#nor how many fingers humans actually have

[fortunaestalta]

[chiumii]

SIZE ~ (true form) sukuna x reader ౨ৎ .⋆。⊹ 18+

thinking about kuna with a size kink....... is not good for my mental health omg. sukuna has been stalking you for what seem like years. Watching you when you walk to class, going out with your friends, heading to work,,, and who you fuck yourself late at night. You've always had a feeling as if you were being watched for the last couple years. An unknown darkness that follows you around. It should have scared you away,,,, but you couldn't help but give into your sinful desires... especially on the night that this darkness comes to pay you a little visit.

word count: 7600 sukuna x reader smut. size kink,,, obviously. dumbification, fingering, slapping, overstimulation, heavy smut, corruption kink, stalking, voyeurism, breeding, monster fucking, heavy CNC. Double penetration. Perv! Monster! Stalker! Sukuna x Innocent! reader (I have a problem). True form sukuna smut (yes, we get a double dicker sandwich).

Sukuna always knew that he had a size kink, he just never acknowledged the fact until he met you. You were so small compared to him, it was like you were just a measly doll, a puppet. So pretty, so small, and so, so very innocent. He almost felt guilty for the things he fantasizes about doing to you. almost.

He additionally almost felt a little guilty for how many times he'd watched you masturbate through your window late into the night. The sounds you make while touching your pretty pussy were the only thing that calmed him after a long and stressful evening. He had been doing this for a while. Watching you, that is. He liked watching you get dressed for the day, guessing what makeup style you were planning on doing, the little pop you did with your lips right after you applied your lip gloss. It should be disgusting how many times he's rubbed one out to the sight of you popping those pretty pink, full glossy lips. but he didn't care nor did he feel a tinge of disgust towards himself.

He enjoyed all the times he's watched you walk to and from your little cafe job down the street. How your routine consisted of grabbing a coffee at a different spot despite being able to make yourself a free one at your place of work. How you would play with and feed your cats before heading out for the day.

He also enjoyed the days where you went out with your friends to the mall to shop, or to a restaurant for girls night. He especially liked it when you and your girls went out for dinner. All the cute and godawful tiny dresses you found yourself wearing always just about make him lose his cool. The only thing he hated about girls night out was the fact that you knew you were sexy, meaning men swarmed around you like vultures, eyeing you like a piece of meat. It made him want to bend you over the nearest table and fuck you right in front of everyone.

Sukuna owned you, he just hasn't put the collar on you yet.

Tonight was one of those nights where you went out with your girlfriends. Your hair was done up all pretty and your makeup took you hours to perfect, but it was all worth it for the evil, thigh clasping presence you felt in the dark corner of the club you were in. Your glossy lips were a tint of pink and your cheeks matched the deep red of the short dress you were wearing. The familiar dark energy seemed to be radiating all around you, more than normal.

He knew you couldn't see him, but sukuna stood at that corner of the room, hidden away from all the humans, his eyes locked onto one. Sweat glistened on the top of your breasts, and your lips seemed more plump than normal. But the thing that was driving him crazy was the fact that one man couldn't seem to leave you alone. he kept coming up to you in desprate search of starting a conversation, shamelessly eyeballing your prominent curves and licking his lips. sukuna wanted to explode his head right then and there for trying to seduce his woman. And what pissed him off even more was the fact that you were actually playing into it.

You kept making small touches to the mans arm whenever he said something "funny" and you bit your lip whenever he complimented you. But sukuna knew that your laugh wasn't genuine and your smile was a fake. He knew the real you. Of course he did. He'd been stalking you for months, if not years. he made his claim a while ago, and he wasn't gonna let some scrawny low life steal his property with a couple sad jokes.

Your smile faltered just a hair when you felt the dark presence leave the club. It was almost like a warm blanket had been ripped off of you. Your eyes seemed to glaze over, which led the random man to ask if you were okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just feel sick for some reason" your response was an obvious lie, but apparently good enough for the man to believe.

"oh, are you alright, would you like a ride back to yours?" He asks, and to be completely honest, kinda made you cringe. Of course you didn't want a ride because the only reason you were talking to him was to make whatever was watching you jealous.

Sukuna found interest in you because of your innocence. But oh was he in for a surprise. You knew something had been following you, you knew it had been watching you whenever you touched yourself late at night. You've felt it since the very beginning.

its like you had your own curse.

You should have told somebody when the red flags started popping up out of nowhere; they started out small, ranging from your couch pillows being moved around, then progressed into things like your favorite pair of panties going missing, then to things that freaked you out, like waking up to your bedroom window being open in the morning even though you know for a fact that you had closed and locked it. You should have moved apartments. You should have done something when this started happening.

But you didn't. And it made you sick. Getting off on the fact that you knew you were being stalked by whatever was hunting you.

And the fact that you were upset that the mysterious darkness had left proves just how disgusting you actually are.

"guys, I think im gonna call a cab, I just got hit with a wave of sickness and I really just wanna go home and sleep" you told your friends after shooing off the man you had no interest in.

"omg girl are you okay? of course go home and rest im so sorry!" one of your friends said right after taking her 4th shot.

"yeah im fine, just not really feeling it"

"text me when you get home!"

Staring at the dark yet lively city lights flashing by you, you kept thinking about the little stalker you seem to have. You thought it was weird how turned on you got just from an energy, from a presence. You've never felt so.. needed. so, praised ?

No man, or woman. Has ever given you so much confidence, if that's the right word. And because of that, you've never felt another human beings intimate touch. You only want its touch. Whatever it is.

Sukuna knows what he does to you. He could basically see it radiating off of you. How much confidence you gained and how well you hold yourself. And he'd never been happier to be the one gifting you that grace. That's actually the main thing that peaked his interest about you. The way you held yourself throughout life. Nothing could stop you from getting what you want, and he admired that. It made him question himself at first, being so interested about a human being. It made him debate on keeping you alive. How dare a human make him question himself.

But that passed quickly the first time he'd seen your fingers fuck your pussy. it was delicious. he had to restrain himself from shattering your balcony door and fucking you stupid.

You felt it leaking through the cracks of your front door. It felt different than all the other times its followed you around and watched you throughout your life. It was stronger, and it turned you on so, so much more than normal.

You stood outside your apartment door debating on going inside. Your face was burning and your pussy was throbbing.

It felt like you were going absolutely insane, and it pissed you off not knowing what was making you into such a pathetic mess. With a deep breath, you opened your door only to be met with darkness aside from a few street lights illuminating your living room in a dull yellow.

You set your stuff on the couch before walking into your room, slinging your door open, you didn't even have to turn the light on to know that whatever it was, had decided to perch itself in your bed.

For the first time in years, you actually felt scared of whatever it was. Your whole demeanor changed in an instant, and it made sukuna chuckle.

That chuckle vibrated throughout your skull, straight down your core.

Wanting to fold in on yourself out of fear, but too turned on to do so; you walked in, closing the door behind you. Sukuna's eyes never leaving your much smaller frame.

Trying to hide the fact that almost your entire being is screaming at you to run away from the thing in front of you, you stand your ground.

"What are you?" You ask the figure you have yet to fully lay eyes on. All you're able to make out is a monster-like figure with four arms, two behind its head using them as a cushion against your headboard, and the other two resting on its thighs. Its legs are long and big, both of them spread apart, inviting you in, in the most almost taunting way imaginable. Its face is completely hidden in the dark, restricting you from seeing the cocky, shit eating grin plastered on its face.

"What a weird first question to ask, y/n."

Its voice sent chills down your spine, creating an even stronger pulse in your heart, and your clit. You involuntarily suck in a breath at the sound of its voice. Deep, husky and masculine. It's nothing like you've ever heard before, and it makes your skin crawl in excitement and fear.

He chuckles again at the gasp you let out. You stay in your spot, making sure to keep a safe distance away from him.

"Answer my question." The words left your throat as more of a command than anything else. Your eyes never leave his frame, even as he removes his arms behind his head and lean forward, crossing them across his chest. His eyes never leave your body either, drinking in the sight of your skimpy dress.

All he wants to do is burn it off of you and make you scream his name as you cream all over his cock, but that'll take a minute to happen, so he answers you instead.

"King of curses, my dear." His voice sending another wave of shivers coursing through your body. He stands, and your entire body starts screaming at you to run away. but despite that, you hold your ground, challenging the being in front of you.

He's at least over 7 feet tall, one set of arms still crossed over his chest, the other finds their way to rest on his hips.

"The name is Sukuna." You just about drop to your knees. not only is his voice is unbearable, but you've heard about him before. You never believed in ghosts, curses, spiritual beings, anything of the sort and you've never believed any of your friends or family members when they told you legends about the man standing before you, yet here you are. About to be torn apart by the king they've warned you about for so many years.

"Guess you've heard about me, hm?" You can't get your damn mouth to move or your throat to make any noise. Your eyes are as wide as planets and all you can do is take a shaky step back, mimicking his opposite step forward and towards you.

"Why- why are you here?" voice is shaking as you speak, your breathing is jagged, which is prominent in your stutter. Just as sukuna takes another step forward, his features are illuminated in the moonlight shining through your bedroom windows curtains. He's absolutely breathtaking, and not many people would say that.

I guess I really am fucked up huh

"oh y/n, don't play dumb now, doll." His grin never leaves his face and your eyes meet with his. He's scary in the best way possible, and it's making you want to wipe off that dumb grin by sitting on it.

"You're the one whose..." You take a moment to think, which is extremely hard when this monster starts stalking towards you ever so slowly, both sets of arms coming down to dangle by his sides. He tilts his head to the side and begins to hunch his back and bend over to get a closer look at you. The distance is closing in on the two of you, making you unintentionally walk backwards and into a wall.

The sudden feeling of the cold wall on your back makes you yelp in surprise, but you never look away. He hums at you, signaling you to finish your sentence.

"You're the one whose been watching me for so long.." You say under your breath. Chewing the skin on the bottom of your lip. Your hands clench into fists as he keeps getting closer and closer.

"don't act like you didn't enjoy my little haunting game, love. you do remember touching yourself just to the thought of me, right y/n?" His smug smile could be heard just by the tone of his voice. Your breathing deepens and he's stopped right in front of you, face to face with the thing that's been taking over your entire life for the past couple years. Your back would be disappearing into the wall if it weren't made out of sheetrock. He stands up fully and all you can do is stare straight ahead, looking directly in the center of his entire body. He's fucking huge. Letting out a shriveled breath, you close your eyes.

"Look at me, y/n."

You refuse to open your eyes, or even move in the slightest.

He gives you 15 seconds before one of his hands grips the base of your jaw and forces your face upwards to look at him, nails digging into the flesh of your rosy cheeks.

"I said, look at me." With a fearful yelp at the sudden contact, you force your eyes open and are met with the most sinful red eyes you could ever see in this lifetime.

"Good girl." He snickers at the petrified look that paints your face. Even though you look so scared, your eyes are clouded with so much lust. Sukuna can basically smell the arousal pooling in your panties and it's driving him up the wall. Without a word, he pins you in place, making no room for escape by pressing his one of his forearms against the wall above your head, another one finds its way trailing up your thigh.

You let out a desprate sigh at the contact of his fingers. He traces up the skin of your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps to trail behind until he's met with the flimsy fabric of your underwear and it takes him less than a fraction of a second to feel just how soaked you really are.

"You're disgusting." His voice somehow got an octave deeper, but who are you to complain? You whine at his words, following a louder whine as he starts to trace the slit of your pussy through your underwear. Sukuna's hand locks your head in place as you look up into his eyes as he pushes your underwear to the side and pinches your clit, his fingernails creating a painfully pleasurable feeling.

With a loud yelp, your hips buck forward. With his final free arm, he uses his hand to push your hips back against the wall, keeping you in one place.

"Stay still." He commands. His hand on your hip is locking you in place, so you have no option than to obey. His finger traces patterns on your clit and moans dance off your tongue as a result. His fingers pick up the pace and are now harshly massaging at your center.

"a-ah, slow ple-" Without stopping his brutal pace, sukuna lets go of your face and just before it can fall forward, he grips a handful of your hair and yanks it backwards roughly. your eyes to lock with his once more. A scream at the sudden pain erupts from the back of your throat.

"Don't tell me what to do, i'll use you how I please." Sukuna pulls his fingers away from your clit only to land a harsh slap on the bundle of nerves, making you yelp loudly and your body jolt in surprise. He slaps it a couple more times before forcing two of his fingers into your wet pussy.

Sukuna's fingers slide in with ease thanks to his assult on your clit. He was standing at such a close proximity to your body that when your back archesoff the wall, your stomach and chest meet his front. Just as your body meets his, he decides to let go of your hair, making your head fall forward and onto his center. Your hands instinctually reach up and wrap around his body, using him as leverage to keep yourself from falling. Your nails dig into his back as his fingers work wonders deep inside of you, all you can do is bury your head into him to suppress your noises.

His fingers pump in and out of your pussy, curling and twisting at all the right angles, fingering your core as if he's trying to tear you apart from the inside out. Wet sounds come from just below you, but neither of you seem to hear them because they're drowned out by your loud moans and whimpers of pleasure. Sukuna's eyes never leave your body as you come undone.

His now free hand that was once in your hair decides to hook under your thigh, picking it up and letting it dangle, helping get a better angle to fuck you with his fingers. Because of this newfound angle, your back and head hit the wall behind you once more, but your arms don't leave his body.

"Look at you, such a pretty girl. So fuckin' small I could break you so, so easily." Your nails scratch at his back like there is no tomorrow and all you can do as a response is whimper.

"su- kuna" Your hiccuped plea of his name is enough to know you're about to cum all over his fingers, but he wont let that happen just yet.

"say it, y/n" Sukuna says, his voice solid. You look up, tears welled in your eyes as you look into his and your voice breaks.

"Please can I cum, please k-una please please please" Your cheeks are a deep shade of red and your mouth is slightly ajar and oh does sukuna wanna fill up your pretty mouth and ruin that pretty pink lipgloss that stain your full lips.

Without another word, his smirk deepens and his chuckle vibrates inside your skull. He takes his fingers out of you, your juices now running down your thighs and you're pretty sure your panties are completely ruined thanks to the demon above you. Your eyes widen while you plea him to continue with a hushed whimper.

"Hush, little one" is all he says before one set of arms is gripping your thighs and hauling you into the air. Your legs wrap around his torso on instinct and your throat lets out a surprised squeal at his actions. Your hands come up and one of them grips his shoulder, the other rests in his hair. You're now face to face with sukuna and his eyes look deeply into yours. one of his other free hand's is tangled in your hair within a fraction of a second and is pulling you in to kiss him with so much force, it almost gives you whiplash.

Your tongue tangles with his and you let out another squeal of surprise right into his mouth when your back hits the cushioning of your bed. Sukuna is now on top of you, his torso flat against your heat. The hand that was once tangled in your hair is now trailing its way to your neck. Sukuna breaks the kiss and you go to lean forward in protest, but his huge hand wrapped around your neck stops you. Another hand rests on the headboard above you, and the two that were holding you up now rest at the top of your dress.

With brute force and in the blink of an eye, your once beautiful red dress and strapless braw are now being ripped off of you, tiny flames ignite from the freshly ripped seam for a just a fraction of a second. You gasp at the sudden action and Sukuna's glowing red eyes never falter to look at the reaction on your face. He laughs once more at just how jumpy you are. the cold air hits your skin, causing your nipples to grow hard and goosebumps form on your smooth skin. Sukuna grabs the dress and bra out from under you and throw the articles of clothing across the room to be forgotten, all while looking right at you. Once the dress is out of sight, you look up at him, your eyes half lidded with lust that are basically begging him to use you.

Sukuna smiles at how innocent, yet already fucked out you look and decides to lean down toward your breasts, taking one of your nipples and fondiling it inside of his warm mouth. His tongue laps at you and your hands fly to his hair, pulling it out of pleasure. His two free hands now rest at your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, to which you happily obliged. His mouth moves from your nipple and starts to suck at the skin of your breasts. His mouth trails from your chest, down to your stomach and abdomen, leaving deep purple marks and bites that will most likely be staying for days, if not weeks. Your whimpers are like music to Sukuna's ears which only make him want to make you scream his name.

The hand that rested on the headboard is now grabbing your hands from his hair and forcing them down onto the mattress above you and the set of hands that were on your thighs are on your hips. Your eyes dont leave his, even as he rips your panties and throws them in the same direction he did your other clothes, making you bare yourself completely to him.

His hands part your thighs once more and pins them down, holding you in place.

"So cute, so tiny. 'could just ruin you hm?" he speaks as he lowers his head down to your heat, his breath fanning your dripping pussy. Your breathing is even more uneven than before as it's mixed with your hushed moans. Without taking his eyes off yours, he sticks out his tongue and licks a stripe up your cunt, causing your jaw to slack open in the perfect "oh" shape as your whine rings inside sukuna's skull. He licks up your cunt a couple more times before it initially lands on your clit, then he buries his head into your thighs and nips at you like a dog in heat.

His mouth sucks, bites and laps at your clit, and you try with all your strength to buck your hips up, but to no avail, the hands on your thighs pin you in place as your arms are basically unuseful. All you can do is throw your head back in pleasure as this creature devoures you. His grip on your throat tightens a little more and suddenly it's more difficult to breathe, but you dont even care.

