#something something prey animals were born afraid | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall · 3 years ago

Text

The Spark That Split the Seas - Poseidon x Reader x Thor

(A/N)

Hey guys I’m back! I’ve been grinding hard for a new character that I’d gotten in this game, Genshin Impact, so I’m sorry for the absence! Anyways, as always, I want to thank you all for the support on my past two stories and on my account, I truly appreciate every one of you! On a story-related note, since I’d mentioned on my previous post that I had a lot of Poseidon x Reader x Thor fics written in my drafts, I decided to post one so you guys could also join me in the feels! Any feedback would be appreciated! This was originally shorter than the final story you’re seeing now, as I’d first only written their dialogues, but as usual, I excitedly itched into making a story out of it!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Spark That Split the Seas

Poseidon x Reader x Thor

For more than all the millennia the gods and other species alike had known the lonely kingdom of Atlantis, never once did the crashing waves gave way to the chirping of the largest Albatrosses until now. Otherworldly flying creatures joined with the familiar exclusively earthly ones in enjoying the ebb and flow of the ocean, albeit this time, the hungry ocean appeared more satiated and seemed to follow a regular pattern ‘from sudden crash to a long calm, to crash again then back to another lengthy calm;’ life in the sea rejoiced in this odd occurrence.

Beautiful yellow sun rays poured through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope pattern on the large interiors of the kingdom ruled by the god of the seas, and catching the reflection of his nonchalant visage. The long, elegant dining table filled with every kind of seafood delectable imaginable also fell victim to the light, along with a figure that sat down opposite, whose invitation was clear.

Hidden from this heavenly atmosphere were the prying eyes of a little messenger bird who stood unobtrusively behind one of the tall pillars near the far end of the room, halting his slide just in time to witness this miracle:

The living bearer of the most fearsome title, the ruler of both this grandiose palace of the most precious gems and coral and all the oceans and waters, the almighty Poseidon, though against all reason and self-proved authority whatsoever, against the epics of Greek poets, was indulged, seemingly willingly, in the pleasure of having another’s company. In the shadows, Hermes’ red eyes shot wide open in shock.

Poseidon, the ever abrupt and rude god who had deemed most beings to be below him, received a guest, a still breathing one at that.

What in the gods’ name?

In a tone of haughty contempt, a grunt escaped from Poseidon’s lips. Finishing chewing the last bite of delicious food in your mouth, you nodded your head in earnest agreement with his point. Your next words were uttered with the firmness of an old sage who had all the answers, your beliefs shaped by the countless lifetimes you had lived.

“Existing is painful.” Your shoulders bobbed with your chuckle.

Although Poseidon felt a small measure of relief−a feeling that by habit had always been easy to brush-off with a condescending thought, his face betrayed nothing as his stoic features remained still. “If you agree, then why not allow me to kill you this instant?” As if to emphasize his strength, the crashing sound of dreadful combat between waves and rocks rang in the air, and you almost wished that a low rumble of thunder accompanied it, finding beauty in its loud peals, and additionally giving a volume of inspiration to Michelangelo below.

Despite your gaze being unrequited, you were sure you had the god’s attention. Since arriving here, Poseidon noted that your expression had always been smoothed into a calm, smiling one. “If you had intended to kill me, we would not be having this conversation right now.”

Poseidon sat rigid and silent.

“It’s a comfortingly tragic drama, my circle of life. I may not have been lucky to acquire a life as long as that of the gods, but I have definitely lived more times than you have.” Your words were so nonchalant, for a second there Poseidon thought you were kidding.

“That is for the simple fact that you mortals are weak, pathetic.” Lips as pink as young petunias touched the clear edge of the wine glass as Poseidon’s eyes closed, content to give over to listen.

“Yes, we are.” You paused. “But because of this frailty, we learned to adapt, evolve.”

“There is no need for evolution if you are perfect from the moment of conception. Hence why gods such as I, will always be above you.”

“You’re correct. Humans will never become gods after all,” Again, Poseidon found himself absorbing your words like a sponge. At the same time, he experienced an occasional sharp prick at the edge of his emotions, as if signaling him to pull back. “The same as gods will never become like humans.”

“Extremely foolish of you to think that trash is worthy of the shiniest Orichalcum. Your race has been created by us, for us, and will therefore always be inferior.”

“Humans are inferior in all aspects, this, is a fact. It is hence no accident that there is a history of rebellion and consequently, a false notion of superiority. But to be able to look beyond this, is to understand that we never truly intended to surpass animals nor the gods themselves. The nature of our desire: everything was meant for either survival or man’s search for meaning.

“We are by nature flawed and inconsistent creatures. And as you have no doubt seen for yourself as well, despite reaching all our goals, achieving our wildest dreams, we have never reached a position where satisfaction is achieved.” Keenness made your words sound almost heroic. There was a twinkle in your eye and a lilt in your voice, and Poseidon found that now he had a much clearer picture of your reputation for an irrepressible desire to see what is beyond your reach as you questioned: “If I may ask, as I have seen the gods share this sentiment of looking for meaning, do you feel an inkling of the same?”

When Poseidon had put the wine glass down, he hesitated a moment, his supposedly closed mind wavering between doubt and certainty. He would never come to understand this, nor admit to feeling this dissonance, but at last, he shook his head at his consideration, trying to reduce the unpleasantness he felt by the same way he had always used to get out of extremely rare difficulties.

“Do not disrespect me, mortal.” He knew himself that it was an empty threat.

“Those were never my intentions.” You bowed with great respect, but there was at the same time apparent in your manner the consciousness that while Poseidon would never in any way confirm your statement, he did not necessarily refute it. Your heart rose in gratitude as you regarded him with a look of affection, believing in your intellectual companionship.

“Lord Poseidon, as the fearsome god of the seas, what is the meaning of life for you?” The god surveyed your reflection in one of the golden plates, and maybe it was because he had acted in a charitable way towards you, but he saw brightness, a refreshing difference, as if there were no heavy shackles to weigh you down.

“My husband has always been in search of a worthy opponent. What about you?”

It was like a pin came dangerously close to the rational bubble of Poseidon’s beliefs. But then your words penetrated his mind, and he berated himself for almost falling prey, yet…

“Perfection.” Poseidon blurted out loud, full of self-indulgence, but uncomfortable with the thought of pity reeking from his pores, a role that was clearly uncharacteristic of him.

Tilting your head, your brows meshed inquisitively upon hearing this. “This presents the conundrum; you are already perfect, as should all the gods. Since you have explained, gods have always been pristine, perfect, the moment you all were born.

“So, if you have already achieved the meaning and purpose of your life, what is there left to live for?” There was something entrancing in your guileless form, and Poseidon was displeased that another should feel such an interest in your wise, unguarded character. “And if gods have already reached perfection, why is there an endeavor still for the dross of earth?”

For the first time in Poseidon’s life, he was receptive of contraries. Not one single time, had he ever been in the position where he listened, much more considered the act of interpretation. What he said goes, but for some frustrating reason, he was coming to terms of mutual respect; whenever he was sitting opposite you, chin in hand, the more he caught the flame.

Quickly, he stopped that train of thought and he seamed his mouth, stoic. Only his eyes betrayed a spark of defiance. “Stop asking ridiculous questions.”

Again, you bowed. “I apologize if I have overstepped such boundaries.”

“You better be.” With a look of eager inquiry, Poseidon asked, “Why are you not afraid of me? Is it because you are confident Thor would protect you?” One thing that distressed him was that the more he was alone with you, the more he saw your hands, always ungloved, noticed the wedding-ring on your finger. That closed circle excluded him, his face registering the insult. “As expected from a repulsive weakling,”

“No. I know he would be there for me whenever I should need him, and also the times when I don’t.” You said still a smile on your mouth.

