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osunism · 2 months ago

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"See-line womanDressed in redMake a manLose his head" —Nina Simone

🔞 Rating: Explicit ❤️‍🔥 Relationship[s]: Sukuna/Nadja/Toji ⚠️ Be Advised: Gun violence, descriptions of blood and gore, explicit sexual situations [gunplay, torture, and mild exhibitionism], adult language. This is a non-curse AU so there is no jujutsu, but it is still a violent world of organized crime. 🪧 Summary: Sukuna and Nadja are living an idyllic life as former figures in the rotten underbelly of organized crime. When an old contact of Nadja's shows up on their doorstep with a dire warning, the trio must prepare to do what they must to protect their newfound peace.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. 🎧 [ highball: spotify ] 🎧 [ highball: apple music ]

🌻 Prelude: The Season of Flowers 🐅 Act I: Idyll's End 🐉 Act II: Exhumed ⛩️ Act III: Legacy

⛩️ AO3 ᪥ OC Masterpost ᪥ Fic Masterpost ⛩️

🌻 Prologue II: The Drinking Pool

As a newer and untried member of Sukuna’s organization, Nadja’s skills and handling were placed under the purview of Toji Fushiguro, Sukuna’s chief enforcer. To Toji, Nadja was as good as any of the men that worked under him, if not better. She was clever, could make hairpin turn decisions in the field, and had a 100% clearance rate. She was a ruthlessly efficient siloed killer, required almost no guidance, and she didn’t flinch at death the way some of these younger wolves did when faced with their first few kills.

All in all, Toji would say his babysitting job was an easy one. Nadja didn’t give him any trouble in the field and took orders the same as any other subordinate. If her skills far outstripped those of his other men, even better. Maybe that would motivate them to get their asses to the shooting range and train instead of ogling Nadja’s ass whenever she was in the room.

Not that it was unwarranted. Toji had to admit, for so slight and vicious a woman, she was a veritable honey pot. Everything about her seemed sculpted and crafted to allure, her presence as vivid and magnetic as any flower, if one ignored the venomous serpent beneath the petals. She was disciplined in a way Toji could respect, and she never got caught up in the petty day to day shit his men entertained themselves with, though he did want to see her when she let her hair down.

He even imagined taking a fistful of that thick, curly hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat, and sucking a mark into her satin skin. But it was clear from the outset that she was Sukuna’s woman. They had the decency to show restraint in public, but Toji had survived on reading the illegible. Where his fellow lieutenants seemed oblivious, Toji could practically see the electricity crackling between Sukuna and Nadja; a heat that bore within the promise of extraordinary violence and equally extraordinary passion. He could tell from the way they looked at each other it was over for both of them.

It was too much to hope that Nadja would throw him a bone. He was so goddamn curious as to what she had that kept Sukuna’s smirk so sleek and satisfied, and even seemed to relax the bastard in meetings. He wasn’t one for needlessly killing subordinates to make an example—a waste of personnel, really—but that didn’t mean he didn’t devise other ways to torment those who crossed him.

As a result, Sukuna ran a tight ship, and the threat of his ire was enough to keep the men in line. But since Nadja came back into his life he seemed content to let the men relax a bit. After all, they’d secured a victory over the Zenins, effectively dismantling their core network. It was Toji’s intel about the inner workings of his former clan that aided in that final victory.

And Sukuna claimed their territory as his own, growing stronger and wealthier by the day. And as he did, so too did those in his organization.

Toji had to own, life was good, and as he and Nadja worked alongside one another, it got better.

It was after a mission in Kyoto that things shifted between them.

Customarily, after work was done, they—the boys, mostly—liked to go out carousing in Roppongi. For her part, Nadja tended not to indulge too much, but after Kyoto she seemed restless enough that a night of drinking wouldn’t do any harm. So, they did an izakaya crawl. Their group consisted of Toji’s younger enforcers: Genji, a wild-haired delinquent who had dropped out of high school when he found out his talents with a baseball bat were more suited toward cracking skulls than homeruns; Kai, a sly trickster who was more flashy than he should have had any right to be, and cheated at cards though no one was quick enough to catch him in the act, unless Nadja’s sly grin told a different story [she cheated too, Toji noticed]. Then there was their youngest recruit, still green in his skills, newly blooded, but with that unwavering hunger in his eyes, and fewer words. Of him, Toji knew little, and he’d been thorough in his background check. Inumaki, they called him, and the only ink he bore were the concentric circles at the corner of his mouth and on his tongue. When asked of their meaning, Inumaki remained reticent.

Kid was a hell of an interrogator, though. Toji would hate to be on the receiving end of that motherfucker’s patience.

Toji and Nadja walked side by side, while Genji, Kai, and Inumaki walked ahead, talking and laughing loudly.

“Not interested in the mind-tingling conversations of young men?” Nadja asked, her voice silky. Toji found it hard to believe that this woman had masqueraded as some civilian who just happened to catch Sukuna’s interest. Then again, true predators like her always hid in plain sight. Right now, he wasn’t sure what he was dealing with: lady or tiger. Sukuna was the same way, only you were always dealing with the tiger. Nadja hid her stripes until her jaws closed around her target’s neck.

“They’re conversations I’ve already had,” Toji said with an easy shrug of his shoulders. “Let the kids have their fun, they’ve earned it tonight.”

“But not on your dime, right, boss man?!” Genji called back over his shoulder, earning uproarious laughter from the trio, and a sultry, simmering chuckle from Nadja. Toji sucked his teeth in momentary annoyance as jokes of how stingy he was with his yen got volleyed between the three boys. A sideways glance let him see Nadja’s lovely profile, plump lips curved into a smile that somehow walked the line between sweet and seductive. He bet her lips tasted like salt and vanilla.

Another izakaya, this one less rowdy, and they found themselves a quiet booth made instantly louder as the trio piled in, calling for a round of shots. Toji pulled out a seat for Nadja, and smirked as she looked up at him in surprise.

“Take a seat, gorgeous, I’ll cover the tab,” he said. Nadja’s smiled turned intrigued, then. The trio gazed between them, a little mystified by Toji’s boldness. It was well-known that Sukuna and Nadja were an item, though the two were known to create an air of tension so thick at times it made everyone in the room uncomfortable. No one could tell if the two wanted to murder one another or fuck, and sometimes—if the rumors were true—it sounded like a little bit of both.

This was the kind of delicate tripwire Toji danced around with his idle flirtations and innocuous niceties that anyone who knew Toji’s tack record could see for the game it was.

Nadja was willing to indulge, if only out of idle curiosity. She was who she was, after all.

So, she sat down, and Toji paid for their drinks, including the trio, much to their delight [and surprise; they’d been serious about Toji being a cheapskate].

As the night wore on, and the shots piled up, the conversation grew boisterous. Toji joined in on occasion, trading insults back and forth with his subordinates as if he weren’t Sukuna’s left-hand man. Nadja watched the easy camaraderie and smiled. It was not a sort of kinship she herself was accustomed to given her background, but since joining Sukuna, she’d found herself with a surplus of family members, however dysfunctional.

Beneath the table, Toji’s hand found hers, and their fingers brushed.

“I’m gonna step out for a smoke, you want to join me?” Toji asked.

Nadja smiled. “Sure,” she said, and the two stepped outside. She didn’t miss the hushed whispers of the trio in her wake, nor the very conspicuous shushing as she and Toji stepped outside. He was already lighting a cigarette, and he let out a satisfied exhale, as if the fresh air and the smoke were equally relaxing.

“So, when does Sukuna think he’ll release you from babysitting me?” Nadja asked. Toji almost coughed in surprise. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

“It’s not that,” Toji said and Nadja fixed him with a quirked brow as if to say: what else could it be? She was a world-class assassin—a goddamn mercenary—who had been sent to kill Sukuna himself and nearly succeeded. She did not need a handler breathing down her neck like she was still training. Toji sighed.

“Look, you and Sukuna’s first meeting was…pretty unconventional,” Toji said. Nadja gave him a crooked smirk.

“I was sent to kill him,” she said casually. “It was nothing personal, just business.”

Toji frowned. “Yeah? Then why didn’t you?”

That gave Nadja pause, and Toji saw the predatory stillness in her. For the first time, he caught a flickering glance at the stripes she hid so well. Grandma, what big teeth you have.

“He caught me by surprise,” she said easily. Toji had to commend her: she hid her shock well. But he wore a killer’s skin too, and they knew their own. “And with Naoya and the Zenins no longer holding my leash, killing him doesn’t serve my handlers.”

Toji ashed the cigarette, tossing it and exhaling sharply.

“See, that’s it, right there,” he said irritably. Nadja’s brow furrowed. “‘My handlers,’ you say. Talking about them like you’re still theirs. You pledged your skills to Sukuna in front of Naoya’s severed head. The head I took, mind you. You, like the rest of us, belong to him. And the sooner you start acting like this isn’t just some wild chapter in the fabulous life you seem to lead elsewhere, the sooner you can lose me as your babysitter.”

Nadja’s expression never wavered.

“So, the promise to be free was a false one,” she observed quietly. Toji smirked at her.

“Did you really think Sukuna was gonna let you do whatever you liked just because you sucked his cock a few times?”

Normally, Toji’s crude words would be off-putting, but Nadja had heard [and done] far worse things. There was no line to cross.

“I had hoped it would help, at least,” she admitted with a grin that Toji found all too tempting. “It certainly seemed to make him more amenable for a time, if I remember correctly.”

Toji pulled a face. “How the fu—”

And then Nadja burst into laughter—true laughter. Toji remembered that night because it was the first time he felt like he was seeing her unscripted. There was no ulterior motive, there was no angle, and there was no coy batting of lashes; there was only Nadja and her amusement and joy, full-throated and from the belly, and her goddamned smile. Her real one.

In that moment, Toji got a passing glimpse of what Sukuna probably never even saw when she was working him.

“Well,” Toji said, fumbling with his box of cigarettes for another stick. “You’re not entirely wrong. When he thought he was courting you he definitely lost his temper a lot less.”

“Did he?” Nadja asked, amused. “I always told him to not let petty things irritate him. I guess he did listen, after all.”

Toji tried not to unpack why her words stung him. Instead, he lit his next cigarette. For a while, they stood in silence, and Nadja’s gaze drifted to the passing foot traffic and auto traffic that flowed like so many cells through the veins of Tokyo’s streets.

“You broke his heart, you know,” Toji said suddenly, and became starkly aware of Nadja’s dark gaze on him. He would make her listen. “He was in love with you, thought you were really something. But it was a lie. He’s been different since then.”

Nadja’s gaze returned to the street.

“Like I said,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t personal. Just business.”

“And now?” Toji asked, trying not to sound as jealous as he felt. Nadja was dressed in what could only be called ‘assassin chic,’ an all-black ensemble that accentuated her curves and lines, giving her the appearance of one of those models one saw in the glossy pages of some editorial spread in Vogue. Her hair was loose, thick and curly and bound back at her nape. A few stray curls coiled possessively along her sculpted cheekbone, framing her face like wisteria blooms.

“Now, I have options,” Nadja said. “If Sukuna wishes for things to be as they were, I can be that, if that’s what he desires of me. But if not…”

Toji glanced down at her, meeting her dark gaze.

“If not…?” He asked. Nadja tilted her head, her smile soft, almost tender.

“Then we’ll see what the night brings, won’t we?” She replied.

Toji wasn’t sure who moved first, her or him, but he took her face in his hands, leaning down as she pressed up on her toes and kissed her.

Her mouth tasted better than salt and vanilla. It tasted like honey. He swept his tongue between her lips, agile and seeking entry, and her mouth yielded open with a soft whimper Toji knew he’d be hearing in his dreams later that night.

Toji pulled away first, struggling to catch his breath.

Nadja lowered back down, lips parted as she looked up at him. Toji could no longer tell if she is hiding her stripes or not, just that he wanted her.

“We shouldn’t,” he said gruffly. “I can’t cross that line. Not with Sukuna.”

Nadja tilted her head, her expression quizzical.

“Did I pledge my body to Sukuna as well as my skillset?” She wondered.

“From what I know, your body is part of your skillset,” Toji snapped a little more venomous than intended. Nadja raised a brow, unflappable to the last.

“I see,” she said. “And were you told by Sukuna to try and sample all of my skills, as it were?” She ventured. “Because if so, I’d be happy to give a full demonstration. I know your investigations tend to be…” She looked him up and down. “…thorough.”

Toji stared at her, hard, verdant eyes glittering dangerously. She was tempting a leviathan she didn’t know lurked beneath the usually calm waters of his exterior. Toji was known for being laid-back amongst his men and had known Sukuna in the game long enough that they spoke more as old friends than boss and subordinate.

But Toji was Sukuna’s left-hand for a reason.

With a speed that startled even the unflappable Nadja, Toji’s hand shot up, almost as if to strike, and he saw her tense up briefly, not in fear, but in preparation to retaliate. Instead, his hand was unerringly gentle as he caressed her cheek with his knuckles.

“You sure you want this, angel?” He asked, holding her gaze with unnerving steadiness. Nadja felt her pulse leap in her veins and perhaps for the first time, began to see Toji with more than passing interest. He had done what only Sukuna had been able to and intrigued the intriguing predator.

“I promised a demonstration, didn’t I?” She replied with a soft grin. Toji’s hand came to her mouth, tracing the full, luscious shape of it with his thumb, pulling her lower lip down to reveal her teeth.

“I’ll need more than a demonstration,” he said. “I want the full package. I see a little bit of what he saw in you.”

Nadja smirked, then.

“Toji,” she murmured, and turned her head just so. “You have no idea what he saw or experienced in me.”

And then she took his thumb into her mouth and sucked.

Toji paid the tab, of course, but he and Nadja got into a cab without another word. The tension between them was thick and by the time they got to his place, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

Keys in the door.

Shoes off.

Toji didn’t even hit the hallway light before his large hands sought every button, buckle, and zipper on her clothing. They tore at each other like they were only teeth, claws, and pure, unalloyed need. Perhaps that’s all they were. Toji put his hands and mouth on every inch of exposed skin, relishing in her cries in the dark as they stumbled their way to a surface that could withstand the storm gathering between them.

There was something inordinately thrilling about working in the dark, and to two people whose darkest deeds were done in the baptism of shadows, this was a much-needed pressure valve release.

Not to mention the slaking of a carnal curiosity that had been building for the better part of a year.

By the time Toji got her naked he had the decency to click on one lamp, if only to get a good look at her.

Fuck, she was magnificent.

When Sukuna had told him about how he’d tracked her down, he’d left out a detail that Toji had later understood to be that he’d fucked the life out of her for hours after. And looking at her, Toji could not blame him. The woman was a fucking smoke show.

Nadja lay on the bed like a sacred offering, her hair blooming in a profusion of jet-black curls like a cloudy halo around her head. Her face was sculpted with deadly intent, with dark, uptilted eyes the color of deep, forest pools, ringed by a flutter of thick, sooty lashes. Her lips, which he’d been feasting on the entire ride here, were love-swollen and bee stung, parted in an even, patient breath. Toji’s gaze slipped downward, from her collarbones to the tender swells of her breasts, tipped with dark, velvety nipples.

Every curve. Every slalom. Toji didn’t think there was any woman who could look like this and not scare a man half to death with desire.

But Toji was never one to back down from a challenge.

“Open those pretty legs for me, beautiful,” he said with an easy smirk. Nadja tilted her head back slightly, as if to raise her chin in defiance. Then, with a tantalizing slowness that made Toji’s cock twitch like a fish on the line, she spread her legs. Every single thing about the simple movement demonstrated the degree of control Nadja had over her body. Her legs parted like she was a dancer responding to an unspoken cue and Toji’s eyes dropped to the tender apex between them, as if he were compelled.

Fuck, even her cunt was gorgeous. She kept it trimmed, and he licked his lips hungrily as he spied the thick, wet heat dripping from her entrance. Toji mounted the bed, and Nadja’s smile turned eager and expectant, smoothly moving back as he crawled between her thighs. She was made starkly aware of how massive he was, even as he hooked her knees over his elbows, his palms pressed against the back of her thighs, pushing her legs back to expose her pussy further.

“Fuck,” he whispered reverently. Nadja grinned slowly before she watched Toji’s head dip down, meeting her cunt in an open-mouthed kiss that would make a pornography cameraman look away and blush.

Nadja’s eyes slipped closed, and her head dropped back as she let out her first, very real moan of the night, accompanied by the slippery, wet slurping of Toji’s mouth working until her cunt bloomed like a flower against his tongue, and he felt her writhe like a serpent caught in a wolf’s jaws.

At some point—likely when Toji’s lips wrapped around her clit and sucked until Nadja’s screams threatened to cause a power outage—Toji learned that despite Nadja’s ability to shift her colors and behavior with everyone around her, there was nothing about this part of her skillset that was feigned.

That wash of slick against his mouth as his tongue stroked her clit up and down and all around? Real.

Her screams begging him for moremoremore and yesjustlikethatdon’tstop? Very, very real.

And when his thick fingers found that tender plane inside of her that made her see fireworks bursting in her own head as she came, and came, and came until she left a wet spot on his sheets? Real.

Nadja Hikmat did not feign in bed, and neither did Toji Fushiguro.

By the time Toji was done lapping up every last drop of her, her thighs were quivering in his grasp, and she was pushing at his mop of hair, begging him not to go any further. But Toji had something to prove, and so he wrung one more out of her.

“Fuck!” She shouted, back bowed off the bed, legs spread wide, and Toji nose-deep in her pussy like it was hiding a secret he so badly craved to have on his tongue.

“Mmph,” he groaned, deeply pleased with his handiwork as Nadja fought the final tremors of an overstimulating climax. “That’s it, baby.” He pulled away from her reluctantly, finally letting her breathe.

Nadja looked up at him as he released her legs which she lowered carefully. She kept them open, though, and beckoned him with open arms.

Toji didn’t even care if she was hiding her stripes anymore, and he went to her, his cock aching to fill her. Nadja moaned as he slipped the swollen tip up and down her sensitive slit, and lifted her hips, begging him to slip inside.

Toji, being an obliging man, did just that.

The room filled with their mutual groans of relief and pleasure as Toji sank eight inches into her, stretching her pretty little pussy around him. Nadja’s eyes rolled back, and she bit her lip as his hips pressed against her. Toji took his time to watch her, even as he slowly pulled his hips back. Nadja’s mouth dropped open and let loose a strangled sound.

“You like that, baby?” Toji asked. “Want more?”

Nadja nodded, unable to speak. Toji’s dick was so damn big it was taking all of her breath not to lose her mind more than she already had.

And then he started to fuck her.

Toji’s bed squeaked and groaned beneath their bodies, the headboard clacked against the wall, and he knew his neighbors would be banging on the wall for peace after a while. He didn’t give a shit because right now he was stroking possibly the best pussy he’d ever been inside of aside from—

“Put your fuckin’ legs up my shoulders, baby—yeah, just like that—nngh, fuck…!” He folded Nadja in half, and for the next fifteen minutes there was only the rude, erotic sound of skin meeting skin. Toji drilled his cock into her like he wanted her to taste it with each thrust.

And then he flipped her over onto all fours, giving her only a split second to brace herself before he took her from behind. He spread her thighs wide, palming the lush cheeks of her ass and spreading those two, before he leaned over and spat into her cute little asshole. He enjoyed watching her pussy stretch around his cock, the sound of her choked cries soaking the room, and when he slipped his thumb into that puckered hole, he enjoyed feeling her come again and again.

For a long while, Toji rode her hard with every intention of putting her away wet.

“Is this what you gave him?” Toji found himself growling, grasping one of her hips to the point of bruising, and listening to her incoherent moans as he spat in between her spread ass cheeks again, rubbing it along her asshole for further lubrication for his probing thumb.

There wasn’t a line to cross. Whatever had kept them separate had dissolved the minute they kissed.

Toji pulled his cock out of her roughly, leaving her empty and bereft. She dropped down to her forearms, whimpering and needy before he turned her back over.