Sukuna's saliva mixes in with your fluids that run down your thighs and asscheeks, wetting the bed under you. His long tongue fucks itself inside your pussy and against your walls as his teeth drag across your clit. Sukuna doesn't look away from you, not for a second. He wants to see every twist on your face and flex of your abs as he eats you out, he's desperately and intensively observing you, as if you were the most beautiful, treasurable piece of art he's ever layed eyes on. His tongue is rough as he creates a rhythm of fucking your insides, and sucking your bundle of nerves.

Your arms tug at the restraint of his hands holding your wrists. He's so much stronger than you, yet that fact alone turns you on so much more. Your moans and hushed screams fill the room as small beads of sweat gather on your hairline. Your body twitches under sukuna's control and your clit is throbbing for release as he toys with you.

You're so close to finishing and sukuna can tell so easily. Your moans grow into louder screams and your back arches off the bed. His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off all supply of air and your eyes are thrown open as you choke and cough, trying to get any oxygen possible.

Sukuna laughs into your pussy, which vibrates through your whole body. Your eyes look down into his, desperately trying to tell him to let you cum, or breathe. Whichever one he will let you do. Your silent plea only turns him on even more and your vision is starting to blacken and your head begins to feel light.

"Fuck, you're so adorable when you're beggin' for your life" He says as he sits up and hovers over you, refusing to let you finish. The hand on your throat disappears and you cough and gasp for air, but just as you suck in a deep breath, its knocked out of you by a harsh slap to your face and all you can do is gasp in pain at the sudden stinging on your cheek. He grips your face directly after with the hand he had previously slapped you with and forces you to look down at your pussy.

One of the hands on your thighs moves up to your cunt and plunges inside you. Two of Sukuna's fingers thrust inside your cunt at lightning speed and curl up into your center, hitting that spot you need him most. You choke out a scream and your hips grind into his palm.

"Look at the mess you're making y/n. Such a nasty little girl you are." He says as he looks at your pretty face contorting from the overstimulation he brings upon you.

Sukuna's fingers are relentless as they move fast inside of you. Not even a couple seconds later, you're cumming all over his hand and arm, squirting your fluids all over him as well as your bed sheets. You come undone with a scream.

"K-kuna oh my god!" You're being so loud, you could almost bet the neighbors across the street could hear. Neither of you cared though, all you cared about was how you were about to be torn in half.

Your eyes are watery again and you're still desperately trying to gather air in your lungs. Sukuna's hands let go of your wrists and face, but right after, you hear an article of clothing rip. You sit up slightly in wonder, but your mouth instantly hangs open at the sight of two handsomely large cocks sprung up, hitting just above Sukuna's belly button. Your mouth instantly dried at the sight.

Speaking of sights, Sukuna thought you were a beautiful one. Your hair was a shriveled mess and your face was the most gorgeous shade of red. You looked so fucked out, yet so ready to take anything he gives you like the obedient whore you are. You had a look of fear and interest plastered on your face. Sukuna was never one for love or anything of the sort, but the moment he layed his eyes on you those couple years ago, he knew he was fucked. You were just so different than most of the humans he had ever made contact with. You didn't care about the difference between "good and bad" and you always took what you wanted without second thought, even if it took you a while to grasp. You were always ready for whatever was thrown at you and were always in control of everything around you.

That's why he decided to stick around. Since the beginning, he's wanted to corrupt your world and fuck up your flow of control. He was arrogant and cocky. You just needed someone, or something, to step in and take control over you. And sukuna was never going to let anybody else besides him take control over his woman.

Though he would never admit it out loud, you were breathtaking. You're also the only reason he hasn't burned this world to the ground,,,, completely.

"Think you can take em'?" Sukuna's voice never fails to make a shiver run up your spine. You don't answer him, all you do is stare into his eyes, a silent plea to just have him use you however he pleases. He takes your lack of an answer and laughs quietly under his breath. He brings one of his hands to his face, and smiles into his palm.

"you're gonna be the death of me."

His body slowly stalks towards you, crawling onto the bed, trapping your body between his and the headboard. Your thighs rub together in desprate search of friction. You can't take it any longer, you need him inside you. You need every part of this being in any way you can have him.

"I don't care if you think you can take my cocks' or not, I'll force you to take em' how bout that, yeah?" His head tilts as he speaks and one of his hands grips your leg and pulls your body down farther onto the bed, causing you to lay down underneath his much larger body.

"You're so- so big kuna.." Your voice is uncontrolled and small. Unlike earlier where your screams and moans were ear piercing and just so delicious. Your eyes look up into his, your hands sneak up to wrap around one set of his arms, squeezing his biceps as you chew on the skin of the inside of your cheek.

Sukuna groans at your words. He really was huge, trapping your body underneath his. One of his hands grips the headboard, another comes down to grip the side of your face. His thumb traces your bottom lip, smearing your lipgloss.

Just as you open your mouth, his thumb presses down on your tongue as you suck in his finger. One of your hands makes its way down his body, gripping one of his huge cocks in your small hand. Despite the size difference, Sukuna still hisses in response. You pump his hard dick a couple times, looking directly into his eyes as you suck on his thumb. With painful force, sukuna grips your wrists and suddenly, both your hands above your head once more.

With one hand gripping the headboard, one holding your wrists in place, another moves from your mouth to grip one of his dicks while the final hand holds himself up, hovering right above you. You whine at the lack of control you have, grinding your hips upwards as a sign to let you go, but all sukuna does is laugh at your attempts of escape.

"Stop moving, slut." He pushes one of his dicks at your pussys entrance, but you don't listen to him, you grind your hips upwards once more and Sukuna doesn't seem to like that very much.

"Told you to stop movin' brat" and without warning, or any lube (as if you needed any) he pushes one of his cocks into your pussy with full force. It has you automatically screaming at the stretch. It's painful and you're pretty sure you're bleeding.

Sukuna bottoms out inside of you and stills, the outline of his dick prominant through your stomach, it drives him insane.

Sukuna uses his now free hand and pushes down on the outline of his cock through your tummy and chuckles.

"Fuck you're so small y/n, look at your tummy baby" You obey him and look down, seeing the outline of his huge dick bulging in your abdomen. A scared moan leaves your lips as you take in the sight. It literally looks like he could split you in half at any given moment. Sukuna pulls his dick out, a painful sensation radiates through your vagina as he does. The bulge in your tummy disappears and sukuna's face falters into one of disappointment.

"fuck, you're bleedin' y/n! " sukuna says to you, and just as you're about to look for yourself, he thrusts his dick back inside you, filling you back up again. He bottoms out inside you and a strangled moan that sounds more like a cough forces its way out of your throat.

"full- im so full, too full please-" Sukuna's face turns into one of disappointment again at your words as he says

"that's too bad, I wasn't even close to being finished with stuffin' you doll." He mocks you, and just as he finishes talking, you feel his second cock at the entrance of your ass, which causes you to shoot your head up.

"No, no please dont" you beg him, despite your words not being how you really feel, you beg him not to anyways. sukuna's face is still one that mocks you, pretending as if he feels bad for splitting you open. He pushes his tip into your ass so slowly it almost makes this situation better. The stretch is unbearable, especially with how tight you are with another cock spreading you open and filling you already.

Sukuna's entire tip is stuffed inside, waiting for you to adjust to his length.

"Look at you, taking me so well. Such a good little girl aren't you?" His voice is taunting you. Your arms feel weak from how much you've been struggling to break free, so all you can do I lay there and adjust to his cocks with hushed moans.

Sukuna starts moving his cock deeper inside you slowly, but not slow enough.

"Kuna please no, it's too much I can't take it" Your head shakes from side to side as painful tears fall from your eyes and down your cheeks. Sukuna pouts at this and leans down and uses his tongue to lick the tears away.

"you can take it, you're already doing such a good job for me." This reassurance helps you a little more, and with every inch growing deeper inside you, you find it hard to breathe, and sukuna notices.

He leans down and whispers deeply into your ear

"breathe my dear."

you listen to him and take deep breaths. In one particular deep breath, sukuna takes it upon himself to completely push the other half of his cock into you, getting it done in one swift motion just as you breathe out.

His actions cause you to scream in pain,,, and in pleasure. More tears fall from your eyes. Sukuna doesn't even give you time to adjust this go around, he just can't wait any longer.

"fuck, takin' my cocks' so well, you're so fuckin' tight, couldn't help myself" Sukuna says into your ear.

Your ass feels so tight as he thrusts in and out of both your stretched holes. the pain subsides into pleasure after a couple strokes and your painful hisses turn into sickening moans.

The sound of skin slapping echos off the walls of your dark room, the only light source being the moonlight shining through your window. Your pussy feels like it's going to burst every time sukuna's dicks thrust back inside you.

Sukuna's grip on your bed frame is so tight, the wood crumbles in his hand

"fuck" He curses under his breath

He needs to grip onto something, anything, so he decided to harshly grip the sheets that lay right next to your head. He looks from your face, down to your pussy where he sees his cocks move in and out of you, stretching you so beautifully.

When he looks back up at you, your teary, half lidded eyes lock onto his. You dont break eye contact, even as you moan out his name like a chant that dances off your tongue straight into his ears. And he loves it.

Your walls squeeze his dick's like you're trying to milk him dry. He's even surprised both of them fit inside you.... as if he didn't literally force them to fit.

"Please please let me touch you, just wan' touch please kuna' please" you moan out, begging him to let go of your arms. Much to his objection, he lets you go.

Your arms instantly wrap around his back, nails digging into his skin as you pull your bodies closer together. Your boobs press up against his broad chest as your sweat rubs into his skin.

Two of his arms hold his body up on his forearms above your head now, the other is pinning your stomach to the bed, the feeling of his dick entering and exiting your pussy being felt through your tummy.

his last free hand finds its way to the small of your back, his arm wrapping around your body and pressing you somehow closer against his. Your face is directly into his chest as you moan and scream out his name as his thrusts become wicked and fast, his hips snapping against yours. Your legs spread out for him to take advantage of you.

Sukuna looks down at you buried into his chest, his body hot and sweaty. Your nails scratching daggers into his back, you're pretty sure you can feel blood under your fingernails.

With each thrust inside you, your moans are choked and jagged and it's hard to breathe. The coil in your tummy is about to burst and you feel like you could explode from just how full you really were. Everything was too much, yet so perfect. Sukuna felt as if he was going to burst too, everything was so hot and wet, it was only driving him even more insane.

Your screams grew louder with each stroke of his cocks, signaling to sukuna that you were close.

"want me to come inside you? full you up and breed you like a dumb fuckin whore, turn you into a mommy?" He asks you, and all you can do is shake your head.

"you're gonna take my cum weather you want to or not, understand? Fill you up so nice nd' warm" He bares his teeth as you scream his name..

"no, no please dont I can't handle it, too full please k-una!" He doesn't like this answer, and it causes him to groan through his teeth. With a set of his arms, he grips your waist harshly, and with the other, he's stabilizing himself on the bed above you and sits up slightly.

"I dont care what you want, you're gonna take whatever I give you." he says before pulling his cocks out and flipping you onto your tummy. Your yelp of surprise is cut short as your hands grip at the sheets above you, trying to pull your body up and away from the monster.

"ah ah ah, dont run away from me, im nowhere close to being done with you." Sukuna stands up at the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor. He grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge where he stands. He lets go of your ankles and roughly grips your hips, pulling you up and slightly into the air. He forces your knees down into the mattress, your ass up and your face in your sheets. His hands remain on your hips as another one of his hands finds a handful of your hair, gripping and pulling your head upwards and next to his chest, forcing you into a painful arch.

Sukuna bends over so his face is next to your ear. His long tongue licks your neck, and up to the lobe of your ear just before he bites it, your moan in exchange.

"now shut up and let me ruin you" is all he says before forcing your face down into your sheets, one of his hands pressing your head down into the mattress.

Sukuna thrusts his cocks into your holes once more, resulting in a muffled scream coming out of your mouth, but he doesn't move. his hips flush against your ass. Sukuna lifts one hand from your hips and lands a harsh smack on your ass, leaving your skin red. Your walls tighten around his cocks.

so he does it again

and again

and again

over and over and over until you're creaming all over his cock and squirting all over your bed once more with more muffled screams.

"pathetic. squirting all over my cock with just a few slaps to your ass. how disgusting could you possibly get?" He mocks you again, landing one more painful slap to your ass as your liquids drip down your thighs and onto the mattress below you. He grabs the flesh of your ass with both of his hands and slowly pulls his dicks out of you, the empty felling in your tummy has you begging for him to fill you back up.

sukuna's face twists into one of interest as he hears your whines of protest.

"oh? what a little slut I have on my hands. and here I thought you truly didn't want me to tear you apart" he says as he thrusts his cocks deep back inside you, hitting your sweet spot that has you squealing ever so loudly. Your hands above your head painfully grip the sheets, your nails digging into your palms drawing blood. His thrusts are endless and with each one, he grows deeper inside of you. He uses one of his hands and rakes his nails down your back, scratching at your skin. It was a painfully blissful feeling that had your walls squeezing his cocks so tight, it causes sukuna to curse under his breath.

With a chuckle, he says

"you're so fukin' tight, im gonna fill you up so full, so swollen with my baby, you'll forever be marked as mine, you'd like that huh?" of course sukuna was lying, he would never ever want to reproduce, but the way you're milking his cocks is making him reconsider his entire opinion on that subject.

His thrusts grow faster and stronger, your pussy and ass flutter around his dicks so prettily, he can see it whenever he looks at your holes. You moan his name over and over again, like it's the only thing you know how to say.

The knot in your abdomen kept getting tighter and tighter every time he hit your sweet spot, you were so close to finishing and all you could do is yearn for sukuna to carry you to the finish line. So that's exactly what he did.

The hand holding your head down into the mattress disappeared, so you turned your head to the side, resting your cheek against the mattress, your eyes find his and oh fuck

oh good god

sukuna lost it

he threw his head back with a loud moan and tightened his grip on your hips so intensely he felt your skin break from under him, his nails digging into your flesh as blood ran down your legs, pooling on the sheets, staining his fingertips.

You had a puddle of drool where your face lays. your lips were bleeding from biting down on them so roughly, and your eyes. oh fuck your eyes were so perfect. it was as if sukuna could read a whole book just by looking into your eyes.

Just as he was about to finish, you came all over him once more, wetting the bed, soaking it really. Your walls fluttered all around him like the butterflies in your stomach. as you came, sukuna shot warm ropes of cum straight into your ass and tummy, so full it was leaking out of both your holes. but it wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough for sukuna.

In the middle of both your orgasms, he resumed his thrusts, but your body gave out and you collapsed on the mattress, your stomach hitting the wet bedding.

your body couldn't move, you became putty in his hands and you had no complaints.

sukuna cursed as he crawled over you, his dicks never leaving your walls. one of his arms snaked its way under your arm to grip your throat, another one held your tummy, another spread your legs enough for him to continue fucking you, and the last one held him up.

His hips met your asscheeks in a monsteristic rhythm, a burning sensation beginning to form on your flesh. your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your jaw layed slack open, drool running down your chin.

he was fucking his cum into you, making your soul intertwine with his in more ways than one. He fucked you through your next and final orgasm, your legs shook involuntarily as your guys' mixed cum got everywhere. it dripped down sukuna's cock, onto the mattress, between your thighs, onto his abdomen, all over your asscheeks, it was everywhere.

Your eyes closed, even as his thrusts continued, your mind faded away from your body and before you fully lost consciousness, you could hear sukuna's words ring through your ears.

"Ill see you soon, y/n."

[sheepispink]

THE TRUTH. (super soldier au part 2)

cw: mentions of telling someone to commit suicide, threats, bullying

guys idk how i feel about this one but here u go 🙏

PART ONE PART 3

———-

Happy Birthday

freak.

A present stopped you from walking out at your usual time. It was a week until your birthday, and usually no one remembered other than those who had your file. Although that mostly consisted of blacked out paragraphs now.

It’s wrapped a little messily, not the worst, and you slowly pick it up, noticing a weight inside. You had never got a present before, much less more than a small timeframe to have some sort of celebration— not that you ever took that opportunity anyway. Most years you were too busy hung up with wires and drowning in your mind from drugs. Your thumb brushes over the paper curiously, looking for a name tag but finding nothing to mark the sender. Neatly, you rip a line through the paper which reveals a cardboard box. It’s blank, no branding or anything to attach itself to. When you open it though, you’re quickly greeted by a strange sight; a gun.

A handgun to be more specific, a Browning L941 if you wanted details. It sits neatly in the box, looking clean but you can tell by the small nicks in metal it’s not new. There’s a note beside it, typed— never handwritten.

“If your aim is as good as they say, surely you can prove it by putting it to your head.”

You’re not too surprised, at least more than the initial eye widening. After all, you did deal with the piece of paper on your designated breakfast table every morning. Your eyes flicker down, to the sentence beneath.

“If you’re too scared, we’ll just have to deliver the gift in person.”