Although you were unaware of the eagle eyes that were watching your every move, you had the instinct. You did not need all the information, and you had nothing to hide. Your shoulders were loose, back wasn’t ramrod straight and you exuded a carefree attitude. “The sole reason why my fears have dissipated is because perhaps, I enjoy your conversation.”

To say this whole exchange took Hermes by surprise would be an understatement. After the initial expression of shock, he laughed lowly.

You continued, “I have already accepted your beliefs. No one is entitled to those except yourself.

“If I were to die from imparting what my beliefs are, that is simply fate, a tragedy, but nonetheless, fate. Of course, I would try my best to avoid disappearing from this lifetime, seeing as I have made a promise with my husband, to continue to fight for my life, shall needed, until the very end.” Poseidon’s grip tightened the slightest bit.

“I believe that despite our obvious differences, we are simply two being who each have our own unique experiences that shape our views and beliefs. For hundreds of millennia, I’d seen calamity from all angles; mainly conflicts over a universal truth,

“But so long as there are questions, there will never be one solid concrete truth. And I’m okay with that.” You concluded.

Compliments never rolled off Poseidon’s tongue easily, since in his view they were nothing but hollow words. But this time, he could hardly slip a word in bad taste. He thought it pleasant to hear you, but it could not distract him from the uninvited presence in his throne room.

“You’re a heretic.” His usual strong voice beckoned your attention, discerning the sternness on the table of his expression to be forced. No matter, you had just enough of a last glimpse to see his face looking younger in repose.

“I have been labeled as such.” You noticed the unique rhythm of the crashing waves seemed to have settled along the sand grains, and you admitted it was so beautiful and timeless.

“You’re dismissed.” Poseidon believed in being straightforward with affairs. Since the conversation has ended, the final interchange of words was not likely to be a substantive one. Though this was his original reason, the face at the forefront of his mind right now was not yours but Hermes’.

You stood up and curtsied to show your gratitude. “Very well. It was splendid to be in your company this afternoon.”

Blue eyes followed you as you began walking away, and he watched you until you went out of sight when you began to ascend the Skíðblaðnir, a ship so completely reserved only for you by the Kingdom of the Norse. Then Poseidon’s ears turned toward the messenger’s direction.

Hermes quickly dashed to Poseidon and knelt to greet him with such a great respect akin to the expectations all elderly gods have always expected of their younger ones.

“We gods are perfect beings from the very start; therefore, we do not plot schemes nor engage in disagreements.” The implication registered with a jolt, and Hermes felt his mouth open as the real reason for your invitation became clear. He fought the urge to look at where Adamas had died brutally as a lowlife, not failing to recognize that this was the exact opposite of that faded history.

Finding quiet when Hermes immediately left, the god of the seas stared at his dominion, taking deep breaths of the air, not feeling the normal icy sting carried by the ocean. Over again he dwelt upon in his conversations with you, interested to find out if the Norse god of thunder had been able to sustain a similar type of conversation.

The very first quiver of interest sparked through Poseidon and though he did not recognize it nor perceived it, he understood the most important things, the only ones he ever needed to:

You did not seek validation nor attention. You had no fear of death, neither of the hardships of life.

Your depths of wisdom were unparalleled throughout the realms, which he would comment on its wasted potential, however, he knew Hermes already understood that part of it.

And the god of messenger did, as the word got around slowly but surely:

“There would always be those who dare to brave the ocean’s roar, but there was only one who withstood it.”

#poseidon x reader #thor x reader #snv x reader #snv poseidon #snv thor #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv poseidon x reader #snv thor x reader #record of ragnarok poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok thor x reader #poseidon x reader x thor #snv poseidon x reader x snv thor

432 notes · View notes

azureashes · 4 years ago

Text

Sukuna’s Curse

TW: NONCON, VIOLENCE, BLOOD AND GORE

Summary: Some cruel fate bound you to Sukuna's side. You could not escape. You weren't sure you wanted to.

Sukuna x Reader

Wordcount: 10 K

Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI

I don’t know if this is even any good at this point owing to the fact that I’m dead tired, BUT I wanted to finish this off, so here it is.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

But this time, something was off. The taste was almost tame in comparison - mild. Even the sensation of swallowing wasn’t quite the same, squishy and slimy instead of roughly scratching his esophagus all the way down. If he hadn’t been so eager to just get it over with the way he always was, to make it as short and painless as possible - he might have noticed something was off. He might have pointed it out to Gojo, to the principal, to anyone before swallowing the ominous, blotchy blue-green scrap of flesh they had given him.

It didn’t taste like one of Sukuna’s fingers.

Yuuji always tried to drop the disgusting, decrepit digit as close to his throat as possible so that he wouldn’t have to taste the bitter, corrosive flavor that burned on his tongue like decaying flesh - but he couldn’t avoid it entirely. There was always a lingering acidic remnant that stayed in his mouth long after he had swallowed one of the curse’s fingers.

He might have spared you your fate.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was bored.

It was boring in Itadori Yuuji’s subconscious. The boy was as empty-headed as he seemed and the scheming King of Curses could only look on as the fool fell into one trap after another, made misstep after misstep while he stumbled his way forward, trying to navigate the Jujutsu sorcerer’s life.

It was a cringeworthy affair.

Sukuna had laid his plans carefully and could only drum his fingers on his throne of skulls restlessly as he waited for them to come to fruition. But he was never as dangerous as he was when he was bored. When he had energy to spare and time to kill. When he was on the lookout for some sport, some prey that could satisfy his instinct to hunt, something to toy with, to devour.

When you arrived out of nowhere, coughing your lungs out, on hands and knees in the bloodied water surrounding the area - your limbs shaking as you struggled to support yourself, weak with what must have been centuries of disuse, his eyes glittered with malicious anticipation.

For once, the idiot had done something right.

You coughed and hacked as if seeking to free your body from something it had long grown unaccustomed to - breath. Life. Motion. Thought. Terrible, terrible things.

You recalled your last, conscious thought when faced with an aging, balding monk. The strange man had carried with him a rosary around his neck and attached to the string of beads was what had oddly resembled an ogre’s thumb. You hadn’t the slightest clue what the monk had wanted from you until he sealed you into the ogre’s thumb - an intentional, cruel irony on the buddhist’s part.

“Go to your master, demon!” He had shrieked.

Master.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you shuddered at the very thought. The monk must have thought he was being clever. Sealing you in a fashion resembling the way the King of Curses had been sealed, but Sukuna was not your master.

You had scarcely been freed of the terrifying demon’s presence, barely been able to dream of a life outside of his paralyzing, horrifying shadow that the accursed monk had appeared to seal you away to a slumber of many thousand years.

No matter.You were free now.

By some miracle, the seal had been broken and you would live in a world where Sukuna had been sealed away somewhere far from you. You would stay away from humans and jujutsu sorcerers and society as a whole. Find a deserted scrap of nature, and live out your days among the plants and animals in peace somewhere.

That was a good plan, you told yourself, straining to breathe slowly and deeply, your eyes still pressed shut because seeing anything at all was overwhelming to your senses after their long rest. It would be alright. Your suffering was over.

“Well, well, well.”

The voice sent a shiver down your spine. You would recognize it anywhere. The deep baritone that seemed to make your very bones rattle.

“What do we have here?” Uncomfortably warm breath brushed against the shell of your ear as he spoke on a hiss.