“I wanna see your fucking face when you come, baby,” he said with that harsh grin that was like a slash to the throat. Nadja gazed at him with lust-bleary eyes, her hair unkempt, her dark umber skin glowing with sweat. Toji stroked his cock with his fist, and divining his desire, she scrambled onto her hands and knees, crawling toward him.

“Open,” he ordered curtly, and she opened her mouth, holding out her tongue. Toji leaned down and spit in it. She moaned in response, cut short when his spit was followed by a few light taps of his cock on her tongue before he shoved it into her open mouth. “You look so fucking pretty like this.”

“Fuuuuckkkk…” Toji groaned when Nadja tilted her head to allow him to slip into her throat. He felt her struggle, but only for a split second. He understood Sukuna in that moment. If this was the kind of head he was getting daily, hell, he’d be a lot nicer too.

Nadja sucked his cock with an eagerness Toji was sure could only be bought and paid for outside of this bedroom. But here she was, doing it for free and because she enjoyed it. She took as much of him into her throat as she could, fat, glittering tears pooling under her lashes before running down her cheeks, taking her eyeliner and mascara with it. Toji wanted to come on the spot from the sight alone. Then there was the drool pooling around his cock, dripping down her chin and throat, down his balls, which she sucked one after the other, and massaged when she took his shaft back into her mouth.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he breathed with a satisfied groan, head tipped back, his hand fisted in her hair as he guided her mouth along his cock, pushing her further and further. He wanted to test the limits of her throat, and he hadn’t hit it yet.

Nadja moaned around his cock as if it were her favorite meal, as if she could spend the rest of her life being used just like this. One of her hands worked between her legs, stroking her clit, already swollen and sensitive from Toji’s attentions.

“Just like that, baby…” Toji was so close he could see the bright edge of one hell of a nut, and he imagined what Nadja’s beautiful face would look like painted with his come.

Nadja’s hand found his balls again, and then the other joined her mouth, and she stroked him.

Toji brought his immediate fantasy to life as he grasped her hair, pulling her off his cock to stroke it furiously as it throbbed and twitched in his palm. Nadja welcomed the warm spray of his come along her cheeks, across the bridge of her nose, dripping from her lips and splattered on her tongue. A few pearlescent droplets even splashed across her breasts. Toji wished he could rewind this moment just to come all over her again.

“Fucking Christ,” he groaned when he’d emptied his balls. He looked down at Nadja as he caught his breath, watched as her tongue snaked out to lick the droplets of his come that graced her swollen and pouty lips. Toji felt his breath beginning to even out and smirked at her.

“Did I pass your inspection?” Nadja asked, her voice slightly hoarse from disuse, and the bullying of Toji’s massive cock in her throat. Toji laughed tiredly, ignoring the shiver down his spine as the air in the room grew cooler in the immediate aftermath.

“Fuck yeah, you do,” he said. “Hell, I’ll call Sukuna right now and tell him to pull me off this detail. You’re a goddamn ace in my book.”

Nadja laughed, crawling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. Toji followed, grinning as he palmed her ass on the way to turn on the shower. Nadja washed the mess of him off of her face as the shower grew steamy. Toji held out his hand and she took it.

“Let’s see your wet work,” Toji said with another one of those wolfish smirks. It was so incredibly cheesy that it startled another one of those unscripted laughs out of her and Toji counted that as a win in addition to making her come so hard she drooled a little.

Well, Toji hadn’t been entirely wrong: her body was in and of itself a skillset. One that when employed in just the right way, could make even the most skeptical of lovers believe in the lie of transparency. The trick was that nothing Nadja did in bed was feigned. She simply saw it as another card to add to her deck. How that card was played, depended on her goal. A little truth seasoned the lie like salt.

The following week, Nadja was briefed on an upcoming mission, and she was slated to work it solo.

Sukuna proposed to Nadja one cold winter night while they were enjoying a private dinner in his penthouse.

She had been running in yolk with his Wolves for almost two years and acquitted herself well with each assignment. Highly competent, and after two years of observation, highly trustworthy. They’d danced around one another for a time, and Sukuna had been slow to trust Nadja again, but the attraction between them felt as sure and inevitable as gravity. Eventually, they had to talk, and of course they did, in their way.

Sukuna counted the resulting furniture damage worth it.

Now, however, as they ate a sumptuous full course sushi meal provided by the world class chef he’d hired, everything seemed almost like before; before he woke up that morning with her blade at his throat and that sharp predatory glimmer in her dark eyes.

The only difference is now he saw that glimmer all the time, and when the illusion of the innocent maiden faded, he accepted the tiger for what she was…because he was a monster too.

Outside, the panoramic view of Tokyo glittered like a carpet of preternatural jewels. They were so high up Nadja could barely see the taillights of the cars in the streets. Idly, Nadja rested her chin on her fist, watching Tokyo as if the answers to all of her questions could be divined in the neon entrails spread before her.

“You’re awfully pensive tonight,” Sukuna said, amusement coloring his tone. Nadja’s brows went up, and she blinked like a waking dreamer, coming to life as if Medusa’s spell had come undone. It never ceased to amaze Sukuna how Nadja moved as no woman should have been able to and still remind him of a lioness peering at him from over the drinking pool.

Well, lioness, meet tiger.

“Offering me a penny for my thoughts?” She asked him, equally amused as she regarded her empty plate. Sukuna loved that Nadja was as enthusiastic about food as he was. She had a prodigious appetite in so many things. He’d never met anyone with so much ardent passion bubbling like magma beneath such a cool exterior.

“I’ll offer you the entire world for your thoughts, you know that,” Sukuna countered. “But I want you to give them to me freely.”

Nadja regarded him quietly for a moment, as if she were studying him. Sukuna gazed back, unblinking and unflinching. He was not a man easily riled, and over the course of the last year he had grown accustomed to the deadly woman before him. His passion and love for her may have carved a river ribbon into his soul, but it was still his soul, after all.

“What do you want from me?” Nadja’s voice was so quiet, Sukuna almost didn’t hear her. But he had, and it was his turn to be still. Nadja waited, and he understood that she was serious. She wanted to know what he wanted from her, but he knew what she was really asking.

“You pledged your skills to me, Nadja,” Sukuna said thoughtfully. “And I told you I couldn’t kill you because I found them valuable. Anything more than that was a bonus from which we both stood to gain.”

“And is my body included in that skillset, Sukuna?” She asked, and Sukuna’s brow furrowed slightly at the edge in her tone. He’d never heard Nadja question him like this, and certainly not on the nature of how he employed her skills for his organization’s benefit. There were few lines Nadja would not cross, and Sukuna had requested and born witness to some truly dark deeds at her hands on his orders.

But what she was asking is if she belonged to him as much as her skills.

“I meant what I said when you joined,” Sukuna said. “You’ll be free. That includes taking to bed anyone you please.”

Nadja’s brows raised in quiet surprise at that, and Sukuna grinned.

“Did you think I was blind, Nadja?” He asked with an amused chuckle. “I know you and Toji have wanted a taste of each other since you first walked into my office and gave yourself to me. I also know how fast you work. So…how was he? I hear he likes to play rough and nasty. Not all his partners like it, but the ones who like it, love it. And I just happen to know that you’re the latter.”

Nadja was so stunned that for a moment she simply couldn’t speak. She had expected many reactions from him regarding her tryst with Toji, but none of them involved him being as relaxed and candid about it as he was being, now. And it seemed Toji was such a hound that Sukuna was intimately familiar with how he liked to play in bed.

“Well, shit!” Sukuna exclaimed in a rare moment of unfettered excitement. “I finally managed to stump that pretty, complicated brain of yours! You’ve never been quiet this long!”

Nadja stared at him and blinked several times, as if she were trying to shake off the last vestiges of a bad dream.

“You are taking this awfully well,” Nadja observed quietly. Sukuna gave her one of his customary smirks.

“How else would you like me to take it, my dear? I never expected you to remain faithful to me, and Toji’s a good-looking man that I trust. I knew he’d treat you right.”

Nadja’s brows furrowed, slightly confused.

“However,” Sukuna said and laughed when Nadja tensed. “Relax, I’m not going to berate you or cast you out like some cheating spouse in a drama. I have a proposition for you, actually.”

Nadja had the decency to at least look suspicious. She inclined her head, inviting him to continue. Sukuna poured himself sake, threw it back, and licked his lips.

“If you want to continue seeing Toji, I won’t stop you of course,” Sukuna said easily. “I trust him, and I’ve come to trust you. However, in order for this to work, I need you to be mine in truth.”

Nadja frowned. “What?” She asked, and there was that dangerous edge to her voice again. Sukuna grinned.

“Marry me, Nadja,” Sukuna said, and watched her eyes grow wide. “I can’t rule this little kingdom alone, and if I’m gonna keep you and Toji, then I need you to be able to—”

“You want spousal confidentiality privileges,” Nadja interrupted. Sukuna raised her brows. He truly hadn’t thought of that particular implication. And when he realized why she had, he pinched the bridge of his nose. How could he be botching his own proposal like this?

“Damnit,” he growled. “It’s not that, Nadja. It’s just…I want you by my side. I want to marry you, and maybe even have a couple of brats of our own one day.”

Nadja’s eyes were wide, and Sukuna feared he truly had broken her.

“Fuck,” he laughed. “At least say something! Toji said this shit wouldn’t work on you.”

Nadja stood up abruptly, so abrupt that Sukuna sucked in a breath. Was she angry? What was going on?

“I don’t understand,” Nadja said. “You say you’re fine with me and Toji being together, yet you’re insistent that you and I get married. Why? What changes?”

Sukuna stared at her in slightly stunned silence. Then, like a bloodstain, a smile slowly spread across his face. Nadja thought this must be what it was like to smile in the face of the Devil himself. Sukuna smiled and then began to laugh. It was a crazed, manic laugh that chilled his enemies to the marrow, reminiscent of bygone days when he was a whip-thin youth eager to get his hands bloody and knowing himself capable of doing so.

“Oh,” he said as his laughter subsided. “You’re precious. Yes, you may fuck and date and love Toji to your heart’s content. You can fuck his friend Shiu too if it pleases you. I don’t care how many lovers you take, Nadja, only that I’m the only one whom you call husband.”

Nadja placed her hands on her hips.

“And this applies to you, as well? You can fuck and love whomever you like…and I’m the only one you call wife, correct?”

Sukuna dipped his head in a duelist’s nod. “I would have no one else, beloved. Sex is sex, and love is love, but you’re worthy of the devotion of a husband. And, if I’m not mistaken, you were not opposed to the idea once upon a time.”

Nadja’s mouth opened and then closed shut abruptly with an audible click. Sukuna gave her a smug grin that he was able to shut her up and stun her without having to fuck her. Twice in a row, now.

“And can I trust you to adhere to this?” Nadja asked him. “If I say yes, you won’t turn me into a miserable wife while you become a negligent husband, right?”

Sukuna spread his hands, sleeves rolled up, and Nadja tried to ignore how much she enjoyed the sight of those thick, corded forearms, the thick bands of ink around his wrists…his strong hands.

“I can promise you my tomorrow, if you’d like,” he said with that devilish grin that made Nadja’s heart turn to water in her chest, drowning her.

“I don’t want just your tomorrows, Sukuna,” Nadja said irritably. Sukuna closed the distance between them.

“Yeah?” He asked before he looped his arms around her waist to pull her closer. “How about for as long as you’ll have me, then? I just want you to be mine no matter where you are, how far, or for how long.”

Nadja hesitated, blinking up at him as he cupped her head with his large hand. Why did those words feel so familiar? She felt as if she’d heard them before, like some sort of dream long buried, now excavated. She blinked slowly, looking up at him again.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Yes. For as long as we’ll have each other, then.”

Sukuna leaned down, devouring her mouth with his own. For a long while, they simply kissed, lost in the moment they both decided that forever was good enough for them.

No matter how far, or for how long.

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#呪術廻戦 #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #muse writes #jjk x oc #jjk x black oc #oc: nadja hikmat #ch: fushiguro toji #ch: ryōmen sukuna #sukuna x oc #toji x oc #jjk smut #toji smut #fic: highball #series: lost worlds and endless nights

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little-wicked10 · 1 year ago

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My Sultan (Nandor the Relentless x ofc🥵)

Summary: While the boys are away, Nadja and Nandor’s human lover have a girls night in of swapping juicy secrets. Nadja reveals to her mortal friend that Nandor gets a hard on when being called “sultan”, the ultimate position of power and dominance for a once great and aspiring Ottoman general. Nadja, and the whole house, will soon realize what Nandor is capable of.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (EXPLICIT!!! Seriously) and cursing

( // means it cuts to, from, or between interviews, documentary/not documentary footage, and perspective)

——

It was odd that Nadja had not joined the boys on a hunt. She loved the thrill of a good feeding followed by feral lovemaking with her husband. Regardless of the reason behind her staying put, I was happy to have my friend in the house to keep me company. “Come, little one, let us indulge in a, as you humans say, girls night,” she smiled giddily as she led me to the fancy room. It was strange to hear her say it, but I was all for her enthusiasm.

“Nandor and I met when he approached me on the street claiming I was some Greek princess or goddess,” I said crossing my legs as I sat across from the camera crew.

“Did you find that strange?” a crewman asks.

I laughed, “Of course I did. I thought he was one of those weird LARPing guys or an Emo kid that never grew out of that phase. His approach was definitely random and odd.”

“The night I met my mortal lover, Laszlo had pointed her out as a potential meal. An easy on-the-go snack,” Nandor admitted while seated in an ornate chair in the library, “I approached her to hypnotize her, but instead she bewitched me with her feminine wiles….not my proudest moment as a warrior.”

“I thought him mad when my great warrior friend nearly fell to his knees for some woman. A mortal one at that. Then I found it quite funny,” Laszlo complained.

“I myself was not surprised,” Nadja added, “I’ve had a great many mortal lovers in my time. And to be frank, Nandor does not have a good reputation among lady vampires.”

Both husband and wife laugh, clearly remembering the blunders of Nandor’s string of failed attempts at finding a partner.

“Though mortal, I do admire the young lady,” Laszlo adds once through laughing, “She’s got moxie, as the Americans say. And she makes sure the bloody oaf blows out the candles so he won’t burn the fucking house down.”

“Yes, that is a plus,” Nadja chimes in, “Also, I don’t have many ‘girl’ friends. It’s exciting to have another woman to talk to. At least one who understand trying to be in a relationship with an idiot vampire.”

Nadja and I had decided to drink. She opted for her stash of wino’s blood while I took advantage of my own bottle of red wine. After each drinking two glasses and feeling a wonderful buzz, we decided to rummage through the boys’ clothes. Laszlo was forever stuck in the Victorian era. “Oh try this one on!” Nadja threw a puffy pirate shirt at me and a scarf with some garish and dark pattern. I giggled and threw the shirt over my clothes before Nadja came to my aid to tie the scarf around my neck.

“Did he steal all this from a homosexual pirate?”

Nadja, with blood alcohol on her breath, laughed as she finished the knot, “A…a homosexual pirate!”

Her laughter made me laugh even more as I gave my best pirate Laszlo impression, “Argh! I’m Laszlo Cravensworth! I’ve come for yer booty!”

Nadja stumbled a bit as she laughed and returned to the closet door way, sipping on her third glass of blood to find her something to scrutinize. She put on ANOTHER of his pirate shirts and a waist coat before we both began acting like pirate Laszlo.

“We should see what Nandor has!” I said as the idea popped into my buzzed brain.

“You are so brilliant, little mortal!” Nadja said as she lightly smacked her head wishing she had thought of it.

We both scurried out to the bedroom of my boyfriend. After another glass for each of us and throwing on Nandor’s strange Persian hats and his fur-lined cloaks, we sat in the fancy room talking about the men whose entire wardrobe we ransacked.

“Ok, ok. What does Laszlo like to be called in bed…or coffin I guess,” I asked very bubbly.

“His highness,” Nadja replied with a regal tone in her voice.

“You’re kidding? His highness?” I giggled as I leaned back against the couch.

“The second I call him that,” she snaps her fingers, “straight at attention.”

We both knew the camera crew was having a hay day with us spilling dirty secrets about our love and sex lives in front of them. I doubt it wasn’t anything the vampires haven’t overshared already. “What about donkey dick, hm?” Nadja asked.

“Besides that he has one?” I smirked and held my hands up to show, exaggeratedly, the size of my man’s dick.

Nadja made a face of disgust before repeating her question, “No, no. Ew. What does Nandor like to be called when making love?”

“I don’t call him anything. Just his name,” I answered truthfully.

Nadja’s face suddenly became very mischievous. Her red lips turned up into a playful smirk making the tips of her fangs appear, “Oh, he hasn’t told you yet?”

I looked at her curiously. She studied my face before gasping and rushing to my side and sitting beside me on the couch. “You must know what I’m about to tell you!” She exclaimed grabbing my shoulders.

I glanced at the camera before looking back to her, “Should I be scared?”

She smirked, “No, but I believe you will thank me once you realize the power this secret has.”

Now I’m interested.

The men returned from their hunt expecting to hear their women chatting away or waiting for them naked and willing (at least that’s what they kept hoping for). “I say a good hunt, old sport. You’ve not lost your ways of the warrior,” Laszlo complimented as he took off his hat to give to Guillermo.

“Thank you, Laszlo. You did very well in selecting our prey,” Nandor complimented in return.

After removing his coat and patting the pockets of his waist coat, Laszlo looked around, “Now where is my darling succubus of a wife? That feeding has me in the mood to storm the castle, if you catch my drift, Nandy.”

“I too wish to engage in the sexy times with my love,” Nandor admits.

Both men call out to their women with no answer. They both sniff the air and begin to follow the smell of wine and blood. Their noses lead them to the Fancy Room and Laszlo pulls back the curtain to reveal a funny sight. Both women are dressed in a strange assortment of each of their clothings and spooning, Nadja obviously being the big spoon, on the couch using one of Nandor’s cloaks as a blanket.

“I say, old chap, I have no fucking clue what happened here, but I’m slightly aroused by it,” Laszlo admits.

“Why are they wearing our clothes?” Nandor asks.

“What’s sex like with Nandor?” a producer asks.

I sigh and think a moment, “Sex with Nandor is wonderful. A lot better than with a human man. We’ve yet to have rough sex just, as he and everyone in this house says, make love. But that might change after what Nadja told me last night.”

“My darling human loves our lovemaking. I’ve yet to not satisfy her,” Nandor brags, “And I am very satisfied with her as well.”

“She said that you’ve not had rough sex yet. Why’s that?” producer asks.

“I don’t think my little human is interested in such things. Plus my vampire strength could kill her if I am not careful,” Nandor admits, “so there is that.”

I had it planned perfectly. Nadja and I had talked about it at length until we passed out.

I sat in the library with Laszlo and Nadja. Nandor and Guillermo were about to return from going to the store, and I could feel the butterflies in my stomach. I’m not ashamed of my sex life with Nandor. In this house, it wasn’t hard to get familiar with the vampires and their sexual proclivities. Nadja and Laszlo certainly weren’t quiet about any of it.

The front door opened then closed, and I could hear Nandor and Guillermo talking. I glanced over at Nadja who gave me a knowing look and I adjusted the black silk robe I wore. Not uncommon for me to wear around the house since Nandor could be insatiable at times. If I’m being honest, Nadja looked just as excited as I felt. “Good evening, everyone. My darling,” Nandor greeted leaning down and kissing my head.

“Laszlo, I picked up new ascot for you since I accidentally used your other one as a napkin,” Nandor apologized handing Laszlo a little black box.

“I’m going to my crypt to watch Guillermo reorganize my closet,” Nandor gave Nadja a sideways glance before turning to retreat down the hall.

I jumped up to sit on my knees and lean against the back of the couch before calling to him, “Should I join you, my sultan?”

Nandor froze in his tracks. Laszlo choked on his pipe. I smirked playfully at Nandor’s back, “Or will you not be need my services tonight?”

