the tyrant Alcides, indeed, cast a spell on you, but if it were to remain colourless, than the worst of your concerns has arisen, for you'd have willingly let lust overpower the balance of bloodlust in the weigh of your emotions.

Placing the vessel underneath your bed, you begin dressing. The odds were too ironic not to choose the rose coloured gown for the evening, so you wore it, feeling condemned to. Fixing whatever you deemed necessary, you stepped out of your room to find the chamberlain stationed exactly where she said she'd be.

Her breath hitched a little, eyes widening as she saw you turn towards her, "You look beautiful, Miss Stoica," was her way of seeing 'you clean up pretty nice for a dirty mess in the dungeons', but you paid no heed, letting the woman escort you.

The walk to the Lord's dining area was awkward, and fearful for the servant. There was no denying you resembled the heiress of one of the Seven Royal Families, but you hadn't thought your own victim's identity would play as your decoy in your most fatal mission.

You didn't blame them, you were dumbfounded at the striking resemblance, yourself.

The hair, the skin, the features; it was without a doubt you killed your doppelgänger that day, and though you were never one to follow rituals of lore, it says, 'the slaughtering of one's self' — a doppelgänger — 'is the greatest sign of one's power and control', so it was no wonder since then you had long been feared in every corner of Eastern Europe, but you never earned notoriety, nor make a fuss over the death of The Stoicas, which is why everyone in Castle Dimitrescu believes you to be her, for they think she is what you are; alive.

"We've arrived, madam. If you need me, please don't hesitate to call." She gave you a knowing look, one of empathy? Weird. Interestingly weird. You only nodded, before pushing the glass doors open, and letting yourself in.

Alcides sat with the three of his sons, you'd heard him call them Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, not knowing which one is which, but you doubt names matter when their death's are destined by your hands. As if sensing you, something you'd mentally categorise among his vampiric characteristics, his head shot up from his sons and immediately those amber eyes were on you, ripping through your dress, eating you alive. His lifeless skin flushed at the sight of you, wet hair clinging to your frame so perfectly, he could smell the shampoo from here. How tightly the dress hugged your curves, how accentuated the rose colour of the gown made your ethereal body. Your plump, pouty lips were rosy like the gown, an even prettier colour, the sudden blush that dared to creep on your face, your determined brows raised a little at the shameless attention you were receiving, your big, radiant doe eyes widening, pupils dilating, and your long lashes batting at his direction.

"Elvira." He rose from his seats, as did his sons, heads snapping right at you to shamelessly ogle at you. On seeing that the look of disgust on your face was directed towards his sons, he shot them a fuming glare, causing them to nod an apology and immediately be seated again.

"Thank you for joining me." He said, softly, awaiting you. You moved closer, deciding to be seated beside the lord, across from his sons. "How have you been, my dear?" His hand found yours, yours minuscule in his clasp. "I had been fine, until certain miscreants accused me of trespassing."

You shot the three culprits a glare, and rightly so. Alcides eyed his sons, clearing his throat obviously when his sons remained oblivious to his cryptic signs.

"We're, uh," began one, "We're sorry, Madam Stoica," continued the other, "We didn't mean for any of that to happen, we just wanted to scare what appeared to be an uninvited guest at the time." "Had we known it was you... well, let's just say your welcome would've been different. Mostly." Finished the last, and your mind immediately caught on to the insinuation:

"Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely."

You could see the man's blood boil beside you, "Scuzați-vă." He growled, and you caught a glimpse of just how much fear he's instilled into his children, for they immediately excused themselves from the table and left with hurried steps.

"Pardon them, I don't know where I went wrong in raising them." He sighed once they were out of sight, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You've never been one to sympathise with an enemy, but maybe sympathy isn't what'll lead to his slaughter; seduction is.

You wordlessly place a hand atop his, earning a soft gasp from him. His eyes searched your face, and when you couldn't help but give him a small smile, he grinned; from ear to ear, letting his pearly fangs rise from their pillowy coverings, his lips, which he soon had to bite to control his giddiness. "Oh, Elvira," his voice was soft, a mere yearn lingering in the warmth of the room. Had it been this hot since you stepped in, or had the flush of your cheeks been indicating otherwise? "You're so beautiful." His other hand tucked the stray strand of hair falling onto your face, behind your ear. You felt a tinge of bitterness brewing in you, whatever relationship was established between Alcides and Elvira, it sure was on the better side of the spectrum.

Were you really feeling jealous of your dead doppelgänger? Well, from the way he looked at you— her — right now, you'd say he wouldn't take to her murder too kindly.

"I swear, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you." You blushed, so he enjoyed the new-and-improved Elvira more. "Yet you stay ever handsome." NO. You didn't mean for it to slip, you didn't mean it, you didn't think it — yet, you said it, and he fucking relished in it.

To save you from your embarrassment, your newfound guardian angels, the chef and other servants, brought in food of all sorts. Albeit the sheer hatred you felt towards them, you couldn't help but ask Alcides about his sons. "Aren't you sweet?" He looked at you with fondness, before answering, "The servants will bring them food to their quarters."

Fair enough.

You proceeded eating without another word or glance in his direction. Upon finishing the scrumptious meal, you waited for Alcides to take the lead.

Men like him relished in power, authority, and since he was born into it with a silver spoon hanging from his mouth, it was the only thing he knew.

He looked at you for several moments, an unreadable expression on his face making you more conscious than repelled, as if you craved the validation of his eyes.

He rose from his seat, one hand lingering in the air, an invitation for you to clasp it, while the other grabbed a hefty cluster of grapes by the stem. "Walk with me, darling."

He had to look painfully low to even see your head, once you rose to your height, it helped, but little aid was provided to the giant standing at 9'6.

You held his hand, the sheer size difference had you squirming in your steps.

Just imagine how beautiful sex would be with him, you wouldn't even be able to fit him— "Fuck," you whined under your breath, making damn sure your voice wasn't audible to Mount Everest beside you.

This was the spell talking — thinking; it's got to be. You withdrew your hand, pretending to fix the blouse of the dress, earning a glance from the Lord in your direction, which only stayed for a moment before the calming silence between the two of you was the only thing you could see, until he halted, pulling your attention back to him. "Fruit, my dear?" He waved the cluster, so you knew which ones he was talking about. Come to think of it, you did feel thirsty, and those grapes looked lusciously juicy.

"I don't see why not," you shrugged, not anticipated him to raise the cluster to his mouth and bite a grape off. You watched, mouth slightly agape as a perfectly fine grape rested between his fangs. Even the slightest subconscious movement could rip through the fruit, yet it stayed perfectly safe in his mouth.

He then crouched, now eye-to-eye with you. His eyebrows raised in your direction, challenging you. Challenging you to pull the fruit out of his mouth, and there was only one way to do it.

You bit your lip, you could have your fun, just until you find a reversal cure to his spell.

So, you grab onto both his wide, muscular shoulders, letting your arms cross around his neck. You smirk at him, bringing one hand forward to trace his features. He was so, so strong, to the point you were more aroused than intimated. Your hand reached his torso, you could see how your teasing placed him in agony. Slowly, you let your hand ghost over his pants, and lo and behold, he was aroused; painfully so, and you felt it immoral to torment a man so much (the fucking irony), so you palmed him through his pants, causing his mouth to hang open and out fell grape— right into your palm.

You bring the fruit up to your mouth, Alcides left mesmerised with the way your plump, perfect lips wrapped around it before ripping through it. A moan escaped your lips as the juice dripped down your tongue. "So good," you left out a sigh, and something in him snapped. Alcides flipped you around, you were now pressed against some wall that practically emerged in support of his... expeditions. He plucked two grapes, placing them in his large palm, before bringing it closer to your face. When your eyes widened in confusion, his other hand wrapped itself around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth, before you realised what he demanded and gave it to him; you licked about the fruit, before accepting them into your mouth. Your tongue still teased his flesh, when he pulled away. Amber eyes mere slits with obvious lust, "Now," he began, "You can say you've eaten out of the Lord's palm." He winked at you before walking away.

You steadied your haggard breathing, before deciding to follow him when a certain room caught your eye. It were as if your name was being chanted like a careful whisper, that only sounded when you were left alone. Following your gut, as a hunter as skilled as you would, you push open the heavy doors and let yourself in.

The first thing catching your eye was an obnoxious leather chair that you couldn't help but run a hand over, "Gator skin," you scowled. Though a hunter, you were against hunting — animals, that is, although you'd be hypocritical to say so when the creatures you send to hell are no less barbaric than a creature tormenting in wilderness. Still, you believed in fighting an equivalent, or even better, an apparent immortal.

On the left of it was an fireplace, charcoaled in exhaustion like it recently gave up it's flame and purpose, and in front, was a library, the source of your calling; not colossal, yet extreme in number. The whispering chant grew to a shout, a yearn for each leather-clad covering of ink spilled on paper to be touched by your feather-light fingertips, and only a fool would turn down a beseech like such.

Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display, and you explored every single one of them. Fighting the temptation to steal every book with valour, despite how useful each would've proved to be to you in the future, you declined every book until you reached what you sought, rather, what sought you tonight. "The Book of The Four Houses", the spine read. You pulled the book out, not anticipating it to be so heavy. "The Book of The Four Houses", you read again, searching for an author, but not met by any name.

You flip through the pages frantically, in hopes to find any continuance of relevance to your brother's observations, and there it was: Familia Dimitrescu, the excerpt was titled.

"Alcides Dimitrescu was born into the noble Dimitrescu family sometime before the Great War, and through this ancestry inherited a hereditary blood disease, possibly porphyria cutanea tarda. Although his family traced their origins to Cesare, one of the four founders of an isolated mountain village in Europe, Alcides himself lived elsewhere, perhaps through a cadet branch. In the aftermath of the Second World War and the abolition of the nobility, Dimitrescu returned to his family's former lands, which had fallen under the control of a neopagan cult worshipping the Black God.

Prior to 1958, at the age of 44, Dimitrescu was lured by the cult leader, Mother Miranda, to a crypt beneath the village cemetery, where he was surgically implanted with a Cadou parasite. The purpose of this experiment was to determine his viability as a candidate who could become host to a parasitic intelligence at a later date. This experiment mutated Alcides' body considerably, granting him regenerative capabilities, retractable claw-like nails, and the ability to transform into a dragon-like monster and back again. Moreover, the parasite halted his aging process, maintaining his appearance perpetually. In spite of these impressive biological changes, the resulting mutation did not nullify his blood disease. As a result, Dimitrescu needed a ready supply of fresh human blood to maintain his health, and was therefore judged by Miranda to be a failure."

"Although Dimitrescu was of no use as a host, his claim to Castle Dimitrescu was recognized by Miranda and he was allowed to take residence in the village as one of the Four Lords, who would maintain order over the native peasantry while aiding Miranda in Cadou research. Upon inhabiting the estate, Dimitrescu took over his family's vineyard and wine-distribution business as a means of supporting himself."

"Relishing in his reclaimed noble status, Dimitrescu developed extreme caste-based views of society, seeing himself as second only to Miranda herself. He openly loathed the other three house Lords, particularly Karl Heisenberg, whom he frequently argued with. He privately bemoaned that he was not Miranda's favorite, instead being treated the same as all the others. Despite this, Dimitrescu's alliance with the other houses allowed him to rule his castle with barbarous cruelty, regularly taking in new staff to replace those who had been taken to his dungeon to be killed and drained of blood for sustenance."

"Dimitrescu's own experiments with Cadou appear to have been limited, as the only confirmed instance was an experiment begun by Miranda and monitored by Dimitrescu. In this experiment, the corpses of three men were implanted with Cadou parasites. Over the course of about a week, the Cadou produced fly-like organisms which then consumed the flesh of all three bodies. Having assimilated the DNA of these men, the flies merged to mimic their human shapes and slowly adapted their likenesses. Dimitrescu immediately formed a bond with these three men, whom he named Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, and came to regard himself as their father. They obeyed Dimitrescu without question, and were similar to him in that they were ageless and reliant on vampirism for sustenance. However, they were incapable of withstanding cold temperatures, thus remaining trapped within the confines of Castle Dimitrescu."

That explains the overwhelming warmth of the Castle that had began to annoy you.

"Over the next seventy years, Dimitrescu and his sons systematically consumed the flesh and blood of local peasants and servants alike. The blood of maids was extracted and combined with grapes to create Sanguis Virginis (Latin for "Maiden's Blood"), a traditional Dimitrescu family wine. The female victims, now infected with Mold, lived on as Moroaicǎ and Samcă, while male victims were consumed and then hollowed out to be turned into scarecrows for the castle vineyard."

"Dimitrescu's reign of terror was not without resistance, however, as one villager is known to have stolen a family heirloom — the Dagger of Death's Flowers — in an attempt to assassinate him with its poisoned blade. The attempt failed and he was buried with the dagger in the Tower of Worship to keep it hidden from any others who might seek to harm him."

You snapped the book shut, mind whirling in an epileptic shock, replaying every single word over and over in your head, then images of Alcides, his "sons", Cadou Parasites, Mother Miranda? By the time you realised it, you were hyperventilating, eyes scattering from corner-to-corner, in search of anything less cryptic, anything less 'Once-upon-a-time-there-was-a-beautiful-boy-named-Alcides', and more 'Weakness-to-duhduhduh-kill-by-gunshot-to-the-duhduhduh'.

You threw your head back in unfamiliar pain that originated from your chest, you can't believe plain ink on paper knocked the air out of you, but then again, so did the signed caskets of your family; by the same man you now found out to be ancient and seemingly indestructible, but talk of this "Dagger of Death's Flowers" gave you hope.