You saw him clearly in your mind’s eye, his image brought into sharp relief, triggered by the sound of his awful voice that sent a flood of unadulterated, gut-wrenching terror through your body. Your body’s reaction to him was one of instinct, a reaction learned.

It was possible to forget one’s love and similarly, to neglect one’s hatred. But one could never forget what one truly feared. Fear was not stored in hearts or minds, but contained in the body itself. In every inch of your skin, every ounce of your flesh. Fear was intermingled with your blood, a part of your very being. Your mind may have slept, and you, a curse, had no need for your superfluous heart - but your body remembered. Your body would always remember.

When you finally dared to turn, the sight that met your eyes was precisely the one your mind had conjured. He sat perched on a mountain of skulls, some fresh and whole, some decayed and crumbling, but you knew they represented only a fraction of the lives the curse had taken. He was draped in a robe that seemed made for royalty, or perhaps it only seemed that way because of the individual they clothed. The King of Curses exuded an aura that was every bit that of the king he was known as. His hair was pale-pink, his eyes narrowed and sharp, the scarlet irises the very shade of the deluge of blood you had seen him spill in your lifetime. Much of it yours.

Black markings traced his form - on his face, his wrists, his arms, just like you remembered, and the sharp, long black nails on his hands made you shiver with the memory of how easily they could draw blood, puncturing through your skin like it was paper.

“S- Sukuna-sama…” Your barely audible whisper, wavering with sheer horror rang in his ears like the sweetest praise. He liked you already.

When he had spoken, it had sounded as if he had been just behind you, and so you were stunned to see him at such a distance. The corners of his lips were curved in a smirk, his sharp canines peeking through as he lounged on his grotesque throne, his head leaning languidly against the knuckles of his right hand. He looked amused.

Amused was good, you thought numbly, trying to reason with yourself through your terror. His amusement manifested itself in some cruel mockery of mercy on occasion. It was his boredom that terrified you. The things he had done to you when bored defied imagination.

You shuddered and your mouth opened and closed wordlessly, incapable of producing sound, incapable of taking breath. The minute you had thought yourself free of him you had been taken captive, and the minute you had been released from your captivity, you were confronted, once again, with your worst nightmare. There seemed to be no escaping for you. You were hounded by the worst fortune the universe had deemed fit to produce.

You were a minor curse, born of the grudge of the inhabitants of a village that had been wiped out by none other than the King of Curses himself. The dying breaths and resentment of those villagers had accumulated with bitter hatred and you came to be. For reasons, you could not fathom - perhaps because the villagers’ grudge was rooted in righteous human indignance - you maintained a form like that of a mortal woman and had scarcely any powers that you knew of. Mortals could hear you cry, you knew. But that was the extent of your abilities, and you had no desire to spend an eternity haunting hapless humans.

By virtue of your birth, you were compelled to seek Sukuna out, desiring revenge, the force of the villagers’ dark emotions driving you forward. But the minute you had come face to face with him, your resolve had abandoned you. Your cursed energy flickered like the flame of a candle in the midst of a hurricane and you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you were out of your depth.

You had sought to escape, but he had seen you. Had begged for forgiveness, but he did not know the meaning of the word. You had screamed for mercy, and he had laughed, asking you to repeat the entreaty - but louder. He had shivered in pleasure at the sound. You would never forget it.

But his eyes now were merely aglow in mirth and anticipation - not recognition. There was a chance, however slim, that he had not recognized you. Indeed, despite tormenting you for centuries, much time seemed to have passed since then, and he had never truly held you in any form of regard even when you had been by his side. You were a thing to him, never a person. Something to relieve the boredom. An unbreakable toy - the very best kind. And as with all things unbreakable, he had tested that claim in every way possible.

“My, my…” he drawled, a chuckle rumbling from his chest. “You recognize me?”

And it was those words, more than anything else, that gave you hope. If he did not remember you, perhaps you could escape. Perhaps you could find freedom. Perhaps you could offer him something worth your release.

You did not even attempt to voice an answer - you were having enough difficulty breathing - and were afraid to provoke recognition. Your eyes darted around the area, taking in your surroundings, but there seemed to be nothing but the watery blood pooled on the ground which you were currently on all fours in - the throne of skulls, and surrounding that, a thick mist veiling whatever lay beyond.

You knew from experience that you could not hope to outrun him, but what other option did you have but to try? What could you possibly do to save yourself?

“Not answering?”A voice murmured in your ear again, “Rude.”

You whirled around to face him with a gasp, sure you would find him hovering just over you and fell to the ground with a splash, drenching your clothes in bloody water.

Panting, your eyes searched for him, but were surprised to find that he was nowhere near you, still reclining on his throne with that same bemused smirk.

You collected yourself as best you could, and turned to face him as you lowered your head in humility, bowing low in the hopes that your hair would hide your face from view. Feed into his ego, you told yourself. That was your only hope. Show him how terrified you were, how great you believed him to be - with any luck, he might just eat it up and let you go.

But when had luck ever been on your side? Not once, from the moment you were born.

“Please accept my apologies,” you choked out in a raspy voice, hoarse from disuse. “Where exists the fool who does not recognize the great King of Curses?” You took a deep breath, and cleared your throat, forcing yourself to go on. “My Lord, please forgive my disrespect, this humble servant dared not speak in your presence.”

You spoke in a low voice, hoping to disguise it as much as possible.

“Oh?” there was an echo of ominous amusement in the single syllable that did not bode well for you.

“I meant not to intrude, Great King. Please,” your forehead hovered just above the water as your palms met in front of you, your arms trembled too violently to truly carry your weight. “Please allow me to leave.”

A sinister chuckle fell from his lips. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please,” you repeated in a tremulous voice, unable to utter anything but the simple word.

He hummed in mirth, your desperate plea little more than a joke to him. “Asking me for mercy, you must not know me as well as you had me believe.”

When you refused to answer, he smirked at your quivering form, “Do you know where you are right now?”

Hesitantly, you slowly raised your head to take in your surroundings again. You’ve never been in a place like this. Was it some kind of innate domain?

A sensation swept over you, little more than a whiff of air, and suddenly your gaze fell on a pair of black Tabi clad feet in Zori sandals. Before you could move, protest, or even think you felt the weight of the rough, thick sole of one of the sandals on the back of your head.

You should have known better than to cry out, after everything you had been through. Your instinct should have told you to hold your breath rather than waste it on a scream and so, you could only curse yourself for a fool when your sharp cry was cut off on the gurgling sound of your face being pressed into the shallow, sanguine water you knelt in. You pressed your mouth shut, panic seizing your limbs as you thrashed and sought to free yourself. The more you struggled, the more weight Sukuna placed on the back of your head, leaning forward now, one forearm draped across his knee as he chuckled at your plight.

“I warned you once already,” he spoke over the splashing sounds of your struggles. “That it is rude not to answer when spoken to.” He watched your desperate flailing with an aloof air.

“Having fun?” He teased, watching your movements slow, your limbs growing still as your consciousness started to fade. “Now, now… giving up already? Don’t be such a poor sport.”

He stepped back, freeing you, but you lacked the strength to lift your head. He tutted in disapproval and, nudging your shoulder with a toe of sandal, flipped you over with enough force to send your body flying several feet.

You coughed and sputtered for air, lifting yourself into a seated position with trembling arms.

It was beginning. He didn’t care what you had to say, or what you felt. He only wanted to amuse himself, and he knew no limits in doing so.

Slow footsteps approached and the very heart in your chest froze over with fear. You clenched your eyes shut like a bird of prey in the face of the most fearsome predator.

He knelt down in front of you, peering into your face and you stared more determinedly at the ground, letting your hair veil your features. “Well,” he sneered. “Don’t be boring.”