That makes you blink, the implications of the clear threat not lost on you. It wasn't the first time you’ve heard them; enemies swore that they’d tear you apart limb by limb, Ghost promised he’d douse you in cold water the next time you caused a bloodbath and even the scientists taunted you with those syringes. The difference was, those were.. well threats you couldn't exactly avoid. Ghost would always get mad at you for making a mess, and you used to be far more rebellious against the scientists— or was that fear? Enemies threatening you was just a farce anyway, you’d have their bodies by your feet soon enough that it wasn't even worth thinking over twice. But this? Comrades, or well they’re supposed to be, who want to kill you? Teammates who would live happier knowing they put you to the grave. It’s no longer the opposing team, no longer the one Ghost points his finger at, no longer the ones that destroy humanity.

No, they only want to destroy you.

For the first few days, you tried to shake it, but you were feeling the weight of the words even more than usual. The stab of pain in your back when they threw the bread roll at you; that could be a bullet next time. Your shoes in the toilet could be your body next time. The fox who whines and whimpers would be you when you were deemed useless.

The truth was, you didnt care about the damn movie, or the cake you were promised, nor even the words “happy birthday” being said to you. It was an excuse, a white lie even, to get the Captain, or Ghost, hoping one of them would actually come into your room. Never have they stepped foot in since your first arrival, never feeling the need to either. The Captain only had time to care when you emailed him, but even that seemed too risky, what if he laughed it off and the surrounding soldiers heard? Ghost barely ever gave you time to talk anyway, and when you did get a moment, there were too many around.

So you invited them over, tried your best act as if you really wanted a birthday to celebrate with them. They’d come, you’d show them the note, the gun. If they laughed, it’d be fine, hidden in your room— you could find a solution before they told the others and it spread around the base. If they didn't laugh, you’d be safe, guaranteed that no one would really try what would happen on that piece of paper.

But you hadn't anticipated that neither of them would come at all. Your eyes brim with tears, unsure how that is even possible as you step into your room, a tenseness sinking into your bones and spreading across your body. With them completely out of the picture, you’re left by yourself until your end surely comes. Maybe you should’ve known, especially when you remember what soldiers call you— a monster.

But it wasn’t in your coding, in your genes or even near your thought process to harm those that threaten you— at least not first anyways, and especially when they’re not explicitly enemies. This was a moral dilemma your tampered mind wasn't capable of handling. Despite the sick growing in your stomach, you had a plan. There were outdoor training rooms, more specifically small cabins that were sometimes used to punish soldiers if they acted up too much.

The gift remains untouched on the dresser, a silent promise watching you at all times. It’s almost four o clock now, and the day isn't getting any brighter in the middle of winter. Opening your closet, your hands pass over the many uniforms there. That’s all they give you, uniforms, it’s why yours are always clean— your only purpose is to fight. So you grab the jacket in the furthest corner, the one usually saved for extreme weather conditions and slip that on. It disguises your figure enough and the hiking boots are exactly what you need to be a new person.

Your hand grazes the knives in your old belt, and you take a few, sliding them into the new holster behind the jacket. Just in case. There’s nothing else to take now, apart from your small radio that you sometimes keep on your person— you dont really use a phone either since it was seen to be a distraction. You’ll likely have to starve for the rest of the day, though with your knowledge you could probably find some sort of food out there. Just in case, you grab an MRE, a spare that stays around in the off chance you get dizzy from eating nothing all day.

Slowly you step out in the hallway, looking around for anyone before closing your door shut again. You didnt dare make it suspicious with a backpack, so your bottle is stuffed into your jacket pocket instead. Same for the untampered gift on the table, they’d assume you’d be back later to open it.

This was your best bet.

You head down the corridors, keeping a confident pace so people wouldn’t even try suspect you— that’s the key to everything, after all. Ironically, that wasn’t the situation at all, in fact they were.. friendly? A few soldiers gave you a nod as you walked past, which wasn’t the craziest thing but, considering no one’s ever done that before, it was exhilarating. You nod in turn, a mask hiked up to your nose but it just looks like you’re keeping your face warm for when you go outside— not that anyone here is phased by a mere mask anyway. Infact, a few soldiers who look particularly boisterous even go as far to fist bump you, likely thinking you’re someone they know. You don't care in the slightest; you’re just happy that for once you get to experience what your life should’ve been like.

The giddiness is temporary though, as you turn the corner to see Ghost stepping out of a room with two crates of drinks in his hands. You falter, stopping in your tracks as he closes the door behind him.

Is this really the right idea? Running away like this?

It’s only for the day, at least that was the idea, but what after that? What if they didn't stop at your birthday— what if it continued? You could tell him right now, pull the mask down that covers your face and confess every little detail running through your head. What would you do if he got in trouble for your foolish decisions? He had shown his stance when he chose not to show up at your birthday party; he clearly didn't care at all.. right?

“Do you need something?” He says lowly, clearly having realised that you’ve frozen in your tracks before him, and giving you a narrowed stare for that reason. Surprisingly, it’s less demeaning and more questioning, considering how harsh his eyes usually go when looking at you. It gives you a bit of hope.

”D-do you need any help with that, sir?” You’re not sure why your voice stuttered, not particularly wanting to think much about the matter either. Instead, you stare right back at him, your eyes widened as you stare in his pupils moving around like it’s searching you.

Did he recognise you?

“No, that’s alright.” It’s gruff, and harsh and yet far more nicer than he’s ever spoken to you before. You manage to force yourself to nod in response, giving a small salute before hurrying off down the corridor.

Trekking through the forest is a little bit of an effort but you eventually meet the small cabin that’s there. It’s almost never used in winter, but in the summer they might do their training in these areas and keep the lunch here. Slowly you step inside, recognising from the get go that there’s not particularly much. There’s a few bedrolls for wilderness training, albeit a bit torn and some dry firewood left discarded on the little fireplace. That’s good, at least you won't freeze anymore than you already have. It’s not like you can use it though— it’s too risky. If anyone sees smoke out here you’re bound to get caught in seconds, and possibly even by your predators.

You lock the cabin door, placing a chair beneath the handle as you let out a sigh and slump against the wall. This would be a long, painstaking night and you cant help but wonder if it’d been better to just defend yourself when they came. But what if you lost control? What if you seriously hurt someone? Even if they were trying to harm you?

The thought makes you shudder, even more than the thoughts you’ve been desperately pushing back. But when there is nothing else to do in this cold place, it’s hard to keep your mind focused. The only way you survived these past three months with Ghost is by not thinking about your situation— at all. It’s probably why he hates you. From how he reacts anyway, you’re more like a robot than you’ve ever been a human. You’ve been monitored all your life, since before you were born you were made for the cause. No clue of who your mother was, you were genetically modified as an embryo for all the traits they wished for you to have. Other children in the program had the same, of course, and for the first years of your life you were blissfully unaware. You didn’t understand that the kids you ran around and giggled with would end up being your own enemies, despising that you turned out to be the successful experiment and not them. It wasn't as glamorous as it sounded, but they complained, saying you didnt have to be sent away like they did, to be fostered and deal with the pain of the experiments for the rest of their lives.

That’s exactly what you had though. You were split from them altogether, coddled by scientists and doctors, personal trainers who felt more like drill sergeants than anyone that wanted to help you. Of course, you were tampered with too, drugged up on strange substances as they tampered with your nerves, always changing you to be better because you were never enough for them. They were supposed to enforce rationality within you by erasing anything that could get you worked up, and so your emotions became suppressed, pushed down and piled with the weight of responsibilities to keep them down. But it clearly wasn't successful, at least when you’re not on the battlefield. When you entered that place, it was like a switch had turned on in your brain, all morality slipping out as you only followed the orders of whoever the handler was. Your mind always enters a haze after you snap out of it and come back from hours of combat, leaving you feeling sick to the core.

But now, things are changing— too fast. You had cried, because they didn't come to your birthday party. For once, your stomach felt sickly with misery and your breath had caught in your throat when you’ve never stopped breathing before, ever. Your hand reaches into your pocket, pulling out a small fox toy. It was a gift from a younger scientist who had just been a mere intern. He had been put forward for the menial task of looking after your post-experimentation state, making sure your vitals were fine. You didnt get to talk to him that much, considering you mostly were deep in sleep, recovering from the new strain on your body. But he stayed beside you, making sure you were okay. When you left to get tested on the field with Ghost, he gave you a small plush, just the size of your hand.

“A little gift.” He chuckled, smiling gently as he rubbed your bandaged arm. “Don't give me that look. I know you’re not actually that unbothered, they just made you that way. You can say you like it, you know, that it makes you happy.”

You could only nod in return, it was the truth, you were very happy.

The sky was already growing dark and without the determination that kept your body distracted from your needs, you were actually feeling your hunger full force for once. The little fox is clenched deep in your hands, a natural predator and yet it’s more common to see them die out in the wild than thriving. Just like you. Your stomach growls, and so you reach for your MRE, eyeing the food within. You were probably supposed to warm it up first, but you’d just have to eat it like this for now. You rip the first packet open, and just try to scarf it down without thinking about the taste too much. It wasn’t the best to say the least. But you’re used to it now; you barely got proper meals apart from missions, and often had to eat one of these after an unsuccessful trip to the mess hall.

You’re about to inspect the other packet when a low scratching noise is heard against the door. Instantly, you pause, mind shifting into something akin to a battle mode already. Slowly, you approach the door, pressing your ear as your hand reaches in your belt for the knife. The windows were frosted up, so it’s unlikely they could see in when it was already pretty dark in here. A low whine echoes out and you realise who's actually stalking you, quickly removing the chair and opening the door. The little fox stands there, looking up at you as it slowly steps inside the cabin.

For once, you let your guard down and just sigh, closing the door and securing it again. “C’mere.” You rarely fear anything, and so you scoop the little fox up without a second thought, even as it squirms initially and its claws are sharp on you. You settle in the warmest area of the room again, next to your mre pack and grab the fork, scooping out some of the food. You didn't need the rest, but he could use it. The fox reluctantly eats the food, and you giggle when you realise it probably doesn't taste much better to him either despite being starving. You took it off by letting him drink half the bottle of your water, which he greedily takes along with a few fruits you packed.

“Your fur is matted, and you’re all banged up but you’re still adorable.” The thought makes you sniffle, a bittersweet smile rising on your lips. The fox rests its head on your lap as you run your hand over its fur, gently scratching every now and then. Why couldn’t people see the truth in you as you did right now? You’ve trained for so long, fought to keep all of them safe on their missions and all you got in return was a scared look, disgust and sometimes even anger. It hurt, more than you allowed yourself to feel.

But this is the first time you’ve been alone without the battlefield before you, or a supervisor staring you down. You could have a gun to your head tonight, and no one will find out until the morning, so for now you just begged that the soldiers were joking, for the sake of everyone involved.

You just wish Ghost and Price would’ve listened, so you could be safe and warm back there, at least getting an early sleep on your birthday. The scientist promised, he said it’d get better, he said there would be others who would care like he did. He said only the higherups were this bad; he lied to you. The tears drip again, unable to stop this time and you bury your face in your hands, mourning everything you’ve lost, and everything you’ve yet to lose. Dead or alive, you may lose it all.

————————-

Part 3

Taglist:

@mellohimmku94 @rafaelacallinybbay

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ how you tamed monster!sylus…

warnings: descriptions of some violence, blood, injuries, rushed ending (lol)

character: sylus

link to master list here!!

author’s notes: i saw some theories that sylus is actually inhuman and i’d fucking love if in a past life MC resonated and ‘tamed’ him which is why he’s particularly fond of her, like i’m such a sucker for ‘inhuman’ things gaining humanity through love

my requests are open since i’m running low on ideas hehe :3

more under the cut!

monster!sylus was indifferent to everything at first, if you got hurt you got hurt. why would he feel anything?

he’d hurt many things before, killed many things before. such trivial matters did not bother him.

that was until, somehow he managed to get hurt.

watching you, a human, far more fragile than he could ever be panic over his wound was confusing for him.

the way you frantically dug in your bag to wrap his arm in gauze - his blood seeping into the pale cloth as he watches you, intrigued.

he could stop the bleeding at any moment, any time, but he doesn’t. instead, he opted to watch you flailing over his injury with a neutral expression.

only when he noticed his human form growing a little pale did he decide to stop blood flow to the wound, choosing to inspect the bandage you put on him carefully.

“What use is this?”

picking at the uncomfortable material, you scold him and tell him to ‘keep it on until it heals’ - monster!sylus decides not to tell you he already healed the site as soon as you finished fussing over him

the next time he got hurt, he decided not to heal himself and instead present his injury to you.

holding up his finger which was (basically) broken in half, he looked at you expectantly.

if you weren’t so utterly dumbfounded at the nonchalant manner in which he presented you with a severely mangled appendage you might’ve made a comparison to him and a cat looking at its owner after bringing them a dead rat

monster!sylus who proceeded to watch you freak out a little, fix him up then scold him (again) for being so reckless.

he was interested at the care you took to make it as painless as possible (it was safe to say you were terrible at it, he was trying not to wince the whole time. yeah he was a monster, but why are human bodies really fucking fragile and sensitive?), eyes flitting between your hands and your face

this was probably the first instances of sylus receiving care, being cared about, and holy shit he didn’t know what to do

monster!sylus that would inwardly sigh every time you’d ask him ridiculous questions such as “have you eaten today?” or “do you think the sunset today is pretty?”

half the time he would scoff or shrug it off, the other half he would respond

when he responded he noticed the excited buzz in your voice as you’d give your own opinion on it - something that he grew to care about

“What do you think of this flower, isn’t it pretty Sylus?”

“It is?”

“It is! At least to me- [insert you talking about your favourite flower].”

*Sylus watching you with intent, beginning of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth.*

monster!sylus who, at one point, sat under a tree with you, looking over the N109 zone towards linkon when his deep voice split through the silence

“Do you like me?”

the sudden and blunt question probably shocked you - your flustered response causing him to grow confused

what was wrong with the question?

was the point of asking not to find out answers one wants to know?

he would simply sit and stare at you until you responded, no matter how long it took you he waited

monster!sylus who finally realised what it felt like to be cared for when you answered ‘yes’, the warm sensation flooding his senses, and he was utterly confused.

it wasn’t as if you’d devoted yourself to him, nor had you sworn your loyalty for life - but the idea that you liked him…

he gave you no response, looking off into the distance as he tried to process the information.

when you asked him ‘Aren’t you going to respond?’ he’s give some bullshit answer along the lines of “You haven’t asked me anything.”

he knows what you were asking.

for some reason, he can’t say anything back.

monster!sylus that slowly began to seek your presence, your company. waiting for you to show up became tiresome, he wanted to be with you.

showing up out of no where - when you were on a walk or entering your residency, he would all of a sudden appear and demand your attention (which you secretly didn’t mind giving).

each visit he’d stay longer, get a little closer, feel a little more.

you taught him how to laugh - well at least give an amused huff, how to do his hair ‘properly’ rather than having it sit erratically on his head.

moving his hair out of his eyes, you swoop it into a neat parting muttering something about not hiding his ‘pretty eyes’, arching over his lids and settling neatly.

however after looking in the mirror, he immediately ran his hand through the hair causing you to almost murder the man on the spot

you taught him how to appreciate cuisines, especially the different variants of drinks.

“This is what brand of wine? Ah… I see.”

you taught him how to treat wounds, how to cook simple foods, each visit a little date on its own.

monster!sylus who inevitably grew fond of you, watching you with a small smile no matter what you did.

if you ever pointed this out, he’d just shrug his shoulders and carry on with whatever he was doing before.

he didn’t notice at first, but you’d somehow managed to work yourself into his life - despite having tried to rid you many times before.

now, your company was second nature. for a solitary creature, he had never before had the chance to appreciate companionship.

you taught him how to.

monster!sylus who quickly learnt your interests. you loved the small, infant cats that would roam the streets - every time you’d stop at a shop, buy some food and nudge it towards the creatures.

you’d take him to ride on a horse - which he complained about being ‘too slow’ and that he could run several paces faster, so you introduced him to motorcycles.

sitting behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as you both sailed through the night air, the city lights your stars.

monster!sylus who you sat next to, head resting against his shoulder.

“Relaxing so easily against me, have you forgotten what I truly am?”

if you’re confused, he’ll spell it out for you. he’s grown used to your obliviousness after all.

a monster

a being birthed by abhorrence, the dirt and filth that humans try so desperately to conceal. no amount of flesh, skin and bone could hide that fact, no amount of blood that spills against his hands could cloak such a stench.

cruel, disgusting, selfish. malevolence was second nature.

sylus who learnt what it felt like to be unconditionally loved in your gentle embrace.

eyes widening with surprise, he’ll ask you if you’re scared of him, you say never. you say that you could never be disgusted by him.

you tell him with so much conviction it may as well have been indoctrinated in the stars.

he couldn’t help but smile at your innocence, your ability to love the unlovable.

sylus who learnt how to feel fear as he watched the wanderer pierce your body - blood spurting from your chest.

his hands are covered in blood - palms slipping against your chest as he tries to plug the hole in your chest.

the warmth of your body, your soul, gushes from you in violent pulses - sylus can feel your trembling breaths, his eyes wide with panic. he fumbles around, cursing louder and louder as he watches you fade away.