Your thoughts of retrieving it were cut short when the doors burst open. "What are you doing?" roared the thunderous voice of the man of the hour, "Elvira." His voice was laced with an emotion you were too out of your head to begin deciphering. His eyes dropped to the book in your hands while awaiting your answer. "Oh, why didn't you say so?" His expression softened, causing you to raise a brow in perplexity. He walked over, the fondness in his eyes returned, causing your tense posture to relax a bit. He took the book from you, and seemingly landed on a page mentioning Alcides' life before lordship. "You really love this book, don't you? I guess it is fun to read a fan's work." He chuckled, flipping through the pages as if he hadn't seen the book in a long, long time.

Huh.

If 'Elvira', too, had been scavenging through the book of Dimitrescus, possibly for the same reason as you, maybe you're more similar than you thought.

When you looked up to his height, his eyes were already on you. "You look tired, my dear. I would be happy to take you to your quarters." He smiled, and your heartbeat was quick to quicken at that. "I'd like that, my Lord."

My Lord.

The walk to your chambers was a haze, all you could feel was the growing wetness in your panties from the way his eyes bore into you; penetrating every inch of you, consuming your conscience with the darkest desires.

Taking out your brother's journal from your bag, you flipped to a fresh page and began filling in your own conclusions. As you wrote, you began to think— not just as a hunter, but as a long deprived woman who had just encountered the most handsome man ever, who just also happened to have murdered her family.

The way he walks, the way he holds your innocent gaze challengingly, the way he looks at you like you're the most exquisite meal, and he's a man starving. You had long abandoned the trepidation and abhorrence you felt towards his cannibalistic lifestyle, instead, feeling a shameful surge of lust shoot into you. You rubbed your thighs together, laying on the bed, but dutifully still, writing every bit of knowledge you gained today; from the parasite, to relations with the leaders of the other Houses and Seven Royal Families that Vânători de urâciuni had already slaughtered, to Mother Miranda, and even what little you read about the Black God.

By the time you covered every intricate detail of a disaster waiting to happen, the heat between your legs was nuclear; the throb, unbearable, leaving you no choice but to act on your animalistic urges. You straighten up, slowly discarding the beautiful cloth that once accentuated your body, now felt like constricted bondages on it.

Once bare, you sink into the pillowy cushions of your given quarters. Something about the whole room smelled like him, but the strongest scent came from your dress, when you were pressed against him. Even both your arousals could be scented from the innocent rose dress, so you tugged it closer to you, breathing in his smoky musk scent, along with your innocent floral one. "Fuck," you groaned, fingers finally ghosting over the mess dying to be made between your legs.

You decided now was not the time to tease, so you coat your fingers in your wetness and smear circles on your swollen clit. "Fuck."

Your bud throbbed in your grasp, desperate to have a little somebody's fanged mouth on it, your nipples hardened the same, aching to have that mouth graze over them, suckle on them, taint the soft, ample flesh with sinister marks. Hell, if it meant one night of succumbing to carnal pleasures, you'd even let the fucker carve that neo-pagan cult symbol on you.

"Fuck!" You weren't thinking straight — no, you weren't thinking at all. How could you? You were under a spell, 'Yes, that was it,' you thought, more so struggling in convincing yourself than anything. Just the sheer thought of a man possessing vile notoriety, relishing in every crime you've fought against; his size, the abnormality of it all. You fantasised about how inhumanely long his tongue might be, teasing around your clit before plunging into your slit.

Oh, that's it.

You shoved your fingers inside of you, whining at how unfulfilling they were, when compared to the hands of him. You were pretty sure his middle finger was bigger than your face.

The only sound to be heard was the squelching of your pussy and your whimpering. You could only pray you weren't audible, not that you minded, because it was Elvira Stoica who'd get mocked, not Y/N Y/L.

Your pace quickened at the thought of him fucking you as Y/N. Would the thought of fucking the enemy be as tantalisingly erotic to him, too? Or would he just hate fuck you, and then feast on your flesh?

"Fuck me..—" You lost your voice when your breath hitched in your throat. "Ju-just like that, mhhm." You were so close, just a bit more... "Fuck me."

That's it, honey, just let go—

"Oh," you moaned too loud to be safe, "Alcides!"

Your legs were shaking, cunt spasming around your fingers while your chest heaved up and down, in a breathless state.

As you rubbed your high out, realisation dawned in on you.

What have you done?

You woke up disgruntled.

Still unimaginably wet, yet thankful for the release, but you hadn't forgiven yourself. Last night was unacceptable, even for someone enchanted. To make matters worse, this isn't even the first time someone put an infatuation spell on you; at least three men before this, but not to pacify an enemy, but to woo a stoic woman with only murder on her mind.

The victim of such a spell for the fourth time, yet Alcides is different. This was incredible necromancy, not like any you've encountered before. It was then you remembered the vessel underneath your bed. Almost too eagerly you jumped off the bed, still somewhat entangled in the sheets, which you threw off swiftly.

You ducked under the bed, the vessel promisingly in the same spot as you had left it. Reaching for it with closed eyes and crossed fingers, you pull it from underneath and lift it to your height.

As you peeped one eye open, then the other in disbelief, you threw the vessel with one swing of your arm. It banged against the wall, before falling to the ground with a typical, screeching metal noise.

This can't be happening. There was no way you felt what you did for Alcides, willingly. The clear contents of the vessel indicated otherwise, though. There was no mistake in your ritual, either; you added what was needed and waited long enough.

"No, no, no, no, NO!"

This can't be fucking happening. You were ready to bawl your eyes out, when one sophisticated knock erupted you. "Elvira." It was him, you knew, your body and heart knew.

When no response followed, Alcides began, "My sons and I are travelling out of estate," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for telling you on such short notice, but we won't be back until tomorrow." His voiced trailed off, as if waiting for you to reveal yourself, your reaction, anything, but you're too shaken up to give him any satisfaction. "That's quite alright, my lord." You swallow the lump in your throat, not being able to control yourself and adding, "I'll be right here, waiting." You swore you heard a groan, but were stuck in a limbo by the time Alcides left your door.

You decided all things could be said and done after bathing, so you run a bath and let the scented waters soak into you, replacing the stench of your sins with the perfumed power of blaming Alcides; but you couldn't do that anymore, could you? Not when he was never provocative.

Once you finished freshening up, you grabbed another one of the gowns Dimitrescu gave you. It was black, and beautiful; you were left speechless when you put it on. God, did he really have to make you feel beautiful when you were sent to kill his entire bloodline? "Ah, such unfortunate circumstances." You 'tsked' before doing your hair.

By the time you were done with your makeup, you were certain of today's plan: You were going for breakfast, accessing the courtyard, navigating the Tower Of Worship, exhuming the villager with whom the "Dagger of Death's Flowers" is buried; dig it out, lace the blade with gunpowder, stab all fuckers, one by one, get the fuck out, walk miles back home, and hibernate.

Sweet.

You step out of your quarters to find the chamberlain posted there, just like the day before. "If I say so, my lady?" She looked up at you, the tiny thing was adorable for the fear she felt, yet still wanted you to know that, "You look ravishing." She briefly looked you in the eye before the rouge on her cheeks became embarrassingly obvious, to her. You, on the other hand found her just as she was, adorable.

Upon entering the dining area, she silently took her leave, when you grabbed her wrist. "First Alcides, now you, too?" You asked, flirtatiously referring to both of them excusing themselves from you. "The least you could do is give me company." And how could anyone resist the sultry tone of a stunning woman?

So the chamberlain finds herself dining with you.

You insisted she sat besides you, and despite putting the maximum distance between your chairs, she complied. "So...?" You inquired after finishing your meal, referring to her name. "Oh— uh— Pasha, mi lady." You smiled, "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." You saw her rub her thighs together from the corner of your eye. "Well, Pasha," you decided to break the awkward silence that hadn't formed yet, "You think you can take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You sipped on your tea, eyeing her while you swallowed, only to see her with widened eyes and haphazard breathing. "Me-my l-lady—..." she stammered, hesitation painted all over her soft features as if you asked her to murder The Dimitrescus herself, or eat you out, you couldn't decide which was more mortifying for the poor girl. "What is it, Pasha?" You sighed.

"Th-the area is strictly off limits— only the... family can go there." She gulped at your growingly irritable expression. "I am part of the family — the Stoica household, in case you've forgotten, cameristă."

"I- yes, mi lady. I'm so sor—" "I don't want to hear it." You interrupted, raising a hand in the air. "Will you, or will you not take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You stared at her, the impatience visible on your face, before you decided to put on the façade you knew best; the façade of seduction. "Please, Pasha," you placed a hand on her bare thigh, her little skirt leaving little to imagination.

"For me?" Were the magical words that got the job done.

So you walk with the head of the staff of Castle Dimitrescu, into the family's place of worship, to exhume the corpse of the only man with the balls to try and assassinate him.

Pasha dropped you off at the foot of the Tower, more than happy to bolt away once you told her it was okay to leave you alone.

You walk up the stairs, and into the end of Castle Dimitrescu.

For a place of "worship", the place had the most oppressive aura, reeking of the occult and unimaginable. You fought your way inside, barely getting in while the air was knocked out of you; perhaps, a barrier of necromancy, despite it, you were able to get through.

You ran from corner to corner, searched every square centimetre of the place, but no place near-resembled the tomb of an assailant. "Fuck, where is it?" Your hands dipped inside your bag to look for something, before pulling it out and beginning your rummaging.

Indeed, you had stopped by Alcides' study before breakfast, telling the maid you 'forgot something' in there during your "time" last night, before winking at her shamelessly and forcing your entry. Sneaking out 'The Book of The Four Houses' was something you could do with your eyes closed.

Your eyes read past every word until you landed where you were made to stop, when the wave of overwhelm hit you last night. "Hall of the Four", the title read.

"The Hall of the Four, known in Japanese as Between the Four Angels (四天使の間, shi tenshi no aida?), is an area of Castle Dimitrescu." The Hall of the Four leads to the Tower of Worship, but this door cannot be opened until the four masks are placed on the Angel statues."

You groaned a string of profanities.

It's like you were set up for failure, and the worst part is, you could hear him laughing in the back of your mind— Alcides. His new abode has become the back of your mind, for he never leaves there.

Tired, disappointed and on the verge of giving up, you leave the Tower. You were a goner without the masks, and despite being in a rush to at least try and acquire them, you walked in a defeated slumber.

The chamberlain met you somewhere near the courtyard, surprised to see you walking out alive. "Lady Stoica—" "Just take me to my quarters, Pasha." You sighed, earning a swift nod from the confused chamberlain.

You walked lost, still, until you reached your room and opened that damned book again. While you scrolled through the contents, a mere note fell off, barely in your grasp.

The handwriting.

It was your brother's, but— it couldn't be. They never got close enough, which is why you're here now, right? They never got close enough. Three of the most feared, skilled men in the world of hunting never got close to one man and his three experiments for sons.

How in the hell did— Wait.

'Mask of Pleasure: Second Floor of Castle Dimitrescu',

that's where you are right now.

Everything could wait, hell, God could wait on the other line of heaven. You needed answers, yes, but something in your gut tells you it's better unknown. All that matters right now is killing him and every last member of his twisted family.

Or at least that was the plan...

You find yourself walking towards any room, with any possibility of possessing a mask. Hell, you had no idea what it looked like, but if it looks anything like the pleasure you'd be rewarding yourself with once you get the fuck out of this place, the mask won't be too difficult to find.

Soon enough you had pulled the place apart — the whole floor — except one room you hadn't set foot in. Alcides Dimitrescu's chambers.

A colossal door; you couldn't look away from the necromantic symbols etched into the woodwork. Had you not possessed the ability to see through such dark arts, you would've stepped right in and be left to deal with a fatality. You pull two vessels from your bag; the Blood of Christ and Vurxelheim, two of the purest substances on the planet, known to melt away all magic, no matter how ancient or dark, and as your expected, it did just that.

Alright, now all that was needed was to open the door, and even an amateur could do that with a pin.

Upon entering, you took in the details of his abode, almost forgetting to close the door behind you. Everything was brown; that's something you've noticed about the whole castle. Monotonously warm shades of brown, dimly lit with heat radiating over every surface. You only quirked a brow at the abnormalities. It soon came to your knowledge that the foundation of this floor is regarded as the "Hall of Pleasures". Kinky.

You looked around every corner, in every possible direction and space, but to no avail. Sighing, your head fell back, eyes closed it absolute demotivation, but when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was porcelain intricately carved, and hanging from the ceiling; a place where no mortal, but only a 9'6 indestructible titan of a tyrant could reach. It was obnoxious, if anything; placing it in a place so obvious, yet so out of reach — a direct message to show he's better than the rest, quite literally above them.

With no possible way of reaching it, you were still accessing your options when one strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and raised you up, right to where the mask hanged. "If you wanted to swing by my chambers,"

"You could've just asked, mic vânător."

Little Hunter— "Let go of me!" You writhed in his grasp, hand slowly reaching for the mask, still. "If you say so," he shrugged before letting go of you completely, letting you hang from the ceiling like a dreamcatcher. "Son of a bitch! You put me down this instant or I swear to God I'll rip through you and your experiments with my bare hands." "Ah, there's no need to get feisty, Elvira." He said, grabbing you by the waist, and putting you down, despite your kicking and struggling. "I'm only trying to help." He grunted, one hand disappearing behind his trench coat; you were ready to pounce at him, when he pulled, seemingly, the other three masks from behind.