You lifted your gaze despite yourself, that phrase could not mean anything good for you.

“Run.”

The command served simultaneously as permission, and you staggered to your feet as you stumbled away from him - seeking distance from the most terrifying being you had ever known. Millennia at his side would not suffice for you to grasp the extent of his depravity, the limits of the lengths he would be willing to go to torment you.

The sound of your footsteps splashing through the water echoed throughout the realm as you raced away from him, hoping, praying that you would be allowed to escape - that you could somehow, just once - live a day away from Sukuna. Just one day where you didn’t need to guard each breath like a dragon guarded his treasure.

You slipped past the thick mist, refusing to allow yourself to feel trepidation in the face of the unknown, running faster and faster until the fog passed by in a blur but you only pushed yourself even harder to escape - each step was a step further away from Sukuna, a step towards security. Although you could not hear him in pursuit, that fact gave you no peace - he could be as silent and sure-footed as a panther when he so desired.

When you felt the mist thin, some small relief tingled in the back of your head. Maybe, by some miracle, he would allow you to escape? Perhaps he was bored of you and your presence. Perhaps he wanted to be on his own. It wasn’t unthinkable, was it? Freedom beckoned.

You crashed into a tall, solid figure and nearly lost your footing. You looked up in horror, to find Sukuna grinning down at you, arms crossed over his chest. Beside him, the throne of skulls, and surrounding the two of you - the same crimson water. You raised a hand to your mouth to stifle a sob. This couldn’t be happening.

You forced yourself to your feet and turned on your heel to race back into the mist but this time, you didn’t get far. Sukuna caught you by the hair, jerking your head backwards. You cried out in alarm, but he only smirked in response, pulling your head further back.

“You had your chance, little one, but you ran right back into my arms,” he chuckled. “Guess this is where you want to be, hm?”

You sputtered protests, denials, on a thin, desperate wail, tears pooled in your eyes and streamed down your face as he jerked your head further back, bringing your gaze to his own.

He seemed taken aback, for a fraction of an instant, as his eyes widened.

“ You .” The single syllable was spoken in accusation, recognition - and surprise.

He released his hold on your hair and stepped back with a laugh. He pressed a hand to his forehead and shook his head, amused beyond measure. He waved a hand at you.

“You wanted to run? Go ahead. Run.”

Unable to understand why recognizing you had prompted such an unprecedented act of mercy, you wasted not another moment and dashed back into the mist - only to step back into the clearing moments later. You turned back into the fog again - and again and again, but no matter how many times you ran from the clearing, every path led right back to Sukuna’s side. Each time you stepped back into the clearing, Sukuna smirked at you, waiting patiently.

By the fifth time you stepped into the clearing you pressed your hands to your temples and sank to your knees with a scream. There was no way out.

Sukuna stalked towards you and you made no attempt to evade when he reached out and cupped your chin, lifting your eyes towards his own blood-red irises, a grin on his lips as his eyes traced your features. Sobs trembled from your lips as tears streamed from your eyes, streaking down your cheeks, dripping from his fingers and falling to the scarlet waters below.

“Now, there’s a familiar face,” he crooned. “You sure have some sorry luck. But you’re the one who came to me first, wasn’t it?”

“The village -” you stammered. “It was the villagers - I didn’t - I wouldn’t -”

“ Didn’t, wouldn’t ,” he mocked. “Breathe deep now, nice and slow, let’s hear your pathetic excuses, shall we?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to stem the tears, struggling to regulate your breathing, before you mumbled, “The villagers’ resentment sent me, I would have never dared. Sukuna-sama, you know I would never have dared stand before you.”

“Village?” he scraped one long, black fingernail down the side of your face. “What village?”

He didn’t remember. Of course he didn’t. That village he had ruined - only one of many to him, apparently - would scarcely register in his mind.

“Forgive me,” you voiced instead in a hushed whisper. “I did not intend any disrespect.”

“No,” he smirked in agreement, and there was something ruthless and cutting in the expression. “And yet you ended up here again. There has to be something to it, no? Isn’t that what they call ‘fate’?”

It was. That was precisely what they would call it. The cruelest fate there was.

His lips curved further into a sneer, his sharp canines glimmering in the dim light, as his eyes lit up with a diabolical expression. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who betrayed me. The reason I was sealed.”

Horror flooded through you. A Sukuna who wanted to amuse himself with you was terrifying, but a Sukuna who wanted to punish you, to get revenge on you, would be worse than hell itself. You couldn’t allow him to believe it!

“Sukuna-sama!” You clung to his arm, meeting his gaze imploringly. “I would never betray you! Please, I - !” You could make any number of wild claims - you could claim to be loyal to him, you could claim to love him, you could claim to respect him - but only one claim would actually soothe his nerves and please him, that much, at least, you knew.

“I fear you far too much to ever betray you!”

“Is that so?” he drew back, and kicked one of the skulls lying beside him into the air and caught it smoothly in one hand, his long, black nails contrasting against the pale grey of the animal skull. Breaking off one of the animal’s horns, he turned it in his fingers thoughtfully, as if considering it from all angles, before that crimson gaze turned back to pierce right through you.

“Prove it.” He tossed the sharp horn towards you and you caught it unthinkingly.

“Gouge out your eye, and I’ll believe you weren’t the one who sold me out.”

“My - my eye?” You blinked at him, praying he wasn’t serious - but you knew better. He leaned against the tower of skulls and crossed his arms, bored.

You stared at the horn in horror. How could you gouge out your own eye? You felt those familiar tremors afflicting your hand and you reached up with a second hand to better steady yourself.

“Is that too much for you?” He crossed over towards you and trailed one sharp fingernail lazily down your throat, before flitting over your collarbones. His finger slipped between the folds of your robe before resting just above your heart. Sukuna pressed against the skin there and a dribble of blood leaked down your chest as a sharp fingernail broke through the skin.

“Pierce your heart, then. Punish the lying organ and I’ll be satisfied.”

Your lip trembled in horror. Take out your eye, suffer immense pain, and live - or pierce your heart and die?

“Well, what’ll it be?”

You lifted the curved horn in your hand and trailed the pad of your thumb over the ridges of the bone. Testing the tip, you noted with some small relief that it was fairly sharp. Living meant living through more of Sukuna’s torture. Dying was clearly the better option.

You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the horn firmly in your fist, ignoring the way your hand trembled. There were worse things Sukuna could do to you. There were always worse things he could do.

You lifted your hand high into the air and refused to acknowledge the way your entire arm quivered violently. If you lost your nerve, and didn’t pierce deeply enough the first time - would you have to do it again? It was better to have to do it just the once - who knew if you could collect yourself enough for a second attempt?

That meant using all of your strength. Even as you worked through your thoughts, battling your mind’s instinct of self-preservation, your arm remained in the air for what felt like hours as you struggled to build up the nerve to do what he had asked.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” Sukuna yawned, lifting a hand to his mouth. “Or would you rather just confess and accept punishment instead?”

You would not. Whatever he had in store for you, it was surely worse than what you were being ordered to do. Your hand plunged downwards and the tip of the horn pierced through skin and flesh, before being deflected by your bones. You screamed in agony as the horn fell from your grip and blood gushed from your wound.

Your ribs. Your ribs had been in the way. And now you would have to do it all over again.

You pressed both hands to the wound in an attempt to stem the blood as a pained, undying scream pierced through the air, seemingly endlessly. Sukuna winced as he cleared his ear with an index finger as if blocking out the annoying noise.

“Well, don’t give up.” He gestured to the horn poking out of the water. “You almost made it. Come on, you can do it.”