I heard Nadja giggle with delight as Laszlo continued to choke, “S-Sultan?” Nandor slowly turned around and the look on his face was strange, intense. He suddenly rushed toward me, his boots echoing on the wood floor. When he stood before me, he made me look up at him with a finger under my chin, “What did you say?”

“Oh shit,” Laszlo said before Nadja shushed him. I could feel both of them staring at us intensely.

“Will you not be needing my services tonight, my sultan?” I batted my eyelashes innocently with a smirk still on my lips.

Laszlo whispered, “Why the fuck does she keep calling him that?”

Nandor barred his fangs a bit, “Crypt. Now.”

I guess he decided I wasn’t going to be fast enough because he had me thrown over his shoulder. I shrieked and laughed as my warrior carried me off. “Do not disturb us for we will be engaging in sexy times,” Nandor shouted. He slammed the door of his crypt shut and locked it before tossing me on his couch layered with furs. I watched as he threw off his over coat. His red and gold tunic just made him look all the more powerful for some reason.

“Where did you learn to call me that?” he asks stepping towards me.

“A woman has her ways,” I began untying the belt of my robe, “Does it not please you, my sultan?”

Nandor growled and rolled his neck at the name, “You have no idea how much it does.”

I opened my robe to reveal my naked body to him, rubbing my thighs together, “Show me. Take what you want then, great warrior.”

Nandor pounced on me like a beast. He held my neck firmly in one hand and claimed my lips in a bruising kiss, pinning me beneath him. His hips shoved against mine making me gasp and roll mine for friction. He bit my bottom lip and I felt his fang puncture it and cause the taste of blood to fill both our mouths. Nandor groaned and he pulled away, sitting up enough to rip my robe to shreds as he licked my blood from his lips, “Your Sultan wants to taste more than blood tonight, my desert flower.” He leant down and trailed his lips along my jaw, down my neck, towards my chest, letting his fangs graze the swell of my breasts and making me shiver. The heat was rising and twisting in my body from watching him change so quickly and give into something more dominant. It felt like I was going to explode with anticipation.

I grasped the arm of the couch above my head with both hands and prepared as he reached the apex of my thighs, spreading my legs roughly and digging his strong fingers into my thighs. “I will have my fill of you, and you will not push me away,” he ordered.

“Yes, my sultan,” the smirk forming on my lips changed into an ‘o’ as he devoured my cunt. I felt his tongue enter me and his nose press into my swollen clit. “Na-Nandor!” I cried which spurred him to fuck me with his mouth even more. I rolled my hips into his mouth and held the arm of the couch with one hand while the other tangled into his hair. Nandor moved his mouth to suck on my clit and shoved two thick fingers inside me and curled them. I keened and arched my back off the couch, grasping his head with both hands.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Nandor!” These words were like a song and the only ones my mind could form.

I was sped towards the edge so quickly that I crashed over the edge before I knew it, my whole body shaking. Nandor didn’t stop as he replaced his fingers with his tongue and threw my legs over his shoulders. My obscene cries and moans increased as I pushed on his shoulders to slow down but that only resulted in him taking my hands and pinning them to my sides. Tears pricked my eyes as I was at the mercy of his overstimulating, delicious torture. I held on to his hands for dear life as the feeling of his tongue fucking me and his fangs slightly grazing against me became too much, “T-too m-much! Nandor!”

His only response was to growl and reach up and pinch my clit between his fingers. Something snapped inside me and my vision went black around the edges.

There was suddenly a loud scream full of ecstasy echoing from Nandor’s room. Laszlo didn’t even look up from his book, “Well done, old chap.”

It felt like the aftershocks of having electricity running through my body. I trembled with a wonderful euphoric feeling as Nandor released me to collapse back onto the couch so he could crawl up my body. When I opened my eyes, I saw Nandor’s handsome face completely soaked. “We are not finished yet, my mortal concubine,” he smirks, lust having blown his pupils.

“Yes,” I gasped, “Yes, sultan.”

“Let your sultan conquer every part of you,” he growled, and before I knew it, he was completely undressed, cold body against mine.

He threw my legs around his waist and pinned my hands to the couch arm before spearing me with his cock. I cried and moaned as he stretched me. Nandor fucked me at a brutal pace that had my eyes rolling to the back of my head and my toes curling.

Laszlo and Nadja were both huddled by Nandor’s door. After that last orgasm, neither could resist trying to see what was going on. Nadja had her ear pressed to the door while Laszlo was kneeled down trying to look through the peephole. “I’m so proud of our little human. Very much being the seductress I knew she was,” Nadja smiled.

“I’ll be honest, I never thought Nandor could fuck like that,” Laszlo admitted, “Why hasn’t he fucked us like that in our orgies?”

“My darling, there’s ‘orgy’ sex and then there’s ‘making love to your love’ sex,” Nadja explained.

Both husband and wife were jolted away from the door when two bodies slammed against the other side of it.

Nandor had thrown my legs over his shoulders and was fucking me into the door. His mouth was only an inch from mine, breathing each others air while ravishing one another like we will die tomorrow. The door creaked every time he thrust into me and all I could do was hold on to his neck as he took what he wanted. “The whole house will know who rules over this body,” Nandor grunted, “Tell me who does.”

“Y-you do! Y-ou! Fuck you feel so good in-inside me!” I panted like a bitch in heat.

“Your sweet cunt keeps pulling me back in,” Nandor growled before he moved my legs to wrap around his waist and sunk his fangs into my neck.

I moaned and gripped his black hair tightly as an overwhelming feeling of euphoria spread throughout my body. This was the first time he had ever fed on me while fucking, and I now know why Nadja went on and on about it last night. It felt like the pleasure was in my veins and effecting every single sense. It felt so intimate and raw. I couldn’t describe it with the right words if I wanted to.

Before I could blink, we had moved off the door and back on the couch. I was bent over the arm with Nandor’s chest pressed to my back and his hips thrusting deep and hard as he licked away the blood around the puncture wounds. He jerked my head back by my hair so his mouth was near to my ear, “You’re blood drives me mad, my dearest. Just as my cock does you.” His other hand snaked around to grip tightly on one of my breasts, tweaking my nipple and slapping the sensitive flesh. I could only moan as my answer. It truly felt like I was being conquered by a warrior, and I loved being at his mercy.

Every time I tried to speak, it came out as gibberish mixed with moans and whines. My mind was fuzzy and only focused on the feeling of his cock pushing me closer and closer to another orgasm. Nandor pushed my shoulders down to the couch with the hand in my hair allowing him to thrust directly into my g-spot. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and I screamed his praises as I felt a gushing explosion around his cock. He shoved himself as deep as he could inside me and released his seed with a mighty roar as my vision blacked out.

Nandor fell on top of me, his forehead resting against my temple. All was silent except for his feral panting and my quiet whimpers. I felt his fingers untangle from my hair and his hands wonder along my convulsing body in an attempt to bring me back to reality. “Sssh, my darling,” he whispered in my ear as he left gentle kisses along my face and neck. I suddenly felt the weight of his body begin to leave mine and his cock being removed from inside me. I whined desperately and grabbed his neck to keep him from disappearing. I could still feel him throbbing inside me and my body wasn’t ready to feel empty just yet. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, worry laced in his words. I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, my love. I was too rough with you. And I did not ask permissions to feed on you,” he chided himself. My man had returned from being a conquering sultan.

“N-no. No, Nandor. J-just need a m-moment. P-please d-don’t leave,” I managed to stutter.

Nandor seemed to understand, and he began to delicately change our position. I felt him move us to be laying on our sides with my back to his chest, never once disconnecting us. He wrapped his arms around me and comforted me until my body stopped shaking. “I must leave your insides before you arouse me for another round of sexy times,” he whispered. I nodded my head, whimpering as I felt him gently slip out of me and a rush of our releases spilled out with an obscene sound.

“Was it as satisfactory for you as it was me?” he asked.

“More than satisfactory, my love,” I smiled as I took his hand to kiss the back of it.

“Mm good because I will be ready to go again in a few minutes,” he admitted.

“Really?” I asked shocked, “Nandor, I need to recoup for a minute.”

Suddenly, I felt him harden against my back as he gripped me tighter, “I still have more conquering to do.”

#smut #Nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #kayvan novak #wwdits nandor #Nandor the relentless smut #Nandor smut #Nadja #laszlo cravensworth #what we do in the shadows smut #fanfic #fanfiction #Nandor the relentless imagine #Kayvan Novak smut

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marilynthornhilllover · 9 months ago

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Hey!! just started following you and I would absolutely love if you wrote some "what we do in the shadows" Nadja x reader, vampire smut :') Also if you haven't watched the show Oh My God, its my current obsession. gay vampires what more could you want.

The Halloween Snack

Vampire Nadja x humanfem!reader

Warning: smut, praise kink, slight degradation, choking kink, biting kink, slight draw of blood, cunniligus, fingering, slight overstiumlation, pet names, nipple play, feral play, not much dialog etc.

A/n: I've never really watched the show actually but I've definitely seen her in edits and I can remember watching season 1 I think, it was a pleasure to write this! Hope you enjoyed darling, also sorry this took so long.

You groaned in frustration as you looked at your reflection through the mirror. This was the fifth dress that you tried on that you didn't like or you thought didn't suit your personality very much. It was a skin tight black dress that stopped right above your knees with strip back openings.

Nadja had asked you to be her plus one for a Halloween party last minute - well two weeks ago to be exact. You just didn't know what to wear. Not that Nadja would judge you but, you wanted to atleast impress her but luck just wasn't on your side tonight.

Nadja and you had been friends for quite some time. She was funny, kind..... sometimes, sassy, fashionable and excruciatingly evil. But to be fair she was the most kindness towards you. That might be hard for some people to believe because when you first became her roommate other students had told you that she hated the presence of humans, every semester they would place her in a dorm by herself.

They said, One slip up and she just might rip you to shreds making a fine dress for herself out of your flesh.

Or that you'd constantly be walking on egg shells, one day she'd like you being around then quickly get tired of you, and possibly rip your throat out. Everyone on campus had their fair share of horrific experience with the vampire. But on the first day of moving in, as dark as everyone claimed her to be she was actually your light, a sunshine. Now as cliché or ironic as that might sound it was the God given truth. You saw the way nadja talked to people, treated them, looked at them. Never once was she ever the same with you.

When it came to you she was like a puppy lover, soft and compassionate. Thoughtful even. For your birthday once she gaved you a gold bat pendant necklace with her initial on it. You started developing feelings for her, I mean everyone had feelings for nadja. She was insufferable, hot and a total vibe. She would call you specific pet names that she specially came up with such as, darling, babes, and love.

Whenever she called you by one of theses names you had to try your best not to fall falt on your face. Being with her made you weak to your knees. Her accent was so dreamy, the way your name rolled off her tongue had you squirming or blushing like a silly school girl in love, you especially loved the way she would read out loud her romance book that she writes at night whenever she thinks that you'd already fallen asleep.

Her eyes were also another factor that had you Turing as red as a tomato. Every time she glanced at you or gazed at you with her sultry eyes , you had to try your best not to scream your voice out. Soon Nadja would noticed the way you could clench your thighs whenever she spoke in a raspy voice towards you whenever she got upset with you at something. Or how you would whisper a little " oh god" whenever she winked at you or called you a" good little pet".

She used this to her advantage and teased you constantly non - stop , it's safe to say she knew what to do to have you on your knees in no time..... and we're not talking about vampire powers here.

You sighed once again in frustration as you sat on your bed with tears in your eyes. It's not like you didn't have enough time to plan for this party, you just didn't know what to wear. And everything you had looked either too girly or just not Halloween themed. You heard a soft knock before the door to your room opened as nadja peeked her head in.

" you ready or what babes?" she asked approaching you. When your didn't respond to her, she entered the room taking slow but carful strides towards you, tilting her head slightly to get a good look at your face, she noticed that you were crying. Upon seeing this she quickly knelt infront of you and gently grabbed hold of your chin to get you to look at you.

" aw darling what's wrong?" You sniffed and rolled your eyes as you moved to stand, nadja standing quickly with you. You felt small. You didn't want her to see you cry, she'd probably think your weak or cast you away for being a cry baby, but not answering her won't help the situation. It will only make it worse.

" Well, are you gonna fucking answer me or do I need to stand here all night and act as your therapist that you pay for extra tissues?" it was a rhetorical question but you heard the frustration in her voice. You sighed as you turned to look at her. God her eyes.... they would deadly poisoning when she was upset. her eyebrows were quirked in a worried expression and her lips stayed pinched as she studied your every move.

" i don't know what to wear" you spoke in annoyance as you turned to look into the mirror once more. Nadja bit her lip as her expression dropped. What started questioning if maybe what she was thinking was harsh or maybe what she was seeing was wrong. On your body was a perfectly well fitted dress, that matched the occasion you were going to attend and one that she didn't see a problem with.

" forgive me if I'm blind sweetheart but I really don't see anything wrong with this outfit, my love". you huffed, walking into your closet you began to toss out numerous pairs of clothes onto the floor. Nadja watched in awe as you looked through your closet, she smirked tilting her head to the side, admiring the way the dress was hooked on your body.

Your curves, the way your hips swayed. The thoughts got the best of her, she watched as you bent down to pick up a shirt and got back up. The dress you were wearing now showed off your curves plainly.

You turned to glance at her before continuing your hunt.

" and what are you supposed to be dresses as?" You heard as she sat on your bed and sighed, groaning as she cracked her back before proceeding to respond.

" myself duh" she spoke watching as you fought to unzip your zipper on the side of your dress. She got up and walked back over to help you. She gently gripped your hips and pulled the zipper down, you were too busy looking for a skirt to notice that she got lost in a trance as she stared at your red lace underwear like a pyscopath or perhaps - a total vampire pervert. She reached out her hand too touch your skin but pulled back. She was utterly desperate......

Your skin looked smooth, the density of the flesh twinkled in her eyes. Just one touch.... one bite.... even the smallest nibble will suit her well....

Her eyes flicked up towards your neck, the delicate flesh with a irritable beating pluse. When she bit into the sweet flesh, to hear your moan, taste your blood, Oh what she would give to taste you. Both your blood and your -

" nadja?" She flinched as her body forced her snapped out her corrupted trance. She realized that she was now face to face with your lips as you looked at her confused. Temptation was running high for nadja, her pupils delayed, her eyes darkening as she looked up at you.

" may I kiss your neck, darling please" you were a bit taken back by the suddeness and randomness that the question held but who were you to deny 'the nadja ' a taste of your skin, after all you'd be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't dreama about this moment. You gulped as nodded slowly, titling your neck to provide her with the required access. She smirked as her eyes beamed at your approval. Her super speed allowed her to push you up against the wall. Both her hands grapped your hips firmly as her body laid flush against yours. Before she could lean down to began what ever mission she had intended to do, you gently pushed against her biceps.

" please don't bite me nadja" she chuckled softly but nodded her head, silently agreeing. Her lips hovered over your skin debating whether or not to truly bite or to just enjoy the moment, who knows it might just be the last time she even gets to touch you. As soon as her lips made contact with your neck, it was a if a light switch went off for her. She immediately started nipping and sucking at the tender flesh.

You whimpered when you felt her finger tips grazing across your scalp, carefully pulling on your hair. you exclaimed when nadja's fangs scrape across your flesh.

" f- fuck nads no hickeys either" you manged to crack out slightly pulling away to look at her. She looked straight back at you with predatory eyes. It was evident that she was absolutely blood thirsty. But you couldn't let her bite you - you just couldn't..... fuck it, who cares about rules and morals.

Your lips met nadjas lips in a hasty passionate kiss as you used your body to push her back against your bed. She fell onto the soft mattress with a gentle thud and a small gasp. Biting her lips with lidded eyes she used her body strength to turn you over beneath her, straddling you instead.

" looks like someone's a little eager" she teased, her voice dripping with honey. You moaned as you felt her thigh slip in between your legs, parting them away from eachother. Nadja smirked she then moved to attacked your neck once more.

" oh God nadja p-please" you moaned as you titled your head providing her with more access to your neck. You could hear her chuckle softly before feeling a dull but sharp pain in your neck. You winced as your back arched as you felt her fangs dig into the skin of you flesh, drawing a slight blood flow.

You feel nadja body relax above you, as she whimpered quietly. She then slowly removed her fangs from the wound before placing a chaste kiss there. She removed the straps of your dress exposing your breasts to her. Her eyes lingered on them before they flicked up to yours.

You granted her the permission her eyes searched for. She took it upon herself to latch her mouth onto one of the already erected bud. Your eyes rolled back as your hands flew to her hair. A moan escaped from you causing nadja to look up at the sinful sight about her. As You arched your chest into her mouth your grip in her hair tightened even more.

Your body temperature began to increase and so did the heat in your core. Your breathing picked up when nadja slide her hand down your stomach, she toyed with the hemming of the dress before pushing it up around your hips then proceeding to pull your underwear to the side.

She realesed your nipple with a pop before moving to the other one. You whimpered as your eyes rolled back, pleasure started taking over your mind leaving you fuzzy and completely under nadja mercy.

She wasted no time bringing her fingers back to her mouth where she then spat on them before quickly sliding them in and out of you without warning. You gasped as you spread your thighs even wider hoping that she was go deeper.

She slowly sinks two fingers back into your cunt, curling them slowly, before pulling out completely, spreading your wetness to your clit. you let out quiet whimpers at the stimulation as your eyes flicked back, her fingers gently teased your pulsing clit. you call her name in a quiet whisper, in attempt for her to give you what you wanted.... what you needed most. its a plead you can’t help but let out. her actions send waves of heat surging throughout your body.

She then shoved her two digits back into your dripping cunt. You let out a silent sob at the sudden intrusion. Nadja curled her fingers at the right spot where she felt you clench down tightly. She grunted as she started sucking brutally on your nipple as if she's getting milk from doing so.

Your gummy walls hugged her two digits so good that she picked up the pace. You were a hot mess beneath her, gasping and moaning ever so slightly. Nadjas fingers curled deep within you which caused you to erupt in pleasure.

" That's it darling, God I wish I had taken it upon myself to fuck you sooner" she muttered while looking down at you. Your hair was completely ruined and sprawled out on the pillows, tears were evident in your eyes as your mascara started running down your cheek. You looked gorgeous.

You couldn't even think straight, you began muttering incorhent sentences. She could feel your walls already spasming around her fingers indicating your close to your first orgasm.

Nadja pulled her fingers from your cunt at the right moment just before you reached your high. Seeing the confusion mixed with frustration in your eyes boosted her ego to destroy you even more.

She crawled down to the end of the bed coming face to face with your aroused pussy. She smirked before putting both of your legs on her shoulder, kissing your ankle while doing so.

Again like some sort of feral animal that hadn't eaten for days she wasted no time, she enveloped her mouth around your clit, her tongue flicking and sucking on the tiny bud furiously in a attempt to make you cum quickly. After all you both had places to be right after this.... well... let's just say inconvenient...

You grabbed the bed sheets tightly, if you were hulk your sure that they sheets would be torn by now. You let out a pornographic moan as you felt nadja fingers slip into you once more, this time her pace was absolutely brutal and quick, making squelching noises as she hit your g- spot over and over again.

You felt coils after coils snap in you before feeling as a big one was building. You prompted yourself up on your elbows to look at nadja. Her eyes flicked up to yours for a split second before she started slurping your cunt eagerly and rapidly eating you out.

You fell back in a silent scream, feeling your legs as they began shaking dramatically. You felt as she realesed your clit with a pop but her fingers were absolutely driving you insane.

It felt so fucking good you started hyperventilating. Nadja then pushed her fingers knuckles deep into you before curling her finger and doing the barel movement.

" such a good fucking slut for mommy mhm" she cooed as her other hand wrapped around your neck tightly. its not long before you’re teetering on the edge of your orgasm, nadjas thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit, finger’s pumping in and out of your dripping cunt so deliciously.

You began seeing stars as the raven hair vampire pushed you further and further into oblivion. You shook your everything inside you as your orgasm hit you like a passing train going at a high speed.