"There you go, sweetheart. Masks of Joy, Sorrow, and Rage." He waved the remaining three keys to The Hall of the Four. You eyed him, and he swore the frowning pout was the cutest sight he's ever seen. "C'mon, they're yours for the taking, darling." He smiled at you.

"What's the catch, Alcides?" You sighed.

It's never that fucking easy, is it?

"One night with me." He simply spoke, taking your deepening scowl as a notion to carry on, "One night to decide what is it that you want, Elvira," "Or should I call you, Y/N Y/L of the Vânători de urâciuni?" Your eyes widened with horror; you hadn't processed him calling you 'little hunter', yet, and now this? This could only mean— "How did you—" "Please. 'You think I wouldn't find out about the mass murder of my fiancé? And imagine the gossip about town that it was a doppelgänger who did it." No, you were careful, he's lying — he's got to be. "Lucky for me, I get the sexier one, now." He chuckled, impressed with his wit.

When you didn't give him the satisfaction of freaking out on him, moreover agreeing to his terms, he rolled his eyes, "Pentru dumnezeu! The first mistake was the rocks you climbed on. They've deliberately been arranged like so, for trespassers like you to easily enter, walk through the courtyard, and into the quarters of my sons for them to feast upon. Then, leaving your blood on the grill? The scent agonised me. It was so difficult to put those three dogs on a leash, having never smelled something so sweet." He 'tsked', "The second mistake was trusting Pasha. It was her hand that twirled in your bath water, mixing the infatuation spell, and it was her, too, that switched the vessel underneath your bed. Very clever, by the way, very thoroughly performed indication ritual."

"But your third— baby, this mistake might as well be a blessing because it's the only fucking thing keeping me away from ripping into you slowly, and feast on your flesh for two whole days; pleasuring yourself, in my fucking castle, fantasising about fucking me."

"Oh, and the guillotine was Heisenberg, I only added the dramatic touch of sending the heads back."

You couldn't bear it.

Bottles full of emotions you've locked away for ages finally hit the concrete of reality; shattering to a million pieces while the man you still find irresistible, had an unimpressed look on his face. "Y/N. I know you want to kill me—" "Oh, honey, you have no idea." You laughed dryly, choking on sobs, but something tells you the impact of your threat didn't go in the direction you wanted because he visibly tensed when you called him, "honey".

"But," he raised both hands in defence, "I wouldn't have gotten you these," he said, waving the masks again, "If I didn't think this deserved a chance— we — deserved a chance." "You think I'll let you anywhere near me after you toyed with me like a plaything? Sent me my father, my uncle, my brother's heads to add a 'dramatic touch'?" "I should've put a more potent spell on you," he cursed under his breath, earning a scoff from you.

You pulled out a dagger from your thigh holster, and lunged at him. Caught off guard, Dimitrescu's eyes widen while you slashed through his alabaster shirt, eager to bleed some crimson into his lifelessly pale skin. "I've had it with you, brat!" He growled, the whack of his palm on your cheek took you back, and you didn't mean to moan.

The cry, it was wanton, and it had Alcides latching on to every ounce of self control he still preserved. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do," he grabbed the dagger from your grasp within a second. "You're gonna take off your clothes, lay down, looking pretty for me like you always do," he walked closer, raising his large hands again in defence. "You following me— okay," he inched closer to you, while you backed away, further into the wall. "I'm gonna feast on this pussy, then I'm gonna finger your tight hole open, and because I'm feeling generous," he grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, "I'm not gonna force my cock into your pretty little throat, you're gonna beg for it." He caressed your face, the way your doe eyes watered while staring at him, like glass he could see his reflection in, your agape lips and soft expression made his pants constrict his cock agonisingly. "And the last thing I'll be doing, even if it's my last ever," his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you to his king-sized bed. Laying you down, and climbing on top like a wolf on a lamb, he says, "Is fucking this pussy till you finally accept that you're made for me."

His mouth latched onto your neck, easily manhandling you at the same time while you writhed in his grasp. "I would rather be dead." You spat out venomously, which only made Alcides smile. "Well, alright. I'd still pound you till you're a mere cum-dump, but I'd surely miss those pretty sounds you made when you fingered yourself thinking about me." He panted against your pulse point, baritone voice hoarse with lust.

He spread your legs, lifting both your hands up by the wrists to his face. "Tiny little things," he kissed the knuckles of each finger, "Unsatisfying, aren't they?" He showered your hands with kisses, "Don't worry, darling, I'm here now." He raised both hands so their size was visible in your periphery, before grabbing your dress and pulling it over your head. "No!" You resisted, causing him to huff, annoyed. "Don't make me tear it off, honey, you look breathtaking in it." He cooed, and your movements haltered enough for him to successfully get it off you. "Good girl— such a good girl f'me."

Immediately his eyes were on your curves, your hips — perfect for bearing the child he was about to fuck into you, your breasts, so ample, all available for his groping and fondling, your pussy almost peering out of the silk panties. "Fuck, Y/N." He groaned, about to rip your underwear off when your pleads interrupted him. "Alci-Alcides please don't." "Hm," his sharp eyes seemed to be calculating his next move. "You say no, but your body," he groaned, pressing the knuckles of two of his fingers against your clothed cunt, "Your body sings otherwise, my love."

Every second passing by was petrifying.

The mortal battle between blood and lust, two things you were the epitome of, qualities comprising your very backbone, now, asked you to break it; bend over backwards and break your back for this man.

The string of pleads you cried fell on deaf ears, which, a part of you was glad for. Maybe if you continued to put the blame on Alcides and his necromancy, you'll actually let yourself live with the fact that your desires to have him ravage in your guts is overpowering, and the carnality lay in the fact that you didn't even care about what happened after. You were serving him your body in a platter, which you had not an ounce of doubt would eventually serve that purpose, quite literally.

"Tell me you want me." He hovered over your breasts. If he wanted to play games, then games you'll play. "I want you..." you whispered, "to go fuck yourself." He would've smacked you again, but again, you would've enjoyed it. What did stop him, however, was the shit-eating grin plastered on your face that showed him you were still on planet Earth, among the living and the abominable.

"Now, why would I do that, when I've got such a pretty girl with her pussy all wet for me?" He mimicked your expression, staring into your soul until you were forced to look away, and your eyes landed right on his clothed erection. "This?" He followed your gaze, "You're going to take care of this in just a minute, but for now," he paused, his large hands turning into talons and ultimately perilous claws. Cutting through the hems of both your garments, he retracted his claws immediately. You flinched when his hands came closer to your hips, "Don't be afraid, mic vânător." His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring. "They can't hurt you, unless I want them to." His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you.

With that, he lowered himself and dove right in.

You slithered about while his anomaly of a tongue kitten-licked your inner thighs. "I'll tie you to the fucking bed, if you don't quit squirming." He spat.

At your pussy.

You moaned in response, hips momentarily halting from the continuous resisting. "Yeah? You like that don't you, slut?" His fingers spread your slit, before spitting right into your tight hole that fluttered about nothing. "There you go, my love." He cooed in response to your whining, smoothly inserting his index finger into the same hole. A tremor ran down your spine at the sudden intrusion; the stone-cold, thick and long thing digit was a cruel thing, reaching that sweet spot the minute it bottomed out till, knuckle-deep in your velvety walls, and even calling the others to join in on the assault on your cunt.

Accommodating, now, three of his fingers, pummelling your cunt, scissoring you open, was more overwhelming than any dick you've ever taken. Maybe the fact that no one else could amount to the size of an ancient 9'6 vampiric cannibal Lord who's put his and the life of his sons in your palm.

Either you take them away, or let him take you to carnality never fathomed before, and the way he sucked on your swollen clit while fucking you with his fingers was a clear indication of your preference.

"Alcides," you moaned, nearing your high. "Yes, my love?" He replied almost instantaneously, as if finally you complied with a poor man's request. "What is it that you need, darling? I'll give it all to you." He lifted up from your pussy, leaving your clit with a wet 'pop' sound, making his way over to your breasts, while his movements inside you never faltered once. His sharp eyes searched yours, fixated on them while his hot tongue snaked out of his mouth to twirl around your hardened bud. Flesh on fire, you leaned into the feel of his mouth on you. "Fuck me, Alcides." You cried in defeat. How the mighty have fallen prey to the vultures of lust, mere carcasses of seduction.

Alas, the façade of seduction had backfired, and you had fucked up royally.

Upon hearing the trumpets of his victory through your pretty mouth, Alcides would've been a fool to refuse you. Eagerly he undoes his pants, letting his throbbing cock spring free. Your eyes damn-near saw your brain at the sight of the thing. "Alci— I can't." Seeing you panic, he began getting off on it. "You can, and you will." He hissed when his calloused thumb rubbed against the slit of his cock.

"Oh, I wanna feel that throat squeezing around me." He pumped faster, fucking his fist to the thought of you like many a night before. "But this pussy will do," "For now." He said, rubbing his length fervently against your slit, lathering your wetness on his leaking tip, enthusing a sweet mix of your cum, much more of which was to come.

"Won't be... able... to..." You spoke in between moans gaps the tip was in. The stretch was abnormal, ungodly, unnatural — exactly what you're deemed to kill. "You'll take it, mic vânător." He began to push more in, knocking the air out of your body. "Stop clenching," he groaned deeply, the sound resonating in your core. Nothing could've prepared you for this intrusion, so agonisingly painful, yet deliciously filling.

"You've... got to s.—stop... clenching." He pushed in the whole length, deadening your movements. You'd think he'd fear breaking you, but no. Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu was thrilled to see you finally submitting, even if your body paralysed in the fear of being ripped open, your back arched, breasts stopped wavering in the air, and your breath caught in your throat.

Only when the loudest, most pornographic moan left your lips did Alcides begin to thrust into you, already drunk off of your pussy, ecstatic in ecstasy.

Despite the slow speed, his thrusts were deep enough for legs to start shaking. To your shock, he lifted your legs and since they couldn't reach his shoulder's that stood almost as stall as the fucking ceiling, they were swinging across his forearms, and at this angle he slammed his hips into you.

You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it. On seeing your closed eyes, Alcides smacked your face, gentler than before, yet enough for your eyes to shoot open, face contorting in pleasure at his gesture that was now among your favourites. "Don't let those pretty eyes waver away." His grip on your hips was threateningly tight. "Look into my eyes, or there," his eyes motioned downwards, and it was then you saw the immense bump in your belly. Your eyes widened in profound horror. He had most certainly torn your insides apart, you were sure.

"See how big it is— how well you still take it?" He babbled while vigourously pushing into your poor cunt. "Pl-lease, go... easy on—me." You managed to plead out, but nothing counts stop the possessed Lord. Finally, he got the chance to feel your insides, and there was no way in hell, he thought, he'd let you off easy. Not when you're the biggest threat to his existence, let you wrap so tightly around his monster cock.

Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure.

Just when you thought your demise would be the sole pleasure you were forced to undergo, two of his fingers rubbed fervent figure-eights on your bundle of nerves that ached with bloodrush.

You babbled incoherences, whimpering, shaking your head repeatedly when he lifted your lifeless body, just the tip of his cock inside, and switched positions with you. Now, he laid, somewhat upright, hands crossed behind his head. Leisurely eyeing you, while you struggled to breath with his entire length upright inside your walls, his tip pressing against your cervix like an enemy threatening to break down your barriers; your walls.

"M-move... please..." you mewled, causing him to 'tsk' with disdain. "Help yourself, căprița mea mică." He raised a brow, mouth curling viciously into a smirk, "Use me as you please." Your shaky hands reached for his broad shoulders, raising then steadying your hovering self over his cock. His eyebrows wiggled in amusement, awaiting your move comically, until the feel of your walls struggling to take in his tip pulled him back into a trance of pleasure.

He let out an animalistic groan that lingered to be what you swore was a whimper, so you did your best to lift your tiring legs and plop down on his cock, upright and pulsating inside you. "I could fuck this pussy every moment for the remnant of my days." He smiled at you, large palms resting on your hot ass, slowly caressing your curves. The gesture, so contradicting to the impaling you were enduring, nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.

"If I'm lucky enough to live," he paused, hands squeezing your ass before sitting upright, pulling you with him. You moaned wantonly when you felt his cock deeper. "Let this be how we wake, how we sleep — in each other's embrace." His eyes widened, as did yours, like deer caught in front of headlights. The feigning look of innocence on his face sent your core spiralling with erotic ache, when his face, not once breaking eye contact, inched forward to stop just in front of your nipple.

You shrieked when he took complete control, earning a whine from you as you just got the hang of dominance, but when you noticed the hellbent gleam of carnality in his eyes, you knew you were in for a ride.

He suckled on your bud while fucking through you. "You're close, aren't you?" He pulled away from your nipple with a pop sound, resting his bearded face on your breast, "I know you are. 'Can feel her tightening around my cock." He chuckled, mouth back on the hardened bud in his presence. You sneaked a hand down and rubbed your bundle of nerves, fervently.

His large fingers, jealous of your own, were quick to replace them in driving you to your high. You were practically spoon-fed the orgasm, that took a toll on your fragile body.

No emotion overwhelmed every hemisphere, every neurone of your brain like ever before. Your mind went spiralling away, like an eternal shore hugging the lunar tide for the first time a night, your shore's dry spell was over, and your body did it's best to fight the feeling and drive a stake through his lustful heart, but your body was worn out; used as any lucky ragdoll would be.