You stared at him in horror, blood still gushing forth between your fingers. Even as your mind obediently worked out how to continue. Now that you knew where your ribs were, it would only be one further attempt, slightly above the bone, and this ordeal would be behind you.

Just one more time.

Once more, and he would see you as a toy again, possibly, but no longer an enemy. Once again. Clenching your teeth against the pain, you reached with trembling fingers for the horn, blood streaming forth more fervently as you bent down.

You did not allow yourself time to think or hesitate, knowing you would lose your nerve if you did. Shutting off your mind, you pierced the horn straight into your own heart and blinding, mind-shattering pain burst through your body. Blood dripped from your lips as you stumbled backwards, lost your footing and collapsed into the water.

There was a buzzing in your ears associated with your fading consciousness as blood gushed out of the wound with every beat of your heart, interrupted only by shrill laughter. Blinking through the blurry haze, you saw Sukuna doubled over with laughter, nearly in hysterics.

“You actually did it! You idiot!” His shoulders shook with mirth, and he wiped a tear from his eye. “Did you seriously think you could ever be important enough to betray me? Do you honestly think anything you could do could result in me being sealed? Are you a simpleton?”

He cackled endlessly, his cold, shrill laughter ringing in your ears as you bled out. “What a fool…” he chuckled, crossing over to you. “What do you think you are? Entertaining illusions of self-importance.”

He was still laughing, even as he reached down to cup your face, squeezing your cheeks and turning your face from side to side. “What an idiot,” he snickered.

You were going so numb, you couldn’t even feel his fingers on your face, and his cruel expression was fading from view. Maybe you were an idiot, but at least now you would finally be dead. Dead and free of him. That wasn’t so bad, you thought to yourself. It was the first and last kindness he had ever done for you.

His face was blurring in and out of your vision, and you were waiting for the moment it would settle to black. The moment you would never have to see his face again, but the blurriness receded and his face reappeared in startling clarity. This was wrong, it was all wrong. Why were you seeing him? Even in death? Was there a hell after all, and had you gone to it?

You slowly grew conscious of Sukuna’s hand on your chest and his cursed energy flooding into you, sealing the wound you had gouged open, closing the flesh you had stabbed apart, healing the organ that refused to let you die.

“No,” you sobbed. “No, no, no, please…” You lifted weary hands to your face and wept miserably, your shoulders shaking. “Please, just let me die.”

Sukuna tutted in response, “Where’s the fun in that? Don’t disappoint me now, you were doing so well.”

You were alive again. Your body healed. Only your mind was still addled by the pain you had forced it through. You blinked up at Sukuna and couldn’t find the strength to bring yourself to move.

He cocked his head to the side as he observed you. “What should I do with you?” His smirk was slow and salacious. “I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.” Another low chuckle rumbled from his chest.

You couldn’t find words to answer him as he tugged at the silk belt holding your robes closed until the layers of fabric loosened and fell apart. His eyes roamed down your chest, over the swell of your breasts, the dip of your navel, he traced one sharp, long fingernail along your ribs. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He muttered, “Have you been keeping yourself for me?”

You didn’t know why the unspoken implication, the assumption that you might have intimately known anyone at all other than Sukuna in the duration of your miserable existence made your skin crawl. You swallowed thickly. “I was sealed,” you stammered in response. “Same as you.”

He snorted at that. “You really do have the worst luck. I almost feel bad for you.”

He trailed a single finger up your breast, grazing past the nipple in a mockery of a caress. “Then again, you could think you were made for me. Born from that stupid village’s grudge. Being sealed away with me and finally waking up, only to come right back to my side. You’re my plaything aren’t you?”

You whimpered in response. Not wanting to confirm his statement and make him even more reluctant to ever release you, but also not wanting to deny it and provoke punishment. “You remember the village?” You asked breathlessly instead, staring numbly up at the gargantuan ribcage spread out as some kind of makeshift ceiling. His earlier behavior had given you the impression he had forgotten entirely. Or maybe it had simply taken him some time to recall when your twisted relationship had begun.

“Of course I do,” he sneered. “I remember everyone I’ve killed. It’s only normal to cling to good memories.”

Your eyes slipped towards him. Was that true? Was that really how he felt? You felt foolish even doubting it. After everything that had happened to you, nothing should surprise you anymore.

You felt a hand close around your throat and lift you up into the air. You were too weak to resist, and not foolish enough to attempt it. You could only watch him from beneath a veil of thick lashes as he tugged your robes from your shoulders, allowing them to fall to the ground and soak up the bloodied water.

You shuddered in his grip. There was nothing you could do but allow him to have his way with you. If you were quiet enough, pliant enough, perhaps there was a chance you could avoid the worst of the pain you knew he liked to inflict.

His gaze was no longer on your tormented expression as you gasped for air, but devouring every inch of flesh exposed to his seeking gaze. It had been centuries since he had last seen you. Before he had been sealed, he had made no bones about taking what he wanted from whoever he wanted, but there had always been something peculiar about you.

Was it the fear in your eyes that never seemed to diminish no matter how many times he took you? Was it the submissive way you gave yourself up to him, hoping for mercy although you should have known him well enough to know that he scoffed at the very idea? Or was it something else entirely? Was it the familiarity? Mortal women could only take so much before the life went out of them. He never returned to them, he wouldn’t have even if that had been an option. Even if there had been something left of their mangled bodies to fuck. Why return to something old and used when there was always new, live prey on the horizon? Dead women didn’t scream, dead women weren’t afraid.

But you.

You never feared him any less, no matter how long he had held you prisoner. Your screams never died out. He could push you farther than he had ever pushed anyone else and not only would you not die, but you would only submit to him ever more determinedly. As if that had ever done you any good before.

Home was a foolish, mortal concept, he could never understand the appeal of, but as his claws traced along your flesh, inadvertently drawing blood wherever he was careless, he had to admit that there was something intoxicating about the return to the familiar. About reclaiming a body that he knew well. A body, he noted with dim satisfaction, that had never known anyone’s touch but his own.

You might be nothing more than a plaything for his amusement, but you were his all the same. He really ought to reward Itadori for so thoroughly alleviating his boredom.

Despite how willing you had been to die only moments earlier, you weakly raised a hand to his forearm, resting it there in a desperate, wordless plea for breath.

He glanced briefly at your tear-filled eyes, your rosy lips parted for air that would not come, and your reddening complexion - before ignoring you entirely and continuing his exploration of your body. Two hands pried his own robes open as a third came up to fondle your breast, pinching the nipple cruelly between his fingers, causing a pained squeak to leave your lips with what little air you could manage.

Your eyes rolled back in your head and Sukuna sighed, “Air is such a ridiculous thing to depend on.” He licked upwards against your nipple and noted how you shuddered in his grip, before going limp. “Hey. Hang on a little longer. Aren’t you supposed to be a curse?”

Curse or no, you were losing consciousness and that would not do. It just wasn’t the same when you weren’t begging him to stop and screaming when he refused to listen. Clawing to get away from him, and shuddering violently when you orgasmed against your will. No, he could not have you unconscious.

Reluctantly, he released your throat and caught you by the waist when you slumped forward, your chin resting on his shoulder despite yourself. It was a mockery of affection. It looked almost romantic, if one did not consider the circumstances.

“Oi,” he chided you. “Isn’t this just cute?”

He trailed a black talon up your spine and you shuddered against him. You knew it was utter stupidity and probably disrespect to lean on him this way, but you were having difficulty collecting yourself. After your near death experience and the oxygen deprivation, your limbs tingled as sensation slowly returned. You only needed to pull yourself together and apologize. That was all. Just as soon as you found the strength to.