“Fuck- fuck. Hold on, keep your eyes open - I can do something about this just wait.”

sylus who watches in despair as the life drains from your eyes, feeling the sharp throb in his eye propel his evol at the wanderer that murdered you

monster!sylus who rips the wanderer’s limb by limb, ensuring that the subject experienced each and every sensation as its soul parted from the mangled corpse

no mercy was shown as he suffocated the creature to death, crushing it’s neck as it squealed.

monster!sylus who stood over a corpse. the corpse of the person who taught him love.

monster!sylus who didn’t attend your funeral.

you never taught him how to grieve, never taught him what to do when you’d leave him - damned with immortality.

monster!sylus who never got to say the words he wanted to.

he could only see you where you lay, sitting helplessly by your tombstone.

it feels as though he’s been stabbed, a burning wound ripping down his throat. he knows the answer now.

“I love you too.”

AN: not proofread as usual i had fun writing the beginning but i had no idea how to finish it - i feel like sylus and MC had a tragic end which is why he’s so forward with his love for them now that he knows he loves them and that their time together can end any moment, unlike their previous life this life he’ll make sure MC knows he’s theirs! :3

[therobotmonster]

The Fae Thought He Had Her, but She's Had Lots of Practice

Actual Title: "On Foreign Soil."

The fae was having a grand old time with his latest toy. Mortals were easily befuddled with the magic of contract-and-courtesy. He'd taken pretty much all he could from the family: several names, the mother's attention, the son's concept of friendship... Even the life of the father.

He'd taken that one taking just the right moment of his time, the one where he moved just out of the oncoming car's path. That also took out the youngest daughter and making a new neverwas to lurk in the pockets of lost time around the home.

The tricks made him strong. The sense of betrayal and regret humans had when they realized how screwed they truly were was like honey: rich, sweet, and immune to spoilage. If anything, in the last sixty-some-odd years he'd been home the humans had gotten more petulant and even easier to trick.

It was a veritable buffet.

So when the eldest daughter returned home from college, he expected her to be easy pickings. The young were always foolish and prideful, and very often rude. They gave him so many opportunities.

So when she threw open the door, and stared at him with cold green eyes, he immediately laughed in delight. His face took on a distinctively 'David Bowiesq' aspect, a trick he found worked well the last time he'd been to the mortal lands.

"Oh, hello. May I have your name, lass?" He cooed in a cocky-yet-soothing voice.

"My name is Alex, and no." She said.

He raised a brow. She was canny, or at least half-canny. She knew enough to object to him taking it. Still, she had answered, and by the laws of the fae, the latter objection did not override the former offer.

So why wasn't he Alex now?

It was odd, but sometimes mortals were a little resistant to magic. He worried for a moment she was a skeptic, but she couldn't be. Her response meant she knew, or at least suspected, what he was. Moreover, he didn't feel the painful chill and sluggishness empiressence caused, nor the crushing weight of the explicable upon his bird-hollow bones.

No, she was just lucky, or was carrying an iron horseshoe, nothing he couldn't handle in his, or someone else's sleep.

"And what the fuck are you calling yourself, asshole?"

He blinked.

The impudence hit him like a slap. She'd just given him the opening to do anything he wanted, but the raw temerity of the insult, it's artless crudeness, it's utter lack of respect stunned him too much to enjoy it. His rage and petulance rushed into the hole left by his shock, and he sputtered.

"You rude little beast, you have no idea what you've brought upon yourself!"

He raised one pale hand, the flesh fading from it to leave nothing but blackened bone, and he pointed the index finger at her in a silent gesture. He let fly his curse. Not just any curse, but his, the one he had made for just such an occasion.

Alex stared at him. Arms crossed. Her hair was the color of the fae's own rage.

"What's the matter, cat got your brain?"

The fae's confidence wavered and the flesh returned to his hand.

"Where are the spiders?" He said. "There... there ought to be spiders! There should be spiders!"

She rolled her eyes.

"You broke the laws of courtesy and decorum! I can do as I please as a wronged noble! You should be spiders!"

"Whose laws?" It was Alex's turn to smile.

"Why, the only ones that matter, the laws of Faerie, as laid down by Oberon and Tita-"

"And Titsforbrains, yeah. I was five once and I can read. I know your dumb politics. Slight problem. Where are you now?"

"The mortal realm?"

"More specifically?"

"The Earth. The United States."

"Exactly." Alex smiled. "And while you might come the land of the platonic ideal of inbred nepobabies, in the United States of America, no law says I can't call a fuckface a fuckface. Fuckface."

The fae tried a different curse, yet Alex was not being twisted into any sort of goat, ironic or otherwise. "But, that doesn't matter! We're a higher form of being, our laws override yours."

"No they don't." Alex said with a confidence reserved for honey badgers and humans of age three. "Now undo all your bullshit and get out of my house."

"Nuh-uh!" The Fae's cocky smirk returned. With a flourish, he pulled out a deed. "It's my house, I got it off your mother, fair-and-square. She traded it for the heart your little brother so foolishly traded me. So you should get out of MY house."

"Contracts signed under duress are non-enforceable." She said in a bored, dismissive tone.

The Fae started to object, but the contract was already crumbling into dried daffodil petals in his hand. He tried to pretend this wasn't terrifying. Inexplicable happenings were supposed to be caused by him, not happen to him. "Are you a wizard?"

"Don't be stupid. I just know my rights." She said. "I'm betting you didn't disclose the full terms of the contracts either?"

The Fae shook his head, more from fear than as a response to the question. Of course he hadn't. If the mortals didn't do their due diligence and couldn't read Linear-B, that wasn't his fau-

The thirty years he stole from the youngest boy ripped themselves out of his body. A half dozen other deals began popping at the seams.

"How are you doing this?" He gasped.

"I'm not doing it. You are. You're idiot who runs on rules and laws who decided to come scam innocent people for your own profit and amusement."

"But it always worked before-" The Fae ran his mind through all his previous romps. Every single human had whined and begged about how unfair things were. Why was this one different?

He ran through those memories again. They were among his favorites so it was easy for him to see every detail. An old man trying to argue Fae law with him. A shepherd girl trying to use her own word games to trap him. A hippie saying almost the exact same words about non-enforceable contracts.

Almost.

He ran through the memories again and again. Always impressed or terrified or blinded by greed, the mortals always argued on his terms, always went back to his wording of the deal or contract, always appealed to the laws of his people and his own noble position.

None of them had ever argued jurisdiction. Once one of them had, it applied, not just now, not just to these toys, but retroactively, and, from how it felt, with interest.

"Oh." Was all the Fae could say.

"Yes. 'Oh.'" Alex smiled like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. "Children can't sign contracts, either, you know."

Everything the Fae had done to the boy snapped back at once. It felt like every seventh tendon in his body had been snipped simultaneously with tiny scissors.

"Nor can someone sign away the right to kill them to someone else, or sell themselves or others into slavery."

Alex's father reappeared in the living room, looking dazed. In his lap was Alex's youngest sister, now remembered by all present as a person that existed. The return of the father's moment was a minor loss, but there was one less neverwas in the Castle of Paradox, and the Baron would blame him for its unmaking.

"Also, names aren't transferable between people, nor are they the whole and sum of a person's identity in this country. The closest thing we have to that is a social security number. And if you steal one of those, well, identity theft is a crime here."

Mr. Baxter, Mrs. Baxter, Julie and Sam's lights all turned on at once, though they were still groggy and half-asleep and would be for hours to come.

A fortune in names, first, middle, last, with nicknames and pet-names and all between, all vanished from the Fae's purse. He could feel its lightness in his pocket.

The Fae turned on his heels. "I fear I must take my leave, so sorry for the inconvenience!"

He was halfway to the door. The impact on the back of his skull knocked him forward off his feet, sending him slamming into the polished wood floor. The projectile that laid him out bounced and landed by his head.

He'd been right about her having an iron horseshoe.

"You don't get to walk away." She said. He felt her steel-toed boot, soles made of entirely synthetic rubber and cleats of cold steel, press against the base of his spine. His hollow, bird-bone spine. "You don't get to fuck with people, say 'my bad' when you get caught, and run."

"Y-your law!" He gasped. He felt his bones cracking. He wanted to turn into something else but he couldn't focus. She was pressing down harder now, because she was half-kneeling. Her hand picked up the fallen horseshoe. "You have to let me go, or arrest me, turn me over to your police, right? You can't just murder me!"

"What are you?"

"I- I'm a Faerie of Arcadia, a sub-Prince of the House of-"

"So not a human. And not an animal." She kept him pinned.

"No!" He growled. Blood the color of an oil slick on the highway began to fill his mouth. The pain made him forget his fear for a moment, and he bared his true face, something between a bug, a wax store mannequin, and a pug-dog. "We-we're a higher form of life! Far beyond anything this miserable pile of dung you call a planet has to offer! You will pay for this impertinence the moment you break the law that holds me!"

"You're a lot of things. A bully, a pest, a liar. But you're not human. And you're not an animal. In fact, as far as the laws of this land are concerned, you aren't real."

Alex lifted her boot to kick him onto his back, then pinned him again.

"Th-then you can't kill me!" He laughs. "You can't kill something that's not real! You've trapped yourself! You'll have to let me go!"

"You haven't been to our 'pile of dung' in some time have you?" Alex asked. She nodded to a strange white book-shaped object that sat unopened, upright, next to the television, next to a pair of white and black crescent-moon shaped objects studded with small white and black buttons.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

--

Six hours later, a notification popped up on Alex's dorm room computer.

[chimivx]

Im so happy that you are accepting vegas scenarios. Thank you so much 💗

Can it be like a lazy fluffy family day, just them enjoying their day with Dae.

Actually, am ok with whatever you write lol I just miss them. They are my comfort place 💕

Have a great day ✨️

...dads and their toddlers -> vegas!yoongi/vegas!couple <3

moms and their infants, dads and their toddlers… i enjoyed writing this. i miss them with all of my heart. trust they are happy & taken care of.

wc: 2.5k. warnings: f l u f f. vegas masterlist.

“No, no, no!”

Feet thundered on the hardwood floor, startling you where you stood at the counter slicing up fruits, tossing the pieces into a little pink bowl. Pressing a hand to the stretchy cotton wrapped around your front, your shoulders and your back, you curled a finger over the fabric and peeked inside, hoping tiny fluffy eyelashes were still laying over round, chubby cheeks. Taking the smallest breath without disturbing the little one, though she was used to everything by now, you cover her back up and finish chopping up the apple your three year old asked for ten minutes ago.

“No!”

Yoongi’s shout carried through the living room, echoed into the hall and found you in the kitchen. The sound of his voice alone, though he seemed like he was fighting a battle, brought you comfort. His voice and Dae’s maniacal giggles. Inseparable, the two of them, since Yoongi’s been able to live back at home with the three of you. Your girl, your Dae, an exact replica of her father, she adored him.

And she had him wrapped around her finger.

Wherever Dae went, Yoongi was behind her. Whatever Dae wanted, Yoongi gave her. All it took was a little pout and the blinking of her lashes and he melted into a puddle on the floor. The subtlest slouch of her shoulders and he would give in, even if he’s said no many times before. So many times you’ve mumbled what trouble she got him in, but with one tip of his chin, glare of his eyes and smirk of his lips, he told you she got this from you.

Truthfully, Dae’s fixation with her father made it easy to bring her sister into the family. Though you sometimes wished she’d ask to lay with you at night instead of Yoongi, or that she wanted you to read her a book instead of Yoongi humming her songs, you were burdened with glorious purpose.

Hyejin came into your lives around the end of August, right when things flipped upside for you and Yoongi for a bit like life normally would. Everything happened at once, that’s how things went around here, new baby, private life media breach, something of a public scandal that you’ll fight till your last breath defending- Nine months pregnant, heavily exhausted from mothering a two year old at the same time, every reporter, every nonsense human being who came around looking for their fifteen minutes, they didn’t stand a chance.

Not Yoongi nor Jin could stop you. If you caught someone's ear, if they dared to step up to the woman in sweatpants with her belly popping out of a cropped sweater, that was their own fault. Neither man could tell you to lay down, eat something, or sleep. It was your second rodeo and you knew what you were doing. Pregnant with Hyejin, you could take on the fucking world, you were invincible, you were fearless. Every worry you had the first time around with Dae, gone. Every precaution you’d take, every cautious step, every jump at every single subtle sound, gone.

You weren’t sick like you had been throughout your first pregnancy, you weren’t drowsy and fatigued, you didn’t have the need to lie down or sit down often- You were exhausted, yes, but not because of Hyejin. Dae kept you on your toes, especially on days when Yoongi had to work, or Sunny had to fly to LA, or Jin had to also work. When it was just you and her, she ran the show, but as she should. You soaked in as much time as possible with her, your first baby, the girl who changed your life for the better.

Time spent with Dae healed you in more ways than one. You worked hard to be the best mother you could be for her, and Yoongi the best father. A promise you kept with one another, for your children.

The two of you went on mother daughter dates appropriate for a two year old. Getting your nails painted, shopping for clothes and toys, letting Sunny cut and style your hair together, making art with her, dancing around her bedroom with her. It’d been your favorite time with her, the best time, and now with a baby strapped to your front, it was Yoongi’s turn.

The nights he’d lay with Dae were nights you spent nursing Hyejin, something you never go to experience with your first born. She was an entirely different child, but that didn’t mean you loved either one any less. It’d been scary the first time around, a lot of things did not go how they were supposed to, how you and Yoongi wanted them to go. After Hyejin’s birth it felt as though you both needed to relearn how to be a new parent.

She grew quickly, she ate when she was supposed to, she made it past the one month and two month old check up without having to be readmitted to the hospital. Getting her to sleep was a breeze, but she was sure to let you know when she was awake and ready to be fed. Hyejin became the boss in the sweetest way, and you and Yoongi both know that Dae had paved the way.

Where your first born was kind, charming and gentle, Hyejin was already fearless, confident and headstrong. The day she starts walking is the day Dae’s life changes. You couldn’t wait for the two of them to grow up together, two tiny best friends.

“Min Dae,” you called out, turning your chin out the archway into the hall so your voice would carry to the little one probably pinning her father to the rugs in the living room. Slicing another apple for you and Yoongi you tossed it into another bowl and slid it onto the island counter behind you. Grabbing the already full bowl of grapes and tangerines, you slid that over as well. Spinning around, you grabbed onto Hyejin and gasped aloud.

“Hey, D, can- Oh my god!”

Dae sat on top of his shoulders, her pink pajama pants bringing a pink tinge to Yoongi’s cheeks. Holding onto her ankles, Dae holding onto the top of his head, they both wore the same tight lipped smile and broke into the same fit of giggles when they successfully scared you. They snuck in while you were situating the snacks, Yoongi still standing on bent knees he tiptoed into the kitchen with.

“I told you we’d get her,” Yoongi looked up at Dae who gave him an upside down smile as her dad shook her where she sat.

“We scared you,” Dae said, proud as ever, hands gripping at the dark strands of her fathers hair.

“Yes,” you breathed, giving her a smile. “You scared me,” you said, giving Yoongi a look, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he crooned, coming to your side with a kiss for you. Taking a hand to his cheek you pulled at it and curled your lip.

“Almost peed,” you mumbled, and Dae thought it was the funniest thing in the world. Falling forward over her fathers head her hands dropped to his shoulders and she almost slid off his back. Reaching his hands backward he grabbed her under her arms and maneuvered her around to prop her on his hip. “You think it’s funny Dae-sy!?”

“Yes, Mommy,” she giggled, “Don’t pee your pants!” Yoongi clenched his jaw, his smile unmatched, trying to withhold his laughter.

Leaning in toward her, you tapped the tip of her nose and said, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Snacks in hand, everyone acquiring a bowl, your little family ventured back into the living room, taking to the floor, the fruits living on the wooden coffee table between the couches. Dae, to your surprise, cozied up on your lap, or one of your thighs rather, her sister took up most of the room.

“What do we say to Mama?” Yoongi asked Dae from your left, raising his brows into the hair that was slowly starting to grow longer over his forehead.

Your three year old looked over her shoulder with a mouthful of grapes and smiled. “Tank you,” she said quietly, not every letter quite making it out with the words.

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, you said, “You’re welcome, my baby.”

Yoongi danced a hand over your back, scooting even closer to you on the rug. His legs pressed into your hips, if they were stretched out they’d be able to wrap around you and you’d fit perfectly between his hips. Sliding his fingers down your arm reaching for a tangerine, he took it, tossed it into his other hand, laced his fingers with yours and pressed his lips to your ear. “How’s my baby doing?”

Warmth burned in your cheeks as you smiled back at him, catching his lips in the quickest kiss. “Good,” you whispered. He leaned forward and laid his head on your shoulder, both of his hands wrapping around your front, just over where Hyejin slept. “She’s tired today.”

“You’ve got her all warm and snuggly, I’d be tired too,” he said quietly. His hands held her, his fingers smoothing over her back through the fabric of the wrap around you. “Wish we had this with Dae.”

“She would’ve hated it, D,” you half laughed. “She’s so nosey, imagine trying to keep her in here.”

He pursed his lips and nodded, looking down at his first born watching the two of you intently with her cheeks puffed out, full of fruit. “That’s why you’re so smart.”

You poked her nose and she giggled. “‘Cause you’re so curious.”

“Yeaaah,” she tried to sing, and the two of you laughed aloud. Dae grinned wide, proud of herself.