The overstimulation sent you back to Earth at godspeed. His movements were sloppy, but not faltering, and soon enough, he let his seed bathe your walls a pearly shade. "Take it all— carry my seed." He moaned, absentmindedly.

When you plopped onto his shoulders, he lifted you up single-handedly and laid between your legs. You instinctively closed them; despite being too fucked out of it, you still cringed at how both your cum leaked out of you, ruining the sheets and everything between.

"Alcides, no—"

You were a second too late in pleading, for he grabbed you by the legs, placed them on his shoulders, and stood up.

You hung upside down, your pussy a stone's throw away from the man's smirked lips. By now, you knew what was about to unfold, yet the first lick to your cum-coated lips sent shockwaves down your spine (rather up?).

He moaned against your clit, the vibrations causing you to writhe in his grasp. His tongue licked your pussy clean, the circular motions on your clit, to the long licks from your clit to slit.

It's crazy how an anomaly like him became your exception — the hunter's favourite prey. With a tongue so skilled, you weren't to be blamed for succumbing to your current situation; not like you could do much in the grasp of a monster like him.

You're lucky his cock didn't fuck a new hole into you.

When his large palms let go of your hips, you wrapped your legs around his neck instinctively. You could've used his vulnerability to your advantage, had your mind not clouded in the ecstasy of overstimulation. It seemed like Alcides thought the same, for he smirked devilishly to himself, letting his talons ghost about your flesh, before slightly retracting to pinch and squeeze your nipples. He placed open mouthed kisses on your clit that not once stopped throbbing.

You shook in agony, his mouth worked tantalisingly slow on your burning hot cunt. Deciding to show mercy, an unlikely thing for the tyrant Lord, he smiled at your frame hanging tightly from his; your breasts heaving under his touch, obstructing his view of your pleasure-stricken face.

Lord Dimitrescu plunged his tongue inside you, placing one hand on your hip to push and grind you against his tongue, and you swore every atom in your body was swollen with pleasure.

"No... n-no more..." Your beseech was deemed adorable by the man tongue-fucking you. He pulled out, slithery wet tongue, coated in your juices, leaving you breathless. He lapped at your wetness, growing per minute as he so desperately coaxed more out of you.

Dumbfounded, pussy-drunk, utterly engrossed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless devouring of your pussy at the hands of your sworn enemy.

One of his hands snaked to your clit, the ever fervent pace of his movements drove you to madness. Your body stilled, eyes rolled back, breath hitched, and it was when his tongue flicked inside of you that you realised that you were doomed.

After drinking your juices clean, Alcides placed you gently on his bed, and by the time he laid next to you, you had already wandered off in dreams.

Your mother awaited your letters.

Perhaps, she'll be rejoiced to hear you alive and well, or maybe she'll be mortified that you're alive and well, and The Dimitrescus live and breath, still. Either way, she and the rest of the world better get used to you signing every final letter as 'Lady Dimitrescu'.

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captain-joongz · 10 months ago

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Abraxas; Masterlist

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader

Genre: humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, enemies to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut, some fluff

Summary: My downfall ended up being a story in three acts. The introduction, the seduction, the damnation.

Or; Young and fresh out of police academy, I set out to take down one of the biggest gangs in Seoul. I didn't expect the whirlwind my life would become after meeting the one and only Min Yoongi. Caught between two worlds, it was hard to say whether I was pulled down or returned where I always belonged.

Current word count: cca 78k

Warnings: dark themes, talks of illegal activities, murder, sexism in the workplace, brief reader x OC, eventual smut, innacurate description of police work, some slight stalking (reader tailing Yoongi), each individual chapter will have its own warnings

A/N: welcome to my new and very first series! I will attempt to update this every month, so it's done quicker. Hope you enjoy your reading, don't be shy and feel free to interact!

Taglist is open! Let me know if you wanna be added ^^

Act 1;

Ch. 1 | Interlude I. | Ch. 2.1 | Ch. 2.2 | Ch. 3.1 | Ch. 3.2 | Interlude II. | Ch. 4 | Interlude III.

"That which is spoken by God-the-Sun is life; that which is spoken by the Devil is death; Abraxas speaketh that hallowed and accursed word, which is life and death at the same time. Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness in the same word and in the same act. Wherefore is Abraxas terrible."

- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung

The First Companion | An Old Friend | Boy Warrior |

Act 2;

TBA

"The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas."

- Demian: The Story of Emil Sinclair's Youth, Hermann Hesse

The Prodigal Son | Enemy of an Enemy is a Friend | The Golden Maknae |

Act 3;

TBA

"It is splendid as the lion in the instant he striketh down his victim. It is beautiful as a day of spring. It is the great Pan himself and also the small one. It is Priapos.

It is the monster of the under-world, a thousand-armed polyp, coiled knot of winged serpents, frenzy.

It is abundance that seeketh union with emptiness. It is holy begetting. It is love and love’s murder. It is the saint and his betrayer. It is the brightest light of day and the darkest night of madness.

To look upon it, is blindness. To know it, is sickness. To worship it, is death. To fear it, is wisdom. To resist it not, is redemption.

It is the delight of the earth and the cruelty of the heavens. Before it there is no question and no reply.

That is the terrible Abraxas."

- 3rd sermon, Seven Sermons to the Dead, Carl Jung

Epilogue

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #bts mafia au #yoongi mafia au #abraxas series

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patheticdarling · 1 year ago

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Mad With Grief

Summary: Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon swore to avenge their son, Prince Lucerys. An eye for an eye. A son for a son. And now Prince Aemond and his sister-wife had to make the preparations for their eldest son's funeral.

Warnings: death/blood & cheese/mourning/death of a child/funeral/crying/depression/incest (Targaryen)/oc children of aemond & reader/suicidal undertones/possible hotd season 2 spoilers!

Word Count: 1861

*NOT MY GIF*

You could not begin to describe the feelings that lingered throughout your body. It seemed as if your soul was detached from your physical being and now you were just a shell of a woman.

"There we are, Princess," your handmaiden finished applying your makeup. You struggled to move your eyes to the mirror in front of you. She had applied a generous amount to brighten up your colorless face, "As beautiful as ever."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, "Thank you," it was barely audible. "That'll be all for now."

She gave you a quick curtsy before gathering the mess and leaving the room. As soon as the door shut, you could no longer hold back the tears as they came pouring down. The sobs followed soon after and you had no care to conceal them.

It was said the night your son was slain that your cries of anguish shook the very walls of the Red Keep.

"Who are you?" you demanded. You didn't recognize the two men before you, instinctively shielding your children with your own body.

"Debt collectors," the smaller of the two men spoke up. "An eye for an eye, a son for a son. We only want the one, t’ square things. Won’t hurt the rest o’ you fine folks, not one lil’ hair. Which one you want t’ lose, Princess?"

All of the hairs on your body stood on end when you realized just what the men meant. Your husband had killed Lucerys and now, a debt was owed.

"No," you shook your head profusely as you pushed your eldest son behind you, your two younger children bundled in your arms, "Kill me instead. Please. I beg you. Don't hurt my children."

"A wife's not a son," the bigger man grunted, "It has to be a boy."

"Please," you continued to plead, your older son weeping as he clutched the skirts of your dress, "Not my boys. Rhaenyra would not want this. She has always been merciful, please."

"Your sister, the Queen, has lost far too much. Her father, her baby, and now her son. By your husband's hand, might I add. I don't think mercy is an option any longer." the smaller man explained.

"It was an accident," you muttered, "A horrible, regrettable accident. My husband may be guilty, yes. But my children are innocent. Please."

"We don't want to hurt you, Princess. But a debt is owed. Besides, you'll still have two more when it's done," the man used his blade to elude to your children, "So, I suggest you make your choice before we kill all three of them."

You fell to your knees, there was no way out of this. One of your boys had to die or you'd lose all three of your children. You looked at each of your sons, caressing their silver locks. You would never forgive yourself for this. "Mummy loves you."

You kissed the head of your youngest son before shakily handing him over to the men, sobbing as you watched him mockingly rock the year old babe.

"You hear that, little boy? the small man whispered to your son, "Your momma wants you dead."

And before you could register the evil grin he exchanged with the larger man, his blade had already murdered your elder son. You felt your heart stop beating before the most Earth-shattering sob left your lips.

Everything after that shifted into a gut-wrenching blur. You could not manage to feel anything other than pure and utter grief, like a dagger was constantly being driven through your heart with every breath you took. You could not bring yourself to eat, drink, or even bathe. Your mother, the Dowager Queen, urged you to stay strong for your remaining son and only daughter. But how could you even bear to look at him? You had named your year old son to die.

You had not seen your husband since. Part of you wanted what every woman wanted from their husband in times of grieving, a shoulder to cry on and a place to feel safe. And part of you couldn't even stomach the idea of seeing him, of knowing that he was partially to blame for the loss of your son.

A soft knock came to the door, "Y/N?" your mother's soft voice called into the room, she let out a heavy sigh at your sobbing figure, rushing over and wrapping her arms around you.

You fell into her touch. You never had the best relationship with your mother growing up but she loved your children nearly as much as you and Aemond did. It was her who looked in on your babies everyday since.

"My dearest girl," she sniffled as she stroked your hair, "Shhh, it's alright. I'm here."

"I cannot do this, Mother," you cried, "I-I cannot say goodbye to him so soon."

"He's in a better place, Y/N," she tried to soothe me, "Somewhere safe, where no one can ever harm him."

"They already harmed him. And I could not protect him. My husband was not here! I was alone-"

It was as if your words held magical intent within them. Your breath hitched in your throat as your husband walked into the room. Your mother helping you both to your feet.

She took in a deep breath, "I'll go see if the carriage is ready. Ring the bell if you need me," she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before moving to greet Aemond with a quick kiss on the cheek.

Your eyes remained locked with his until the minute the door clicked shut and suddenly you lacked the strength to stand once again. Your knees hit the floor as you broke back into sobs.

Aemond dropped everything and rushed over to hold you, "I am so sorry, I am so sorry," he muttered over and over again.

You couldn't help but cling to him, the contempt you held falling as you grieved your child together, "My sweet boy. My first baby boy."

"I will avenge him, I swear this to you, my love-"

"Avenge him?!" you nearly pushed him back and onto his ass as the blame you placed on your husband returned, "Your vengeance is the reason why Rhaenyra wanted one of our sons dead in the first place!"

Both of you now rose to your feet, "I told you it was an accident. I lost control of Vhagar and-"

"And now our son is dead," you concluded. Aemond's jaw clenched at your words. "Did they tell you what they made me do?"

"Y/N, we don't have to discuss this."

"Did they tell you, Aemond?" you reiterated, Aemond softly shook his head at your question, "They made me choose. Choose which of our sons to die. They said there was a debt to be paid. I begged them to kill me instead. But Rhaenyra wanted a son. Said they would kill all three of them if I didn't choose." Tears fell from Aemond's remaining eye as you continued to speak shakily, "And I named Jaehaerys. Our sweet baby. I thought perhaps he was too young to understand. And Viserys-" your voice caught in your throat at the mention of your late son, "He is our first son and the only heir until Helaena gives Aegon a son. And they butchered him like a sheep for slaughter."

"I never meant for any of this to happen, Y/N. And I will never forgive myself for letting them hurt you or our children."

"I have not been to the nursery since," you ignored his apologies, "How can I mother a child that I was willing to sacrifice? I shouldn't even be allowed to call myself a mother after what I've done."

"Y/N, you are the best mother and our children, they need you. Nobody else could raise them as admirably as you have."

You just shook your head as the bells of King's Landing rang in the background, "We must go. The funeral is starting."

Aemond tried to reach for your hand, "My love, we do not-"

You simply pulled away, not saying another word as you gathered yourself, ringing the bell for your mother and maids to return.

"Are we ready?" your mother asked, you simply nodded before taking her arm.

"Y/N, please," Aemond tried yet again to pull you back to him.

"Aemond," your mother cut him off, "That is enough. We must all be going now."

You could not recall the events of your son's funeral. Not the precession, the burial, the speeches, or even how you returned to the castle after. It felt as if it all took too much effort. Your children were your only reasons for living and yet you couldn't even bear to mother them as you wished. Because wanting was too much. You felt you didn't deserve to want any longer. Living was too much effort.

"Y/N!" your husband's horrified tone rang in your ears. Your mind finally registering what your body had done.

As you looked down at the perilous fall to the spikes that decorated the fall from the Red Keep. Your toes basically hanging off as you stood on the ledge.

"Please, darling," Aemond quietly begged, "We need you. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, they need you. I need you."

Matching streams of tears ran down both you and Aemond's cheeks. This is what it was to be mad with grief. To be so heartbroken that you cared so little about living.

You were sure the rest of your family was grieving your son as well. But not like this. None of them could even begin to fathom the thoughts or feelings you had, or did not have any longer.

"Y/N, please come down from the ledge," Aemond sobbed and begged. You had never seen him so broken, so fearful. And it might've been at that moment that you realized that Aemond might have been the only person in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms who shared in your despair. Strangely, that relieved you. To know you were not alone in your mourning.

Slowly and with Aemond's muttered encouragement, you stepped down and back onto the floor of your bedchamber. Aemond did not rush to put his arms around you or even rush over to you at all. He took quiet and calculated strides, the anguish that had built in his body at the thought of losing you, seemed to melt away with each step.

Though the tears still poured from both of you as he gently cupped your face in his hands, "I'm sorry, Aemond. Truly, I-"

"Shhh," his voice shook under the softness of his tone. Aemond softly pulled you into his embrace. His sobs muffled in your silver locks and yours muffled in his dark-green clad chest. The two of you gradually sinking to the floor, never loosening your grip on the other. The two of you quietly afraid of what might happen if you let the other go.