You felt a completely drenched feeling of liquid slowly make its away from your throbbing hole to your thighs and further down. You knew exactly what just happened..... you squirted.

You blinked rapidly until you could no longer see the tiny white flying balls in your vision before sitting up straight and looking down at nadja.

She smiled softly at you before she kissed your forehead while caressing your arm.

" now that you feel like the princess that you are, you have five minutes to refreshing up so that we can hit the road my love" nadja winked before playfully smacking your biceps.

Before she left she brought her fingers to her mouth and gaved them kitten licks before smirking sheepishly at you.

She opened the door and left, leaving you in complete awe and limited time to get re- dressed. You knew that this was not the end of tonight and that after you both came back home, she's going to make you do that all over again until your screaming her name for the entire campus to hear...... and you honestly could not wait......

#what we do in the shadows #wlw smut #smut fanfic #marilynthornhilllover fanfics #fanfic #fypシ゚viral #love #vampire #vampire smut #vampire fanfic wlw #nadja wwdits #nadja wwdits smut

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constablequodo · 1 year ago

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WWDITS fans write more than just smut for any Laszlo ship challenge (IMPOSSIBLE)

#i get it #yall like smut #hes sexy #but jesus christ please #hes also a very fascinating character #laszlo cravensworth #nadja of antipaxos #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #sean rinaldi #colin robinson #what we do in the shadows #wwdits

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myquestforselfparody99 · 11 months ago

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The invitation - nea9 - What We Do in the Shadows

I've had almost a full year of writer's block, and it was pretty depressing. This is the first thing I've managed to write in almost 12 months. It's a theme I've written before, but it was the only thing that would open up.

My version of the night Nadja stepped through Laszlo's window and made him a vampire.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52450955

#this just turned into a bit of gothic smut I think #but it's where the wind blew me #fanfic #nadja of antipaxos #laszlo cravensworth #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #nadja wwdits #nadja and laszlo

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gui1lermodelacruz · 1 year ago

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(Guillermo might not really like talking or watching sexual stuff, and he might be demisexual af, but let me tell you that boy isn't vanilla 👀)

#not something extreme but definitely not vanilla at least not all the time #and he is not like nadja and laszlo having sex so often but yeah #i dont write smut #at all #but!#this is important #headcanon

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collinrobinsonsglasses · 10 months ago

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hi!! if it's ok I'd love to make a request!

please can you write a oneshot with Nandor x reader (fem/gender neutral) where reader is feeling insecure and Nandor comforts them? hoping for something really fluffy and if you're comfortable with writing smut then it'd be amazing (if not then no worries, SFW is fine with me :D)

thank you!!

Nandor x F!Reader

Masterlist

Word count: 1.9k

This was my first time writing something for WWDITS, and my first time writing something a little spicier. It was a lot of fun. Thank you for the request @just-a-little-cellist

Warnings: NSFW, This is a little more smutty than my usual stuff, so 18+ only please!!

Getting More Familiar

Having recently moved back to the city in search of a fresh start, you found yourself working at the local movie theater without a clear sense of direction. It was during this time that two mysterious figures, dressed in Victorian garb, approached you with an enticing job offer. The prospect of escaping your unfulfilling job and gaining a new place to live seemed too good to pass up. When Nadja and Laszo revealed they were vampires that night, it didn’t faze or shock you at all; it felt entirely ordinary. Reflecting on the encounter, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had fallen under their hypnotic influence. Strangely, this realization didn’t bother you; instead, it added an intriguing layer to your newfound life.

As Nadja and Laszlo’s familiar, you found yourself responsible for managing the entire household, which included their two roommates. Nadja and Laszlo were low-maintenance, devoting the majority of their free time to activities that Laszlo referred to as “fucking and sucking.” You quickly learned to avoid Colin Robinson, as he never missed a chance to drain your energy–whether through incessant talking or attempting to piss you off. You found Nandor to be your favorite vampire companion, and he, too, seemed to enjoy spending time with you. He shared that his familiar, Guillermo, was currently on a break, and Nandor appeared somewhat lonely.

Nandor relished recounting his human past, regaling you with tales of the villages he relentlessly pillaged and reminiscing about his time as the nation’s Supreme Viceroy. You consistently listened to Nadnor’s stories with genuine interest, asking questions and sharing laughter at his jokes. Despite Nandor’s formidable warrior background, it appeared that the years as a vampire had softened him. What he seemed to need most was someone who would listen and genuinely care about what he had to say. Being that person came easily to you, and you couldn’t help but imagine that Guillermo had played a similar role before his departure.

You couldn’t deny that Nandor was quite easy on the eyes, though it felt somewhere cliché to admit, considering he was a vampire. His undeniable strength became clear when he assisted you in carrying heavy bodies for disposal. Nandor had long, soft, black hair, and on some mornings, he’d ask you to brush it before he retreated into his casket. When the group ventured into the city at night, he displayed a protective streak, keeping a watchful eye on your whereabouts and warding off other vampires who showed too much interest in you. Though you harbored strong feelings for him, you refrained from admitting it, acknowledging that a 761-year-old vampire likely wouldn’t share your romantic feelings. Despite this, you cherished the moments spent in his company, savoring the connection whenever possible.

Today unfolded like any other ordinary day, with you rising a few hours before sunset to tidy up the house before the vampires stirred. In the library, Colin sat absorbed in his newspaper, a familiar sight as you diligently dusted the room. It seemed that Colin was perpetually awake, his presence a constant in the early evening routine. Colin prattled on about something from the newspaper, but you didn’t mind, anticipating the upcoming time with Nandor. As you continued to dust, Colin’s chatter ceased, likely realizing his attempts to drain your energy in this way were futile.

“You know, it’s interesting…” Colin Robinson began, peering out above his newspaper toward you. “Laszlo and Nadja usually have sex with their familiar by now, but they haven’t with you. Makes you wonder what’s wrong with you.” With that, he folded his newspaper with glee and left the room, his eyes glowing blue and a smirk on his face.

He had gotten to you. The rush of energy left your body as you started to ponder if Colin’s words held truth. What was wrong with you? You never saw yourself as beautiful or sexy, considering yourself cute at best. Memories of past men you liked referring to you as “like a sister” flashed through your mind. Colin Robinson had hit on an insecurity that had lingered for most of your life–you didn’t feel desirable. You were kind and easy to be around, but the realization sank in that there was probably a reason those two vampires wouldn’t have any interest in you. Those thoughts circled in your mind for the next few hours as you continued cleaning the house, leaving you feeling intensely self-conscious by the time the sun set. You made a decision to try to avoid everyone tonight, unless they genuinely needed you.

You kept yourself busy in the fancy room after greeting Nadja and Laszlo. Fortunately, they made their way to the room with the piano, engrossed in practicing some of their old songs. This allowed you to maintain a bit of distance and focus on your tasks for the night. After an hour, Nandor found you, greeting you with a sheepish smile while idly playing with his fingers. “Oh, there you are,” his voice rang out with his usual, endearing accent.

You replied with a forced smile, that being the best you could muster while feeling embarrassed for letting Colin Robinson get to you. Despite your attempts to conceal your emotions, Nandor noticed immediately.

“You’re glum,” Nandor remarked as he sat on the couch, gesturing for you to join him. When you opened your mouth to speak, nothing came out. “Don’t deny it. I can tell.” Feeling vulnerable, you decided to tell him the truth, but you looked to the ground while speaking. “Do Nadja and Laszlo sleep with all their familiars?”

“Nadja and Laszlo would fuck anything with a pulse,” Nandor chuckled, seemingly misreading the situation completely. “Well, I guess technically they wouldn’t even need a pulse, because we’re vampires.”

“So Colin Robinson was right. There must be something wrong with me.” You leaned your head back against the couch, tears forming in your eyes. All the past stings of rejection came rushing back in that moment. You glanced over towards Nandor, realizing he looked confused, and you felt silly for allowing yourself to get emotional in front of him. Trying to compose yourself, you sat up, wiped away the forming tears and mustered a weak smile.

“Why do you think there is something wrong with you?” Nandor asked, genuine confusion painting his face.

“Colin Robinson said there has to be a reason Nadja and Laszlo haven’t tried to make a move on me. I guess I’m just not desirable in that way… even though I have a pulse,” you said, trying to make a joke out of it now. You realized that Nandor probably wanted nothing to do with this conversation.

“Fucking guy,” Nandor grumbled, his expression darkening as he glared straight ahead. When he looked back at you, his demeanor softened. “I believe you are incredibly beautiful… and you have a rocking body.”

You didn’t believe a word he was saying, knowing this was most likely just him trying to cheer you up and move on quickly. “Thanks, Nandor, but you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t understand. What am I doing?” Nandor questioned, a perplexed expression on his face.

“Trying to cheer me up, but it’s silly. I”ll get over it.”

Nandor moved towards you, placing his cold hand against your cheek and wiping the remnant of a tear from your face. “I, Nandor the Relentless, have had 37 wives and even more lovers. I believe you are one of the most beautiful, sensitive, and poetic creatures I have ever laid my eyes upon.” In this moment, Nandor spoke with authority, unlike the shy version of Nandor you usually encountered.

Inhaling quickly in shock, you looked into Nandor’s dark brown eyes. You stayed silent, unsure if this was a trick or if it was real.

“If you do not believe you are desirable, I’ll have to show you how desirable I think you are,” he whispered, gazing over you with his eyes. “If that is what you want.”

You replied with a quick nod, your eyes widening, and your heart picking up speed. Your emotions flooded with longing, and you looked down towards Nandor’s lips.

Nandor’s lips found yours, his hands firmly holding your face as he drew you in. Closing your eyes, you relished the feeling of his cold lips against yours. A gasp escaped you as his kisses trailed down your neck. Nandor guided you to lay on the couch, his body intimately pressed against yours. You sensed the touch of his cold fingers tracing across your thigh beneath your dress, eliciting a moan from you, muffled by the embrace of his kiss. He momentarily paused, his fingers delicately tracing the contours of your underwear, while looking into your eyes.

Nandor whispered, uncertainty clouding his face, “Is this truly what you desire?”

“Yes,” you replied with conviction, “Ever since I started working as Nadja and Laszlo’s familiar, I’ve been into you, Nandor.”

“How should I put this… it is you who are the person who I am into… too.” His genuine smile grew, while looking down at you.

With that, you sensed his fingers skillfully maneuvering around the fabric of your underwear, and gasped as his finger rubbed against you. You felt your hips instinctively lift at his touch and you observed him with a gaze filled with desire. As his finger slid inside of you, your eyes closed involuntarily, wanting to commit the sensation of his touch into memory. The soft sound of his chuckle reached your ears, acknowledging your reaction, while he removed your underwear tossing them onto the ground. You then experienced his icy kisses trailing up your thighs before he was between your legs. His tongue and lips provided a heavenly sensation causing you to moan and grind your hips against his mouth.

“You taste delicious,” Nandor growled.

Rising from the couch, he stood up, gently pulling you to your feet and enveloping you in a deep kiss. The intensity of the kiss heightened as he pressed you against one of the room’s walls. Effortlessly lifting you up, your legs encircling him, he pressed against you. Your hand descended, deftly unbuttoning his pants, causing him to moan as you led him inside of you. A momentary pause ensued as you locked eyes, desire vividly painting both of your faces. Nandor’s vampire strength proved formidable; he held you aloft, as you began a slow rotation of your hips. Closing his eyes, he emitted a low groan, surrendering to the intensity of the moment. Entwined with Nandor, a genuine feeling of beauty enveloped you, relishing in the pleasure you both felt. The feeling of being desired by Nandor dispelled any lingering doubts Colin Robinson had left in your head. Nandor thought you were sexy and he wanted you.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

“Well, if I”m being honest,” Nandor candidly addressed the camera, “I asked Laszlo and Nadja to not fuck her… because I liked her… I guess I could have told her that, but I think it worked out.” A smirk played on Nandor’s lips as he glanced towards the camera, nervously playing with his fingers. Just then, Nadja’s voice echoed from the other room, causing his smirk to drop.

“About fucking time you made a move, you big idiot.”

#nandor the relentless #nandor x reader #nandor #Nandor smut #Nandor the relentless smut #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #wwdits smut #Nandor the relentless x reader

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vigsilantes · 6 months ago

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coffee and hair dye (adrian chase x gn reader)

Pairing: Adrian Chase / Vigilante x GN Reader Summary: You’re dying your hair to match your suit color and Adrian wants you dye a bit of his hair to match yours. Word Count: 3.1k Tags: established relationship, reader-insert, gender-neutral pronouns, post-canon, idiots in love, mild smut, domestic fluff, comfort, fluff and smut A/N: this was inspired by Nadja and Laszlo and their matching hair from what we do in the shadows if you know what i’m referencing ily

~masterlist~ | >>>(read on ao3)<<<

Last night’s supposed "small" mission turned into a rather difficult and tiring one. Nothing went wrong, but the targets were far more skilled than research proved, and they kicked your asses. Then you guys kicked their asses. Though it was a rather fast fight, and you won, you all were roughed up and totally depleted. The complicated night prompted Emilia to generously give everyone the next night off. Well, all the bickering and complaining by the team in the van prompted Emilia to give the night off. And that bickering was worth it because you and Adrian finally have a night off together, you both haven’t had one in a very long time. Though you two were quite beaten up from the mission, you planned to make the best of it.

After sleeping until 11, you and Adrian felt the urge to get out of bed. He was making it hard to leave bed though, as his whole body was wrapped around yours, and his head was nuzzled perfectly in the back of your neck. Fortunately, it’s Saturday, you already had the day off from work. However, Adrian wasn’t so lucky and in fact had to go to Fennel Fields in a few hours.

You sigh, “I think we should get out of bed; you have work, maybe you can shower, and I’ll make us coffee?” you suggest. Adrian hummed into your neck.

“Babe,” he paused, his voice still raspy from sleep. He groaned as he lifted his arm away from you to grab his phone from the nightstand. He tapped the screen and put his phone to his ear, “I am not leaving this bed,” he raised his brows, you blushed while you turned over to fully face him. After a pause his eyes light up and he slightly cleared his throat, “Hey, this is Adrian, sorry, I won’t be able to make it today, I woke up with a horrible cold,” he adds in a few fake coughs, then slyly smiles, “I’ve thrown up a bunchhh too so, yeah… yup, thanks, bye!” He tapped his phone and gave you a wicked grin, you bit your lip.

“Okay, yeah, I’m glad you did that. I didn’t want us to get up right now either,” he kissed your forehead, “and you’re keeping me warm so, if you left, or we got up, I would be way too cold.”

“See now, we couldn’t let that happen,” Adrian purred and pulled you closer into his chest, you could feel the heat radiating off of him, you snuggle into it, “how are you feeling?” he asked, while gently twirling your hair through his fingers. You took a second to actually see how you felt, your body was tired but nothing really more than that was wrong.

“All right, achy everywhere though, I feel bruises already I think, you?” you look up at him, he meets your gaze, eyes still looking tired, he nods his head.

“I think I’m the same but,” he let out a deep huff, “I feel so relieved that I called out, so I’m not even thinking about the bruising my body is doing right now… Babe," he paused and a playful smile grew across his face, "we have a day off together!” You gasped, it’s been forever since you guys had a whole entire day off together, it only really happens when you get injured from missions, but you guys aren’t in too bad of shape from last night, it was a win-win.

“Waitttt we have to have some fun today, should we plan something, or should we not plan something and just see what happens today?” you ponder, he chuckles. “Oh, and since we both have time this morning, could you please help me re-dye my hair?” you smile and blink up at him.

“Of courseeeee, I love helping you do your hair! I am honored that you would like my help, babe.” Adrian beamed and your cheeks turned red at his smile. “Plus, you look so badass when you just dyed your hair like it’s so bright and, well… not that right now your hair isn’t badass, but,” he sighs, “you know what I mean, babe.” Before he could keep talking, you cupped his face with your palm, he smiled into your hand.

“Thanks, Ade. And I’m honored that you like helping me,” you replied. “Should I maybe go a little crazy and match the purple in my suit again? The pink that I have now could easily change into it… Ooh, yea, I’m going back to purple,” you state, Adrian was nodding his head enthusiastically.

“YES, babe it’s so hottt when your hair matches your suit, great idea!” he said, eyes wide.

“Thank you, thank you, now I'm definitely doing purple,” you lean up to peck Adrian on the lips, he returns the kiss with his tongue, which caused you to breath out a moan, he pulled you into his chest, his hand crawling up your back. You couldn’t resist moving one hand up to his head so you could run your fingers through his dark hair, the other hand gently scratching his bare back. You try to briefly pull away from him, but he doesn't let you until he gets in one more deep kiss, then he barely seperates himself from you, your lips brushing his.

“Instead of fucking right now, which I really want to do, I need to dye my hair early in the day, or I’ll never get it all done,” you pause, he groans in protest as he kisses your neck, “how about… you can fuck my brains out after my hair is purple?” you question, nudging his chin up so you could meet his eyes.

“Hmmm,” he goes in for another long kiss that made you shiver, then he slowly pulls away, “I guess you’re right, let’s be productive,” he paused to play with your hair once more, his green eyes lighting up from the morning sun. As he met your gaze, you saw something shift in his eyes, “but only if you dye some of my hair to match yours.” Adrian firmly states, voice deep, he was almost using his Vigilante voice. You couldn’t help the smile that grew onto your face, thinking about him with dyed hair. And then you really couldn’t help how turned on you were at the thought of his hair matching yours-and your suit. Heat immediately ran to your cheeks.

“Oh absolutely, fuck, let’s do it right now,” you twirl a strand of his hair, “that’s gonna be so fucking hot.” You kiss again before you both hype yourselves up to slink out of your cozy, toasty, bed.

“I’ll make us coffee while you get the dye stuff ready, babe!” Adrian stated, as you went to the bathroom to mix together some bleach and take stock of your purple dye-you luckily had plenty of purple left over from the last time you matched your suit, all you needed to do was mix a bit of blue to make it a perfect color match. You made a little extra bleach for Adrian, and you felt a bit giddy while picturing him having dyed hair, he has never ever done any kind of coloring to his beautiful dark hair, so you won’t do a lot, just a few strands under the back of his head. Just then, you heard the beep of your record player turning on and a moment later, “I Saw Her Standing There” by The Beatles began faintly playing, he threw on his Please Please Me record. You grinned; he always picks the best music.

“Perfect music choice honey,” you yell out to him as you stir the bleach with the brush. As you’re mixing, Adrian walks in with two cups of iced coffee, you both prefer iced over hot, and Adrian has mastered making lattes at home with a fancy coffee machine.

“Here you are, my love, order up,” he smiles as he hands you your glass, you take a sip and start slowly nodding your head in approval.

“Mwah it's perfect, thanks babe, I love having my own little at home barista,” you admit, the compliment caused him to blush. “Okay, I can start my roots, and all I’ll need help with is the back, and then I can do a bit of yours,” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Can’t wait, I’ll just enjoy the view while I sip on my coffee,” he hummed while smiling. All you were wearing was his t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, it just became a habit for you to steal his shirts, and that then lead to his boxers, and he doesn’t mind one little bit…if anything he encourages it. He eyed you up and down with feline eyes. Your cheeks turned rosy as you began sectioning your hair, preparing it for the bleach. You then threw on some gloves and got to work. Bliss fell over you while you listened to Adrian hum and sing to the music as you did your hair. It just made your heart feel warm. After a few minutes, you got to the back part of your head that was hard to see.

“All righty babe,” you turn to look at him, his eyes lit up.

“Yay okay let’s do this!” he clapped his hands and then put on a pair of gloves as well. With the brush in one hand, and his other hand helping to part your hair, he went in, and painted the bleach on the back of your head.

He always loves to help, and you really appreciate it because he’s really good at dying your hair. You enjoyed staring in the mirror to watch how concentrated he was, he was truly getting into it.

After a song or so he met your eyes in the mirror, you beamed. “And that’s that, babe, thanks for coming to my coffee-salon,” Adrian joked, you broke into a laugh, he chuckled as well.