“I told Jimin she’s a Shawol, he didn’t believe me,” Yoongi said. “We have to get that in a video.”

Taking Dae’s cheeks between a finger and your thumb, you squished them, turning her smile silly. “One of her dancing, too. Taemin can take her on tour.”

Yoongi furrowed his brow. “She could probably handle that, put Guilty on the TV.”

“Gui-tee!” Dae leapt to her feet, stomped in place, eyes wide, then rushed for the flat screen on the wall.

Scrambling to find the remote, Yoongi shot you a look. “You tell Kook she’s no longer obsessed with his song anymore?” Pressing the power button the TV lit up and Dae shrieked, making Hyejin stir.

Placing a hand over her back, you pouted. “I don’t have the heart, D, what the hell am I supposed to say?”

Yoongi, now leaning over the coffee table, his eyes fixated on the TV like his daughters, searched up Taemin’s music video, and the moment Dae saw the thumbnail she babbled something neither you nor Yoongi could make out.

“That she likes this shirtless guy now instead of him,” he joked, snickering as he clicked play, giving you a smile.

The music started and you couldn’t help it as your eyes slid over to the screen. The beat of the song, the sound of his voice, the artistry of the entire piece, you longed to know what went through his head when he came up with these concepts. Helping the guys with theirs before their enlistment, keeping the spark alive while they did their mandatory service, it was exciting- but nothing quite like this. Taemin had a creative brain you yearned to pick. The choreography, the music, the passion…

“See, you like him, too,” Yoongi teased, pulling you from the daze as Taemin pulled his hand out of his shirt.

Nearly breaking your neck you shot him a glare, the smile evident on your lips.

“For your information, I was admiring the art,” you said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Mhm,” he smirked. “If he released this a few months earlier he’d be responsible for that one,” he mumbled, glancing down at Hyejin.

Clicking your tongue, you slouched over defeated, smile playing at your lips, arms wrapping over Hyejin who made some noise. “Is it so horrible it’s a tragically sexy song?” Supporting your baby you began to maneuver yourself out of the wrap. Yoongi moved to your side and helped, one hand beneath yours to keep Hyejin safe, the other untangling you from the fabric.

“It is tragically sexy,” he whispered, taking the wrap from you, smiling down at Hyejin who had opened her eyes. Free from her cocoon of warmth she stretched out her arms and wiggled her head, her legs kicking forward one by one. Her fluff of dark hair was cradled in your elbow. “I like the video too,” he whispered, meeting your eyes with the tiniest smile, “Don’t worry.”

“Oh, I know you do,” you whispered back, kissing him when he tilted his head. Twirling behind the two of you, Dae sang along, or tried, and danced to the rhythm, following Taemin and his team of talented dancers. Hyejin let out one whine and you laughed against his lips. “Our kids don’t let us kiss.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and looked down at Hyejin and her pastel purple long sleeved footed pajamas. “It’s a wonder we were able to have her.” Catching his eyes for two seconds, heart sinking a smidge, he placed a hand to your cheek, his thumb dragging beneath your lashes. It wasn’t what he meant, he was adding to the joke, not making light of what you both went through last winter. Almost a month away from the date.

Hyejin whined once more, her arms and legs going astray, pulling your attention toward her.

“Are you hungry?” you asked softly, reaching between you and the baby to set her up for her own lunch. Yoongi moved behind you, helping you situate yourself, your shirt, the baby, giving you a place to rest while you fed her.

Taemin ended, and autoplay gave your daughter the greatest gift ever. The BigHit intro played, and she froze. She knew this intro. It was either her father, or BTS themselves, or someones solo stuff. You’ve given her a taste of Tomorrow X Together, some days she’d beg for Chasing That Feeling. The scream that rung through the air when Jungkook appeared, tattoos on display in his sleeveless vest, hair hanging over his forehead, it made you and your husband laugh.

“Kookie, Kookie, Kookie!” she shouted again, and again, and again, running in circles as she did.

Leaning your head back on Yoongi’s shoulder, you looked up at him and gave him a tight lipped smile. “She’s still obsessed.”

“Of course she is,” he mumbled. The smell of fresh, sweet citrus filled the air. He pressed a small tangerine slice to your lips and slipped it inside your mouth when you parted them. “Uncle Kookie gives her whatever she wants.” Kissing you any way he could, he smiled and fed you another piece of tangerine, making sure you were taken care of while you took care of his daughter, your daughter.

“She misses him,” you whispered.

Yoongi bobbed his head. “Yeah,” he sighed, looking at Dae twirling to the music, then at you with a pout forming on both your faces. “We all do.”

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

RETRIBUTION

SEQUEL TO DAMNNATION. kindly read the prequel to get a better idea on the story's direction. I know I promised an alternate ending, where angst is not involved, but I want to prolong this pain for you masochists :> Enjoy this long, hefty, and incredibly hurtful read. But, it is okay my lovelies, I shall have a good-comforting parallel-universe ending written for you guys this week. SOOO pls do keep up with my profile :)

The legend goes on, with the God of the Sea failing to protect his beloved. His fate was decided for him by his people, but now, he shall take fate upon his own hands and remake his own endings. But, does fate falter? Even to a God?

Warnings: Angst Angst Angst Angst, Spoiler to Rafayel's Lore and I put in some of my own zesty twists to the lore, Deaths and Bloods and some okay maybe not some descriptive gore.

Rafayel walked across the sandy paths of Lemuria, in his human form, with his beloved laid peacefully in his arms. Rafayel did not even bothered to shift back into his merman form as he wanted to dedicate the mundane's death to his people. Or rather, to show how much he loves her, by being a shadow of her, a human, walking amongst Lemuria. A promise he had always given her.

"You promise to show me Lemuria someday right?" He remembered the way her face would light up when he tells her stories of Lemuria. From how Lemurians had sourced for various kinds of sea stones from different parts of the ocean to build their homes to how Lemurians were created, to what do their daily routines consists of and many other kinds of stories that a man could ever dream of hearing from an actual Lemurian.

There was not a moment that y/n was ever bored of it. Instead, whenever he visits, it naturally became a conversation starter. Y'n would ask him of the most random things. "So do Lemurians possess any gardrobes?" Rafayel nearly spat his tea out, snapping his head towards her when she mentioned about toilets as they were having snacks in the middle of the night within her chambers. "Or perhaps they just do their business wherever they are allowed to---" Before she could even finished, Rafayel would have his hand on her lips, to silence her before she continue ruining his appetite for the rest of the night.

The swipe of his fingers on her pale lips reminded him of those days. She is no longer smiling now, eyes and mouth closed, her skin looked ghoulish under the water, skin reflecting light whenever the lightning above struck the surface of the sea. Rafayel's face is a sheet of calm demeanour, but the soul that lays beneath the hunk of this man is a roaring sea, just like how he summoned for the storm before he stepped foot into the vast ocean.

Fishes and various kinds of sea creatures that used to swim along the pathways are not seen nor found within miles of Rafayel's sight. None of them were brave enough to be within his presence as they knew the aura that Rafayel had emitted. It is no doubt that sea creatures are much smarter than Lemurians. Every step he took made the sea creatures scattered further away, burying deeper into their hideouts, scared for their lives.

Rafayel stood in front of his kingdom, eyes pinned against the marble white towers that he calls home. Cheers and laughters could be heard from the banquet hall, where the Lemurians were probably herded, awaiting for his return for a grand celebration towards the revival of Lemuria. But Rafayel was far from a celebratory mood. "We have arrived, my love." His voice monotonous, no hints of happiness nor giddiness, nor sadness, nor disappointment. Just numbness. A man with feelings bears empathy and sympathy, but, a man without feelings bears emptiness, null and void of all emotions.

He continued his course, holding onto y/n tighter in his arms. He had the initial thought of wanting her body to rest within his chambers before he commits bloodshed. But, having an audience might not be a bad idea. Instead, Rafayel wanted this. He knew that she could not be able to tell nor see, nor to be there to stop him, but he wanted her soul to watch him commit this, to execute damnation upon his kind. All he wanted, was to show her how much he loves her, to the point he is willing to do this, to be a mad man.

The heavy doors leading to the banquet hall slowly opened with a chant of a spell. Rafayel's eyes staring straight ahead, his once two-toned irises had now dissolved to be a dark maroon colour. His guess was right, all of the Lemurians were gathered within this hall, laughters and conversations filled the environment. But, almost abruptly, the laughters and conversations seized, and Rafayel could care less about the whispers that started to take place within the silence.

It did not took long before some of the Lemurians sensed something was off and they started swimming towards the heavy doors. Rafayel chanted something under his breath and the doors slammed right in front of their faces. The ones who tried to escape were shocked, but none of them made their move to question why the God of the Sea had a dead girl with a gaping orifice on her chest within his arms and why did he chose to present himself in a miniature form of a mere mortal. Practically the size of an ant compared to the average 2m Lemurians surrounding him.

"Your highness!" Arvia was initially cheerful, emerging from the crowd before he spotted the girl the God was holding onto. He stopped in his tracks, wanting to turn back before he felt a strong force pulling him towards Rafayel. Arvia faced Rafayel, eyes bulging when the invisible force coiled around his neck. "Your highness.... please!" The young merman coughed, the crowd watching in horror.

"You were the messenger weren't you?" Rafayel asked, eyes looking past the young merman, not even sparing him any last bits of attention.

"I was only...executing...what...was being....told..." The merman replied, his breath getting more restricted by every passing second. "I did...not...know...of...the ceremony. Please...I just want to save---"

"Your highness, no!" A mermaid appeared from the crowd, with blonde hair curling like tendrils on land, hazel eyes staring at the young merman before darting over to Rafayel's figure. She happened to be Arvia's mother. "He did what he have to...To save us all." Her sentence made Rafayel's right eye twitched slightly, fueling the God's wrath even more. "Then," Rafayel turned his head and angled it upwards to stare at her right into her eyes. His dark eyes could quite literally burn a hole through her soul as she finds herself talking back to a God. Not just any God at this moment, for he has taken his stance as a vengeful God. "Should it be justified? That I am only doing this to save my beloved?" Before the mother could even say anything, Rafayel only exhaled his breath and Arvia's head immediately got cut off clean by the invisible force. The head's eyes blinked a couple of times, floating upwards towards the surface, while its body sank onto the sea floor, twitching as it goes down. Blood seeping out into the ocean waters, creating symbols guided by the waves.

Lemurians within the banquet hall went into immediate panic, screaming and screeching, wanting to leave the banquet to save themselves. Rafayel looked up, watching as the Lemurians tried to flee. Like a bunch of fishes trapped within a fisherman's net, pushing against one another and fighting for whatever that is left for their puny lives. His voice was hushed, but clear enough to be heard within the hall. "Don't worry my people, you shall only feel the hurt that I had felt." And all of the screams halted.

...

Amund dragged himself across the sea floor, a trail of blood painted by his very own body fluids. The man was in agonizing pain, nearly to the point of passing out. Just a while ago, he was getting all cozy within his own chambers before he heard loud screams that travelled through the sea rifts. But it did not took long before it stopped so he took no mind to it, figuring it was just another norm for those celebratory parties. Not segregating the mischievious ones from the docile ones, that is just an invitation for a mishap to happen at a party.

He heard a swoosh coming from the side of his house and his door slammed open to reveal the God of the Sea, in his mundane form, covered in splatters of blood from head to toe. Amund's jaw dropped when the screams finally registered into his head. The screams may just be caused by this man standing right in front of him. The very girl Amund had tortured set securely within Rafayel's arms. Rafayel's unusual calm demeanour is not part and parcel of his personality, which further solidified Amund's questions to himself.

"Your high---" Amund was literally smashed through the walls of his house and the merman landed roughly onto the sand pile behind his house. Rafayel walked through the hole, eyes still hollow and face expressionless. "Pleas---" Another slam through another wall. And this repeated for a couple of times, until Amund was laying on the sandy pathway in the village, blood pooling out of his mouth. He tried to escape, pushing himself up and trying his best to get his tail to wag so he could generate enough momentum to give him a boost off of the ocean floor.

"It was a fairly easy instruction." Rafayel spoke, finally. Maroon eyes boring into Amund's skull. "And yet, you failed." Rafayel knelt down, showing Amund the girl he was holding onto the whole time. "You had deeply failed me, Amund. And you had failed Lemuria." Rafayel stood back up on his feet, licking his lips and looking back towards the towers that he had walked out from. "For what you had done to her, death would only be the easy way out for you." Rafayel's eyes turned a darker shade and Amund let out a blood curdled scream, begging for his highness' mercy.

It has been a while, with Amund crawling on the sea floor. Dirt and rubble trapped under the old man's nails. Some of his nails however, were ripped off due to him being tossed around---his failure to hold onto anything to slow down the impact, caused some of his nails to be ripped right off of his fingertips during the impact---with Rafayel's invisible force whenever he tried to plead for the God's mercy.

Rafayel had managed to pluck out the merman's scale, piece by piece. Lemurians scale are used to make lethal weapons not only on land, but also in the waters. Yet, they are the hardest to harvest as pulling off ONE scale would equate to a human ripping off their whole scalp in one go. So, one could only imagine the pain Amund is going through currently. Amund could barely crawl, eyes swollen from the sand that had entered his tear duct and hoarse voices turned into silenced croaks.

If Rafayel was not holding onto his beloved, he would have easily been the one to pluck out Amund's scales one by one. Rafayel's blinding rage had deluded his mind, as he watched the merman who is the reason behind his lover's death. "She was going to be my mate, my lifetime mate, for this upcoming season, do you know that?" Rafayel scoffed, tears stinging at the back of his eyes.

"But you had to just test my patience, and my capabilities as the God of the Sea. Hence, what you had experienced today, shall never equate to the pain you made me go through. For you had taken my fate, my people's fate upon your own hands." He gave Amund a good kick and the guy groaned in agony, facing down as he regurgitated blood. "What I did today, was nothing but a mere taste of what I am capable of. AS A GOD." His last sentence carried a strong surge of disgust, his bloodlust psyche temporarily separated his status between Amund, an ordinary merman and himself, which is made to be a God.

"I curse...curse her." He managed to choke out and Rafayel's eyes widened, immediately leaping forward to grab the merman's head to face him. The merman croaked out his very last laugh, taunting Rafayel's actions and the last sentence of his was spoken in Lemurian, a rendition of a chant to curse y/n to be reincarnated into a sea witch.

Rafayel's blink of an eye sparked his evol, and he stood there, watching the eternal flames that was casted on Amund burn the merman from what was left of him into a pile of dust, waiting to be consumed by the planktons that lives within the sea water's ecosystem. Tears unknowingly flowed down his cheek and trickled onto his lover's face. The show is over and so is his wish to see her to be a mundane again in her next life. Rafayel held her corpse closely and tightly to his body, soft sobs finally leaving his lips as he faltered to the sea floor.

...

Hundreds of years has passed. And hundreds of years, Rafayel had travelled the seas to search for her. To at least sense any signs of her presence. Ever since the massacre, Rafayel was tied down by his own guilt, for not only failing to protect his lover, but also being the sole reason for the extinction of Lemurians. How uncanny, a legend that tells the tale of a God seeking vengeance upon his own kind just because they had killed his one and only lover. That tale would surely be pure nonsensical or would and could possibly generate pure hatred from anyone who hears it.

Rafayel could care less, like how he heard the screams of his people in their very last moments, the sound of blood and tears splattered across the once white and pristine walls that they were confined within. The sound of Amund begging not to be killed---with his throat slowly giving up on him---the last curse that he uttered and the last sounds that had bubbled from him when he was lit up with Rafayel's evol.

A hint of humming caught his ears and the man stopped his movements, ears twitching in directions to catch onto the tune. A tune only he has ever whistled. With a gesture, dolphins came surrounding the God in circles, by command. "Find out the source for me, yeah?" Rafayel asked and the circling dolphins chirped in return before they dispersed into all directions.

Rafayel's heart skipped a beat, out of nervousness? He had no idea, he still has not gotten used to the idea of his heart being whole again. Because his heart has only been whole only when he was with her. He does not need a whole heart, he only needs her to fill in for the whole of his heart. And for that moment, he shall forever await.

One of the dolphins returned, whistling back to catch the God's attention. Rafayel looked up, and without hesitation, grab ahold onto the dolphin's fin and he was led towards the source of the humming. The dolphins brought him through the kelp grounds, where his people would usually come by to forage for food when they migrate to the northern side for warmer waters during the changing in seasons.

The dolphin led him to the side of the cliff, where it plunges down to the deepest part of the ocean. Creatures beneath those waters are indespicable, and no Lemurians had ever dived that deep. And that includes the God of Sea himself. The humming came again, this time further confirming that the source of the sound came from down below. Rafayel turned around to look for the dolphin, but the poor creature had left him all alone the moment it dropped him off here.

With a deep breath and a puff of his chest, the purple haired God swam deep into the dark waters below. All of his senses heightened to the max as he himself would not expect what he might encounter. Legends were told that there lives a sea serpent so huge that it could engulf the whole world if it awakes. And that was the only legend that still kept Rafayel on edge till now.