That maddening grief settled for a moment.

"We will avenge him."

Before taking over once again.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x targaryen reader #aemond targaryen x reader #angst #fem reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd spoilers #alicent hightower #prince aemond #aemond targaryen angst #aemond the kinslayer #rhaenyra targaryen

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azrielsdove · 3 months ago

Text

Petals and Pain: Tamlin x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Suggestive, Longgggg

The halls were dark, quiet, and cold. A stark contrast to the last time you stepped foot in this manor. You crept through the ruins, remembering how the grand place had looked before. It had been fifty-odd years since you last came here, since you last saw your oldest friend.

Everything had changed since then.

You had left Prythian on what was supposed to be a month trip to the other territories. You were to go both as a diplomat and as a tourist. Tamlin had wanted to try to better the Court with what you learned there, a task you so willingly took. You had bid him farewell and set off, excited to see what the world had to offer.

You didn’t know it would be the last time you saw him.

He sent a letter the moment Amarantha showed her evil hand, bidding you stay put. Every instinct in you screamed to run home, but you knew you could be of more help if you stayed away. Perhaps you could seek out assistance from one of the territories.

Your heart ached for the Spring Court all those years. Your travels brought you beauty, sure, yet it all paled in comparison to your home. You longed for the manor, its large windows and warm sunshine. You wished to walk through the gardens, so full of magic and peace. Above it all you missed Tamlin. The two of you had met long ago, when you were both not more than babes. Your parents were high up in the Court, trusted advisors to the High Lord. Often you were brought along as their pride and joy, their perfect little pawn. Talks of a betrothal to you and one of the High Lords sons began as you grew, your parents vying for the eldest. They knew he had the most chance of being the next High Lord. The goal was to get you in the highest position of power possible.

Your friendship with Tamlin grew as you did. He was pushed to the side more often than not, the youngest brother with no hope of ever being High Lord. Your parents were unhappy that he was the one you chose to befriend, but they couldn’t keep you from seeing him. Not without potentially upsetting his father. No, that wouldn’t do for their plan.

Until the slaughter of the entire family occurred. Your parents were unlucky enough to have been there at the time of the attack, murdered alongside Tamlins. Too quickly the manor went from a busy, full, lively place to just the two of you. Tamlin begged you to stay after that, insisting that he didn’t want to be alone. You couldn’t deny that you felt the same and gladly moved into the manor. He appointed you emissary, setting you as the first member of his court. Not long after Lucien showed up and turned your duo into a rather happy trio. You and Lucien worked together to keep the Spring Court in good favor with the other Courts.

You wondered where Lucien was now. What exactly had happened here, besides what you got out of Tamlins last broken letter. You continued further into the manor, peering into each room as you passed. There was no sign of life anywhere. You weren’t even sure if Tamlin was still here. You stuck a hand in your pocket, finger running over the edge of the letter that brought you here.

Spring has fallen.

It is all my fault.

The threat has gone.

Short, and not nearly enough information. You had raced back to Prythian as quickly as you could, trying to imagine what had happened.

Though nothing prepared you for this.

“Tamlin?” You called out softly, unsure if danger lurked nearby. A chill flew through the air, sending shivers down your back. A noise from a few rooms down the hall startled you, eyes darting towards it. You moved hesitantly towards the door, noting the dim light showing from underneath it. Slowly you pushed it open, once again calling out his name. You looked into the room, heart sinking at the sight.

You had found Tamlin.

From where he sat you could see his hair was matted, covered in mud and leaves. His once smart attire was torn and dirtied, hanging loosely off his much too thin frame. You could see his skin was pale, scratches covering most of it. “Tam?” You asked, voice shaky. He turned slowly to you and your hand flew to cover your mouth. His eyes were dark, sunk deep into his head. He looked as close to death as you could get while still being alive. “Oh Tam.” You dropped to your knees in front of him, gently wrapping your hands around his. You stared deep into those haunted eyes, heart breaking. “Let me help you.”

He gave no response, just continued to stare at you in that dead sort of way. You began to doubt there was anything of your friend left. You quickly busied yourself with all the healing remedies you brought from your travels. You weren’t certain what sort of state Tamlin or the Spring Court would be in when you arrived, so you brought as many fit into your bags. A good thing too, for several of these were desperately needed. You gently poured a few different vials into his mouth, watching carefully to make sure they took. You wanted to heal his body and mind as much as you could, in hopes that he could explain what had all happened. You administered one final draught for the night before gently leading your friend to lay in front of the damp fireplace. “Sleep should kick in soon, will you lay here for me?” You asked, laying down the cloak you wore as a sort of sad attempt at a bed. Tamlin laid on it with no comment, the horrid blank stare still on his face. You waited until he was asleep to go scrounge around for some wood, leading to a rather pitiful fire in the great stone fireplace. At least it was better than nothing.

You settled down in the least damaged chair you could find, watching Tamlin. Your mind was racing with questions. You were completely lost on how your once witty and charming friend had been reduced to this husk of a male. And where was Lucien? You were struck with a chilling thought, one that you didn’t wish to dwell on. You shook your head, shooing it away. Lucien had to be alive, something just must have come up. There was a perfectly logical reason for why he wasn’t here, and why the Spring Court lay in ruin. You just had to wait for Tamlin to wake and you could get some answers.

***

It was days before the High Lords eyes opened once more. You spent your time forcing water and various medicinal mixtures down his throat, exploring what was left of the manor when you felt up to it. Your heart ached at seeing what was once your beautiful home in such disrepair. It shattered completely when you made your way to your old rooms and found that they were the only place untouched. Dusty, yes, but otherwise just the same as you had left them. You had quickly brought Tamlin to them after your discovery, setting him up in your grand four poster bed. A reminder of a life that feels so long ago now.

It was soon after that Tamlin came to. He still looked close to death, but there was a minuscule brightness to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He murmured your name, a hand reaching out for yours. You grasped it tightly, tears pricking at the back of yours eyes. “Tam,” you whispered, “what happened?”

He gave a sad smile, shaking his head. “It was all my fault, truly. Everyone left. I let them all down. I allowed war to come to these lands, I allowed terrible things to happen.” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “All in the name of love. Love. What do I even know of it?”

You were confused, and a tad bit hurt at the mention of this so-called love. “Tell me from the beginning.”

And so he did.

He told you of what Amarantha had done, how she had tricked the Courts. How she vied for his hand and when he denied her she cursed all of Spring. He told you how she cut out Lucien’s eye, wincing as he did. He talked about the rules of his curse, how the only way out was to get a mortal to fall for him.

He spoke of Feyre, the love he had mentioned before. You could feel the pain in his voice as he did, as he explained how he tried to save her. “I was ready to sacrifice my entire court, just so she would be safe. A fool I was. A selfish, horrid fool.” He told you how they were all taken Under the Mountain, how Feyre came to try to save him. What she suffered in the months down there. How he didn’t know what to do, besides send Lucien to try to help her.

He talked about Rhysand, who you remembered all too well. He explained how the other High Lord assisted Feyre Under the Mountain, how Tamlin had thought it all a nasty trick. His voice broke as he recalled Amarantha killing her, but Rhysand and the other High Lords worked together to bring her back.

You had no words, shocked at the amount of respect they all had for this girl. Truly, you couldn’t help but be in awe of her yourself.

Tamlin continued, telling you how they were supposed to wed. How Rhysand had crashed the wedding, whisking Feyre away. He told you how Lucien and him thought Rhysand was nothing but evil, mind controlling Feyre to hate them. “Of course, she had every right to hate me. I didn’t know how to treat her after Under the Mountain. I allowed her suffering.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly, urging him to continue.

On he went, explaining that Rhysand and the Night Court were never truly evil, that there is a goodness there. He spoke of the war with Hybern, of what he had done to Feyres sisters. He told you how Feyre had turned the court against him, but it was his own actions that lead them to believe her.

He talked about Lucien, how he had fled with Feyre in the end. “I couldn’t even keep one of my oldest friends. I have done irreparable damage to everyone I cared about. It is good you were away, otherwise you would’ve been hurt too.” His gaze was faraway, eyes shining with untold pain.

You sat in silence for long moments, processing everything he had told you. Lucien had left him. That was no small fact, that what Tamlin had done was bad to have driven him away. Yet as look at the male in front of you, you struggle to see that he is truly evil.

“I believe your heart was in the right place, however your actions were a bit extreme,” you said slowly, careful with your words.

Tamlin laughed. “Just a bit?” You looked up at him, his eyes shining bright as he smiled at you. For just a moment you could see the old him in his face, the strong High Lord you once knew.

“Okay, perhaps a lot. I do not see why that should mean you must live like this now. It is not too late to make amends to your Court, and to Lucien. I am home now, Tam. Let me help rebuild our home.” And you, you thought, looking over his sickly state once more.

He nodded, agreeing. “Yes, yes. You always know what to do. For now, I will rest. I tire too easily these days.” His eyes were closed before he finished speaking, exhaustion taking over once more.

You sat in the quiet room for a while longer, still holding his hand. Your questions were answered, but in their place were a million more. For the first time you began to doubt if the Spring Court and its High Lord were truly fixable.

***

You spent the following days cleaning up what damage you could from the manor while Tamlin regained his strength. You took notice of how most of the destruction seemed caused by a rather large animal, piecing together what must have happened. What sort of a state had he been in to destroy his home in such a way? You had paused your questioning for now, focusing on his healing first. You did find where Lucien now resides and sent him a letter as quick as you could. You weren’t entirely sure what had all happened, but you hoped he would return once more. If not for Tamlin, then for you.

You were busy cleaning in the grand entry when a rather cold chuckle came from behind you. You turned quickly, holding your mop out like a weapon.

“Oh relax, it is only me,” a silky voice said, purple eyes glittering. You frowned.

“Rhysand.”

He placed his hand dramatically over his heart at your cool tone, feigning being stabbed. “Ouch. How long has it been since we last spoke, then? Welcome back to this side of the world. Noticed I didn’t see you in the war.”

You rolled your eyes, setting your mop down. “There could never be enough time in between our meetings. I wasn’t a part of the war, as I was unaware it was happening. The last I heard was the day Amarantha played her nasty trick, and I was told to remain away.”

“Lucky you. Away on your travels, galavanting around while the rest of us suffered.” Rhysand scowled at you, eyes narrowed. “You seem not any worse off for it.”

You crossed your arms tightly in front of you, anger flooding your body. “I did only as my High Lord commanded.”

Rhysand scoffed. “Some High Lord he is. Do you not see the state of your beloved Court? Do you truly believe an innocent male allowed ruin to befall your home like this?”

You took a step closer, ever defensive of your old friend and home. “What I have found is a hurting male, trapped all alone in a nightmare of his own creation. I have heard his regrets and his helplessness. I came back to find my home a dark shadow of itself, my High Lord, my friend, not more than a shell of who he was.” You looked Rhysand up and down. “I have found you, the male who won it all. You have your mate, Rhysand. You have your grand Court, your faithful family. I’ve heard you even have a perfect little son. And yet here you stand, coming to do what, may I ask? Taunt Tamlin? Kick him some more while he’s down?” Your fists clenched, anger tight in your chest. “I admit I do not know all that has transpired in my absence, but I know enough to say what you’re doing is wrong. I do not argue that he has hurt you, has hurt your mate, but to what end must he suffer? Will you not be happy until his heart has ceased beating? What more can he give you?”

Rhysand stood as still as death, eyes studying you carefully. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “You show a devotion I do not often see. If you ever come to understand there’s nothing for you here, i’d be pleased to see you in Night Court black. As I said so many years ago, Tamlin will never give you what you want.” He was gone in a dramatic swirl of darkness, nothing but a grandiose show of power. You frowned deeper, ever unsettled by the High Lord. He had always been condescending to you, deciding that you were worth hating just for being close to Tamlin.

As I said so many years ago, Tamlin will never give you what you want. You scoffed as the words played again in your head, picking your mop back up. Rhysand had convinced himself long ago that you only stayed close to Tamlin in hopes of being his bride. You’d laughed in his face the first time he said this, completely taken aback by such an accusation. You can admit a part of you would not have been unhappy with such an arrangement, but you had your position in Court on your own. Rhysand never saw you as more than a lovesick puppy that followed Tamlins every move.

When you returned to Tamlin you mentioned the meeting rather briefly, not wishing to upset him any further.

“Rhysand was here?” He asked sharply, eyes scanning you as though for injury. “Did he hurt you? What did he want?”

You sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at him. “He did not do anything, Tam. I assume he came to make sure you were still miserable. He wasn’t very pleased to find me instead.” A teasing smile danced across your face, an attempt to lighten the situation.

It didn’t work. Tamlin frowned deeply, clearly upset that this happened. “He comes every now and again to remind me i’m worthless and alone. He laughed himself silly when he saw how sickly i’d become last time.”

You forced your anger down, not trusting yourself to speak. While you understood why Rhysand would be so full of hate for Tamlin, there has to be a limit before it becomes just pointless cruelty. You took a deep breath, looking intently at your friend. “Whatever he has said to you is irrelevant now. You are healing, as is this Court. That is all that matters. Do not dwell on the events of the past, not now.” You reached over and grabbed the warm tea you had made, filling his cup with it. “Now drink, and rest. I gather soon you’ll be up to a walk around the grounds.”