But his body was so warm and solid. So firm. When he wasn’t hurting you, you were reminded of the fact that his presence was the only constant you had ever known. Wasn’t he almost like your home at this point? His touch filled you with trepidation, made you tremble violently, made your heart riot fitfully in your chest in fear of the pain that would doubtless follow and yet - for that split second before the pain began… wasn’t there something almost comforting about his touch? You wished there was a way to prolong the interim. The fleeting moment between being deprived of his touch and being impaled by it. That fleeting instant was almost pleasant.

He guided your thighs around his waist and you crossed your legs around him obediently, fearful of what he might do to you if you failed to comply. The memory of being impaled to a wall so he might more easily have his way with you was still fresh in your mind.

His hand dug into your hair and jerked your head brutally backwards, looking down on you through narrowed, mischievous eyes. The other pair of eyes was shut, dormant on his cheekbones. You caught your breath, fearful of what would follow. He had said he wanted to reward you, but there was never a clear distinction between reward and punishment with Sukuna.

“You aren’t going soft on me now, are you? I’m expecting a lot from you.” His low murmur made you shudder involuntarily as his warm breath caressed your face. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just by your ear. “Don’t disappoint me.”

You gasped as you felt something warm and wet against your womanhood, only realizing in that moment that, in the way you were clinging to him, your most intimate area was pushed up against his stomach shamelessly. In horror, you dropped your gaze to find a horizontal slit had opened across his abdomen and that a large tongue, dripping with saliva had appeared and was probing your nether regions, pushing urgently past your lips to explore you thoroughly.

Sukuna observed your reactions with amusement as the tongue prodded harshly against your clit and journeyed up and down in its explorations before poking past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance. You clung more tightly to Sukuna’s neck as the impossibly thick tongue lapped at your inner walls, eager and insistent, thrusting further in than you would have thought possible. With more vehemence than you could remember.

“Surprised?” Sukuna chuckled. “My, aren’t you forgetful.”

You bit your lip to keep from crying out in pleasure as the tongue wriggled its way further inside of you, poking at your cervix. You could not hope to distance yourself from it without falling and you were certain that would provoke Sukuna’s displeasure, so you held onto him desperately and allowed yourself to be molested by his tongue, biting your lip as you held out until it bled.

Sukuna’s hands roamed your body all the while, your lust-dazed mind could barely follow along, barely registering where he touched you as the coil of heat tightened within your body with every insistent thrust of his tongue. Sukuna lifted your chin and licked away the blood collecting on your lower lip. Your irises were blown wide with lust as you clung to his shoulders, and he trailed his thumb over your lip.

“If you hold back your voice,” he chastised in a voice that was both threatening and seductive - like thick, black poison. “I’ll have no choice but to make you scream.” A lone, sharp black fingernail trailed down the nape of your neck, breaking the surface of your skin ever so slightly. A clear warning.

“Sukuna-sama…” you mewled, both in complaint and in surrender.

His hands toyed with your breasts, long nails scraping over your areolae. One hand rolled a pert nipple between his fingers with deceptive gentleness, before pinching it mercilessly, painfully. A mouth had appeared on his other hand and sucked harshly on your breast, not letting up in the slightest until you feared he would break the skin and leave you bleeding. The other two hands squeezed your buttocks as you writhed against him in response to his ministrations. His grip was bruising and cruel, you could feel blood pool and trickle down your skin where his claws had pierced your flesh.

You moaned out his name repeatedly, not daring to fall silent for fear of the consequences it could bring as the tongue within you curled upwards, roughly stroking a spongy patch of flesh within you that made you lightheaded, each movement of the thick, wet muscle straining your inner walls. The heat pulsing through your body intensified by the second, driving you higher and higher until you crashed and fell, his name leaving your lips in a breathless cry. Your inner walls convulsed and spasmed around the tongue still burrowed deep within you.

“Hurrying on ahead on your own, are you?” Sukuna accused, but he didn’t seem displeased. At least, you hoped he wasn’t.

You had not sufficiently descended from your high to be fully conscious of your surroundings, still clinging weakly to Sukuna’s neck when he took hold of your hips and pulled you away from himself, you felt his thick tongue slip out from between your legs and inhaled sharply at the loss of contact. Before you could so much as think, however, Sukuna tossed you bodily backwards, causing you to land roughly on the tower of animal skulls.

You cried out in pain as the many horns poked and pierced you in various places, you couldn’t even number your injuries, so scattered was your mind. Sukuna cocked his head to the side and watched your blood drip out over the pale bones and admired the contrast.

You held still, like a rabbit in the face of a lion, as he stalked closer with all the grace of an experienced predator. “Why is your blood this way?” he mused, watching it streak down your skin in rivulets.

“Pretty.”

You gaped at him. You felt warm and lightheaded at the compliment. It was your blood, you reminded yourself. Not you. Your blood that he found pretty. How out of your mind must you be, to be so foolishly flattered by that statement. But you were. There was no denying it. It dulled the pain, to know he was enjoying the sight.

He let his robes fall to the floor as he approached you further still. Your eyes trailed down his form, before stopping with horror at the girth between his legs. How could you have forgotten that ? He was larger than you, stronger than you, faster than you - you had never had a chance of escaping him in the past. You shuddered as you recalled the first time he had impaled you - no other word did the act justice - you recalled how you had bled, your flesh torn from the intrusion. A similar horror caused you to whimper in fear now, unable to tear your eyes away as he stroked his thick cock confidently, not even his large hands able to completely close around its thickness. Nudging your ankle with the toe of his sandal, he nodded at you. “Spread your legs for me.”

You should have complied. You knew it. It would have made everything easier if he didn’t need to be rough with you. If he didn’t punish you. But the fear of having something so huge shoved between your legs, of tearing you up again the way you had multiple times in the past, you couldn’t help but squirm, squeezing your thighs together as your mouth went dry and your lips parted, seeking words that might invoke mercy.

“Sukuna-sama, please, I…” but you didn’t know what else to say and so you gazed up at him, your eyes filling with tears, as you struggled to speak around the choked sobs threatening to tear free from your throat.

Sukuna smirked, but his eyes flashed dangerously. “Look around you,” he instructed. “What is keeping you from becoming one of them?”

You turned your head to the side obediently, your gaze skimming over countless skulls, some animal, some human, but most of the skulls merely remnants from other curses.

“You amuse me,” Sukuna drawled, towering over you. “That is all you have to your name.”

The implication was clear, that he would not hesitate to tear your head from your body and add your skull to his collection the moment you ceased to be amusing.

You swallowed thickly and forced yourself to separate your trembling thighs. To make yourself available to him. Your hands gripping at anything to better steady yourself, you were horrified to find a smooth skull beneath your seeking palms but held on anyway.

Two hands gripped your inner thighs and shoved them apart roughly, causing you to cry out in surprise and discomfort. With a sneer, Sukuna descended upon you, a third hand closing around your throat and applying controlled pressure. Judging by the fact that you could still breathe, you knew he was holding back, and as you met his ruthlessly gleaming eyes, you understood the game he would be playing. Air would be the reward, and whether or not you were permitted to breathe, would depend on how well you did.

As he applied more pressure to your throat you forced your legs wider, desperate to appear compliant, and the hand on your throat loosened.

“Clever little thing,” Sukuna purred, and the praise swept through your veins like liquid honey.

The last of his free hands found its way between your thighs and you held your breath in fear that one of those sharp claws would tear open your skin. When he toyed with your bundle of nerves, you wanted to scream in terror, knowing how badly he could hurt you with a twitch of his fingers and how little he would think of it. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting him to continue, not wanting him to stop.