“Pleaseeee, thank you for having me,” you turn around to press a kiss on his cheek, “but now, it’s my salon,” you firmly state, narrowing your brows, Adrian’s face turned bright red, but his eyes were fiercely watching yours.

“Oooh fuck yeah!” He exclaims, handing you the brush and cup of bleach, “this is gonna be so hot, but,” he bent down a bit as if to whisper, “it won’t be too much of my hair though, right?” he softly questions, you chuckle as you swap places with him.

“No babe, don’t worry,” you confirm, as you lean up and start to untangle a small part of hair on the back of his head, angling his head to make him look down so you could section it. You started making a section almost like an undercut, but just a small little square of hair. “I’ll just do this much, barely even a whole handful,” you show him in the mirror. “Your other hair will cover it and it’ll peak through-”

“YESS, that will look so fucking cool, I am so ready!” He squealed, you grinned as you part his hair and use one of your hair clips to keep his other hair out of the way. You then mixed the bleach one more time before applying it to his head, making an even layer on his dark hair.

It barely took one song to do all of it, but you finished applying the bleach, and to your surprise, his virgin hair was already taking to the bleach.

“Now we wait,” you step to stand next to him, the smile that was on his face was priceless. You then begin cleaning up the small mess you made in the bathroom, Adrian held up the trash can for you to throw your bleached gloves in and you start wiping up the counter. With one look in the mirror, you could tell your hair was already almost done, your roots weren’t too dark in the first place. His dark hair will probably take a bit longer. However, as you start cleaning, you noticed how much the bathroom needed more of a clean, so you take a breath and begin. You and Adrian sang along to the music as you cleaned, flipping the record shortly into your clean. You guys got into a rhythm and ended up tidying up more than either one of you intended to. You huffed, and Adrian caught your eye. “Well shit it looks great in here,” you say, smiling, he looked around the room.

“It really does! I don’t know what ghost possessed us to do that but I’m glad it happened,” Adrian joked, you nodded, chuckling. You step closer to Adrian and gently move his head so you can check his hair, it was blonde! A glance in the mirror told you your hair was ready to wash too.

“Well, apparently we cleaned long enough for the bleach to work, let’s wash, you first!” You say, he nods, eyes widening from excitement. He sets his glasses on the sink then bends down to kneel in front the tub with his head over the drain. Luckily your shower was a handheld one, so you took it off the mount and hover over him to begin washing his hair. He giggles as your fingers begin gently massaging his scalp and after swishing water through his hair, the bleach had washed out. You shut the shower and grab a towel for Adrian, his whole head got wet. You wrap the towel and tuck it in so it can firmly stay on his head to dry his hair. “It looks great blonde, honey.” You tell him.

“I can’t fucking wait to see it all finished, babe,” Adrian replied, you smiled as you two swapped places so he could help wash your hair. Adrian threw his glasses back on then began gently massaging your scalp, you hummed in content. “Aaannndddd done,” he said after a minute of washing, shutting the faucet and squeezing the water from your hair before placing a towel around your head. You properly wrap it and turn around to Adrian.

After drying your hair with the blow dryer, you repeat the dying process but with the mixed purple dye. Adrian’s handful of hair didn’t take long to color, then he ended up doing your whole head, teamwork makes the dreamwork! Once he declares your head is done, you both notice how hungry you are.

“Breakfast?” you asked, Adrian pursed his lips. Your stomach almost instantly growled at the thought of a meal. When you got home from the mission last night, though you weren’t beaten up too badly, you were still in pain, it was a miracle you guys didn’t pass out in your suits in bed, so yeah, you could both eat. He nods his head frantically. “Eggs and waffles?” You question.

“Let’s-a-go!” Adrian said in an Italian accent as he pumped his fist in the air, you cackle, what a dork. He leads the way to the kitchen and starts getting the eggs and the cheese from the fridge and waffles from the freezer. You notice that the music stopped, so before helping begin breakfast, you put on a different Beatles record and place the needle on. You hear a "Thanks, babe!" from Adrian as you enter the kitchen.

You two seamlessly make breakfast, splitting up tasks between you both. After a few short minutes, you had cheesy scrambled eggs and waffles, and while sitting at your small kitchen table, you shared breakfast with Adrian. It only took a few minutes to eat, but right as you finished your last forkful of eggs, you looked at your hair in your phone’s camera to see the dye showing through, it was time to wash!

You hum as you stand up and check the back of Adrian’s head, it already looks amazing, “Babe, let’s go washhhh,” you say, wavering your voice, he gasps.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Adrian exclaimed as he also stood up, you two began walking to the bathroom. You go right to the tub to turn on the shower and when you turn around you see Adrian, still shirtless, waiting like an excited puppy. You repeated the washing process for the last time, thank God, and began towel drying each other’s hair. Adrian was the first to get to the mirror, his hair has already practically dried, and even by slightly turning his head to the side he could see the streak of purple amongst his dark hair. He gasped. You grabbed the small mirror off the sink counter and held it up to the back of his head so he could get a proper view, all the while you were staring at his colored hair.

“Fucking hell, Ade, you look so hot with purple hair,” you say, gawking at him. His eyes were wide as he took in his hair in the mirrors, and you noticed that the purple in his hair complimented his green eyes beautifully. “I’m so glad your hair took to the dye!”

“Shit, me too, it looks, so fucking sick babe, I am so happy right now,” Adrian beams, turning to you, “thank you for helping me look more badass, babe.” He leaned down to press his lips to yours, you deeply return the kiss. He pulled away only a few inches, you felt his breath on your ear. “I may look a little more badass, but fuck-babe, you…you.” his voice lowered, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.” You gasped, he started playing with your hair in one hand, then he slides his other hand down your lower back. Adrian moved in fast and started kissing your neck.

“God, I-” He cut you off by moving his kisses up your neck, and farther up to meet your lips. You were honestly glad he interrupted you, you had nothing to say other than the moan that managed to escape from you. You were instantly on him, running your fingers through his hair and caressing his face. He hoisted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

The two of you barely separated your lips, only for an occasional moan or swear from either of you. After a few moments, while still holding you, he moved you two to your bed, planting himself on top of you, putting his whole weight on you. You felt his boner immediately, you melted into him even more as heat ran to your cheeks. His hands were all over you, and you felt ravenous as your hands touched him.

It pained you but you had to pull away to say, “I should dye your hair more often.” All you heard in response was a deep belly laugh that erupted out of him-fuck you love him.

“I won’t say no to tha-” you didn’t let him finish speaking before leaning up and crashing your lips to his. The smile on his face faded the more he kissed you, he quickly became feral as he reciprocated your initial kiss, and more.

#adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #peacemaker #dcu #freddie stroma #vigilante #adrian chase fic #idiots in love #ao3 #hair dye #domestic fluff #light smut

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gloromeien · 1 month ago

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Hellooooo I hope your day is good? Have an ask!

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love! <3

Whoo, my first ask! And from the exceptional and lovely @zenaidamacrouras1, whose fic Monoclonius I'm re-reading right now and loving just as much as the first time. An all-time fave, really, with just the best, sexiest, nerdiest Bucky and the sweetest dad Steve. Check it out if you haven't!

But this of course is supposed to be about *my* fics, so let's get started.

Five Favorite Fics That I've Written:

History Repleating (Or the Proper Care and Feeding of One Steven Grant Rogers), Modern AU, Shrunkyclunks, kidfic

Summary: Captain America!Steve receives a letter from Dr. J.B. Barnes, Brooklyn Historical Society. Except not quite that J.B. Barnes. This leads to Steve and Bucky having a meet cute via Bucky's work as a history teacher. Smut, fluff, and a smidge of angst ensue.

Comments: This one is, IMHO, the best fic I've ever written. Which is not to say it's good, exactly--your mileage may vary--but I don't think I'm ever going to get to this place again. It was winter 2022. We were all just re-emerging from lockdown. I was in the process of caring for my sweet little corgi girl at the end of her life, and I just needed some joy, you know? Something fun to look forward to. I feel like I channeled a lot of those emotions, that grief, into the Steve in this fic. Though it's not a sad fic by any means! It's full of bad jokes and sarcasm and sweetness and found family and people just caring for each other beyond reason. Bucky here is a bright light that comes into Steve's life at just the right moment, that allows him to believe that he could have a real future with someone to love. I really needed to hear that right about then, and so, as Alexander Hamilton sings, I wrote my way out. For that reason and many more, this will always have a special place in my heart.

Last Exit to Brooklyn, Modern AU, Shrunkyclunks, SoulMark

Summary: When Steve Rogers emerged from the ice, he wound up not only in a whole new century, but also with a brand-new soul mark. Knowing that the person he was destined to be with might be just around the corner made it easier for him to settle into a future where happily ever after was a sure thing. Until the Romanian drummer of a 'popular in Europe' heavy metal band, and freight car of personal baggage, come crashing into his life...

Comments: This fic is a confluence of so many things I really, really, really love. Soul mark AUs, for one. I looooooooove those. But I only wanted to write one if I felt like I could bring something new to the table. Once I hit on this particular idea, I knew I had to write it. Also, Tommy Lee!Seb kept me up nights, friends. I loved his look in that so much. As a teen, I had a whole hair metal phase. And it was a fun way to pay a little tribute to Seb's Romanian heritage, so... anyway. I particularly adore some of my Romanian OCs in this--two of them being not so veiled versions of Nadja and Laszlo in What We Do in the Shadows, LOL. Feeling kind of weird about tooting my own horn here, being Canadian and all (Sorry. Sorry. Sorry?) But anyway, they were all really fun to write, even if I think the fic ended up being a little too long and more angsty than I expected. A good thing? A bad thing? You can decide for yourself. ;)

Cut Him Out in Little Stars, Medieval AU, kidfic, arranged marriage

Summary:

Two Houses, both alike in dignity In fair Venora, where we lay our scene

Three years after a brutal, bloody war that saw their formerly friendly queendoms at odds for the first time in history, Prince Steven Rogers of House Grant seeks to solidify the peace between Lehigh and Venora through an alliance--marriage with Prince James Barnes of House Buchanan, his childhood friend turned unexpected enemy. But after years as the Fist of Hydra and a long recovery from brainwashing and torture, Bucky isn't in a place to marry anyone, let alone someone he doesn't even remember. Stubborn to the core, afflicted by tragic losses, and still half in love with someone who might only be a memory, Steve and his family journey to Lynbrooke, the capital of Venora, to attempt to end the tension between their queendoms, and perhaps heal his wounded heart.

Comments: My least-viewed fic by a wide margin, but one that I really love. Playing with the big tropes can be so much fun, and arranged marriage is one of the biggest and messiest. I also rewatched Seb in Kings right before writing this, and it started as a crossover between the world of that series and the idea of arranged marriage. But eventually it took its own path. I have a total soft spot for the Bucky in this one. Probably the most broken I've ever written him. I shy away from Winter Soldier recovery fics--love reading them, will never write one myself--and this is the closest I'll probably get to that. One of the reasons it's close to my heart is because I feel like they really earn their happy ending in this one.

A Slaying in Scarlet, a LOTR Mystery

Summary: On the eve of Aragorn’s coronation, Legolas and Elrohir are charged with investigating a brutal murder at the Citadel.

Comments: My AO3 account is split into two eras. From about 2002-2010-ish, I was heavily involved in the LOTR fandom, specifically writing Legolas/Elrohir, but also a few other pairings, including some OOC pairings along the way. After that, I went off to be a romance writer for a little while (and yes, I'm going to shamelessly plug my Stoker & Bash mystery romance series, because I'm fucking proud of them.) Then watching FatWS knocked me for six, and here we are, all Stucky, all the time. All this to say that my early LOTR work, I am certain, is not good. I have not re-read anything in ages, nor will I ever, most likely. But it was in writing those fics that I found a bit of my voice, and they gave me courage as a writer, and so I couldn't leave them off this list completely. This one is a Sherlock Holmes type deal, because I am also obsessed with mysteries. Hopefully it stands up a little bit. Buyer beware.

A Place to Rest and Remember Yourself (In My Arms), Shrunkyclunks

Summary: It's 2015, and Steve is living in a post-publicly coming out world. His every move is scrutinized in the tabloids and on social media, he's still wrestling with life in the 21st century, and the paparazzi never give him any peace. Making friends who aren't co-workers is practically impossible, let along dating. His solution? Have a regular, no-strings 'arrangement' with one of Natasha's honeypots. Bucky is a former spy and adventurer who used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., but left for *reasons*. Having just gotten his heart ripped to shreds by a traitorous ex, he finds the idea of a discreet, 'with benefits' arrangement with his teenage-years crush very, very appealing. But you know what they say about what happens the minute you stop looking for love...

Comments: I wanted to write something quick and fun and smutty as hell for Stucky Week 2023. Instead... *sighs* You'll note that this ended up being 18 freaking chapters long. Why am I like this? I wish I knew.

One of my fic-writing missions is to give Steve Rogers the ending he deserves. The MCU did not treat him or his PTSD right--this is well-established in both fandom and a ton of metas more insightful than anything I could ever write on the subject. But where I feel like I maybe can address this a little is in fic. My aim here was to just spoil Steve rotten. To give him the literal world back, in the form of a Bucky who has serious wanderlust. It was also so much fun to play with Doctor Strange and the whole Sanctum Sanctorum stuff, Layla and Marc, Darcy of course, Nat and Sam. The 'love shield' Steve throws up in front of the press was inspired by Harry Windsor's PR move from many moons ago. My favorite part, about this fic, about writing fics in general, is when love just kind of happens to two people who aren't really paying attention, and suddenly it's everything, and they have to conform their lives to this new gorgeous reality. Anyway that's what I'm going for in every fic I write.

This was more talking about myself than any Canadian should do in a month, let alone a day. I need to go lie down. I don't love tagging other authors in these things, but if @burberrycanary, @bluesimplicity73, @musette22, @leveragehunters, or @dontcallmebree haven't done this yet and feel like it, I would love to read your thoughts on your incredible fics. And you, readers, please don't miss any of their tremendous work. Take it from me, their amazing stories (and Zenaida's) keep many a monster at bay when the night is dark and full of terrors. Big love to everyone out there sharing their creative endeavors with the world! <3

#stucky #steve x bucky #ao3 #shrunkyclunks #bucky barnes #steve rogers #ao3 fanfic #stevebucky #captain america #modern bucky barnes #five favorite fics #self recs

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agaypanic · 2 months ago

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reblogging for more tags and to also say that if you ask to be part of a fandom/character taglist, i'm going to assume that you just want to see the kinktober fics unless you say otherwise. so if you wanna get a notification when i post any kind of fic about a character/fandom, make sure you tell me

Kinktober is cumming Coming

october is in like a week or two which means that kinktober is in like a week or two!! i plan to have a fic for every day, but with college starting (first day is literally tomorrow omfg) i cant promise that a fic will come out on it's intended day

soooo if you don't wanna miss a kinktober fic, i have great news for you! not only will i have a kinktober masterlist, but i will also have a kinktober taglist. since ill be writing for a lot of different characters, you can ask to be tagged in every fic, fics for a certain fandom(s), or fics for a certain character(s). if you want to be tagged for a fandom or character, i can also add you to a taglist for my regular fics if you'd like (ppl part of my regular fandom/character taglists will be tagged in these fics unless they say otherwise)

heres a list of all the fandoms + characters that'll be a part of my kinktober 2024 masterlist:

Jurassic Park: Ellie Sattler

Saltburn: Felix Catton, Farleigh Start

Twilight: Carlisle Cullen, Emmett Cullen

Mean Girls: Regina George

Scott Pilgrim VS. The World: Gideon Graves

Heathers: J.D.

Ghostbusters: Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler

Five Nights at Freddy's: Mike Schmidt

Pitch Perfect: Beca Mitchell

What We Do In The Shadows: Nadja of Antipaxos, Laszlo Cravensworth, Nandor the Relentless

That 70's Show: Steven Hyde, Eric Forman

Hot Fuzz: Nicholas Angel

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osunism · 2 months ago

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Daughter of Disgrace

"Is there any place where Heaven's bastard daughters are welcome?"

Rating: Explicit [for explicit sexual content and graphic depictions of violence]. 🔞 Pairing[s]: Satoru + Sundari || Nadja + Sukuna Warning[s]: Explicit sexual situations, graphic depictions of violence, major character death[s], as well as some toxic relationship elements. Spoilers for the manga. Sukuna is his own warning but there is cannibalism, abuse, body horror, and mild torture in this fic. So canon-typical violence. Summary: In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo's sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi.

🪧 Be Advised: This is the sequel to Beast of No Nation. It's recommended that you read that fic first to get the context of this one.

𓃰 AO3 || OC Masterpost || Fic Masterpost 𓃰

𓃰 Chapter Eight: Kyoto Interlude

November 25, 2018, Gojo Estate, Kyoto

Sundari has dated a lot of people during her time in the modern era. Generally, she tends to give her potential partners a generous six to ten months of her time before she decides to pull the ripcord and make a swift exit out of their lives before things get serious. All things considered; she would say that this method served her in the end because what would she have done if her unsealing had happened with some non-sorcerer?

Well, she wouldn’t be sitting in the ancestral Gojo estate, getting stared at like something that was stuck to the bottom of one’s shoe by Satoru’s mother.

As it so happens, she would rather be freaking out a non-sorcerer right about now.

When Satoru first posed his question, Sundari had thought he spoke in jest, as any reasonable and sane person would, because who asks to meet one’s parents after four months of…whatever they’ve been doing? Of course, when he tilted his head and quirked a brow, waiting for her answer, Sundari came to realize that he was quite serious. Well, as serious as Satoru can be.

In the end, it didn’t matter because his reason for returning to Kyoto was not out of some sentimental gesture to present Sundari to his family; as the undisputed and rightful head of the Gojo clan, he has leave to do as he pleases, and he decides what is best for the clan. Sundari had answered hesitatingly; Satoru rarely mentioned his parents, and she assumed they were estranged at a young age. She understands all too well the isolation of emotionally absent parents.

What Satoru needed from the estate were a few weapons, as well as access to the family archives, which are meticulously kept in some secret, closely guarded warehouse on the estate grounds. Satoru does not need permission to access any of these things, but bringing Sundari along set off multiple alarm bells with the staff as well as his parents, who stared in shock as he and Sundari marched through the estate’s massive gate like a couple of teenagers who’d been out carousing.

You see, Satoru’s mother, Airi Gojo, was home by the time Satoru and Sundari stumbled, breathy with laughter, into the estate’s receiving room. Every second Sunday of the month, without fail, she has a meeting with her woman’s club: an elite organization of female sorcerers, most from the Big Three families [saving Zenin, who turn out less female sorcerers than any other clan]. Admission into this club is stringent, complete with all the red tape expected of a club whose members boast the very pick of the litter of sorcerer bloodlines. Airi Gojo, who before giving birth to her son, was just another member of a clan whose political might coasts on the strength of lineage.

Satoru’s birth changed more than the outside world; it completely changed his inner world too.

Airi was meeting with her women’s club when Satoru pulled Sundari into the kitchen, grasping her hips to kiss her soundly. It was when Satoru’s iron-hewn thigh pressed upward between Sundari’s thighs that she let out an obscene moan into his mouth, startling no less than four members of the women’s club who had been passing by…including Satoru’s mother.

Sundari’s face was aflame as Satoru grinned smugly, not taking his thigh from between her legs before the women shuffled out of sight, a chorus of scandalized whispers swelling around them. Airi Gojo was mortified and prudently called an early adjourning to the women’s club meeting. None of the members questioned this sudden change. Word travels fast, and by the time they returned to the meeting space, texts had been sent and every eye was on Airi, gauging her every reaction and inflection, seeking weakness.

The men of the jujutsu world love to fancy themselves savvy in the ways of the shark-infested waters of politicking, but Airi Gojo can confidently say that any one of these women--sisters, aunts, and wives—could be running a rogue nation in little time at all. The requisite greeting and bowing for seeing guests out of the home is followed to the letter, and Airi makes sure her voice is the very soul of conservative hospitality.