***

Tamlins healing came slowly, and not without challenge. The first day he got out onto the desolate gardens surrounding the manor he fell into a darkness deeper than before, pained at seeing what his home had become. The physical healing was only part of the battle, the healing of his mind was what truly ailed him. You had brought him back to bed, forcing him to eat and rest. Once you were certain he was down for the night you made your way back outside, sitting on the cracked grand steps leading up to the entry.

And you cried.

This task was more than you expected. Tamlin was in worse shape than you ever imagined, the Court was nothing more than a few dead plants. You had no idea where to go from here, how else to aid in his healing. Even when he was healed, how were you going to go about healing the Court? Bringing the fae home? You’d heard how it had fallen, the poison Feyre had spewed, the ways in which some of what she had said rang true. You knew how Tamlin put his faith in the wrong beings, how his focus on her lead to his destruction. This was beginning to feel like all too much on you, but you refused to give up on him.

Someone spoke your name softly.

You shot up from the steps, eyes narrowing as you took in your surroundings. Your heart stopped when you realized who was standing in front of you.

“L-Lucien?”

His name was enough to have him running up to you, wrapping you tight in his arms. You sunk into his embrace, tears taking over with a new force. You allowed yourself to let out all you had been holding back, safe in the arms of one of your closest friends. Lucien held you close, body shaking with his own emotion. The two of you stood that way until your eyes were dry. When you finally pulled back enough to look up into his face your heart ached. One hand came up to gently touch the scarring left by Amarantha, anger and pain in both of you. “I’m so sorry I left.”

Lucien shook his head vigorously. “None of that. I stood by Tamlin when he decided you should stay away. I do not regret that choice for a moment.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, giving you one last squeeze before letting you go. “How is he?”

You sighed deeply. “He’s bad. I am starting to lose hope.” You were ashamed to speak the words out loud.

Lucien reached out and grabbed ahold of your hand. “Take me to him?”

You nodded, leading him through the desolate manor. You heard his sharp intake of breath as he took in the destruction, even with your pitiful attempts at fixing it. You paused outside of your rooms, looking up to Lucien. “He has not told me all that transpired between you, however he has told me enough. I am sorry for the pain you have suffered at his hand. The male you are about to see is but a shell of the one you once knew. If it’s too much I do not expect you to stay.”

Lucien squeezed your hand reassuringly. “At the end of it all, Tamlin was one of my greatest friends. And you are worth more than any pain he has bestowed upon me. I do not wish to see either of you suffer anymore than you already have.”

You gave him a watery smile and pushed open the doors. You felt his hand go slack as he took in the sight of Tamlin tucked into your bed, how sickly he still looked. You stayed close to the doors as Lucien approached him, allowing him to process what he was seeing. “Oh, Tam,” he whispered, a hand running across his face. “What have we done?” He stood there for a while, looking over his old friend. You went to him when you noticed the gentle shake of his shoulders, tears falling slowly down his cheeks.

“Come,” you whispered, wrapping an arm around him. “He will not wake until well into the morning. I’ll make you something warm to drink and you can rest until then.” You led Lucien down to the kitchens, fixing him up a cup of tea. He sat in silence while you did, staring blankly at the wall.

“I should not have left him in my anger,” he finally spoke, looking up as you handed him the cup. “I was so hurt by how he had acted, but I was not innocent in all that happened. Even when I disagreed with his actions I still followed him, up until the end. I’ve allowed him to fall into this state.” You knelt down in front of him, wrapping your hands around his.

“You must not think like that. We all have our own guilts and pain, but we must come back together now. Everything has changed and yet so much is the same. I have missed you, Lucien. I have missed the both of you more than I can say.” You looked down at your hands around his, taking a deep breath. “We need to come up with a plan to help him, to save our Court. Otherwise it will remain dead for eternity.”

***

Weeks went by. Lucien stayed and helped you, the two of you fixing up your home. Tamlin had improved greatly in the physical sense, but his mind was still riddled in guilt. Your pain at seeing him struggle had slowly turned into anger. “What else can we do, Lucien? Do you expect me to sit and wait decades more for him to move on?” You seethed, pacing back and forth in front of the grand fireplace. The two of you spent most nights in the newly refurbished study, the favorite of the rooms you’ve redone. The estate had been mostly repaired to its former glory, aside from the missing staff and High Lord.

“You know how long it can take. You saw the state he was in. I know it is frustrating to continue waiting but what else do you propose we do?” Lucien was as exhausted as you were, but his own guilt at letting Tamlin fall this far kept him slightly more amicable. You paused your pacing, turning sharply to look at him.

“I’m going to tell him off. We have let him deal with everything in private as much as we can. He needs a wake up call, and so help me I will do it.” You made your way from the room before Lucien could stop you. You knew you should calm down before you get to Tamlin’s rooms, finished only days ago. Your hands were clenched tightly into fists at your sides as you stormed through the manor, trying to decide what to say. All you knew was that you were angry and tired of watching your dearest friend lose himself.

You reached his doors rather quickly, shoving them open without a second thought. They clattered against the walls, alerting Tamlin to your presence. He looked over at you curiously, eyes scanning over you. “Has something happened?” He asked, sitting up in his bed. You crossed your arms tight in front of you.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Something has happened.” You watched his expression change slightly at the pure rage in your voice, as if he knew what you were going to say. “You. You, Tamlin. I am sick and tired of watching you wallow in self pity. I understand, you were hurt. You are ashamed of how you acted in your own rage. But how long must this go on? I am home, Tam. I am here, for you. Lucien and I have repaired this estate and you have done nothing but sit in this godforsaken bed and pout!” You couldn’t help the increased volume in your voice, all your hidden frustration bursting free from you. “I want you to get up. I want you to get out of this bed, put some damned clothes on, and come to work. Do you understand?” You stared him down, breathing slightly heavy.

Something strange flickered through his eyes, an emotion you had never seen in him. His voice was deathly cold when he responded. “Are you making demands of your High Lord?”

An exasperated sigh rolled off your lips. “At this point I’m more High Lord than you are.” You knew that was cruel, a direct attack to his already hurt pride. The rational part of your mind was screaming for you to calm down, to take a step back. But your anger was winning. “I came here to help you, Tamlin. Have I not done so? Have I not devoted my life to yours?”

His scoff cut you off. “No one forced you to do that,” he spat out, leaning back against his headboard. “You did not have to come back here. You shouldn’t have come back here.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is my home. You are my home! Don’t you get it, Tam? It has always been you!” The anger rushed out of your body at your confession, a sudden lightheadedness coming over you. “It was always you,” you whispered out, a hand coming to rest on your forehead. The strength left your body, your legs failing to hold you up. The floor was coming up fast, blessedly fast. You hoped you would hit it hard enough to forget this moment, your embarrassing confession.

Then you stopped. Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you back up. One stayed tightly around your waist while the other cupped your chin, forcing you to look into the perfect green of Tamlin’s eyes. “Say it again,” he whispered, breath ghosting over your lips.

“It is you. You are my home,” you murmured, brain foggy at his proximity. In all the decades of loving him, you had never been caught in a moment like this.

Tamlin took a deep breath before moving a millimeter closer. “How long?” He asked, each syllable causing his lips to brush against yours.

“Since we were children. My father pushed for me to marry one of your brothers, but I never held any interest in them. My heart has always called out for you.” Your body was on fire, every slight brush of his lips against yours a lightning strike under your skin. “I waited. I waited for you to choose me at Calanmai.” You felt his nails dig slightly into your waist at that, a shuddering breath running through him. “I waited for you to seek a wife once you were more comfortable as High Lord. I waited and waited. Then you sent me away.”

The hand under your chin moved to hold your face, thumb running gently over your cheek. “I sent you away,” he began, voice heavy, “because it was getting too hard to focus with you around. With the constant need running through my veins.” His hand dropped to the back of your neck, squeezing ever so gently. “Every Calanmai my body sang for yours. It took insurmountable control to not drag you in that cave with me each year.” You couldn’t help the noise that came from you at that. Something in Tamlin snapped, his pupils blown wide before pressing his lips fully against yours.

The kiss was harsh, unleashing decades of pent up desire. You cried out when he bit your lip, canines sharp. The taste of your blood on his tongue was positively sinful, making you feel a way you never had before. His lips moved from yours, running down your neck before his teeth sunk in to your shoulder. You moaned his name loudly, throwing your head back in a silent plea for more. Tamlin growled, the arm around your waist moving to slide down between your thighs. His fingers teased the waistband of your pants, your skin burning in the wake of his touch. You had half a mind to grab his hand and force it where you needed him the most, when Lucien decided to make his presence known.

“I see we kissed and made up?” He cooed, a smirk on his face as he leaned against the doorframe. Tamlin turned sharply to him, elongated nails and teeth on full display.

“Leave. Now.”

***

One year later

The Spring Court was alive once more. In fact, it was more beautiful than it had ever been. The flowers bloomed bright and big, their pleasant perfume filling the lands. The grass was the richest shade of green, the trees sang in the wind, and the air ran fresh. It was a paradise. You were admiring the peonies in the garden when two arms wrapped around your waist, tucking you close. You leaned into Tamlin’s hold, a content sigh escaping you.

“How are the flowers today, my love?” He asked, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

“They are perfect,” you said with a smile, resting your hands over his. You looked down at the glittering emerald set in gold on your finger, a matching golden band circling his own. “How is my husband today?”

“Mmm,” he groaned, pressing more kisses down your neck. “Greatly improved now that I have you here. The other Courts are being rather obtuse about answering our letters.” You turned in his arms, resting your hands upon his chest.

“Do you wish for me to deal with them again? You know they rather like me,” you teased, playing with the fabric of his shirt. Your husband rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss you sweetly.

“They do seem to prefer you, High Lady.” You smiled at the title, a name you were still getting used to. You caught his lips with yours once more, threading one hand up through his hair. He sighed into your mouth, pulling you tighter against him. You lead the kiss, allowing his mind to grow muddled under your touch. You tugged on some strands of his hair, relishing in the guttural sound he made before pulling away from him and out of his grasp.

“Come on, High Lord. Let’s go convince the other Courts that a Spring ball is an excellent idea, planned by their very favorite High Lady.”

***

Ahhhh I LOVE this one. I hope you all do too! This took me agessss to write, but I am ever so thankful for your patience with me. <3

Note: If you do not like Tamlin, that is fine, but do not come here to argue. Just scroll on <3

#azrielsdoves 1k celebration #tamlin x reader #acotar x reader #tamlin x y/n #tamlin x you #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #petals and pain

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yurnu · 4 months ago

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Imagined Charlie meeting God. I imagined this. Hope you like it.

Charlie enters a large and beautiful garden. Everything bloomed and smelled so fresh. She made her way as she looked at the flowers and plants that surrounded her, taking in the view. Then, she see’s her grandfather, God, carefully cutting the roses.

“Greetings Charlie.” Charlie was spooked by this.

“Oh shi-I mean, hi grandpa! Nice to see you. I didn’t know you could see me.”

“I am omnipresent my dear.” His shears disappeared from his hand and he gestured to a table with a tea set. “Now have a seat.”

Charlie sat down in the chair as she looked at the tea. She took a sip and it was caught off guard by it. “F-this taste like a Frappuccino?”

“Yes, I know you’re not a fan of tea so I changed the taste for you.”

“Thank you. Creepy, but thanks.” She took another sip. “So, you know why I’m here.”

“yes, because of your redemption hotel.” God, poured his tea. His eyes not leaving Charlie.

“Right! So, you know why I’m doing it. So if anything we can-“ God put his hand up to the young woman.

“I know what you want my grand daughter. I read your heart the minute you entered. I do not blame you for your father’ and mother’s sin, but, just because you’re my granddaughter, I will not spoil you. I do not support your hotel.” Charlie’s face dropped, her optimism and plans seemed to have died down. She nervously looked around and tried to drink more of her tea but it didn’t work.

“W-why?” Charlie squeaked, trying not to cry. “Why are you like this? Why is it that you allow angels to stay in heaven when they have do not follow your rules but punish those who try to change?!” Her voice became louder, as the supreme being listens on and drank from his cup. “I worked with these sinners! I helped them see the errors of these ways and tried everything in my power to make things right not just for me but for my people! And…And how can you sit there and not do anything?! There are people who suffered for a few bad choices yet angels can live up here and do anything they can because they are perfect?! Why kind of a system is that?! What do you have against this?!”

Just then, God put down his tea and looked at his granddaughter with a serious expression. “Angel was a gang member who had killed several innocent people when he was alive. After his sister died from a rival gang attack, he found comfort in booze, drugs, and sex.” Charlie anger subsided. “Husk was a notorious playboy who gambled people’s lives. And Alastor? Ha! That guy already showed you his true colors and yet you’re are blind to it. Or maybe…” he took the tea pot and poured his cup. “Maybe you know and just play dumb because you don’t want to admit to him that he was right.” Charlie’s eye widen from his last statement.

“We-well, why is it that you allowed Adam to stay here when he was responsible for killing his own kind?”

“His kind? You mean a bunch of pedophiles, murders, kidnappers, racists, criminals, and so on. Do you know I have them chances to change for the better? To turn back against evil and proclaim my name but no! So now they rot where they all belong.” He stands up. “But I find it funny that the girl so obsessed with redemption didn’t try to find a redeeming quality in my first man. Didn’t even bother to do research herself about him rather than the lie her parents read to her.” He picks up the tea pot. “So much so that she ,along with her father, killed him and left him to rot. Never even bother trying to find a common ground with him. Didn’t even have a rainbow inside of him. So tell me, Charlie,” He then poured the girl’s tea as he leaned close to her. “Doesn't that sounds hypocritical?”