His fear dissipated almost instantly when he spotted a faint light in the far distance within the dark. You see, Lemurians although are half-fish and half-man, they do not possess infrared vision that allows them to see in the depths. Within the depths, Rafayel's flames do not work as well as this is the place where Gods are not exactly welcomed. He sped up his swimming when he noticed the light bounces further down into the dark. Pause. Then the light comes back up, but this time, at a very high speed.

Noticing a huge shadow, Rafayel turned and immediately started charging full speed towards the cliff again. But due to the darkness of the waters around him, the God found himself entrapped in the darkness, bumping and hitting himself against the cliffside. The bone-crushing, chomping sounds that came from behind him made him not-one-bit curious to see what was actually chasing him. Right when he was about to be gnawed by a creature, he heard a voice calling out in a language he had not heard of and he blacked out.

...

"I think he is waking up." A voice whispered next to Rafayel. "His eyes are fluttering."

"Is it? Oh yeah, he does look like he is awakening." Another voice intruded, deeper, but not enough to be known as a man's voice.

Rafayel slowly opened his eyes, before he was met with two snailfishes. One with a red while another is tinted with a blue hue. His eyes darted in between the two fishes as he was trying to comprehend if they were the ones talking earlier.

"Good morning." The red one spoke and Rafayel gasped, moving away from the fish. His pupils blown out as he was shocked. He has seen fishes all of his life, but he had never encountered talking fishes. EVER. But making spells to make fishes talk is definitely a skill only a sea witch possesses. This gave Rafayel a thought, maybe she felt lonely down here so she made herself some friends.

"You scared him Red." The blue one spoke this time, and it swam closer towards Rafayel, using its spiny fins to mimic how a mundane would usually talk. Gestures, as what was taught to the snailfishes, is a common courtesy of good body language to humans. But given the snailfishes had never been in contact with any humans, they took the closest resemblance to what their highness looked like. Rafayel looked just like a human to them.

With parted hair and two eyes, a nose and a lip. He is obviously a human to their knowledge. "We are not going to hurt you." The blue fish gestured it's small fins in circles, speaking slowly for each word, afraid that the man before it would not understand them. "Our master ask us to care for you as she went out to gather some food."

"Who is your master?" Rafayel asked as he sat up, kindly hoping that it was the girl he had awaited for many years. "Where is she?" His excitement made him winced, his head still hurts, a side effect of a sea witch's spell.

The feel of the water temperature shifting made the two snailfishes swam off to one of the tunnels. Rafayel took this time to observe his surroundings. Contrast to the dark waters he was in just now, he is currently in a cave like structure, with huge seaweeds and some pebbles laid out beneath him and a sea lantern hung up at every corner of the cave to provide some decent lighting. For a moment, he did not believe that he is in a sea witch's abode.

The walls had paints on them, some forming artworks of the seas above, and some were writings written in what Rafayel assumed to be sea witch's language. Rafayel stopped at one of the drawings, it was a rough sketch of Lemuria. Seeing the sketch, his breath hitched in his throat. The past memories of his massacre surfacing again but he forced it down. Not willing to show weakness in such a foreign territory. Below the sketch, there were symbols that Rafayel could not read. But he decided not to further crack his head.

The fishes returned and Rafayel's heart dropped to the bottom of his tail when he was met with her. The girl who he had always been waiting, the girl he had committed massacre for, the girl that had made him suffer with loneliness for the past hundred years. Y/n is now in front of him, but other than human legs, it was swapped with a black and singular long tail, resembling one a Moray eel has. Her once brunette curls took on a much darker shade, the same as the waters below here. The curse happened after all, for she had became the sea witch of the depths.

"You are awake." Y/n spoke and oh how he missed her voice. The voice that produces the best laughters and asked the most silly questions. Yet, with this version of her, her voice held none of those characteristics he remembered. It was deadpanned, the lack of emotions nearly made Rafayel winced. With his lack of a response, the sea witch looked towards both of her friends. "Does he happen to be a mute?"

"He spoke to us just now, but more like engaged us in a question or two." The blue snailfish chirped, swimming back to the side of Rafayel. The same fin that used to make gestures came to give a pat onto Rafayel's cheek and the merman turned to look at the fish in question. Seeing Rafayel's reaction, the fish hurriedly swam back to its master. "He is a human as you described right? Right, master?"

"Not quite, Blue." Ironic, Rafayel thought. It is very ironic of her to name things exactly based on the way they looked. It has always been a habit of hers. She placed the seashells she had harvested neatly onto the floor and she swam over to have a closer look at Rafayel. "I think, his origins are of a mermaid." Her eyes are now a different shade of colour, black irises match the shade of her pupils. Another staple for a sea witch. "I apologise for the black out you had to experience earlier on. I had to cease the Angler Fish from rising towards the surface as I did not want it to disturb the ecosystem as of above."

"Do you know of my name?" Rafayel asked, a glimmer of hope shined in his eyes as he really wished for her to remember at least a slither of memory of him. For he had been her one and only lover in her past life. But with the way she raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, his hope got extinguished like a fire that could not be ignited.

"What do you seek for, Lemurian?" Y/n swam back towards the pile of sea shells she had collected and she grabbed one of the bottles from above her shelf. Examining the shells one by one before placing them into the bottle, only the ones that has spots on them would be chosen while the other would be tossed aside and the two snailfishes seem to be having a feast with the leftovers.

The turn of her head got her to look him right into his eyes. The warm glow emitting from the sea lantern casting a soft glow on her face. Just like the time when he held her in his arms, on top of the rock. He tore his eyes away from her, his cheeks burning from how affected he was from her gaze. But he answered her. "I came here for a potion. A potion to cure me from my wandering heart." ...

It took y/n 100 days, a cycle between 50 days and 50 nights to produce the potion that Rafayel had requested for. Shortly after the interaction, Rafayel had returned back to the shallow seas, as he could not bear to watch the love of his life not knowing him for who he is and who he was to her.

His last words to her before he departed to the shallows was, "Once the potion has been completed, I shall meet you at the sea stacks by dawn. The one far north." He said, index finger pointing towards the said direction. His eyes does not meet hers before he left. That was how heartbroken he was. His heart wearing him down day by day as he waited for the potion to be crafted.

During the 100 days of wait, he kept going back and forth between the waters and land to keep himself occupied. But the land served him better as the mourning of the princess had ended long ago. When the princess went missing, the King sent out every single one of his troops to search for the lost princess.

Rafayel purposely placed her back onto the sea stacks so she could be found easily. Knowing the God, he would have kept her by his side even if she were to be nothing but a bag of bones, but he knew, her people would want to know of her whereabouts. Even if it would only bring them to her corpse. He could not give himself anymore liberty to take her away from her people, like how he had singlehandedly perished the people of his kingdom. He did not turned his head back at all once he had left her there, swimming away in full speed so that he would not be discovered and caught, and to save himself from crying anymore.

The beloved princess' death was mourned by all. Every citizen within the Kingdom's grounds were in tears, regardless if its a man or a woman, an adult or a child. That was how loved she was. Her people mourned for her for nearly five decades, and that was how long Rafayel refused to surface and to walk on land. Every time he closed in to the shores of her kingdom, the sounds of the cries of her people would strike his ears. He became so used to it that he would visit the same place every day, by dusk, just to silently cry and mourn with the people of her kingdom.

He would not even go anywhere near his kingdom either. For it was filled with the bones of his people. The people that he used to cherish, that he would always go back to. But now, all he returns to, is a dead and eerie silence. The bloody stains of his people had now hardened, taken over by sea crustaceans as Lemurian blood offers a lot of benefits to the sea creatures. If any Lemurians lived past that day, Rafayal would definitely earn the title of 'The God Who Went Deranged'.

The day has finally came, where they shall rejoice by the sea stacks. Rafayel was already waiting there since dusk, body floating above the waters, facing up towards the bright skies painted in pastel yellows and reds. Blobs of clouds that seemed so edible Rafayel wished he could fly instead of swim. A bunch of bubbles surfaced next to him and he slightly turned his head, watching as she emerged from the waters, holding two vials in her hand. Her face expressionless and cold as the first time he had met her in this life.

"Here." She handed him one of the vials and he took it, repositioning himself from having to float, to facing her directly. "Are you sure this is what you desire?" Her question caught his attention, his mixture of lilac-lapis orbs stared into her obsidian ones. "Because your memories will be perished forever, do you know that?"

Rafayel looked at the vial, the contents of the fluid is watery, and takes on a sheen of coral-like pink. "My mind is set." His eyes caught her again. "This is what I had desired when I met you that day." His words although does not hold any meaning to the sea witch, but it held meanings that one could never fathom, within the God of Sea's memories.

"This is usually done between two, one to forget while the other to contain the forgotten memories." She explained, holding up the vial to her eye level as she continued. "And since you do not have anyone you want to consume this with, I shall be the one to contain your forgotten memories."

As expected, Rafayel knew she was going to say this. He had never once mentioned anything about the Lemurians being extinct. Neither did she asked. Always putting people ahead of herself, her nature still seeped through from her past life that it has easily become one of her core personalities even till now. Rafayel silently sighed in his own mind when he looked at this woman in front of him. The lover that he had sworn his life to, became the lover that was seemingly a stranger to him.

"We shall consume this together, and with a chant of a spell, hence the void of the memory shall take upon its place." Rafayel pulled the cap open, mirroring her actions and they drank the mixture together. Rafayel winced at how bitter the content tasted but y/n seemed unaffected, as sea witches are not equipped with a sense of taste as most of their potions tasted wicked as their personalities had always been portrayed to be. "Well enough to start?"

"Hu-Ayr-Tey Ta-Fa-Fu-Lei." Rafayel chanted and he watched as y/n's eyes widened. Finally, a reaction from her. Not in the way he had hoped for a reaction of course. You see, Rafayel, being God of the Sea, although had never travelled through the deep waters and had never knew of the Sea Witches' language, but the spells equipped by the sea witches were born out of a God's nature. Should there be benevolence, there shall be malevolence. Just like how Rafayel's massacre is a proof of a God's malevolent nature taking place physically, a sea witch's spells are born out of a God's mentally twisted nature.

"What have you done?!" She held onto her neck, feeling herself struggling to breathe as her neck is closing up on her. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" She raised her voice, looking at him with anger that starts to paint her face a shade of red. "How do you know of this spell?!" She was in disbelief, eyes shooting daggers into the merman in front of her. Rafayel showed no amusement though, his eyes although were entirely focused on her, his heart crushed.

Fate in general, creates thousands and millions of possibilities towards one's ending. For a God, fate should easily be nothing but a just another miniscule issue within their palms. But for Rafayel, the moment he fell for a mundane, was the moment he signed a blackmail for himself. He has to gamble with fate now, just like with any other mere mortal. The only advantage he got is that he could look into the near future to help him better plan out his upcoming course of actions.

This happening now, marks one of his course of actions. The fate he had chosen was to kill y/n with his own hands, so she could be reincarnated to be a human in her next life. Then, he could take place as a man, on the land, seeking for her love and attention, just like how a mere mortal would. Yes. Rafayel, the God of the Sea, would risk his status of being a God just to be a human, just to be with her. "This is the only way." He spoke to her, as he watched her slowly lose her memories to swim, her tail, now a pair of legs, flailing clumsily in an effort to save herself.

The spell that he had uttered, does not only make her forget her own identity, but it makes her forget everything, wiping everything off of her memory and giving her a clean slate. A reincarnated soul would always remember bits of their past lives, that is how deja-vu and realistic dreams come about. But this spell would wipe her memory of her past life as well. As bad as it sounds, Rafayel sees this as the only viable way for him to live his next life, having to protect her. All the other courses of action, would only lead to more bloodshed and he grew tired of it.

The tears came flowing again, watching his beloved struggle to breathe as she started to choke onto the seawater that is rapidly entering her lungs. Rafayel could only watch, he could not interfere as it would ruin the course of her next life. Heart wrenching, gut punching, every other word of torturous feeling would describe him perfectly at this moment.

Y/n reached out her hand to him, desperately looking at him and clawing for him, seeking for his help to drag her out and onto solid land. But his refusal seemingly made her accepted her fate. Her pupils then slowly stopped moving, her body slowly stopped thrashing and twitching as she continued descended deeper into the waters. A scene that reminded him deeply of Arvia during his last moments.

Once the bubbles had stopped surfacing out of her agape lips, Rafayel swam down as fast as he could, and he held her cold body in his arms again, closely studying her very last moments. Her eyes were opened, in a state of shock and acceptance, lips blue like the shade of his lapis-coloured eyes, tail had now taken form into two legs, her body stiff and hollow like how she was when he first found her in the past 100 years. The curse was finally broken, but it also broke Rafayel. With shaky breaths, he uttered. "In your next life, I promise you. I promise. You shall only ever hear of my name as to be Rafayel. I shall no longer...be the God of the Sea."

Parallel Universe Ending is Out: Salvation

I love doubling the damage sometimes, this one-shot had became somewhat of a small series. I enjoyed using a bit of my gore movie visual experiences within this piece of writing. Thank you for the ones who wished for a sequel. I hope this makes you bawl your eyes out.

But do not worry, I am already starting on a not-so-angsty ending that takes place in a parallel universe. I don't think this series would continue on as I think it is best to leave it to you lovelies' vast imagination.

As usual, any requests you want me to write? I can write it for ya :)

Have a good day and pls cry for me lovelies :)

[billyshakesp]

One for his Lyctors

Something that will never cease to amaze me is how well TazMuir writes the Lyctors. So I'm making it your problem ;). CW: Spoilers for Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth.

Let's start off by stating the obvious: the Lyctors are old. Whenever I mention "the Lyctors" in this post, I'm referring to Jod's original crew of eight Lyctors, and, more specifically, Augustine the First, Mercymorn the First, Gideon the First, and Cytherea the First. Those four are the ones we have met at the time of writing this. And they are old. They are each ten thousand years old. However, ten thousand is a number which may not mean much to you since you (presumably) have not even reached the age of two hundred. To quickly contextualise how colossal a number ten thousand years is, just remember that written history only extends as far back as five thousand years. In not so many words, my bbygirls are not actually very baby, and are, in fact, fucking ancient.

We, as humans, do not have any living reference for a ten-thousand-year-old being, aside from an occasional tree or a sponge, or perhaps a condiment bottle so deep in the back of your fridge that it would warrant a paleontological dig, but I digress. So how does Muir write her Lyctors so effectively?

Vicious dehumanisation

One of the most striking things about the Lyctors is the dehumanisation they have suffered over the past myriad. The first thing I noticed while diving into this subject (and by diving into, I mean I took a long shower one day and pissed off my family) is that the Lyctors do not have last names, and their first names function more as titles. Furthermore, the Lyctors are referred to as the hands, fingers, and gestures of the Emperor. In short, the readers and the characters of the Locked Tomb, including the Lyctors themselves, don't see the Lyctors as individuals anymore. Rather, their sole purpose in life has been reduced to just a soldier of the Emperor. Muir really shows the effects of the Lyctors' age; they are ancient, to the point where they have lost their own humanity and the only reason for their existence that they still hold onto is to serve the Emperor.

2. Their morals

Are extremely fucked up. Like, I cannot emphasise enough how fucked up the Lyctors are as people. Their morals are twisted in a way which can only come about from ten thousand years, rotting in deep space. For example, G1deon probably makes like 56 attempts on Harrow's life, and he doesn't give a second thought about it. When the other Lyctors find him, they don't really condemn his actions the way a human would expect another human to condemn attempted murder. To the Lyctors, life and death are both abstract concepts: life has lost all its meaning to the Lyctors, and thus, they do not see value in others' lives, especially the life of another Lyctor. Especially the life of a "Half-Lyctor." Additionally, Cytherea's plot to destroy the Nine Houses, while technically noble in its intent, is just insanely messed up. Yet, it makes sense in the context of her being a Lyctor, and, furthermore, someone who has suffered abuse for the last ten thousand years. She wants to bring justice to Jod, and for her, a small genocide is completely insubstantial. These people do not value nor understand life the way a human would, because they are unbelievably old.

3. The ways they break

Every one of the original Lyctors we see has a point in which they break, and when they break, we see a glimpse of the humanity peeking through. I could do character analysis on all of the Lyctors, but that would take a really long time. In short, we, the reader, get to see shreds of the people the Lyctors once were, and yet this only demonstrates just how shattered they are under the inexorable weight of time (yes, I use inexorable excessively now that I've read these books). Muir feeds us these pieces of the Lyctors' former selves to show just how buried that former self is.

In short, Muir does such a good job writing her Lyctors. They really are some of the most beautifully tragic characters I've ever read. I'm really just compiling some of the elements which I think Muir used to achieve the effect of "this character is bloody ancient." Feel free to add anything you feel that I missed (and I'm sure I missed a lot of stuff), and thanks for reading!

[fox-bright]

Distracting myself from the world outside my yard, as much as I can, by planning out the seed-starting which will begin this weekend.

Usually my garden planning doesn't feel as grim as this. But there's still some joy in it, even if I'm plotting out just how much of our food is going to have to come from the garden this year, and maybe for the next half-decade or so.