Once the ladies had taken their leave, Airi had called for Satoru and his “little friend” shortly after, but long enough that she could sense no eavesdropping, jujutsu or otherwise.

Thus, Sundari’s awkward predicament, sitting across from the woman who seemed to seethe with a fury kept under a tight lid. Very tight, Sundari can see, but that motherfucker is rattling. The slightest shift may set her off, so Sundari chooses the wisdom of silence; a rare occurrence for her, but she knows a potential brushfire when she sees one.

“So,” Airi finally speaks, and Sundari thinks this woman might be more severe than her own mother. “How did you and Satoru meet?”

Sundari thinks about her first meeting with Satoru.

“You close, baby?” She asked, and laughed when Gojo grunted against the onslaught of what he came to understand were deliberate contractions and release of her walls while she rode him. Her muscle control made him want to weep. He almost did weep. He definitely drooled a little. “Sundari…” His voice sounded foreign to his ears, a desperate whine of her name. “I’m so goddamn close. I wanna fill this fuckin– ngh –fill this pussy up so bad.”

“We met at a concert,” Sundari says brightly. Her lower eyes are shut, and it’s wildly disorienting to no longer have the extra perspective, but she is self-conscious around people regarding her features. She knows in jujutsu society what her appearance triggers in these conservative sorcerers. She can still taste the blood of the higher ups on her tongue if she zones out enough.

What the fuck?

“A concert,” Airi repeats in a tone that says she clearly knows it for the bullshit it partially is. Sundari does not crumple in the face of the other woman’s scrutiny. Airi’s lips part, clearly about to say more but Satoru walks into the room and her attention shifts to him abruptly, her gaze going over Sundari’s shoulder. Sundari almost opens her lower eyes to look back but remembers in time and turns her head instead. Satoru isn’t smiling, and she can see there’s a slight tension in his frame as he regards his mother. It doesn’t take long for her to realize that Airi’s feigned gatekeeping is all smoke and no fire. Sundari returns her gaze to Airi’s and opens her lower eyes.

The color drains from Airi’s face, her dark eyes wide as she startles at the sight of Sundari’s tattooed face and strange physiology. She’s been keeping a tight leash on her cursed energy up until now, but Airi feels it, a sinister and oppressive aura that sends chills down her spine.

“You ready, babe?” Satoru asks. Sundari stands to her full height, bowing low to Airi and complimenting her lovely home. Satoru’s mother is as unmoved as glacial ice, but something akin to disgust floats across her gaze like an oil film on the water’s surface. Sundari rejoins Satoru, who is now clad in what she understands to be the traditional wear of jujutsu sorcerers of the clan. And as clan head, he looks every bit the role of what the pinnacle of sorcery should be.

No blindfold, no sunglasses, and something about him looks and feels older. Whatever he came here to find has been found, and there’s a weight in his eyes that have nothing to do with his abilities.

Satoru’s hand finds Sundari’s, lacing their fingers. Airi draws in a quiet but sharp breath at the sight.

They leave.

Jujutsu Tech Tokyo Campus, November 30, 2018

Sundari and Satoru return to Jujutsu Tech’s campus in the late afternoon. Reluctant to be parted but resigning themselves to their roles in the upcoming challenges, they linger beneath the massive tori marking the entrance to the school proper. Satoru reaches up, caressing Sundari’s cheek with his knuckles. She blushes, and he leans in to kiss her.

“Your students are waiting,” Sundari whispers between kisses. “And I need to go and prepare.”

Neither one of them move, and instead they simply stare at one another, wearing amused smiles that they are so alike in this way.

“Don’t leave me,” Satoru says. Sundari’s smile turns sad, brows furrowing in concern.

“I won’t,” she says. “I promise, I won’t. But you can’t leave me either.”

Satoru grins. “I wouldn’t dream of it, goddess.” He is undaunted in the face of her exasperated eyeroll, but there is a tender bend to her smile that tells him she does not mind his nickname for her. He leans in, kissing her earlobe, teasing it with his teeth. She makes a small sound in her throat before lightly swatting him on the chest.

“Behave,” she scolds and Satoru smiles with every intention of doing the opposite.

Soon, however, they must move forward, and they part ways, their pinkies linked before the final moment of contact is broken. Satoru heads to the meeting room, and Sundari heads to one of the execution chambers. With Tengen taken and the barriers in a state of uncertainty, Sundari repurposes the execution room by adjusting the seals and barriers. She will be allowed to use jujutsu within it, without risking her power destroying everything around her. It was Satoru who suggested in for what she planned to do now.

Sundari knows she’s close to unlocking this Kamino technique. She can practically taste the smoke of it on the back of her tongue. But gods above is it difficult! She knows Sukuna has a binding vow that keeps him from revealing the technique except in the case of…whatever he did in Shibuya.

But if the technique is his, it must also be hers. She tries to remember the last time she used it, and when she does remember, she shivers to think on it.

Apparently, the damage she did that night was as bad as what her father accomplished in Shibuya.

The memory shakes her so badly, Sundari decides to leave the room, and try again when her mind and heart are purged of fear and uncertainty. She can’t afford to let a traumatic memory torment her, but it’s clear her sealing was not entirely unfounded.

It’s dark outside when she passes into the courtyard. She’s been appointed a space in the teacher’s dormitories, and after she and Satoru stopped by his apartment [and hers], she’s decided to stay on campus until this war is over. She pinches the bridge of her nose to even call it a war. Against one man.

Sundari thinks about her vow. Thinks and thinks and thinks…and she realizes that the solution is obvious. She can save Satoru from fighting her father, and rescue Megumi and her mother at once. It’s risky, because there’s a chance she can perish before enacting what she knows to be a reckless plan. She glances toward the darkness that marks the tori entrance. Beyond that, somewhere in the city, is her father. There are still people trapped in the city by the barriers, but the Games seem to be wrapping up with most of the players dead.

There’s so much cursed energy radiating from Tokyo right now it’s making her teeth itch.

Her lower eyes flick over to a sudden noise at her side. Satoru seems to materialize next to her. She doesn’t even tense up in his presence, her cursed energy a steady and controlled flame. Satoru inwardly beams with pride. His girl’s nerves are steely.

“You’re up late,” he teases. “Did you do the thing?”

Sundari looks confused for a moment before she remembers.

“No,” she breathes out, frowning. “The last time I used it was when I massacred an entire town.”

Satoru is quiet, and it’s a little unnerving because unmasked his eyes have an almost cosmic intensity that makes her feel exposed and naked under his gaze. It’s thrilling most of the time, but right now she feels vulnerable, and she just wishes he’d put the fucking blindfold on.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks. Sundari turns to face him. “Or do you want to do something else?”

Sundari considers the options for a moment and tries to bring the horrifying memory to the surface. She touches it like it’s an infected wound, and the psychic sting of remembrance and guilt worms its way into her brain again. Satoru can see her pulse hammering in her throat, and her cursed energy ripples and flickers like a wickless flame caught in a wayward breeze. His hands come to her shoulders, warm and firm and grounding.

“Hey, pretty girl, look at me,” he says softly. Sundari’s cheeks flush with warmth but she looks at him, her gaze softening. “You’re still worried about me, aren’t you?”

Sundari nods. “I can’t help it Satoru. I…the last time I lost someone I stained the world with my grief. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“You’re not going to lose me.” Satoru says, his voice harder than he intends but it sobers Sundari up before she can spiral out of control. “Look at me. Sundari, you are not going to lose me. And I have no intention of losing you either.”

She wants so badly to believe him. He’s so strong and brilliant and beautiful and funny. She wants to believe he’ll win this fight and come back to her no worse for wear. And then she can experience what it’s like to have a happy ending. She might even forgive her mother if it means she gets to keep Satoru here and send her father directly to Hell.

Satoru presses a kiss to the tip of her nose, then to her lips. Then, he pulls her in for a warm embrace. Sundari shuts her eyes and breathes deep. He smells faintly of his cologne, but also there’s the scent of incense clinging to his haori. He’s been doing rituals, then. She lets the embrace soothe her, and sinks into the reality of Satoru right here, right now.

“If he takes you from me, I’ll tear him apart,” she mumbles. Satoru laughs, stroking her hair before pressing a tender kiss to her temple.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says. “I’m almost tempted to lose just so you can cut loo—ow! Hey, what was that for?”

Sundari’s secondary mouth vanishes from her face, and she glares at him through one lower eye.

“Don’t talk like that,” she says sharply, but there is a soft underpinning of vulnerability in her tone. “You’re going to win or I’m going to kick your ass and his.”

Satoru grins, rubbing his cheek where she’d nipped him.

“But—okay! You are so grouchy, when’s the last time you ate?”

November 30, 2018, Zenin Estate

It’s raining. It’s been raining for several days, and in that time Nadja has only drawn her blades twice.

Right now…right now, she cannot afford to think about blades. It doesn’t matter, for her weapons lay in a heaped pile, along with the suedes and leather of her armor. Right now, her mind is hazed with sex and passion and an impossible love rekindled as Sukuna’s hands rove and squeeze every sinuous curve of her body. Since their bitter quarrel only a week before, they have been existing in this strange species of tension that sees its only outlet in sex.

Gods she had forgotten how good it had been. And it still is. Sukuna has been making up for lost time. Not quite vengeance, but neither of them seem keen on thinking about that right now.

“Ryōmen…” Nadja’s voice comes out in a gasping whine in her chest. “I can’t…I can’t…”

He has her pinned beneath him, folded in half, covering her with his massive frame, filling her with one cock while the other slides over her clit with every deep and powerful thrust that sets her bones to rattling. She is sore and aching in all her parts, but Sukuna’s stamina seeks to wring her limp with sweat, blood, and tears and come.

“You can,” he growls into her slick skin, sucking another bruise onto her neck. “You will. Because you’re mine, Nadja.”

And Nadja, who has lost her mind and her heart in the bargain, agrees. Anything to prolong the pleasure, anything to have him touching her and filling her, and she—

Sukuna’s eyes narrow, the bridge of his nose wrinkling as he feels the tide of her climax around his cock. He watches her eyes roll back in her head, lashes fluttering. She’s sputtering and sobbing, shivering and trembling as he buries himself to the hilt, relishing her whimpers of pain and pleasure alike. She mewls for him, and he realizes how badly he’s missed having her like this. By the time it’s time to kill Gojo Satoru, he wagers his balls will be completely empty, and his head clear.

“Still such a good slut after all this time,” Sukuna rumbles, amused and cruel. He doesn’t stop fucking her, taking her to the point of exhaustion, coaxing incoherent and shivering climaxes out of her until he feels himself come inside of her, and only her belly and breasts. He makes a mess of her, the sheets, and the collapsed bed beneath them. The headboard had broken on day three, and the rest of the frame followed. Neither of them seems to care, lost in one another.

In the end, they lay in the quiet aftermath, Nadja stitched to his side, his arms around her as he lays on his back, staring at the ceiling, his face soft; one of his many hungers is satiated for now. It almost feels like before, when he and Nadja would eagerly engage in quiet discussion in the small hours of the night, make love until dawn colored the horizon, and enjoyed existing in one another’s orbit. Sukuna had once thought Nadja only loved him because he was strong, and vice versa. But he knows the truth. They had loved one another for more than strength and somewhere along the way, Nadja had proven that her definition of love was vastly different from the one he understood. It matters precious little, now. He knows this is a mere passing dalliance. When the time comes, one of them will have to decide to make the final blow.

Sukuna cannot for the life of him figure out why the thought of killing her makes his mind shy from the notion; makes his heart quake and constrict and fold in on itself. He wonders why the thought of a world without her in it disappoints him.

His brows go up when he realizes, and he looks down at her, his eyes hard and calculating. She’s fast asleep, and Sukuna softens his gaze. It is a rare and unguarded moment with her, and he takes time to look upon this face carved by Heaven itself. One of his hands comes up, pushes one of her braids aside, then traces an unhurried knuckle over her cheek. She makes a contented little sound that makes his heart skip a beat. Her lips, full and kiss-swollen, are slightly parted; her eyes are closed, lashes cresting on her cheeks like black waves. He commits this gentle, angelic face to memory. She has never been more beautiful than she is right now, vulnerable and unarmed in his embrace.

Safe in his embrace.

Sukuna grits his teeth, annoyed at his own sentimentality.

“Do you ever sleep?” Nadja mumbles, not bothering to open her eyes. Sukuna cannot find it in himself to be cruel to her. Instead, a smile curls his mouth, fangs bared, and the bloody crimson of his eyes darkens as he makes Nadja purr with an idle caress.

“I don’t need much sleep,” he says quietly. “Aside, you sleep enough for ten men.”

Nadja cracks her eye open slightly to peer at him. He can taste the retort on her tongue, so he preemptively squeezes her thigh, making her groan. She turns her head, hiding her face in his chest. Her braids fall, curtaining her face.

“As you say,” she mumbles, and he hears her sleepy yawn, her body limp and pliant as she returns to her slumber seemingly unconcerned for the monster whose arms can crush her if he feels so inclined.

But instead, the monster adjusts his hold, cradling her and holding her close, cupping her head with one massive hand, leaning down to press a kiss to her crown. He knows what’s happening. He’s letting it happen, and she is too.

His eyes drift close, he sinks down into his innate domain, wishing he could bring her here. Instead, he replays the memories of their encounters like a flickering film real. The memories play from a first-person point-of-view, so he sees Nadja through his own eyes within his soul. There, a blade in either hand, her remaining eye burning with volcanic fury; there, when she sought to drive her blades into his chest before he caught her wrists and broke them. Later, in one of the rooms of the estate, his kimono discarded, her blades and armor heaped and trailing. He watches as she welcomes his hungry kisses, their bodies smearing the blood of their wounds all over the floor as their fury and anger turns to honey.

Sukuna watches Nadja open herself to him, her body welcoming him into her willing flesh. Sukuna shuts his eyes, remembering how she shuddered and moaned in abject relief, as if she had spent these last thousand years running toward this moment. He knows because he’s been doing the same thing.

Sukuna can still taste her on his tongue, can smell her on his skin. His senses are soaked in her and he hates himself for reveling in it, from taking a delicious pleasure in having her again. There’s only one way this ends, and it’s not with a second child. Not that he can give her one. He’s still not sure how he got Sundari on her. Immediately, his reminiscing turns to suspicion, and he begins to turn the events over in his mind, scrutinizing every word and gesture. Nadja has had lifetimes to perfect her ability to damn her targets into her seductions. She understands his very particular brand of violence as if she invented it herself. Vicious, conniving, and ruthless.

Except when it comes to one another.

Sukuna opens his eyes, shifting out of his domain and back into the present. Nadja is still in his arms, content and fast asleep. She has orders to kill him, he knows. It is bound up in her damnable pact. Pierce the heart of the heartless.

Tch. He’ll be damned if he makes it easy for her.

˚⊱🪷⊰˚ Masterpost || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter ⤳

© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

#muse yaps #呪術廻戦 #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #muse writes #jjk x oc #jjk x black oc #oc: sundari hikmat #ch: gojo satoru #oc: nadja hikmat #ch: ryōmen sukuna #jjk smut

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mothguillotine · 1 year ago

Text

Is There A Vampire Dentist?

CW: smut at the beginning, slight dub-con but idk if it really counts, just wanna be safe

The dinner with your parents had shaken you up. You know that they could never force you away from Staten Island (due to your strength), but they will definitely try. Them showing up and ruining your new relationships is a likelihood. You have no idea how Nandor, Laszlo, or Nadja would react to your parents' overall shittyness.

Unfortunately, the vampires noticed the change as soon as you came back home. Guillermo had promised not to tell anyone what had happened that night, even though he encouraged you to tell Nandor. You knew Guillermo wouldn't judge you. After being alive for centuries, vampire standards are really high, and the idea that they could think less of you because of it was probable.

Nandor had been the first to notice, and then when he told the others they came to the same conclusion, you must miss some of your things. After you were attacked, you never went back to your dorm to get anything. It wasn't like the vampires were lacking in the cash department, so they just bought you things.

The things they bought you just weren't enough, though. You needed your things, not just new everything. So the vampires sent Guillermo to get your things. After asking Oscar where you used to live, he heads over to the university you stayed at. When he gets to your dorm room, he knocks on the door and is greeted by a tall ginger woman, Ness. When Guillermo talked to Oscar earlier, he had warned him about her. You did NOT like Ness. That wasn't unknown information to Guillermo, but why you didn't, he did not know.

“What?” she asks.

“I'm here for your roommates stuff,” Guillermo explains, “she isn't coming back and-,”

“I don't care,” she says, moving out of the doorway for Guillermo.

“Okay.” Guillermo says, going in the room with trunks. When he enters, he sees another woman in the room sitting on presumably your old bed.

“Kelsey, get off the bed,” Ness tells her, “he's getting her shit out of here.”

“Whatever,” Kelsey says and gets down.

Guillermo quickly shoves your drawers of clothes into the trunks. He then removes all of your desk supplies and grabs your laptop. After that, he grabs your clothes and shoes out of the closet, as well as your make-up and hair stuff.

Finally, he grabs your bedding and blankets. Luckily, no further was in your room that wasn't university property, so he was done. Then he drags the trucks out in the hallway, and then he goes in to double-check he got everything. When he confirms he is done, he turns to leave and sees Kelsey and Ness looking way more than friendly.

“You slept with your girlfriend's roommate?” Guillermo asks Kelsey.

“Ex-girlfriend.” Kelsey says, “Anyways why the hell does it matter to you? You are just picking up her shit.”

“Well she's my friend, and both of you don't deserve her.” he tells them and leaves without another word.

_________________________________________

Back at home, you are sleeping in front of a fire. The night prior, Nandor (probably Guillermo actually) had set up a spread of furs and candles around the fireplace in your room. The gesture had really touched you, and so did he. You both had been occupied all evening, and after everything, you had fallen asleep in the arms of your lover.

That day, you slept exceptionally well, and so did Nandor, who had woken up a bit ago and was observing you as you slept. Every day that you spent together had made him more and more sure that you were it for him. The night before had proven that Nandor was falling fast.

He was disappointed that he had to leave you for a whole weekend but he also knew that it was probably a good idea to spend a few days apart, at least that is what you told him. Which at first made him upset until you explained that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’.

Nandor knew he had to leave soon to meet Sean and Laszlo at the car, but first, he wanted to have you. The night before, you both had fallen asleep without getting dressed, so he simply moves the fur that was draped on you. For a second, he is worried he woke you up when he sees you move, but when you stop, he continues on his path between your legs.

He starts with small licks directly on your clit to which he watches your reaction. When you don't move he presses harder to which you moan in your sleep. Nandor continues to pick up the pace until you wake up.

“Fuck,” you say, grabbing his hair. Nandor moans on you when you pull at his hair ever so slightly. You can feel yourself starting to get closer to your orgasm.

“Nandor!” you moan loudly, “I'm- fuck, I'm so close.” He then switches to sucking on your clit which makes you spiral over the edge. You pull Nandor up to kiss you as soon as you are done and you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Are you ready?” Nandor asks you.

“Yeah,” you tell him, and he moves to enter you.

He goes slower than normal due to the lack of warming up, and when he is about halfway in, he stops.

“Are you okay?” he asks you.

“Yes, Nandor, I promise.” you tell him, “Just fuck me already.”

After a bit he is fully in you, he brings his lips down to your neck. While his hickeys won't last long it doesn't stop him from trying, leaving your neck full of them for the next few hours. When Nandor is happy with the amount of hickeys on your neck he finally moves. One of your hands moves to grab his bicep. Nandor continues to pound into you and both of you are moaning a lot.

Suddenly there is a knock at the door.

“Hurry up old chap you are gonna be late.” you hear Laszlo yell.

“Go away Laszlo!” Nandor yells at the door and goes back to the matter at hand.

“Fuck,” you say, “I'm gonna come again.”

He feels you tighten around him and knows that you are right so he moves one of his hands to your clit. To which you are immediately coming around him. This makes Nandor in turn also come and you feel him inside you. When he pulls out his cum spills out of you. He falls down next to you on the pelts of fur.