(This won't appear in the comic)

God: You say you preach redemption, that everyone deserves a second chance. But my son, who fought tooth and nail, sweated blood and perished in pain to protect the family from him. All this because your father couldn't admit that he was wrong. Doesn't he deserve heaven?

The atmosphere became dense, Charlie found it difficult to breathe properly, it was as if air was being denied him.

God: But apparently, those sinners who ruined millions of innocent lives have a right over those who did earn their place in heaven when they were alive.— God's expression was emotionless. stirred her cup of tea before taking a sip.— Did you even research heaven, purgatory and hell before thinking about making your hotel?

Charlie: Pu- purgatory?...

God: Mn... Apparently you didn't. Purgatory is a place where lower-ranking sinners or those in a gray area go to be cleansed of sin, giving them a second chance to repent. Your friends, Anthony and Pentious fell in there. They were given a second chance to make amends for their actions, but they squandered it and continued doing their thing there instead of seeking redemption. But only now, when they fall to hell, do they want redemption? They had their opportunity on a silver platter before and decided to waste it, now that they bear the consequences of their actions.

Charlie tried to make a contract argument but the thin air around her made it impossible for her to answer.

God: But tell me. Do you really preach redemption? Are you really as merciful as you pretend to be? Or do you only do it for the mere pride of being praised as the "savior" of sinners?

The atmosphere became denser and more difficult to breathe, a lot of eyes and toothy smiling mouths appeared around God and the garden plants. Looking at her, judging her.

God: You say I am unfair because I let sinners suffer in hell for the actions they decided to take. But haven't you thought that you are also the one who is unfair to the victims of those same sinners? How do you think a rape victim will feel when she sees her abuser walking the same pristine paths of heaven as her? That apparently his good actions in life were in vain since apparently if you are a sinner and you repent you can go to heaven too. Isn't that unfair?

Charlie was panting heavily as he tried to get some air into his lungs. His eyes, full of tears, looked at God with fear.

God: Listen well. Daughter of the archtraitor. Even if you continue with your blasphemous hotel, no sinner will touch the golden gates of heaven, since I refuse to recognize your hotel. It was not for nothing that I sent that disgusting sinner back to your kingdom.

With a wave of his hand, God lifted Charlie into the air with his powers, and with a snap of his fingers he opened a portal that looked towards hell, in hell's heaven.

God: Perish. —was what God said before throwing Charlie through the portal.—

The last thing Charlie saw, before the portal closed, was the indifferent and icy gaze of God.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #charlie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel charlie #god hazbin hotel #hazbin god #hazbin hotel god

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theshinazugawaslut · 2 months ago

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𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑻𝑶𝑩𝑬𝑹 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 — 𝑬𝑺𝑯𝑨'𝑺 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

/ this is my first time taking part of kinktober, if anyone has any ideas they'd also like to see, i'd be more than happy to add them. will be arranged into a proper masterlist soon!

Day One: - Shinazugawa Sanemi / Phone sex + voice kink / "Why'd You Only Ever Call Me When You're High?"

Day Two: - Katsuki Bakugo / face fucking + brat taming - Shigaraki Tomura / tentacle sex - Sanemi Shinazugawa / forced proximity

Day Three: - Shoto Todoroki / temperature play + praise kink - Sukuna Ryomen / bathing - Sanemi Shinazugawa / arranged marriage + fae

Day Four: - Muzan Kibutsuji / sex work + oiran - Shinazugawa Sanemi / vampire + longing - Sanemi Shinazugawa / ghost + haunted house

Day Five: - Shinazugawa Sanemi / omegaverse + scent kink - Katsuki Bakugo / werewolf + chasing and hunting - Aizawa Shota / villain roleplay + choking

Day Six: - Michikatsu Tsugikuni / vore + endless hunger + demon transformation / "I have been hungry." - Gyutaro Shabana / overstimuation + hand job - Sanemi Shinazugawa / piercing

Day Seven: - Levi Ackerman / virginity loss - Shigaraki Tomura / yandere and mind break - Sanemi Shinazugawa / somnophilia

Day Eight: - Kai Chisaki / medical roleplay - Izuku Midoriya / mutual masturbation + restraints/bondage - Sanemi Shinazugawa / dacryphilia

Day Nine: - Katsuki Bakugo / anal sex - Dabi / thigh fucking - Sanemi Shinazugawa / titty fucking

Day Ten: - Toga Himiko / face-sitting + squirting + blood - Keigo Takami / double pentration + bondage + praise kink + degradation kink + breeding - Sanemi Shinazugawa / yandere + paraphilic infantilism (treating/dressing someone like a child)

Day Eleven: - Shigaraki Tomura / Sex Tapes + Humiliation + Blackmailing - Sanemi Shinazugawa / dark fantasy + non-con

Day Twelve: - Douma / Vore + Period Sex - Isaac Foster / Predator-Prey + Murder + dubious consent + amokoscisia (mutiliation of women) - Sanemi Shinazugawa / teratophilia (deformed or monstrous people) + dark fantasy + reality/dream warp + mind break

Day Thirteen: - Shoto Todoroki / stalker + begging + delusional + needy - Hantengu clones / foursome + over stimulation - Sanemi Shinazugawa / Sanemi fucking a doll he made of you

Day Fourteen: - Touya Todoroki / 'Hate Sex' + loss of virginity + drunk sex - Uzui and his wives / free use - Sanemi Shinazugawa

Day Fifteen: - Kagaya Ubuyashiki / aphrodiasics - Muzan / necrophilia - Sanemi Shinazugawa

Day Sixteen: - Kagaya Ubuyashiki / CEO + exhibitionism + dick sucking - Sukuna Ryomen / party games + cockwarming + young love - Sanemi Shinazugawa / Goddess + agalmatophilia

Day Seventeen: - Touya Todoroki / Hades and Persphone + dubious consent + religous symbolism - Sanemi Shinazugawa / shower sex + lazy sex - Sanemi Shinazugawa / siren

Day Eighteen: - Shigaraki Tomura / Emetophilia (vomitting) - Sukuna / Exhibitionism + Sex slavery (of sorts) + Stockholm Syndrome - Sanemi Shinazugawa / hand fetish + lactophilia (breast milk)

Day Nineteen: - Genya / voyeurism + humiliation - Dabi / best friend's brother + forbidden love + tension - Sanemi Shinazugawa / cock and ball torture

Day Twenty: - Sanemi Shinazugawa / Courting Death / Grim Reaper AU + Suicide + Psychotic

Day Twenty One: - Cop!Sanemi / gunplay + brat taming + spanking + caning - Sanemi Shinazugawa / Wife Becomes a Man / Anal Sex (Nemi!Recieving)

Day Twenty Two: - Dabi / Delusion + yandere - Katsuki Bakugo / Barbarian King / feeding + stuffing + size kink + cock bulge - Sanemi Shinazugawa / orgasm denial

Day Twenty Three: - Genya / Mummy Kink - Sabito / treating you right kink - Sanemi Shinazugawa / pregnancy kink

Day Twenty Four: - Sanemi Shinazugawa / Son of Snow White x Daughter of the Evil Queen - Dabi / Beauty and the Beast AU

Day Twenty Five: - Muzan / Humiliation + Master/Slave - Uppermoons / Gloryhole + Cum inflation -- Sanemi Shinazugawa / monster fucking

Day Twenty Six: - Dabi / character study (doesnt want to end up like his parents but does worse) + branding + mafia + knife play + daddy kink + infantalisation - Sanemi Shinazugawa / lingerie + fisting

Day Twenty Seven: - Izuku Midoriya / collars + sensory deprivation

Day Twenty-Eight: - Shoto Todoroki / soft sex + praise kink + bulging - Rengoku Kyojuro / loss of virginity + arranged marriage + passion - Sanemi Shinazugawa / Popstar!GF x Stylist!Sanemi

Day Twenty-Nine: - Muzan Kibutsuji / CEO + Blackmailing + Classism - Mitsuri Kanroji / pillow princess + secret lesbianism + misogyny

Day Thirty: - Sanemi Shinazugawa / doggy style - Ultraviolence / toxic!BF Katsuki - Sanemi / Loud + dick riding + gagging Sanemi

Day Thirty One: - Levi Ackerman / Quiet sex + Semi public - Kai Chisaki / Brat taming + Corrective Dubcon - Sanemi Shinazugawa / Body Worship + First time + "I made you feel this good?"

#esha answers your questions #sanemi #kinktober 2024

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genevawrenn · 10 months ago

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I'm back because q!Fit is hurting my soul again.

He went from a mission and no one to having a son, a boyfriend who adores affectionately tormenting him, and several other islanders who would fight at his side if he needed help.

This man comes from a land where trusting someone could equal your death and the loss of all your hard-earned progress to a place they need one another to survive.

And those walls dropped quickly when it became outside evils intending to murder their children, needing to band together to even survive Quesadilla Island.

Assigned a child and learning to love him, Ramon was the first being to break the anarchist's shell. Allowing the smallest amount of light through to a long shaded heart, feeling the warmth of the tiniest pinprick of brightness that began to melt the ice formed around the organ covered in ancient wounds.

Protecting any youth even if they weren't your own, he found kinship in the eyes of a paranoid old blonde crow. He found reassurance and patience in the form of a beautiful man with nightsky hair who enchanted him slowly, waiting all the time he needed. He found whimsy following a sun-kissed brunette sprint through the server intent on building his factory who made him laugh with his antics.

Many, many more friends, far too many to even name which is something Fit never thought would happen.

He found people who cared, and asked nothing in return.

He found love. He found a family.

From a place of nothing; not even peaceful butterflies or shining fireflies among the lava casts and destroyed landscapes. The only insects were things that fed on decay and could blend into their surroundings all others far too easy a target and having died out long ago.

On this wonderful, healing new land Fit had found a harmony he never felt before. He found people who wanted to celebrate his birthday and shower him with gifts, begging him to let them protect him too.

He found a place he belonged and was missed in his absence. He found a place where his legacy wouldn't be reduced to a single line on the communicator if anything happened. People here made their chest warm with joy instead of dread, his soul so full of amazing memories in only eleven moons.

He found people who cared. And he's going to fight like fucking hell to keep them but now with the people he loves most at his side, refusing to leave him ever again.

#qsmp #qsmp fitmc #hideduo #fitpac #qsmp pactw #qsmp philza #qsmp tubbo #fitmc of 2b2t #wrenwriting #fit mc of 2 b 2 t needs to stop making a character who both makes my heart shatter and jump for joy #i am watching the vod and you can both see and hear him smile #hes just a traumatized man who needs and receives a lot of hugs finally #I adore him #wrenrambles

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almightygremlinblob · 5 months ago

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In Every Life (AFAB Ver.)

In which Sukuna falls in love with the Reader without realizing it.

Word Count: 5, 283 of slow burn. ⚠️Content Warnings⚠️: Not Beta Read, True Form Sukuna, Heian Era, Sukuna fluff, soft Sukuna, mentioned cannibalism, slight angst, Sunshine AMAB!Reader but gender neutral expressions used, Reader is not a sorcerer and is implied to be the only non-sorcerer of her village. Minors and ppl not okay with anything sexual pls DNI and have a nice day 👍🏽 AMAB!Reader (with gender-neutral pronouns) here

⚠️Further Content Warnings⚠️: Virgin!Sukuna, Sub!Sukuna, Reader and Sukuna both switch from gentle doms to subs, soft & fluffy sex, very messy sex, size difference, Reader makes out with the tummy mouth, squirting, lots of cum, cock worship, lots of fluids in general, belly bulge, lots of mouths, consensual blood drinking, this is getting worse the more I write lmao. THIS IS NOT BETA'D and I am very tired while editing this. SO! If you spot any mistakes, esp. with the body parts of Reader lmao (since I made two of these), pls tell me!

You were happy you managed to catch the attention of the King of Curses.

Sure, you didn't exactly know how you did it. You weren't strong, or exceptionally beautiful like the sons and daughters offered to him. You weren't even that smart!

You were clueless, as a matter of fact!

So clueless that, nearly a month ago, you gave the strange looking man with four arms a warm meal and a place to stay for the night - since it didn't seem like the storm would let up any time soon. He was pretty much shunned by the rest of the village upon his arrival…probably due to the overwhelming energy that sent people into fight or flight…but he was just born different!

Probably.

"What's your name, Mister?"

"…"

Then, one day…

"Why do you entertain them?"

"Hmph, of course…" He scoffs, and rolls his eyes. "You people and your morals…"

"Do you not have friends?"

"No."

"Oh…" Your shoulders slump slightly. "Then, consider me your first friend!"

"No."

"Oh…"

"Because you…you're…" You think for a while, before finding the right words. "One of the most unique people I've ever had the blessing of meeting."

His eyes finally land on you. "Blessing, huh?"

------

Despite yourself, you manage to spit at him.

You see your guest walk beside you - the gore, guts and limbs not affecting him in the slightest.

"Ah, you're okay…" His eyes land on you again. "B-be careful…t-there's an invisible…invisible something that's cutting people up…"

He scoffs. "And if I told you that was me?"

"What."

"Go on, then. Go ahead." He grabs your face, forcing you to look at the disembodied people and the growing river of blood. "Run."

"No. No…" Your breathing steadies, and you relax into his hold. He must sense it with the way his whole body tenses for a moment. "Not from you."

"My name is irrelevant…but people call me Sukuna Ryomen, the King of Curses."

------

And that was the start of your new life, as a servant of the King of Curses.