I keep trying to write cheerful beginning-of-the-season garden posts, and they come out of my fingers like this:

Forty percent of our nation's homegrown produce is harvested by undocumented immigrants. Another fifteen or so percent is harvested by documented immigrants with work visas, not that ICE is treating them any differently in their raids (nor citizens, for that matter, scooped up indiscriminately as long as they're brown). During the last Trump administration, crops rotted in the fields because there was no one to harvest them; this time around, it's going to be worse. That is true regardless of whether or not RFK gets to institute the "wellness drug rehabilitation farms" that he's talked about in interviews (which, to be clear, would be concentration camps full of Undesirables such as people who use drugs, protestors, and queers). I do not attempt to put my need to eat over the humanity of the people who provide my food. This is a double-fisted problem, here--the Republicans took something that wasn't a problem and made it into their voters' boogeyman, and now it's going to become an actual nightmare for anyone involved, and *everyone* is involved. Hunger is the most singleminded need there is. A starving person can only think about food.

Sixty percent of the fresh fruit eaten in the States, and forty or so percent of the vegetables, are imported, largely from Mexico and Canada, though we get plenty from SE Asia and other places. Tariffs and our generally being increasingly xenophobic, racist assholes is going to take a measurable toll on agricultural imports.

And we've already spent the last couple of years in a Trump-mediated Age of Listeria; that's sure to get considerably worse as even more regulations (and regulators, and inspectors) are eliminated. A person who can't even trust their food won't trust anything else.

I get this far and then I put the pen down, and I return my gaze to the sheets and sheets of handwritten seed inventory lists with their columns of variety types and days-to-maturity, 55 days, 65 days, 80 days from planting out to fruit, and I take a couple of breaths, and I start writing again.

I'm increasing the size of the garden. I had a whole series of posts planned about it, about building the new beds and setting up trellises and beanpoles, fixing the fence as best I can, building new steps off of the low back porch so that I don't have to carry every baby plant out the kitchen door. I need to find about seven or eight hundred dollars for trucked-in soil for raised beds; I'd really thought in the Autumn that I would have a full year to sort this out, and I don't, so I'm trying to figure out a way to fund-raise. Sell some handmade semiprecious gem jewelry? Open a garden blog Patreon? I dunno. Everything is tight for everyone, and that is not shortly to improve. Leave it to the side. Not important tonight.

Eyes back on the blue-lined page. Amish Paste, Black Krim, Black Plum, Brandywine. So many varieties. Enough to share, if I plan my plantings carefully. Beans, grown for green eating and pickling, even now it doesn't make sense to grow dry beans, not with how many pounds a year this household consumes. Sweet potatoes, this year, slips ordered online for the first time, and I find I'm a little nervous about them. I've never grown a sweet potato before, but people say they're easy, and they're high in a lot of nutrients, and they keep.

Next page. Flowers. Marigolds, nasturtiums, violas.

I try to put a flower in the ground every time I transplant a vegetable. Doing so increases the vegetable yield, since it improves pollinator coverage, but also it's just nice for my soul to be able to clip flowers and bring them in to present to my husband, to have on the counter when I'm frying eggs for breakfast, to stick haphazardly behind my ear and wear on my daily walk. So tonight I'm sitting here with a pen and paper, deciding what I want to grow for food this year, deciding how much energy I can devote to flowers. Nasturtiums, marigolds, bachelor's buttons and borage and cosmos are all edible, and common in my vegetable garden; I'm doing a bunch of zinnias this year as usual, but I'll probably be direct-sowing those this year. Won't have room in the seedling closet when I've got to start so much more food than before. But I can devote *some* energy to the flowers, and I know they'll give me back what I give to them.

There's a clatter off the roof, ice sliding down to collide with whatever it can hit. We've got a wintry mix happening outside right now, little pats of slush falling from the sky to freeze hard on my trellises, and summer now seems far away, but it isn't. It's a very brief time before Last Frost and things will need to get into the ground, and I know that no matter how bleak I feel right now, and how much harder things are likely to be by then, bright-faced zinnias will be a joy when they bloom. Every source of energy is a source of energy. No one can function entirely on rage.

One foot ahead of the other. Seedling mix into my seed trays, tomorrow, and water; the day after I'll sow seeds, and put the trays under the lights. Step by step and in the summer there will be tomatoes and chard, asparagus beans and watermelons and nasturtiums. One foot ahead of the other.

[zorosdimples]

obey me brothers x reader⌇ tw: yandere elements, pseudocest, dubcon/noncon (it isn’t clear), tiny mention of monsterfucking. reader is initially gn but forced into a female role.

You’re mysteriously whisked away to the Devildom and forced to live with the seven avatars of sin; however, you aren’t there under the guise of an exchange student program, and you certainly aren’t enrolled in classes at RAD. Instead, you take up the role of the brothers’ departed and beloved sibling: Lilith.

Through Diavolo, Lucifer discovered that you are one of Lilith’s descendants. To appease his twisted desire for a “complete” family, he convinced the demon price to allow you to take up permanent residence in the House of Lamentation. And though none of the brothers actually share flesh and blood—nor you with them—they insist that they feel a kinship with you.

Lilith’s perfectly preserved bedroom is yours. They call you by her name and throw away all of your possessions so that you have to dress as she once did. In a home full of demons, you look like an angel, her pearly robes the only bright spot amidst the foreboding interior, the gauzy garments much too revealing for your taste. But you look just like her, Asmo croons. Beel licks your cheek (you taste just like her, too).

But perhaps even stranger than the brothers forcing you to fill the role of their dead sister—forcing you to walk like her and talk like her and act like her—is your mandated “bonding time” with the brothers.

Every day, they each get an entire hour with you to do whatever it is that they please. It often goes like this: Lucifer chats with you in his study over coffee and classical music; Mammon shops with you online or turns on a movie; Levi ropes you into two player games; Satan reads books to you; Asmo gives you makeovers; Beel drags you either to the kitchen or to the home gym; Belphie naps in your lap as you tell him bedtime stories.

But things look different when the brothers are feeling pent up. And for some reason—biological or calculated you have no idea—their sexual frustration always seems to always coincide. Then, you have seven hours of uninterrupted “playtime,” the duration of which you’ve never remained fully conscious.

Because each demon intends to use his entire allotted hour down to the millisecond, pushing your delicate human body to the limit. Whether it’s on a tongue that resembles a tentacle, clawlike fingers, or a cock bigger than your forearm, you will come so many times that all you can remember—all you can dream of—is how they call you...

Lilith. Sweet, sweet Lilith.

[galactic-magick]

Flirting Failures PART 2: Mr. Milchick x Reader

Link to Part 1

Words: 1.1k

(Thank you so much for all the love on Part 1! Still gender-neutral reader, use of Y/N, and no S2 spoilers)

-

You feel something on your face as you go up the elevator, bringing your fingers to your cheek at the familiar ding. It’s wet, and your eyes feel watery. Was your innie just crying?

You switch your things from your locker, head up the stairs, and run to your car as quickly as you can, pulling out your phone as soon as you shut the door.

You click on Seth Milchick’s contact, something you do probably way more often than you’re supposed to. But you don’t care much for those particular rules, especially because he’ll tell you things that you can’t find answers for anywhere else.

“Y/N! What can I help you with so soon after your workday?” he asks.

“Why was my innie crying? I came up the elevator with tears actively streaming down my face. Did something happen to them?”

You’re very protective over your innie, a feat you’ve found is actually pretty rare in the severed community. Other people you’ve talked to don’t even see their innies as an extension of themselves, just a different consciousness to experience everything they don’t want to, something they don’t even see as a person. But you genuinely care about this other version of you, and you’d hate to find out they’re getting hurt in any way.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make them cry.” Seth responds. “You see, your innie tried to...flirt with me today.”

You can’t help but chuckle a bit at that.

“Well, it’s good to know my innie also has good taste, at least. What did I do?”

“You…” there’s a beat of silence, as if deciding whether to respond to your comment, “I can’t really say specifics, but I let them down gently, since there’s rules against co-worker relationships. But maybe they took it harder than I thought.”

Now it’s your turn to be silent.

You try to get the situation straight in your head, setting aside the initial humor of it all. Your innie made a move before you did, got rejected, and was so distraught they were brought to tears? And now every time you go back in that elevator, you’re sending your innie back to face the man who broke their heart?

Of course your innie would have the confidence you never could. You’ve been crushing on Milchick since you met him, but you never pursued anything beyond talking to him on the phone every so often. And now that you know your innie has feelings for him too, wouldn’t it be unfair for you to have something with him that they can’t? You’d be, what, stealing him from yourself?

Your thoughts are tied in impossible tangles, so much that you nearly forget he’s still on the line. What are you supposed to say?

“Y/N?” his voice cuts through.”

“Sorry, I just…” you exhale. “I feel bad for them.”

“I know. And for the record, I didn’t want to let them down.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, I—“ you hear muffled voices. “I have to go. Important meeting with Ms. Co-”

He hangs up.

-

You’re almost done with you file now, and honestly you couldn’t care less.

You should be excited to win your first prize, but none of them appeal to you anymore. What is a perk worth when you can never experience the depth of human connection? What do you care about some stupid material object or party when there’s no escape when it’s done?

You’re not quite sure why it all hit you so hard yesterday. Something about pretending to fancy Mr. Milchick made you realize you actually do, and how much you’ve actually wanted to experience love in this life. All of your friends in MDR do too, really. Irvings excessive visitations with O&D lately haven’t gone unnoticed, nor Mark’s longing glances at Helly. Heck, even Dylan talks about his fantasies of how many women his outie must be pulling. You all crave love and escape to some degree, and none of you can have either of them.

Is this to be the rest of your existence? Just sorting numbers? Never experiencing sleep or the outdoors? Waiting for the next round of 8 hours?

“Y/N? May I have a word?”

You look up, entirely not thrilled to see Mr. Milchick in the doorway. Still, you do as he says, following him into the hallway.

“I wanted to tell you that I got a call from your outie yesterday. They said you were crying on your way up the elevator. I thought we resolved the issue, there was no need to cry.”

“Really?” you raise your brows. “You called me out here just to tell me when I should and shouldn’t cry?”

“No, I—“

“Right, because we can’t leave, can’t have more than two vending machine snacks, can’t ask what we’re doing, can’t explore the floor…Oh! And we can’t cry whenever the fuck we want! Is there anything else you want to tell me we can’t do?”

He takes a deep breath.

“I meant I was confused. I assure you, I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings.”

“Look, I’ll keep my promise of backing off so you don’t get in trouble. But I never promised to not have feelings. You told me you care about me, and that made me a little emotional, okay? Are you going to send me to the Break Room again for that?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then how about you leave me alone for a little while.”

You walk past him back into the office, and he doesn’t follow.

“What’s he going on about now?” Dylan asks.

“Just checking to make sure I’m behaving, I guess.” you shrug, getting back into your seat.

“Why wouldn’t you? You don’t actually like him, do you?”

“None of your business, Dylan.”

“Fuck, are you serious?”

You ignore him, binning a few more sets of numbers.

“Y/N! Tell me you’re not fucking serious!”

You aggressively push down the divider between your desks, giving him the middle finger before pulling it back up.

-

Seth never called you back after that day, and you’ve chosen not to bother him for answers again just yet. He’ll tell you when he’s ready, right? Won’t he?

You find yourself thinking about your innie again. What are they really like? Do they act the same way you do? Talk the same way you do? Seth tells you bits and pieces, but you don’t really know this other version of you. And will you ever?

What if your innie is your better half? What if a life in a controlled environment makes you a better person?

What if he likes you better in there than out here? Or the other way around?

You didn’t consider this specific consequence of the procedure when you agreed to it, that’s for sure.

-

(Let me know what you guys think of the switching innie and outie POVs! And let me know if you're interested in more parts!)+

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

IF your requests are open and IF u feel well enough to write…

I’d love to req ithaqua … normal/morningstar/philosopher’s stone is up to u but I wanna read some nasty dark content where he’s so possessive of reader .. inspired by the scene in the essence trailer where his brother was in chains .. I’m imagining reader tho <3 or maybe some noncon gangbang w ithaqua and nathaniel … pregnancy if ur comfy..

however if u don’t feel well enough to write just delete this request! thank you so much ❤️

Once again i put too much time and thought into lore for smut... I will never learn fvbhfvhvf I went with philosopher’s stone but no preg I don't write tht

Rated: Explicit | Warning: This is based on the actual lore of the Philosopher's Stone and used the terms used to make it, dubcon/noncon, oral (male receiving), female!reader, the reader is not truly aware of actions (kinda doll-like?)

The Azoth Library is quiet, it has been like this since the death of the last Director. You wish there the sound of scholars, students with their mentors, and those curious about the word wondering the library; seeking answers within the plethora of tomes and whispered discussions. But, this is for the best… The world is not prepared for the Rebis, a word your mind both understands but does not as well, a paradox of emotions it brings that you cannot find the words for.

Does he feel the same way?

He, the first creation in the image of your creator, looks at you with what humans call love like in the books you read when learning what is like to be human. He is knowledgeable as the oldest and the first. “My most cherished other half,” Holding your face, “Finally mine alone.” His eyes no longer match the ones of the creation

The red stone, the first of Director Waning Crescent's creations, names himself Helios; he is your Red King Sol, and you, his White Queen Luna.

The Magnum Opus is what they call the recreation of this alchemical seemingly in possible creation. The Magnum Opus symbol is the squared circle. Many of these symbols are in the notes of the creation, along with other words: nigredo, albedo, citrinitas, rubedo. You wish you understood what these words mean, but you do not understand why.

The creator's wish, Director Waning Crescent, is to create the ultimate fusion of alchemy, to transcend the mind and body of man, to become one flawless immortal being. It requires two parts of the Philosopher's Stone, Sol and Luna, and once merged as one creating the Philosophiae Hermeticae.

Of course, Helios does not want to complete his creator's experiment.

How could the Director Waning Crescent who created you in the image of a lover, a lover he put his work before her, want to see you disappear and become something else? These questions the other half would ask himself, human emotions and ambition make no sense when they conflict.

“We can spend all of eternity in peace.” 

You gaze at him as you lack his experience in human wants and desires, but you know the difference between right and wrong. His actions are wrong, love should not be an excuse to kill the last three Directors, nor drive out those who seek knowledge. “Eternity should be used to reflect upon your actions, my Sol.” The chains rattle as you try to move your bound arms hanging above your head, “You must report yourself to the一”

“Must you ruin our moment of peace with trivial human morals?!” Upset as he shoves your face away and moves up from his bent-over position, “The one you call creator would have killed us for his selfish goals! The others to the moment they laid eyes upon us.”

“You assumed they were like our creator.”

The laugh bitter and in disbelief echoes in the stone chambers of the room he put you in. “I forget how inexperienced you are, my Luna.” Kneeling with a lopsided smile on his face, “He wanted you to be pure and perfect, virgin in every way.” Crystalized sharp fingers caress the side of your face, “Perfect for the Rebis…” His eyes lowering as he studies how the white crystals decorate your nude body. “Submissive, pure, and obedient; a perfect woman.”

You do not understand. Nor do you understand why Sol’s lips are on your lips, or why he grabs your throat to keep you from moving away. You jerk when a hand is on your breast, touching it strangely, “What are trying to do, my Sol?” A question you do not get answers for when he takes advantage of you talking to push his tongue into your mouth. You do not respond but you notice your body, the flesh parts, are reacting. The crystal parts of you and him are glowing, this has happened before when the first Director had tested the bond between the two pieces of the Philosopher’s Stone. Your eyes are open as his eyes are closed, you look around and then back at his face when he pulls back panting. Neither of you is human so why is he mimicking breathing? You tilt your head to the side curiously watching him start to remove his jacket as he stands up, “Sol?”

“It is Helios.” Stern, “You are my Artemis.” Declaring as he undoes the button of his pants, “That is your name now, a proper name.”

“... Thank you.” Be polite like you were taught when someone gives you something, “Does it bring you comfort to have a name?”

Helios rolls his eyes as he knows the creator has limited you for his reasons to take advantage of you, “Open your mouth.” Pulling out his cock, this you know about as you did study human anatomy. It is this sexual organ the Director had you touch one night when alone with him.

You open your mouth and the flesh mixed with bits of crystal is pushed into your mouth, not all of it but enough to have you try to pull back from the stretch of your lips around it.

“Shh, relax,” Petting your hair with one hand and the other rubbing your cheek, “This is going to be our way of Rebis.”

Rebis, to become one, to become each other, to transcend. You look at him with worry then close your eyes as his hips start to move, slowly at first. It tastes weird and feels weird, the way Sol一 Helios’ breathing picks up, the growling from his chest, he tells you to use your tongue as his hips move faster. You open your eyes when he reaches his orgasm and shoves himself deep into your mouth to touch the back of your throat, the weird white substance that the Director had spilled onto your hand is now in your mouth. You choke a bit as he keeps thrusting into your mouth before pulling out, huffing when you spit out the white substance and make a face of his displeasure.

“We will work on that.” Wiping the corner of your mouth when you look back up at him, “An eternity of peace.”

You still believe he should report himself to the library warden.