“Good morning,” you tell him smiling, “What did I do to deserve being woken up like that?”

“Did you not enjoy it?” Nandor asks you.

“Oh no.” you tell him, “Quite the opposite, my love.”

“Good,” Nandor says and moves to kiss you again to which you let him.

“Babe you have to go or you are gonna be late.” you tell him when you pull apart. He instead goes to kiss you again and this time you move away.

“Nandor,” you tell him, giving him a raise of your eyebrow, “Laszlo is waiting for you.”

“I don't want to go to Sean's cabin,” he tells you, “I want to stay here and be with you.”

“Nandor, you have to go babe.” you tell him.

“Do I have to?” he asks, looking at you batting his eyelashes at you. To which you push his face back and stand up off the furs.

“Come on, they are all waiting for you,” and offer him your hand to stand up.

“If I knew any better I would say you are trying to get rid of me,” he says and takes your hand and stands up.

“Good thing you do know better,” you tell him and kiss him, “I will be here as soon as you are back on Sunday. Me and Nadja just planned on staying in and watching mamma mia.”

“Okay,” he says, giving up arguing with you.

_________________________________________

Both of you get dressed and head downstairs where Laszlo is waiting. Nadja and Guillermo are arguing in the corner while Colin is standing with many bags and camping equipment next to Laszlo. There also are a few trunks in the foyer which makes the space almost nonexistent.

“What are all these?” you ask confused.

“Surprise!” Nadja shouts, “We got your things.”

“My things?” you ask.

“Yes, from your university.” Laszlo says.

“Thank you guys, so much,” you tell them, “I thought I was never gonna get it back.”

“Of course we did,” Nadja tells you, “this is your home now.”

Nadja moves to hug you and when you do you also feel everyone else join. You all stand there until Colin joins in and Lazlo breaks off.

“Nandor, we have to go.” Laszlo says.

“Yes, yes.” Nandor says and turns to face you, “I will miss you.”

“I'll miss you too,” you tell him, moving to kiss him gently, “I lo- I hope you have a good trip.”

“I hope you have a good weekend as well, my love,” Nandor says, “Good bye.”

“Bye,” you tell him, and he leaves.

_________________________________________

The first night was easy, you and Nadja got drunk on many cocktails she called ‘Throat Juice’. Mamma Mia and Mamma Mia 2: Here We Go Again are played at some point in the night as well. By the end of the night both you and Nadja are laughing so hard that you are tearing up, until Guillermo tells you both its time for bed.

“Come on,” Guillermo tells you both, “You both should have been asleep an hour ago. The sun is coming up soon and-”

You and Nadja start to laugh again uncontrollably. Guillermo looks completely done with the both of you at this point.

“We wanna stay upppp!” you tell him, “We just won't sleep! No sleep!”

“No sleep! No sleep! No sleep!” you both start chanting.

“You both have to go to sleep.” Guillermo says seriously, “If Nandor and Laszlo came back to both of you burned to a crisp because you didn't want to sleep they would probably kill me.”

“Okay fine,” you say, “I don't want you to die or anything.”

Nadja makes a noise that seems like she disagrees and you elbow her.

“Okay,” Guillermo says, opening the door, “Here is your room, go to bed.”

“Okay,” you say sadly, “Good night Nadja!”

“Good night! Sleep well!” she shouts from down the hall with Guillermo ushering her downstairs.

_________________________________________

When you wake up you feel nasty and take a bath. The tub is filled to the brim with bubbles and is lavender scented. It's also very hot. You start by washing your hair and then your body. You take a mental note to have Nandor join you in the bath when he returns.

The peacefulness in the bathroom is quickly finished when Nadja knocks on the door.

“Do you want to go hunt down at the bars?” Nadja asks you through the door.

“Yeah!” you yell back, “Give me like 30 minutes!”

“Okay!” Nadja yells.

So you hurry up and finish up. You dress yourself in dark clothing so that way the shadows will hide you and the blood doesn't stain as bad. When you are all ready to go, you meet Nadja downstairs.

_________________________________________

Saturday night was not unusual. Both of you had drained a few drunks outside of a bar downtown and, in doing so, had felt the effects. You both were at the very least tipsy.

As the night drew on, Nadja and you returned home to watch some movies, and when the hours passed, Guillermo got you both ready for bed. The next morning you wake up and get ready for the day excited that Nandor is coming home today. You brush your hair and your teeth. While you do so you can't help but wonder, do vampires go to the dentist?

_________________________________________

“Yeah, I'm really excited about Nandor coming home soon.” you tell the camera, “It feels like he's been gone forever, even though I know it's only been a few days. I just really miss him and-”

You are cut off by loud pounding at the door. The knocks startle you. They are loud and echo throughout the house. You stand from the sofa and take off your mic. When you get to the foyer, the knocks happen again, which causes Guillermo to come down the stairs and Nadja from down the hall.

“Who is it?” Guillermo asks.

“I don't know.” You tell him.

“Gizmo, go open the door.” Nadja says, and then it happens again. This time, though, someone yells your name through the door.

“We know you are here!” your dad shouts, “Open this door right now!”

“It's my fucking parents.” you whisper, “shit, shit, shit.”

“Why are they here?” Nadja asks you, which causes Guillermo to give you a look as if to say ‘tell her’.

“They want me to leave with them.” You tell her, “The other night I went to see them and they told me they were moving back to Michigan.”

“Where is Mich-e-gan?” she asks you, “Is it far?”

“Yeah,” you tell her, the pounding continues as well as the shouting, “I don't want to leave but what happens when they call the cops? Because trust me they will.”

“We have to hypnotize them,” Guillermo says.

“No,” you say, “I can't.”

“It's the only option,” he tells you.

“Gizmo is right, my dear.” Nadja says, “They must leave before they draw too much attention to us.”

“I don't know if I can,” you tell Nadja honestly, “I mean they're my parents.”

She pulls you in for a hug and then says, “You have to, my dear.”

“I know,” you say and make your way down the hall to the front door. After taking a moment, you open the door to find your parents standing there.

“We have been standing outside, freezing.” your mom says.

“It is extremely rude not to let us in.” your dad follows with.

“Why are you guys here?” you ask.

“Sweetie, we know you haven't been going to classes or staying at the dorm. You are living here with a bunch of weirdos,” your mom says, “We are just concerned about you, and we think that moving back home with Nani and everyone else. Your cousins miss you so much.”

“I'm not coming back home.” you tell them, “I'm not moving back to Michigan. I'm not going anywhere with you. You guys can't control me anymore.”

“Sweetie, it's not like that.” your mom says.

“Yes, it is. My whole life has always been about what you guys want. You want me to be a perfect student. Done. You want me to move to Staten Island. Done. You want me to go to college here so that way I don't leave you. Done. You want me to be the perfect fucking daughter? Well I tried my hardest and it still wasn't enough for you. I'm done, I'm staying here.”

“You have obviously been brainwashed.” your dad says.

“What is a ‘brainwash’?” a voice says from behind your dad, Nandor.

“Your home!” you say, ignoring your parents for a moment as you run to him and pull him in for a kiss.

“I said I was coming back today.” he tells you, “Who are they?”

“uh, they are my parents.” you tell him.

“Oh, hi, I am her boyfriend, Nandor.” he says happily waving.

“How old is he? Forty?” your mom asks with a disgusted look on her face.

“No, actually, I'm 761,” Nandor says to which you cringe.

“You need to come with us. You aren't safe here.” Your mom says.

“Know if anyone is not safe here, it's you two.” Laszlo says.

“Laszlo, stop.” You tell him, but you go unheard.

“That sounds like a threat.” your dad says.

“Oh no, it's a promise.” Laszlo says.

“Oh I'll have you know that I've been in a few fights with my day, and I can definitely take down a brit.”

“Guys, stop!” you shout.

“I'll have you know I've lived here longer than you have been alive.” Laszlo says.

“STOP!” you shout louder than before stomping your foot down on the concrete path which cracks under the pressure, everyone stops.

“What is going on?” your mom asks.

“Mom, dad, listen to me,” you start and then hold out your hand, “I command you to leave and go to Michigan. You both decided to let me stay here. When people ask about me, you will give them vague answers and tell them that I don't talk to you anymore, I went no-contact.”

“We will do as you please,” they both say and walk down the steps. After they leave, you go back inside and sit down in the library on the sofa. A few moments later, Nandor follows you in and sits next to you.

You lean over on Nandor, to which he pulls you close. After that, you can't help but let the tears fall as Nandor comforts you. Soon enough, you are sobbing against him.

You both stay like that for a while until Guillermo comes in and gets Nandors' attention.

“What, Guillermo?” he asks, “Can't you see I'm busy?”

“Nadja and Laszlo have something to cheer her up.” he says, “If she's up for it?”

“Yeah, I could use a distraction.” you tell them both.

“Okay they would like to play a song for you.” he tells you, “They have been practicing for a while.”

“Okay,” you say and a little while later you are all gathered around the piano. The tune that Laszlo plays is familiar but you can't quite put your finger on it until Nadja starts singing.

“Ooh, You can dance. You can jive.

Having the time of your life. Ooh, see that girl. Watch. that scene. Digging the dancing queen,” Nadja starts and you clap along enjoying the song, “Friday night and the lights are low. Looking out for a place to go Where they play the right music. Getting in the swing You come to look for a king. Anybody could be that guy. Night is young and the music's high. With a bit of rock music. Everything is fine. You're in the mood for a dance. And when you get the chance,”

Laszlo joins Nador for the chorus, “You are the dancing queen. Young and sweet. Only seventeen. Dancing queen. Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah. You can dance. You can jive. Having the time of your life. Ooh, see that girl. Watch that scene. Digging the dancing queen.”

You know, right then, watching Nandor, Laszlo, Nadja, Guillermo, and even Colin, that you would be okay. You love these crazy vampires and their fierce bodyguard. This is everything you've ever wanted and more. A real family. You smile as Najda and Laszlo finish the song.

“What did you think?” Nadja asks you.

“I love it,” you tell her.

Masterlist

#nandor the relentless #nandor the relentless x reader #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #lazslo cravensworth #nadja of antipaxos #wwdits nandor #guillermo de la cruz #female reader

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prpfz · 11 days ago

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hi! 27, female, EST. looking for the following fandoms. 🪽

hazbin hotel

adam/lucifer (i would play adam)

adam/lute (i would play adam)

adam/angel dust (i would play adam) (rare crackship alert)

adam/oc (i would play adam or an oc)

helluva boss

blitzø/fizzarolli (i would play blitzø or fizz)

blitzø/stolas (i would play blitzø)

blitzø/oc (i would play blitzø or an oc)

what we do in the shadows

laszlo/nadja (i would play laszlo or nadja)

laszlo/oc (i would play laszlo or an oc)

nandor/guillermo (i would play nandor)

nandor/oc (i would play nandor or an oc)

third person, past tense, 3-4 solid paragraphs (depending on scene). ideally i aim for one reply a day, sometimes that doesn't happen so it may be 24-48 hours in between responses. quality over quantity in terms of replies. NSFW is a must. about a 70/30 of plot to smut, maybe more maybe less. love exploring darker themes— we can flesh that out in DMs. i'm open to any plot ideas you might have, otherwise i have some ideas in mind.

like this post or message me on discord @adamsthirdwifey

damsthirdwifey

#hazbin hotel rp #hazbin hotel roleplay #helluva boss roleplay #helluva boss rp #fandom rp #fandom roleplay #what we do in the shadows roleplay #what we do in the shadows rp

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collaredattachment · 1 year ago

Text

Feast

Character: Nadja of Antipaxos Word Count: 6,079 Warnings: Blood, Vampire-typical violence, death Rating: M (for violence -- no smut today) Description: Watching the dying woman’s slowly rising chest with your hands upturned on your thighs, you vaguely feel like you’ve been sat at an altar of worship, to take part in communion of a different kind – the kind that Nadja beside you knows as well as a dead man’s flesh on her tongue. -- There's no worse (or better) day to work a night shift than when Nadja of Antipaxos arrives in London. She is bound to be angry, and very, very hungry. A/N: Happy season 5 countdown!! Here’s a bit of Nadja to ease the wait.

The cigarette tastes bitter and stale as you take a drag and blow out a puff of smoke. You quit a year ago. And then again, two months later. One more time, at the end of June. It never did quite stick.

“You alright, mate?”

One of your co-workers, a man in his late fifties dressed in grimy company overalls and a worn blue cap comes to stand beside you. He seems to be enjoying his smoke significantly more than you.

You never did remember his name. Cal? Cap? Cam? It definitely started with a C.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just savoring it.” You gesture at the dirty midnight streets of Hackney. Nothing quite like working the nights to figure a new place out, to find the heart of it.

Someone pukes a few corners down, and you throw out the remaining half of your cigarette, no longer interested.

Cam laughs. “Nice night for sure. You been here long?”

“Arrived a month back.” You breathe in the stinging air, savoring the bite of Cam’s cigarette smoke.

“London’s all right.” Cam leans his hand over the paint can acting as an ashtray and flicks his cigarette. The burnt remains fall like little snowflakes. “It’s not like films or nothing, but it’s all right. Could be worse.”

“Oh, yeah?” you ask him just as a man, presumably the same one who emptied his stomach just moments ago, stumbles into view and passes you by, careening first towards you, and then back into the opposing wall. You can smell the piss on him all the way from here. “What qualifies as worse?”

Cam coughs and smiles for the first time. His teeth are yellow, and one of them is chipped.

“Let’s just leave it at that, eh?” he says, drains the rest of his cigarette, and throws the remains into the can. He clears his throat wetly, and spits a ball of phlegm into the gutter.

“Time to go?” you ask. He nods quietly, and you follow him back inside.

The warehouse is massive compared to any you’d worked in before. Black splotches crawl from floor to ceiling in a mixture of shadows and spilled engine oil. Yellow support beams reach all the way to the top, stained and worn from holding the place up since the day it was built. The walls are solid concrete, save for the huge shutter doors that open into the chilly night like windows into a different dimension.

The place is bustling — people swarm it like bees loading and unloading, shouting for assistance or barking orders, driving heavy, wheezing trucks and whizzing by on forklifts. The noise is immense.

“There you are!” A gruff male voice calls a few feet away, muffled by the crowd. Your head whips in his direction as he pushes past a group of men with clipboards and hardhats.

Your boss, Tomas, is hard to forget — thick, wild eyebrows constantly bent in disappointment, gaunt cheeks covered in greying stubble, and the constant, pungent stench of sweat poorly disguised by cheap cologne. He’s huffing heavily by the time he reaches you. “Where the fuck have you been, eh?”

Sorry,” you say, tongue thick and dry in your mouth as you try to speak. “I didn’t know we’d already—”

“Bull-fucking-shit, I say.” His hands are for once out of his pockets, and he points his dirt-stained finger towards a Barrington Freight truck that had just entered the building. “Get to work or you’re out — both of you.”

Without another word, you scurry to the truck with Cam on your tail. Cam, who is entirely unbothered by getting chewed out by the boss. He digs something out of his teeth with his little finger and shakes his head as he approaches.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says and pulls you out of the way as the truck’s rear doors swing open. He pats your shoulder, much like you imagine a father would. “He pulls that shit every time you take a break. You get used to it.”

You glance back at Tomas, currently busy shouting at a truck driver with so much force you can see spit all the way from here.

“Come on,” Cam says. He climbs inside the cargo space and then offers you a hand that you gratefully take.

Multiple hours pass by in chunks of wrapping and piling and driving and avoiding the wrathful eye of Tomas. It’s monotonous work, work that will remind you of its price the following morning when you roll out of bed only to realize that your back is permanently bent in the shape of an S. But it pays the bills. Parts of them, anyway.

The truck empties slowly, and it seems to be matching up with your lunch break quite nicely. You can’t say you look that forward to fifteen minutes in the front seat of your car with a sandwich and a water bottle, but it’s still a little bit of breathing room.

Just a little further.

There are two crates left, both of them shoddily thrown together and just a bit taller than you, and if you weren’t a little bit superstitious, you might have even said they look like coffins.

You go to push one of them towards the forklift, currently operated by Cam, but stop as soon as you’re close enough to put your hands on the fractured surface.

The edge of the lid is slightly open, the nails still trying to keep it shut completely bent out of shape. Some of them are missing altogether. A thin crack runs down from the corner of the lid and ends right in the middle.

“Hey, Cam?” You chance a quick glance at him, just to make sure his half-open eyes are looking at you. “What do we do about this?”

He doesn’t ask what this is, doesn’t say anything at all, and instead clambers into the truck, absentmindedly scratching at the bald patch hidden beneath his cap.

“Ah, shit,” he says and wipes his forehead. “We gotta check for damage, make sure the goods are still good. If everything’s okay we just seal it back up and let it find its owner like any other package. Got it?”

“Got it.”

You don’t know if he’s talking protocol or if he’s pulling this out of his ass to cover for you, but you appreciate it all the same. Cam looks around for a moment and then hops back out of the truck. He returns with a banged up crowbar, nicked and stained by countless doors and boxes. Maybe even a burglary, who knows.

He turns around, looks both ways, and closes the rear doors behind him.

“You got a light?” he asks, and you quickly fish your phone from your pocket to guide him with its flashlight.

Cam dips the crowbar under the lid of the strange crate and places his foot carefully at the other end.

“Cover your ears,” he says, and you do as you’re told.

The wood cracks as the lid breaks into two. You watch the broken piece ricochet off the wall and clatter to the floor, right by your feet.

“What the fuck?” Cam whispers. He takes a cautious step back, the crowbar held tightly in his hands, pointed toward the crate like a knife.

You frown from your position a few feet away. When he doesn’t say anything further, you approach him, steps loud and heavy, heart fluttering with curiosity and a healthy dose of fear. You’ve known Cam for all of five hours, but you get the feeling that he usually doesn’t rattle easily.

You look inside the crate, and breath runs from you like a pheasant in the burning woods.

A corpse. Inside an obsidian coffin with a broken lid lies a beautiful woman, perfectly preserved. Her nose is straight and sharp, and the curve of it leads down to thick lips, painted dark crimson. Her skin is dry and cracked around her knuckles, and there are splinters under her long nails. Black hair cascades down her shoulders onto her preposterously detailed dress — an incredibly well-kept antique by the looks of it. Early 19th century, maybe? If it weren’t for the dried mascara on her cheeks, she might as well be a porcelain doll, posed and painted to perfection.

“Do you mind?”

Something shuffles beneath the wood, and small childlike hands reach for the splintered edge. Some far off place in your brain wants to warn her to not touch it, but you’ve long since lost contact with your mouth.

A doll nearly identical to the dead woman crawls into sight, its face twisted in frustration.

“Well, what are you staring at?” it asks. “How about a little help?”

You scream and lose your footing as you try to back away. Pain flares in your spine as your back hits steel. Your phone falls from your hand but the light stays on to coldly illuminate the insanity in front of you. By your side, Cam is like a statue of stone, with the crowbar now pointed at the little doll.

Beneath it, the woman creaks to life. A thin layer of dust billows forth as her hand rises slowly, reaching for Cam. Cam, who’s offered her a helping hand in return.

You can’t look away. You’ve never been the type.

The woman’s fingers curl around Cam’s wrist and she snatches a grown man off his feet like he’s made of thin air. A snarl tears from her throat when she opens her mouth and crushes his throat between her jaws. He doesn’t even have time to scream before his neck snaps, the crack soft compared to the moist crunch of the woman’s teeth — fangs sinking into him. The second he is dead, she pulls her head back, and slowly, as if she’s savoring the feeling, she rips off a piece of flesh and suckles it, her cheeks hollowing, and then spits it across the cargo space. In a flash, she’s back at Cam’s neck to nuzzle the spraying arteries, the mangled flesh, the red bone – almost like in prayer, like this is a holy gift sent from the gods and the only thing she can do is accept.

She licks his exposed jugular, dips her jaw into the crevasse of his destroyed throat, and drinks.