This was not one of those days, however.

Today, you were cleaning the Lord's study, in his chambers, along with the attractive head servant. There were...a strangely high number of Dokudami paintings...

"The Lord seems to have an obsession with this herb. Does he like it?"

"That's an interesting observation. Though you're mistaken. It's more the symbolism of this plant."

"And…that would be?"

"Uh…no? No one comes to mind…"

They simply snort at that.

------

"I can hear you thinking. Speak."

You fidget around a little, before getting the words out. "I've always been meaning to ask…why…why me, my Lord?"

He clicks his tongue. "You dare question my choices?"

"N-no! Only…I'm curious."

Sukuna is silent for a while, hand perfectly still as he thinks, before eventually speaking.

"You calm me." He sighs as his brush continues to move. "Somehow, every time, you calm me."

------

The courtesans could see you from outside, and you could practically feel them glaring daggers at you - endlessly furious and envious that you could be that close to the Lord.

"My Lord, you…never seem to show interest in your courtesans. Have they, I mean…" You weren't sure how to word it without coming off as too brash.

You feel his gaze on you, scowl evident in even his voice. "Why do you ask me about this?"

"It's just…you have so many, I thought, well..."

"Tsk. They only want something from me, and they think they can take it freely. From me. Me!"

"Surely not ALL of them…" You fidget a little. "Why would you keep them around if that was? There's…there's so many…"

You can practically hear his smirk. "Because their organs taste GREAT sautéed."

"A-ah…"

He snorts, seeing your discomfort. "Are you afraid of becoming like them?"

"I…hm…" You look up in thought. "Perhaps…"

He lets out a soft laugh. "Then you truly are a fool."

"But…I think, it would be a good sacrifice." You finish the last area, as he goes awfully quiet. "Like an offering to a god. I think…I think I wouldn't mind that."

His presence is more than clear behind you, strong and foreboding. "Do you mean it?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Liar. Everyone says that…" He scoffs. "…but, nobody means it. If given the chance…"

You hear a sound, sharp and strong, much like a blade. A pain blooms from your wrist, and you realize you're bleeding lightly - only a few drops of blood at a time. "They all run."

"No. I wish to stay by your side, my Lord. I have nowhere I'd rather be." When you relax and make no move to run, a big and warm hand engulfs yours.

"You…weren't lying." You feel lips against the wound on your outer wrist, and the swipe of a tongue against it before the wound starts to close. "You fool…"

------

Many in the estate didn't like you, jealous of how close you were to the Lord - but it wasn't everyone. Now, it was everyone. Rumors fueling jealousy and malice for the very obvious favoritism.

Taking little nibbles, you didn't want to take more than your share.

The food was beyond AMAZING. However, Sukuna simply scowls as you shyly keep your head bowed and you must feel his gaze harden by the way you flinch under it.

"I apologize. I just…don't want to take more than my share…"

And it was true, the sushi, the miso soup, selection of meats, everything tasted DIVINE.

"Compliments taken."

WAIT-

You nearly choke on your food. "I-I apologize…my Lord. I, you…for me???"

"Use your words."

"I mean, ah…" You shake your head, trying to recover from your mind going into overdrive. "You…made this for me?"

"Yes." He says it so plainly.

"What…what for?"

He doesn't answer and, for once, looks unsure. "I…I don't know."

------

Then, one night, the head servant came to your quarters, stating that "Lord Sukuna has requested I take you to his chambers."

If you weren't going to die physically, you would die of embarrassment.

"My sincerest apologies. I just…nervous…"

"That much is clear. Sit." Something is off and you can tell he's tense. "This probably isn't going to go how you're expecting."

He shuts his eyes, and the spear is repeatedly pushed against your neck, as if trying. However, it never follows through. This was so easy for him, and yet…

"Yes. That much you've made clear." You hear him sigh, tired and defeated, as the spear drops to the floor. "To think this is how I'd lose…how pathetic…"

"M…my Lord?"

"Leave."

His glare nearly has you frozen. "THIS is how you want to celebrate a victory over me?"

"No, my Lord. I only wish to stay by your side and help how I can."

He's quiet, clearly upset. "Do what you will with me. I might as well be worthless like this anyway."

"Never to me, Lord Sukuna." You take his hand in both of yours, and bring your lips to his knuckles but he quickly pulls his hand away.

"What?!" He snarls. "What use is your loyalty to someone like me now?"

"You are my Lord, Sukuna. I serve you…" Your eyes meet his, full of longing and concern. "Anything I can do to help you, please let me…"

His eyes briefly glance at your quivering lips, leaning in without realizing before he turns away with a click of his tongue.

"Leave."

And you do as you are told.

------

"How is Lord Sukuna?"

Was one of the most frequent questions you'd pester the head servant's ears with. They roll their eyes. "He's not frail, you know. You don't need to worry about him like a mother hen."

"Just give him time to process." The head servant states nonchalantly. "This is new territory for him."

------

The silence was…

Awkward, to say the least.

Not a word uttered as he continued to paint those stupid edible weeds in the candle-light. It was already late…

"A-ahem." Your voice breaks slightly when you clear your throat, and you feel his gaze on you. "M-my Lord, if there's nothing else, I shall retire for the night."

"Stay."

What.

"Don't make me repeat myself." Clearly your reaction was evident in your body, and you choke on your words before they even get out.

"That night was my first defeat." He says, as if sensing your question, yet you hear a tired and heavy sigh. "As of now, it's been my only one."

"But…have you been okay, my Lord?"

Weak.

He was weak.

"Lord Sukuna, may I?" Your hand reaches out to him, stopping just before reaching the wooden part of his face. He was so terribly beautiful.

"Do as you wish." He mumbles, and you gently hold him - even though he doesn't show it, you can feel him tense.

"My Lord, what's wrong?" There it is again, the weight that makes him feel like he's breaking without being broken. "I know you don't need it, but I only wish to help in any way I can…"

His mouth opens and closes several times before he's able to finally find the worse. "You've broken me. Made me weak…and I can't even curse you, or wish we'd never met because I'd be lying."

You chuckle. "My Lord is far from weak."

"Is it pleasant, my Lord?"

"Lord Sukuna…" Despite everything, you feel he's still tense. "You're tense. Would you like me to…?"

"Yes. I meant to bed you tonight, but this…it's…" He sighs. "Overwhelming. I'm not clueless, but something about you makes it all…too much…"

"Always about me…" He chuckles and, in a sudden movement, easily manhandles you so your dripping cunt is on his stomach-mouth. "No, I do not wish to stop. But if you truly ask for nothing in return, then let me be gracious."

"M-my Lord, ah-" Your eyes roll back when you feel that giant tongue lapping at your juices, the both of you moaning as he did so.

"Delicious…" Fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing circles as a mouth sucks hickeys on your skin and your chest - finding the sensitive nubs and harshly tugging. You hear a noise that's half way between a whimper and a moan. "…everything about you…so delicious…"

The tongue begins to enter you, and you nearly cum on the spot - nearly choking on his cock. Slowly, it reaches deep, deep enough to hit that spot that has you seeing stars - forming a light bulge on your stomach with how big it is. When you continue to moan, Sukuna's hips move on their own - tip fucking your mouth while you drool and stroke him.

You both get lost in pleasure. His large tongue tastes and moves eagerly inside you, practically assaulting that sweet spot as the stomach mouth continues to growl and whine and drool; while you eagerly suck on and stroke his twitching and throbbing lengths. A guttural moan escapes Sukuna's throat when he releases into your greedy mouth, and you do your best to swallow everything he has to offer while his other cock paints you in white. Drool, precum and his seed still leak out your mouth, though - and you quickly find it's too much.

Before you can stop yourself, your cunt clamps down on the large tongue inside you and your body goes tense as you reach your own orgasm. Fluids leak out of your greedy cunt as you squirt on his tongue, which continues to move inside of you well past your high.

His tip leaves your mouth with a sloppy and wet pop and with a groan, the large tongue takes one final lick at your overstimulated insides before it retracts back. You both are breathing heavy, shaking a little as he repositions you onto his lap. His hand caresses your face, eyes completely dilated as he makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a sigh. "Oooh, gods, look at you…"

"My Lord, I-" Your eyes widen a little as you struggle a little in his grasp. "Wait-"

"Have you forgotten who you answer to?" He clicks his tongue. "You are in no position to make demands of me."

"I…answer to you, my Lord." You still, realizing what he was asking you. "I'm sorry."

When you look away bashfully, there's a small silence.

Your voice comes out a little higher than you would have liked, but it seemed to quell him nonetheless.

"As am I, but…" He sighs and before he looks away, you capture his lips in a chaste but wet kiss.

"You look incredible like this, my Lord." Your voice comes out raspy and full of longing, and it tears a near animalistic sound from him.

"Enough." He growls, and you immediately stop. "Let me inside you."

"Anything for you." A mix of arousal, anxiousness and excitement overwhelms you as you climb on top of him, positioning yourself so his bottom cockhead kisses the entrance to your cunt. The both of you share a guttural groan as you sink down on one of his cocks, the free one throbbing delightfully in front of your cunt. Sukuna was massive, to say the least, and despite how dripping wet you both were your legs were still shaking from the wonderful strain. Although your sopping, velvety insides took him in eagerly while being stretched to their limit. The initial pain of the stretch was nearly drowned out by how wonderful he felt inside of you - fat and veiny cock completely filling you, dragging deliciously along your insides. You could feel him his arousal leak inside you, and his length pulsing like a second heartbeat. And when you fully sheathed him inside of you, you both almost lose the ability to think properly.

"S-Sukuna, my Lord…" You'd be embarassed by how shameless you sounded with your Lord now fully inside you, his fat mushroom head threatening to breach the entrance to your cervix and spurting his precum on it. His hands rested on your hips, keeping your bodies joined with a messy puddle of arousal underneath you both. Sukuna's eyes were rolled back and fluttering slightly while his stomach mouth was open with his massive tongue lolled out, making a noise somewhere between a low growl and a whimper. Seeing him like this nearly sent you off the edge.

"O-ooh, gods…" He groans when he feels you clamp down on him, and a hand pulls your head into a clumsy kiss. You feel his breath turn into full on panting when he tasted himself on you, the hands on your hips now painfully digging into your skin as he begins to thrust up into you - sloppy, slow and languid, as if trying to get even deeper than he could. Your free hands, once caressing the wooden part of his face, now move down to stroke his free cock - earning you a low growling from the stomach mouth as it started panting.

"Oh, you feel heavenly, Lord Sukuna…" As if encouraged by your words, his thrusts start to get faster, harder - a steady rhythm beginning to build. "That's it. You're doing so well, my Lord."

"Ngh, ah…" Oh, how your Lord made such sweet sounds.

Neither of you were going to last long, it was all too much.

The pain had long subsided, replaced only with ecstacy. Sukuna's fat and heavy cock dragged along every part of your insides, and the feeling of the warm arousal dripping from his tip and the throbbing of his veiny length had you near screaming into his mouth. Your Lord was completely filling you and leaving no part of you unloved. While your wet and sloppy cunt desperately sucked him in every time you and him moved, only to be rewarded as he thrusted back in and you bounced back down on him, wet velvety insides squeezing him tightly as if never wanting him to leave. Without you even realizing it, your body was unconsciously and sweetly worshipping and loving your god. "A-ah, I love you, my Lord!"

Something in Sukuna snaps upon hearing those words, which were otherwise empty - had it come from someone else.

"Let me taste you." He practically whimpers into your mouth as you both pant and continue to knot tongues. The kiss is clumsy, inexperienced, but you were far too lost in love to care - exploring your Lord's mouth eagerly while you struggle to ride his beautiful, monstrous form. The tongues on his mouths sucking, biting and tasting your skin; marking every bit of your body they could. This would hurt, but you didn't care. You only wanted to show your god how much you loved him. "And I want you to accept me, too..."

"Yes, my Lord. Anything-" This would hurt, but you didn't care - only wanting to show your god how much you loved him. "Anything you wish of me…"

With the flick of his wrist, there's a sharp pain on your tongue and a metallic taste floods both of your mouths - there's not enough damage to fully cut off your tongue, however, only a cut.

His thrusts get faster and harder, his cock twitching and your cunt spasming. What was once a steady rhythm has now turned sloppy as you both rode each other into your high. Sukuna reaches his orgasm with a choked sob, and you reach yours with a scream - bodies tensing as you both get lost in each other and neither of you stop moving. His warm and thick seed floods your insides, far too copious and spilling over as he paints your womb white. Your cunt spasms and clamps down on him, almost painfully milking and sucking him in, desperately trying and failing to keep his overflowing love inside.

It feels like forever, but you eventually collapse on top of him - both of you too tired to pull out. Your minds were completely muddled, bodies shaky with the high and tranquility of post-orgasm. There was nothing but the sound of your breathing for a while, before he silently cups your face and you feel the sting on your tongue disappear. With shaky hands, you touch your tongue and find the cut was healed.

"Thank you for sharing your blood with me, my Lord." You bury your face in the crook of his neck. "If I may, might I stay the night?"

"You'll be staying here every night, from now on." Without realizing it, his lips reach your forehead. "And for the rest of eternity, you will never leave my side."

"Yes, my Lord. I swear it." It was one simple, powerful vow that had you staying by his side for the rest of your life…

And made you return to him, in every life after.

-----

My GAAAHD was this difficult to write. Not the actual writing part itself, oh NO. But finding the time for writing. YEEESH. Anyways, have a great day!

Taglist:

#jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x female reader #soft sukuna #soft!sukuna #my writing

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