Sukuna drank in every one of your expressions greedily. Whether your eyes were unfocused with lust, or wide with terror, each emotion of yours was equally satiating to him. If he was more partial to your fear that did not mean he could not appreciate his own skill in driving you to pleasure despite your open terror.

When his long, thick fingers pushed past your entrance, you sucked in a cold breath. Forgetting yourself, you breathed his name on a reverent exhale that was almost worship. He did not slow, or pause, preparing your body for him with an almost methodic rhythm. But if your eyes hadn’t been squeezed shut in that moment, you would have spied the confusion flitting briefly through his crimson irises. Would have seen the curious way he regarded you.

He positioned himself at your entrance and you felt his member prodding your core. The haze of lust cleared instantly, giving way to blind terror. There was no way he would fit. Regardless of the fact that he had, many times before. Forgetting yourself, cold dread settled in your stomach and you scrambled backwards, trying to inch away from him as you shook your head.

Sukuna’s gaze lifted to yours and his eyes narrowed in displeasure. Two hands gripped your thighs more firmly, as the pressure of a third hand intensified on your neck in a cruel reminder of how fully you were at his mercy. But fear had overcome your mind and you could not talk yourself down.

“No, no, no, no…” you whimpered pitifully. “Please, please don’t - “

Before you could speak another word, Sukuna ruthlessly pulled on your thighs, bringing your entire body towards him and impaling you on his member without warning. A shrill scream echoed through the realm as a painful fullness, the feeling of your walls being forced to stretch wider than should be physically possible overwhelmed your body.

“Stop! Stop, please, I’m going to -”

But there was no stopping, nor had he ever intended to. If anything, your pained cries only spurred him on. You realized suddenly that his hold on your neck had not tightened, and that the only reason for that could be because he enjoyed your screaming, because he liked you begging. That he liked it almost as much as he relished denying you the mercy you wept for.

The realization set you to tears and you held onto his thick wrist as thrust into you, your whole body sinking deeper into the mountain of skulls with each thrust until you feared you would be buried alive.

“Sukuna-sama…” you sobbed, knowing your cries were falling on deaf ears.

He hummed in approval, and ran a hand through his hair as he smirked at you. “Go on, don’t stop. Let it all out.”

And your fears were confirmed. He got off on your screams. He got off on your pain. You had always known it, but your long sleep must have dulled your senses. You wept incessantly, wiping at your tears as he continued pounding into you, for all his efforts, still only halfway there. You were sure he was going to split you in two. Sure you would not survive this. You could feel your lining stretched thin and pulsing against him in protest. This could not end well. As much as you told yourself you had survived this, many times before, you could not help but feel that the stretch was unbearable, unreal - impossible.

Sukuna’s grip on your thighs provided the leverage needed to reach the depth he sought, as he wondered how many more whimpers and confused moans he could tear from you. He wondered if he could make you cry enough to wash the blood from the skulls beneath you. He pulled you in towards himself as he thrust into you again and again and again. Almost there. So close.

As he yanked on your thighs brutally once more, a distinct, sickening popping sound met your ears along with a blinding, searing pain that raced through your hip.

Your eyes shot wide open as a shrill, agonized scream burst from your throat. Even Sukuna paused in his relentless abuse of your core and that fact - more than anything else - terrified you.

Shaking with dread you looked down, only to find your left leg hanging uselessly from your side. You looked up at Sukuna in horror, as if asking him what to do, but he did not meet your eyes, staring curiously at your leg instead. He poked at your leg and it shifted lifelessly at his touch, causing a branding pain to shoot through you anew. You bit your lip and stifled an agonized shriek of pain.

“Sukuna-sama…” you pleaded miserably, sweat beading on your forehead.

He shoved lightly at your leg again, jostling it somewhat harder than the first time and a shriek of pain exploded from you as you pressed a hand to your mouth, groaning in agony.

Now his gaze did lift towards you as a slow smirk spread across his lips.

“P- please,” you begged, your eyes lifted towards his imploringly. “Please, help me.”

“Mmm,” he mused, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he continued where he had left off, although at a slower pace. “One thing at a time, sweetheart.”

Your mind was already fuzzy from the immense, unbearable pain coursing through your body. The term of endearment only addled your senses further. Sweetheart? It was your pain, you assumed. Every new height of pain you endured for his sake, the fonder he seemed to grow of you. You glanced down at your useless leg again. You gritted your teeth. You could take it.

“Hang in there,” he teased, pushing slowly but firmly into you, the movement causing fresh agony to course through you. He hovered over you, bringing his lips close to your ear, he angled his head towards you and took your earlobe gently between his teeth. The touch was so tame and affectionate it sent shivers down your spine. You almost couldn’t believe it was Sukuna’s mouth on your ear. Your earlobe slipped from his teeth as he parted his lips to whisper words of encouragement. “ Ganbare, ganbare. ” He murmured into your ear as he pushed further into your core.

You bit your lip, sweat trailing down your face, and searched his eyes questioningly. The message was clear - take him, take the pain, and he would reward you. He would be proud of you. That alone could be worth it, if he would look at you with pride and admiration, the high of receiving his acknowledgement would be worth it all, wouldn’t it?

You nodded.

His eyes lit up with glee, his grin widening even further, as a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. Where would he ever find someone else like you? Willing to take whatever he threw at you? With the sweetest screams he had ever heard, whimpering his name like a kicked puppy? You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself without him. It was a good thing you had found your way back to him. This was how it was meant to be. You would be lost out there on your own. Probably get yourself killed in the blink of an eye by some more powerful curses or some fumbling Jujutsu sorcerers. No, the best place for you to be was right by his side.

Sure, he might break you sometimes, but he would always be sure to put you back together again after. Could the same be said for anyone else? Surely not. After all, you were made for him. Everything about your existence revolved around him. Maybe that was why he tolerated your presence, allowed your existence.

He hammered into you with abandon now, two cruel hands all but crushing your breasts in his merciless grip, as a third squeezed your windpipe allowing you only enough air to cry out in agony, as the fourth hand held your right hip in place - some small mercy to minimize the pain in your left leg - as he rammed into you.

You groaned in pain, gritting your teeth and struggling to hold back the pained cries as your walls slowly, finally, began adjusting to him. The searing pain in your leg rattled your senses, but the pleasure now beginning to course through your veins befuddled your mind until you didn’t know what was what. You couldn’t truly tell the pleasure from the pain - both were blindingly intense, both were driving you out of your mind.

Sukuna’s rhythm intensified, faster, harder, more deranged as he seemed to want to pound right through you and you were certain you would lose consciousness from the dizzying combination of terrible sensation as you heard the sickening sound of skulls tumbling from the towering pile and falling to the waters below as he drove you deeper and deeper into the mountain of bone until your view was obscured by the many skulls that had fallen over you - burying you alive, just as you had feared they would.

The fear, the pain, the pleasure of Sukuna within you, the coiling spiral of heat that only intensified with each thrust, the knowledge of how close he was to you. How the King of Curses relished tormenting you, how he tested you, how special you were to him, in your own way, was a dizzying concoction of delirious euphoria that cast you over the edge of ecstasy, despite yourself, just as Sukuna’s pace stuttered, having reached his climax himself, spilling masses of thick, hot liquid deep inside of you. You felt full, sated, on some cloud far removed from the unending pain and the constant threat of death.

You struggled to catch your breath, to orientate yourself, completely forgetting why you could not see. You felt sharp, long fingernails graze past your hip and a jolt of pain passed through you as the bone settled back into place and the surrounding flesh slowly healed, causing your pain to fade into nothingness. Sukuna’s fingers lingered, tracing lazy circles on your hip, sending his cursed energy into your body long after your injury was fully healed.