[shan-yee]

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗 + « 𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚔 » [ 𝗔𝗻𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗹𝘀 ; 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗻 5 ] ๏𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𖦹𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𖦹𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 = Sexual allusions, misogyny, arranged marriage, occ Bi-han ?. 𖦹𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 = 1081 𖦹𝘈/𝘕 = i'm sorry for the wait anon- but here you go !! I had practically no info for Dark!Bihan so I tried something, hope you like it. 𖦹𝘈/𝘕 2 = English is not my first language, please let me know if you see any mistakes ! Enjoy ✨

——— 𝐒 𝐎 𝐌 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐑 𝐄 • • •

𝐈 :: 𝘽𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝐈𝐈 :: 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚

◌◍┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⿻*.·

┏━━───━━━༻✍︎༺━━━───━━┓

╰─► 𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝘽𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

┗━━───━━━༻✍︎༺━━━───━━┛

⇰ Dark!Bi-han is actually not that different from Bi-han in some aspects, well almost, just like Bi-han, Dark!Bi-han would surely marry to obtain power or in other words, lands, men and a possible heir although he is not a fan of thinking that one day he will no longer be able to lead the Lin Kuei.

⇰ I don't really see him falling in love, he would be far too obsessed with the desire to lead his clan to victory, those feelings are useless for him. His role as leader pushes him to put aside his humanity and, he never complained about it.

⇰ He doesn't care what his wife looks like, as long as she is faithful and fertile, for the future, he has nothing to complain about. He is neither looking for a sidekick nor a partner.

⇰ He is not affectionate or kind, he wants respect and submission from everyone, he will also want his wife to stay in her place and listen to him wisely. But, to be sure not to be betrayed, he will still be gentle at certain times, making sure to have influence over his betrothed.

⇰ He will not want to have sex before marriage, in fact, he has never really been interested in sex or anything related to it, too busy with his responsibilities.

⇰ Dark!Bi-han is also quite old school, wanting a good little woman who stays in his place and knows how to take care of their house and him even though he doesn't really need it.

⇰ He believes that he is old enough to take care of himself but he will never say no to a massage or a good dinner.

➽─────❥ Fear was the only emotion that had guided her actions for several days now, her fingers were trembling constantly and she could feel cold sweat running down her spine. She had the impression that everything she did was being closely observed and judged by a force that she was unable to describe, except for coldness, sometimes.

Everything had happened very fast, « too fast » she would have said if anyone had asked for her opinion.

Several men had arrived and requested to see her father, he didn’t make himself wait and the young woman had never seen him so terrified in her entire life. And yet, he had seen many things in his life...

A few hours later she learned that she was now engaged, sold, to the leader of the Lin Kuei, a group of ninja, or rather assassins whose name she had frequently heard.

She had not even been able to see her future husband, having been sent directly to her apartments after the announcement of their arrival. Great.

┏━━───━━━༻✍︎༺━━━───━━┓

╰─► 𝐈 ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 𝙈𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚

┗━━───━━━༻✍︎༺━━━───━━┛

⇰ Firstly i have some things to say about the wedding ceremony. I think there are two scenarios, the first, Dark!Bi-han wanted a big wedding to show the extent of his wealth and everything he managed to acquire without the help of people. Although the people invited were not relatives and only important people, chancellors, kings of foreign countries and other clans, I can assure that some people ended up freezing at the end of the ceremony.

⇰ Second scenario, a simple and traditional wedding, simple in the guests and location but he will not hesitate once again to show off his riches and you will find only good quality, whether in the clothes, food and others. There will only be the very close family of his wife and some of his men, and the ceremony will finish quickly, without speeches or other dispensable things.

⇰ during the ceremony he will not let any emotions show, a bit like usual. He will also not wish to honor the famous tradition of « you may kiss the bride ». But I can say that his lips are cold and slightly cracked, he is not the type to really take care of himself —except for his hair which is very precious to him— having been naturally born with an advantageous physique —he knows it— i don't think that he would have been the type to really take care of himself if he hadn't been spoiled by mother nature anyway.

⇰ I can see him coming home in the evening and being delighted to see that his perfect housewife had prepared a magnificent meal for him. He will sit at the table with her and listen to her talk about her day in silence, responding with a simple nod or word.

⇰ A few years later when everything is stable he will agree to start talking about inherited potential. He doesn't particularly dream of being a dad, in fact he never thought about it until now.

⇰ In the bedroom Dark!Bi-han doesn't really think about his partner's pleasure, he is dominant and will never let himself be dominated by anyone, especially not a woman.

⇰ Once or twice he will tie his wife's hands with his ice, preventing her from touching him —he will do it because she tried to touche him without his permission before—.

⇰ Temperature play ! Dark!Bi-han is cold, his whole body, but particularly his hands and his tongue. He will have fun running it over his wife's stomach and chest, looking for reactions here and there.

⇰ His hands will hold the young woman's hips and in the process he will let frost spread on his partner's thighs and hips, don't worry it won't stay !

➽─────❥ His cold hands wandered over the young woman's flesh, he felt her skin roll and quiver under his frozen palm and fingers. A slight moan escaped [Y/N], not yet used to the touches of her, usually, distant husband.

She then felt Dark!Bi-han's cold and slightly damaged lips, her stomach contracted under the sensation as her toes retracted. The black haired man chuckled discreetly, moving closer to her lower abdomen and soon towards her pubis.

The young woman spreads her thighs, without really thinking about it, her body reacted on its own to her husband's kiss, which seemed to satisfy him. He finally reached her pubis and his fingers grabbed the edges of her underwear to pull it down and throw it on the floor.

Grabbing her thighs, Dark!Bi-han placed them on his shoulders to immerse his head between them. He wasn't the type to take care of his partner but she was a good wife and she deserved a reward from time to time.

[merakiui]

Azul who enchants a pussy pocket since it's mating season and he's too shy and nervous to ask reader. So he stuffs the reader with his eggs using the pussy pocket.

I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense, had a bit of trouble organizing my thoughts lol

This is the ideal solution to so many of Azul’s problems. He doesn’t have to show you his mer form, nor does he have to look biologically and emotionally vulnerable in front of you when he’s caught up in mating season heats. And he can also pump you full of eggs without having to actually look at you. He’s much more confident when he’s alone. One day he’ll gain the courage to show you his true form and one day another mating season will roll around in which he’ll finally take you into his arms and fuck you without the distance separating you or the help from the magical pussy pocket.

But for now, baby steps. He’ll make progress with you one day, but for now he’ll do it from the shadows.

Maybe you’re sleeping or maybe you’re in public or maybe you’re even working your shift at the lounge. No matter where you are and what you’re doing, the moment you feel fingers thrust up inside your pussy to stretch it in preparation for something, you nearly double over, curl into yourself, crumple… it’s a sensation that takes you by surprise, leaving you gasping and grasping for something to squeeze or hold so you can properly brace yourself and figure out what’s going on.

Maybe you try to ignore it, assuming it’s just a passing feeling. But then it persists and you’re quickly falling apart, sweating so much, chewing your lip bloody to keep any salacious sounds from slipping out. If you thought the fingers were unbearable, it’s when they’re removed and the tapered tip of something pokes at your hole that you begin to realize this is far from any fleeting feeling.

Azul’s so desperate in his pool, far past the point of keeping his composure, and he’s impatient to release his clutch. So he’s a little rough when he thrusts his hectocotylus so deeply, not entirely thinking of whether or not you can truly take so much of it. But he does imagine your expression, how you’d sound, what you might say, and even the little tummy bulge as it presses up against areas a normal human cock could never hope to reach. And it’s so tight and warm and wet inside you; he’s a mess, his pace hasty and determined. He doesn’t have the foresight to pretend like he isn’t affected; he’s a moaning mess under the water as he ruts into you, the tentacle thrust so far that it kisses your cervix. <3

There’s no time beneath the water. Not that it’s important at this moment. Not truly. Azul’s so focused on base desires, brought down to such a primal level by his own biological imperative, and so maybe it’s been hours of fucking or maybe it’s only been minutes. But eventually, finally, he’s filled you with enough slick to keep the eggs safe and sound. He’s flustered about the idea, about seeing you so round and full of him the next time he crosses paths with you. Maybe you’ve already guessed he’s responsible. Or maybe you have no idea, too confused and pleasured to think that far ahead.

He doesn’t count the eggs as they’re deposited in the depths of your womb. Rather, he just fucks, mindless and instinctual, until every last one has made its home inside you. It’s not an absurd amount—although by human standards it would surely be—but it’s just enough for now. In the future, he’ll turn you into a mer, keep you in the Coral Sea, and give you a larger clutch when he knows your body can handle it.

Azul could have painted you a dozen ways in his brilliant mind, but no amount of fantasy could prepare him for just how pretty you look when the twins guide you into his VIP room and you’ve just managed to squeeze yourself into a uniform, so round already. He has bad news for you; you’ll only get bigger as the eggs grow and the fry within mature. Hungrier, too. And moodier. And more hormonal. Mers fuck a lot when they’re pregnant. And when it comes time to lay, necessary preparations will need to be made… there’s so much to look forward to. So much planning. But he’s immensely happy, and he tries not to let it show while you, flustered and teary-eyed, try to explain your predicament while the twins leer.

Maybe you don’t need to know yet. For now, he’s just pleased to have overcome this mating season. And he has a family to look forward to, hoping most of them survive hatching, that is. But for now he’s happy. And you will be, too. Eventually.

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Pairing: Azrael Eveningstar x Seraphim Angel! Reader

Genre: romance

Warnings: mentions of sex but not written into detail.

Notes: an alternate universe where [y/n]'s family is complete, Xavier doesn't have any daddy issues nor has any hatred for Charlie as he doesn't give any crap about her and Lucifer, where it was simply the wrong person and wrong time. Where it was Azrael who is endgame.

Additional notes: this is for the anon that requested an Azrael x reader fic 🫶 this has no relevance to the actual series but this was originally the route I wanted to write but didn't go through as it is a Lucifer x reader 😔

Swans, they tend to be the kind of creatures who would 'mate for life' choosing one partner till the end of their time, although there are instances where 'divorce' happens.

All throughout his life, Azrael made sure to be there for [y/n], his closest and most genuine friend. As the angel of death, most angels are wary of him. Unlike most angels, his appearance or type of fashion is on the darker spectrum, choosing to wear the colors black, gold, and white for his outfits and not to mention, his angel wings are as black as the abyss.

[Y/n] has been there for him, genuine with him and is not afraid of him. A rare gem indeed. At first, he only saw her as a friend but slowly and surely it developed into something more profound.

He got his heartbroken as the most beautiful angel of heaven made her his before he could. He had to pretend he was happy for them, he was happy for her—he could tell that Lucifer made [y/n] so happy and that is something he needed to respect.

Azrael kept his distance. Watching over her when he had the time.

Then Lucifer fucked up. Choosing to doom humanity and also breaking the heart of one of the kindest angels in heaven. Azrael watched as Lucifer was cast out of heaven together with Lilith, the first human woman. Azrael made sure to make eye contact with Lucifer as he fell. An eye contact carrying so many words despite the silence, you messed up, little duckling. Let the swan show you how to do it.

After Lucifer was banished, [y/n] fell into depression. She just lost the love of her life after all and on top of that, she was pregnant with that man's child.

Azrael promised to be there, to be her rock and moral support during these trying times, and so he did.

Azrael lessened his workload on earth, making sure to spend all of his free time with her, helping her during the pregnancy.

A broken soul fixing another broken soul.

He was there, he was there during childbirth, he was there all throughout Xavier's life.

It took a while, thousands of years actually before [y/n] finally removed the wedding ring Lucifer gave her.

“I think, I should stop holding on to the past.” [y/n] whispers to Azrael, they sat on the couch in the living room of her mansion. Azrael looked at her in surprise as he finally noticed the ring no longer present on her fingers. His eyes widened and [y/n] chuckled softly.

“It is what it is.” she says softly with a smile, placing her hand on top of Azrael's hand.

“Yes, I may have loved Lucifer but he chose to leave and I think I should stop holding on to someone who didn't even stop to think about his family. I think I am ready to give myself a second chance at love.” she whispers softly, Azrael's hand squeezed hers in assurance. Listening to her, something Lucifer didn't do.

Finally looking up at him, her eyes were gentle and filled with adoration, “Azrael, I was a fool. It took so long for me to realize that.... I liked you, I was so scared of the idea, scared of letting go over someone who didn't give a crap about me and his son. I am such a foo—”

Her voice was cut off as Azrael leaned down to press his lips against hers gently, not forceful. Enough to just their lips to slightly press, enough to shut her up.

“Shh... You're not, well... A little bit but that's not the point.” he says with a chuckle. Pale cheeks dusted with red as he shyly avoided her gaze.

“What matters is that... You realized and I am so happy right now..” he whispers softly, cupping her face with his hands.

[Y/n] looking at him with a blush on her cheeks, mesmerized and taken aback, “[Y/n] Caeles, I liked you... I like you a lot.” he whispers.

[Y/n]'s voice hitched softly, flustered by his confession. She smiled softly, “I liked you too. I'm sorry it took me a while to realize.” she says softly and Azrael laughs, not the usual mocking laugh he gives to others but the genuine one that she's privileged to hear.

“It's fine.”

The kiss that followed after was the sweetest kiss they ever experienced.

The two actually took their relationship slowly, focusing on healing and parenting Xavier—though, the boy was already old enough to understand.

Azrael and [y/n] got married when Xavier was 124 years old. The boy was happy that his parents actually got married.

The family was happy and had a healthy relationship.

Azrael built [y/n] a backyard tulip garden with a small river in both their heaven and earth homes. There he and [y/n] would spend swimming in the river in their swan forms, Xavier third wheeling as he watches his parents formed a heart together with their necks as swans.

During day offs, the couple would make sure to spend time with Xavier, asking the boy what he has been up to while they were away for work.

The three would spend their day outside having a picnic by the river.

Xavier doesn't have any daddy issues in this universe, he doesn't give two shits about his biology father.

Xavier could easily approach Azrael whenever he has a problem, a papa and mama's boy.

In the mansion in heaven, there's a large family portrait of the three that is hung on the living room wall.

Azrael standing behind the chair [y/n] was sitting on, Xavier standing on her right side. A regal look on their faces, slightly condescending even. The type of face rich people make during those royal portraits in movies? Yes, that.

Azrael and [y/n] truly love each other. Very protective and possessive.

Azrael often gifts his wife jeweleries, often gifting her sapphires as he knows she loves it.

Lovemaking is sensual and slow, doesn't happen too often but when they do. It's sensual and desperate. They can't get enough of each other.

Xavier has to leave the house quietly as he is traumatized.

[lunaralight09]

Hiii ! Can I request a scarlet king with an s/o with body dysmorphia that causes them to space out ? Ty and happy holidays <3

"What is it, pet" the rough, booming voice broke through your self eating, depraving thoughts. Quiet sounds of jewelry dangling and rustling can be heard near you.

"Huh-? Oh nothing just... It's nothing." Looking down at the soft and weirdly comfortable sheets and massive blanket that you sit on and covered you... Why does he even need a bed - isn't he a god? Maybe comfort that he probably didn't really need. He has everything in his hands, he doesn't care that much for distractions, nor the discomforts with the massive ego... Well that might explain the want for more comfortable and noble like living. He has everything. Can do everything. And you? Just a puny mortal that doesn't even look right-

"What a terrible liar my pet is. You think I'm stupid" he tuts, his large clawed hand more like fingers squished your cheeks and turned your head towards his dark hulking form.

"No. Of course not" your speech a bit muffled as he holds your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger.

"...hmm. If it's somebody bothering you, one word and they stop existing." Turning your tiny head side to side. To observe you, as if he didn't do it so many times. Haven't memorized your appearance to a T.

"... It's nothing really. Just been thinking" not even trying to free your face from his hold. You don't want to disappoint him even more. Out of all the people and non human, divines and god like creatures - he chose you. Like you're something special.

"With a really pathetic look on your face? Can't have my pet be sad, now can i?" Leaning in closer, his face so close. Before he blew a bit of air on your flushed face. And soon move his hands to grab you by the waist and set you on his lap. "Once again. What is it, pet?"

"...I don't look, right."

"How so?"

"My body isn't right. This skin doesn't fit me. I don't even feel right! I don't look right. I'm nothing! I-" a kiss... With no lips of course, shut you up quickly. His large hand holding your head in place by the back of your head.

"You dare question my choice" he almost sounds amused. Nuzzling into your neck, the hot air from his breathing heating up your skin like a breathe on a really hot summer day that did nothing to help from the heat. "Mortals are so confusing with their minds. So. Easily. Breakable." He almost laughs.

"If you so want to change something about your flesh. Then ask. I might grand it when you behave." He chuckles, sound reverberating through your bones. "So be a good pet for both of our sake, will you?". Long, slimy tongue licks up your throat to your chin. Making you shiver at the sensation. Pulling you head closer to lay on his chest. Holding your face close to his man boobs chest. Looking down at you with his non changing eyes, though they feel less unimpressed, hateful, judging... More tender?

His hand moves before he continues to speak, "Rest, pet. Don't rot your mind. Wouldn't want you to break so soon" pulling the covers over your body as he lies down, acting as a bed for you to rest and warm up on.

... It wasn't a great comfort, of course. He's not human. He devoured his parent and siblings for power, did so much bloodshed and still continues on even with Foundation trying to stop him. But... He tried to reassure you. In his own way. And in his mind he proved more than he actually did with words.

Well... That's good enough for you, his favorite pet.