Cam empties of fluid in seconds, and his husk of a body falls to the floor with a hollow thud.

The woman lets go with a thin gasp. She wipes her eyes, wipes her mouth. Her hair is soaked, as is her entire face, and she leaves a dripping trail as she climbs out of the crate, red handprints sharp against its pale wood.

She smacks her lips and coughs, mouth downturned in disgust.

“Oh, ugh,” she says. “Anemia.” She blows a raspberry and shakes her head. “Fuck me.”

“Been there, done that,” the doll says, its plastic face dyed a deep, dark red. “You made a hell of a mess, there.”

The woman turns to the doll and makes a face — apparently one of offense, because the doll flips her off in return.

“You try doing this shit,” the woman says, and kicks Cam’s body to emphasize her point. A twitch shakes you from head to toe. “I haven’t gone this hungry since I had to flee the country in 1857.”

The doll imitates her voice mockingly, and the woman curses potently in return. She grabs a bunch of her soaked hair and twists it; a small puddle of blood forms by Cam’s corpse.

“Wait,” the doll says. “What about that one?”

She points at you with a tiny pale hand, and all heat escapes your body. Your fingers feel like blocks of ice as you try to crawl toward the rear doors. Pressure builds in your throat and your mouth opens in an involuntary, instinctual scream of terror, but before a single squeak escapes, the woman rushes you at unprecedented speed and slams your back to the floor. Air explodes from your lungs, and if it wasn’t for the woman’s hand firmly over your mouth, you’d be left gasping.

“I’m not sure,” she says. You whimper and try to free yourself, but her grip is like iron. You can only watch her, desperate, like a pleading mouse in the claws of a hawk.

She purses her lips and looks at you like yesterday’s leftovers. “I’m still a little hungry. But I don’t know if I want to finish this one so quickly.”

A hoarse wail slips past your lips despite the woman’s best attempts at keeping you quiet.

“Let’s take it with us, then,” the doll says, flipping its hair. “I’m down for some fun.”

“Maybe.” The woman turns your head from side to side, appraising. She lowers her face to your neck and your pulse picks up. Your breath quickens. Panic makes lights up inside of you like a flash fire. The woman drags her nose up your neck and places a sloppy kiss on your jaw, as if your fear only enhances her hunt. “I could go for a little snack, still.”

Tears burn your eyes and fall down your temples. The woman catches one, brushes it into your skin and then puts the finger in her mouth, her tongue peeking out to savor your fear.

“Don’t worry, little morsel,” she says, and boops your nose with her manicured nail. “You’re going to a good cause.”

You try to shriek past her hand but her hold only grows stronger as she bends over you and, despite your thrashing limbs, your punches and kicks and scratching fingernails, she plunges her teeth into the side of your neck.

It stings, sharp as a needle, and then the rest of her teeth dig in, like a vice lined with rows of broken glass. What follows is the strangest of sensations. You’ve had hickies from past lovers, even been bitten by your best friend’s niece, but it’s nothing like this feeling of being drained, emptied like pulling guts out of a fish.

Your fingers claw at her face out of pure instinct, nothing more. She swats you away like a fly and continues, uninterested in your distress.

Your flailing weakens when your limbs grow heavy, like they’ve been replaced with brick. The woman’s hair is in your face, thick and wet and suffocating, and the only thing you can see is neverending black, like staring into a dead void.

You begin to grow still, only twitching when the woman’s teeth dig deeper for just a few more drops.

Wood cracks behind you. The woman pulls back with a deep breath, heady and broken, and turns to look at the commotion along with you.

The other crate, the identical one; its lid is in shambles on the floor, and a man climbs out.

He is short, with a stubbled chin and a pale brown coat, stained with sweat. You smell something acrid as he comes closer, pushing his cracked glasses up his nose.

“H—Help,” you whine through a mouthful of blood. You can barely lift your arm to reach for him. “Please.”

The man looks at you, looks at the woman, and curses in Spanish.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he says to the woman.

Darkness finally claims you.

—

You awaken, every muscle in your body sore and aching, in a beautifully decorated living room.

It is dimly lit with candles of wildly different shape and size, freely leaking wax onto the floor, the mantle of the fireplace and the coffee table. The walls are old and wooden, decorated with portraits of the people who must live here: a rich-looking family, blond except for the youngest son and the dog. Beside the paintings are thick curtains, their beautiful silk stapled shut to keep out the sun.

The sun.

How long has it been? What even happened?

You sit up with a groan, your head immediately protesting via a sharp blast of pain behind your eyes. The world flashes to white, then to black, and then finally fades back into view. Another pain bursts forth, this time on your neck, and you cover the spot with your hand, only to be met with a thick layer of bandaging.

You breathe in as deep as you can, and your throat burns, seethes like fire reduced to coals.

Thirsty.

So, so thirsty.

You swallow several times, but it brings forth the taste of vomit and inflames the pain in your mouth — in your teeth. Your canines ache like you’ve badly chipped them, but when you feel the tips with your tongue, they’re unharmed, if a little sore. And much sharper than you remember.

Something tickles the corner of your eye and you gently rub your lower eyelid. Whatever it is flakes off onto your finger. You blink away the spots in your vision and try to inspect the stain despite the dim lighting.

Blood. Long since dried, but impossible not to recognize.

You knead your whole cheek with the flesh of your palm and manage to scrape off a long stain that runs down from the corner of your eye to the top of your upper lip. Strangely, you can’t find the source of it. There’s no cut – you can’t even feel a bruise.

Something clatters in the distance, beyond a door to your right. You strain your ears for more, for footsteps or muffled words, but can’t hear anything but the ringing in your ears.

As gently as you can, you set your feet down on the carpet, soft and plush, and probably worth more than your yearly salary. You test your legs, put a little bit of weight on both of them. A twinge of pain, an echo of severe strain, as if you’d just fought off an intense fever, but other than that, you manage to stand up fine with the assistance of a decorative floor lamp.

You place your palm against the wall, firm and steady, and take a step, just to test the waters. Though your knees wobble and every moment of it hurts, you manage to get moving.

The doorknob is old and made of brass. Your heart is in your throat as you turn it, only to meet no objection. It turns smooth as butter, and the door clicks open, inviting you further.

Beyond, you arrive into a dining room. A massive table stands in the middle of the room, laden with plates and trays of food, all of it half-eaten, like the occupants had stood and left in the middle of dinner. Their forks are still buried in potatoes and steak.

The smell is a crooked kind of heavenly. You know meat, remember it. Your uncle standing at the grill, turning sausages; shepherd’s pie right out of the oven; chicken wings, covered in barbecue sauce. But the smell is off, as if you’d forgotten the fine details of it and could only sense a hazy memory.

Your nose leads you to the spot at the head of the table, furthest from the door you entered. The veal on this plate is half-pink, the way you’d never eaten it.

You don’t need a fork or a knife. You take hold of the nearest chair for support, snatch the meat from the plate with your bare hands and take a bite.

It goes down quickly, and you expect the satisfaction of a meal well prepared, but instead your stomach cramps and you heave, overtaken by nausea. The meager morsel comes up to stain the hardwood floor along with a splash of stomach acid, burning your esophagus like molten magma.

You stare at the mess, brows furrowed and your mouth open, drool still dripping off your lower lip.

Thirst strikes you as if you’re stranded at sea and you pick up a glass, half-full of wine. Usually, it’s not your drink of choice, but at this point you would drink gasoline straight from the pump if you could.

Your fingers tremble and the glass is at your lips, but your stomach turns — enough for you to gag and let the glass slip from your hand to shatter against the floor.

The sound, at least, is satisfying.

Another door to your right opens. You try to hide behind the chair, but your vision fills with dark spots again, and you sway, eyes barely open as you stare at the man standing in the doorway.

It comes back, then. Maybe it’s his cracked glasses, or the smell of viscera enveloping him, but you remember nevertheless.

A late night shift.

A crate.

Cam.

Sick burns the back of your throat all over again as you remember his bloodied corpse on the floor of the truck, staring at you with pale blue eyes, red-rimmed and frightened.

You finally fall to your knees, unable to keep yourself standing a second longer.

The side of your neck burns, and this time you tear at the bandage until it shreds to pieces. There, right where you remember the woman’s cold lips, is a bumpy scar in the shape of her teeth. It’s not as rough as you imagined it would be.

“That’ll be gone in a week or two,” the man says, nonchalantly. “You’ll be good as new.”

He sounds almost derisive. Like you aren’t worth his time. Like you’re beneath him.

A growl rises from your throat, deep and guttural. The tremble in your larynx is simultaneously foreign, like suddenly breathing fire, and as natural as breathing.

“You,” you croak, your shaking finger pointing at his out-of-season sweater. He looks mildly amused, and not even vaguely threatened.

“Oh, boy,” he says.

You leap over the table, dishes and decorations alike crashing to the floor as you clear the room in one single jump without an inch of wind-up. The man doesn’t even take a step back. You snarl and circle him, taking in his scent, the sweet ambrosia staining his plastic apron.

“Where am I?” you ask him. “What did you do to me?”

“I just wanted to take a bath,” he mutters to himself in a voice that should be far too quiet for you to hear. He reaches for his pocket slowly. Whatever weapon he has, you will not give him the chance to draw it.

You leap again with the full strength of your weakened legs, and hurtle right into the wall with a sharp crack as the man dances out of your way like water. He pulls a string of beads out of his pocket — to strangle you, perhaps? It doesn’t matter. He won’t live long enough to lift his arms.

You curl your fingers, claws at the ready, and soar towards him again with a hiss. He dodges, an infuriating smirk on his lips – one that makes you want to break his nose. He slaps something into your back: cold metal that instantly turns searing. You shriek, your hands flying to cover the injury. Your knees buckle, and you bang your forehead into the corner of the table as you go down.

The man comes to stand in front of you and lets the beads dangle by his knees. There’s a beautiful cross between the rosary beads. He must have stabbed you with it — but there’s no blood to prove it.

You pull your hand away from the wound, only to find no wound at all. Your fingers brush the bumpy ridges of a burn scar that’s already beginning to fade.

You look up at the man, confused.

“What’s happening to me?” you ask him. In return, he looks at you like you're an animal too fragile to put down. A chick that got under his skin before he could lop the head off. The man rubs his temple and pockets the rosary.

“Come on,” he says, and puts his hand around your arm.

“What?”

He painfully lifts you to your feet, and you growl in protest.

The man rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

You’re shown through a variety of rooms: a library, a sitting room, a music room, and then up the stairs and through a long, dark hall lit with more candles. Every curtain in the house has been drawn, and some of the windows are covered with newspaper.

You arrive at a door that’s identical to all the other ones: dark, wooden, and with an ornate brass handle. It’s the smell that’s different; sweet and rich and delicious, and it makes you fidget in anticipation as the man fixes his glasses on his nose and knocks twice, his knuckles sharp against the wood. The sound feels like an ice pick driven through your skull, hammered a good two inches in with each rap.

Muffled groans slip past the door, but no one answers. The man knocks again with a bothered sigh. When no one turns up, he opens it himself.

“Nadja?” he says, annoyed.

Your jaw falls open at the sight on the other side.

On the floor are three bodies, mangled and dried up like raisins. A middle-aged man, tall and lanky, by the upended desk and its former contents. Another man, shorter and stockier, spread on the stained satin couch. A woman, no older than twenty, in front of the massive bookshelf by the farthest wall.

In the middle of the twisted formation is the woman, the one who murdered Cam.

Nadja.

Her face is buried in another victim, a woman in her forties with red hair and a ripped safety-vest. Her glasses fall off her nose as you watch.

The man next to you takes a look at your face and scoffs. “Well, we couldn’t leave witnesses, could we?”

You wait for horror, for nausea and fright and all the things that come with seeing real dead people strewn on the floor of someone’s personal library.

It never comes, though. None of it.

You don’t faint in shock. You don’t scream. You barely feel grief as a thick, pungent veil overwhelms you, like the perfumed kiss of a lover pressed to your forehead. The corners of your lips lift, and you feel a little laugh bubbling in your throat, just like after two glasses of champagne on an empty stomach.

Nadja finally notices you two, and rolls her eyes. With a smack she releases the woman on her lap, who drops to the floor and begins to bleed freely into the ornate rug. It feels like a waste. You want to cup your hands beneath the tooth marks on her neck to save what you can.

“What the fuck, Guillermo?” Nadja says.

Guillermo points at you. “This guy finally woke up.”

Nadja licks her teeth, digging at a bit of skin stuck between her incisors. “Why is it my problem?”

“You’re the sire.” His voice is deadpan, like he’s stating the obvious. “You deal with it. I have my hands full with the shit you pulled back at the warehouse.”

Nadja groans like there’s a knife caught between her ribs. You wait silently, lost in the strange haze caused by the smell – and the faint taste – of the room. Nadja worries at her teeth for one more moment and then finally gets up.

“Fine. But just the basics.”

You feel her stare at you, but you can’t take your eyes off the woman slowly bleeding to death in the middle of the room. The burning in your throat grows stronger, brighter, and butterflies take off in your belly when Nadja comes closer and brings the smell of death with her.

She snaps her fingers in front of your face, and you return to your body. She sighs.

“You’re hungry, dumb-dumb.” She grabs the collar of your shirt to drag you into the room. The smell intensifies and you can’t help drawing in a breath so deep you feel your lungs might burst. Nadja stops and turns to Guillermo, who is still standing in the doorway. “What the fuck are you still here for?”

Guillermo looks like he wants to say something along the lines of fuck you and your mother too, but instead he offers Nadja a smile that doesn’t even remotely reach his eyes and closes the door.

“Good.” Nadja lets go of you and you stumble, still unsteady on your feet. “Now, how are you feeling?”

“What?” you ask her through the smell invading the rest of your senses. The burnt orange light from the candles fades into a vivid maroon, casting the room into pulsing shadows, the strongest of which keeps pulling you towards the syrupy fragrance stuck to the woman discarded by Nadja.

Nadja laughs, and you marvel at the sound. It’s harsh, like a swarm of bees or the screech of a cat.

“Weak in the knees? Little human tummy all upset? Feel like someone put you in one of those blendy things and drank you and shit you out?”

You tick every box on her list, slightly perturbed as to how she knew each one. She then looks at the drained bodies at your feet, specifically at the woman still gurgling only a foot and a half away from you.

“Thirsty?” she asks with a honeyed voice.

You nod, too much and too fast, and regret it immediately when lightning strikes behind your eyelids.

“I thought so,” Nadja says and walks to the dying woman. She drags her to you by her arms, and her pained moans sound like sirens beckoning you into the dark depths of the sea. Nadja appraises you for a moment, takes careful inventory of your clothes, your hair, and then purses her lips. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

Some semblance of fear finally seeps into you, and you watch Nadja carefully, measuring the distance between you. “No.”

“Shame. You look like you’d be good at it.”

Nadja crouches and grabs the woman’s chin to turn her head and expose the neck. It isn’t like in the movies, with two tiny round holes to mark the canines. The woman’s skin is rough and torn where Nadja’s jaws were locked before, both rows of teeth firmly sunk into the flesh. She’s beginning to empty; the tide of blood grows slower on her neck and her wet gasps for air are fewer and far between. Based on the gently rueful expression on her face, she knows the end is near as well.

It twists the tight coil of panic in your gut.

She’s going to waste.

Nadja rises to her feet with a grunt.

“I’ll help you, but only because you’re cute and it’s your first time,” she says. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you reply weakly through your trance. Nadja’s hands encircle yours and she presses her thumbs into your palms to pull you down to your knees with her.

Watching the dying woman’s slowly rising chest, with your hands upturned on your thighs, you vaguely feel like you’ve been sat at an altar of worship, to take part in communion of a different kind – the kind that Nadja beside you knows as well as a dead man’s flesh on her tongue.

Nadja takes your hand and places it behind the woman’s neck, slick with blood.

“Hold on tight,” she says and waits as you tangle your fingers into the woman’s hair. “The first time is the most intense — you’ll need the support. Don’t be afraid to break a few bones.”

Your mouth opens. The woman’s scent hits you like a mirror shattering, and you take a shuddering breath as you bend yourself over her. She coughs and wheezes, blood splashing from her lips, and she looks straight at you. Her eyes are the same shade of green as the calathea on your windowsill.

Nadja sighs. “Look, she’s going to die anyway,” she says. “Make use of her or don’t. I don’t mind a bit of dessert.”

But you can’t move. The woman is staring at you like a drowning mutt, and under her severe watch you can’t make yourself take the leap.

Nadja slides herself behind you and presses into your back, her whalebone corset pronounced against your thin, sweat-soaked shirt. The beads of her dress prick at you, but her breast is soft on your shoulder blade.

She grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your head down. You inhale slowly, let the enticing scent of iron, of cypress and cherries reach the back of your mouth, and nuzzle the woman’s neck. Nadja’s fingers curl tighter against your scalp, and you finally feast.

The taste is inexplicable. Exquisite beyond your wildest hunger-ridden dreams. It reminds you of a hot summer day, at dusk when the sun has set but the air is still so humid you can feel it move on your skin; of the first autumn evening, when you get to dig candles from the back of your kitchen cabinet and put them by the window; of a winter morning spent indoors with your friends, bundled up by the radiator with a cup of coffee that’s too bitter to drink.

It is relief. It is frenzy. It is peace of mind. It is hysteria.

The accursed burning in your throat ebbs at last, and you hear yourself laughing around the human flesh in your mouth. Something tears, splits, and you move deeper in search of more, more; you bite, you suckle, you drink like it’s your last day on earth until your lips are wrapped around an empty, sunken shell devoid of life, and more importantly, of sustenance.

You finally let go, gasping for air as the woman’s body falls from your hands and onto the floor, her head thumping as it hits the carpet. You lick the remains from your fingers, tongue dipping under the nail so you don’t miss a single drop.

Nadja’s hand untangles from your hair, and her head falls on your shoulder.

“Good, right?” she asks with a sigh. “I still remember my first time. The 1600’s were something else.” She cranes her neck to see your face and slips her arm around you to wipe something off your cheek. Her fingertip comes away bloody, and you open your mouth, but she quickly dips it between her own lips instead. She laughs, softer and more languid this time, and shakes her head. “Someone’s eager. But you’re lucky — this one was the best of the batch.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. She looks at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“So you do have manners.” She huffs another laugh, and runs her eyes down your face slowly, from the arch of your brow to the curve of your chin. “Feel any better?”

“Yes.” The churning growl in your belly has been sated and replaced with a soft, heavy weight, a warmth that spreads all the way to the tips of your fingers. Your head has been filled with cotton and you have trouble keeping your eyes open anymore. “Warm. Good.”

Nadja smiles, wide enough for the tips of her fangs to peek from under her lip. “Sleepy?”

You nod, leaning too hard into the movement, and find yourself approaching the floor at an alarming rate. Nadja’s arm tightens around you, and she pulls you back until you’re off your knees and sagging against her instead. Engulfed by her sea of hair and the abundant layers of her dress, you wait for a reprimand with bated breath, but she lets you lie right where you are without a word. When you make the effort to look up, you’re met with her face, curiously watching you with a small and devious smile. Drops of blood are coagulating on her eyelashes, glittering like gemstones under the light.

“You’re beautiful,” you say, drawing your thumb slowly across her cheekbone. Nadja’s smile widens into a mischievous grin.

“I knew you’d be good at murder,” she says. “A little messy, but first kill is always like that. We’ll fine-tune your technique later.”

You finally let that champagne-laugh bubble over and it spills from your mouth like birdsong, bright and borderline hysteric. Nadja joins your laughter, and you both fall over to the squishy, bloodied carpet.

Your eyelids grow heavy as you float in the euphoria of feeling truly satisfied for the first time in your life.

"We're going to have so much fun," Nadja whispers. She brushes her hair off your face and kisses the curve of your jaw.

In the strong hold of her arms you let yourself sink into oblivion. Your dreams are filled with the sting of her knife-sharp teeth at your neck.

#Nadja/Reader #Nadja x Reader #Nadja of Antipaxos #Reader #Nadja #WWDITS

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