At length, he drew back, taking hold of your hand and pulling you out of the pile of bone you had found yourself trapped under. You fell against his chest and he stroked your hair behind your ear, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear that were so uncharacteristic you could scarcely believe what you were hearing.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his nails trailing along your scalp, digging through your hair. His lips met your jawline, trailing hot, bruising kisses along your flesh. Your whole body trembled at the affection you were so utterly ill-prepared for, so wholly unaccustomed to. “You’ve been such a good girl, haven’t you?”

You did not know what to think, or what to say. In that moment, escape was the farthest thing from your mind. You wished he would go on holding you that way, stroking your hair, running a hand up and down your back as he whispered praise into your ear that made you want to melt into a puddle.

Leave Sukuna? Never. Why would you want to?

He didn’t stop. His lips found all your weaknesses as he held you up. Two strong arms, supporting your weight while the other two roamed your body, clearly intent on rewarding you, for once, and not seeking his own pleasure. You felt as if you were a guest in your own body, so foreign was the experience. His seeking mouth on your body, leaving dark bruises everywhere it lingered, a second mouth smirking open on the hand he had pressed between your legs. A third hand massaging the nape of your neck.

You were putty in his hands. You had never known that Sukuna was capable of providing such pleasure. You trembled from head to toe as your mind dimly registered a disconcerting thought. What could you possibly do to earn this reward again? What wouldn’t you do to earn this reward again?

He pulled one orgasm after another from you, not waiting for you to come down from the peak of ecstasy before continuing with his ministrations sending you tumbling headfirst into another. It was a different kind of torture, but one you couldn’t bring yourself to resent in the slightest.

When he entered you again, patiently, slowly, allowing you to adjust to him bit by bit, you were stunned to find that Sukuna was even capable of taking you in this fashion. It wasn’t his style, you realized. It was simply a courtesy to you, for having taken the pain so well.

The words good girl rained down repeatedly on your ears until you almost believed them, until you realized that, after this, you would do anything to hear them again.

He took you again and again, until you went limp in his arms, prompting a chuckle from his lips. Something about your complete submission had touched him in an uncharacteristic way. And his desire to reward you, well… Sukuna was one who did as he pleased. And if he wanted to be gentle with you for once, why shouldn’t he? The two of you hadn’t seen each other in quite some time, but now that he thought about it, it was a good thing you had been released into his Domain. You belonged with him, clearly. His unbreakable toy. His good girl.

Slowly but surely, he was coming back to his full strength, and when he broke out of here, he would keep you by his side. He wouldn’t limit himself to you, goodness no, but he would keep the others away from you, and allow you to be close to him, the way he did not allow anyone else to be. Because you would go to lengths for him that others would balk at. And who would he be if he did not reward such loyalty?

He stroked your cheek with one long, sharp black finger as he observed your sleeping features with an aloof, thoughtful expression. There was something about you he couldn’t place. A sensation you awakened within him that he did not recognize. He wondered, briefly, if it posed a danger to him, before shaking his head and deciding no, someone as weak as you could never be dangerous for him.

It never occurred to him that he had missed you.

When you awoke at last, Sukuna was once again draped in that white robe, a black shawl wrapped around his neck. He leaned back in his throne, his chin resting against the knuckles of his right hand. You were draped across his lap, fully naked, as his left hand toyed with your hair. He did not seem to acknowledge or even notice your presence as he argued with someone you could not see.

The low, dangerous hum of his voice as he spoke deadly threats you knew he had every intention of carrying out, sent a shudder down your spine, drawing his attention.

His eyes shifted towards you, even as he continued curling a lock of your hair around his index finger and spoke with someone beyond this realm, someone you did not know.

“Don’t waste my time, brat. Why should I help you?”

He was not speaking to you, even though his narrowed eyes were drinking you in. You heard a plea in response, an agonized cry for help, that the person beyond had friends who were dying, that innocent people would be doomed if Sukuna refused his aid.

Sukuna’s eyes caressed every exposed inch of flesh before muttering a gruff response.

“People that weak deserve to die. And if you’re too weak to protect them, then you deserve to watch it happen.”

Sukuna traced a finger across your collarbones and down the valley of your breasts as he spoke. You could feel your heart racing in your chest at his touch.

“I’m busy, brat.” He barked, cutting off the connection. Sukuna turned his attention towards you, and you felt you were surely burning alive under his gaze.

But the boy’s voice returned, echoing throughout the domain. Sukuna growled in his throat in displeasure and you could not help but be concerned for the boy’s fate. He cast you one last, lingering look that seemed to indicate that you should wait for him, that he would return shortly, that he was far from done with you.

You nodded in understanding, and when you felt him slip away, you remained motionless on his throne, eagerly awaiting the moment he would reappear and find you, just as he had left you. Absolutely faithful to the letter and spirit of his command. Waiting to amuse him, to entertain him, to be the very plaything he had claimed you were. Ever faithfully by his side.

After all, where else would you go?

#sukuna x reader #tw noncon #sukuna #jjk #sukuna smut

715 notes · View notes

skyfall8600 · 2 years ago

Text

Children of Dawn Pt. 2 (A Twilight Saga Fanfiction)

Note: I originally created this story back in 2020 with the first lockdowns from COVID-19. I had posted it on Wattpad under a different name, SaturnFire2000. However, I kept being drawn back to this story. It might be a while before new chapters are added, but I thought it would be worth re-posting the story on here given my new-found family of followers.

Summary: Years after the final battle, the Cullen family face new challenges. Edward and Bella take on new roles in life; Renesmee struggles to understand her goals and purpose in a world where no one is like her. The Volturi kept a large secret that could destroy them all.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Sexual references, violence, blood

Chapter 2: Renesmee

We decided to hunt just before we had to leave, being enclosed on a plane was not something I had done before. Running freely through the woods was something I could never get enough of, the feeling of the grass and dirt on my feet and the wind blowing in my hair was so calming and erratic.

My parents were ahead of me, already acting on their predatory instincts on an Elk a few yards away. I joined them mid hunt, devouring and taking whatever meat I could in my portable cooler bag strapped to my waist. Food was food, I hated thinking that I was a killer, so I tried to make the most of it.

“I think a few more then we should be good until we return.” My father said, his eyes returning to their golden brown from the black hunger.

“Any mountain lions?” my Mother asked, her eyes wide. She always enjoyed a good mountain lion. It was me who caught on the scent of our next prey, they followed after me. It was so energising to drink fresh blood, the blood bags from donors that I grew up on were satisfying but the difference between refrigerated and fresh was mouth-watering. Neither my Mother nor I have tasted human blood from the direct source, and I was too afraid to. The way my Father described the crave for it made me never want to, I already felt sorry for the animals we hunted… I could never force that upon another human.

I was pleased that Jacob would be coming with us, he always made me feel safe. Having Jacob in my life was so simple when I was younger, he was my best friend. Now things are more complicated, I don’t know why I suddenly feel so shy and quiet in front of him… it’s just Jacob. But I notice him looking at me sometimes, eyes focused on my facial features and it makes my heart beat faster. I hated being half human, the blood rushes to my cheeks and my embarrassment displayed for everyone to see.

It’s confusing sometimes, I feel as if I always want him near me but whenever he is… I can’t think straight. His perfect smile and tanned skin always distract me from whatever I was doing beforehand. I have to force myself to think calmly and rationally whenever my Father is around, I don’t want anyone to know how I feel about Jacob. He’s been a friend of the family for years; I can’t put them in an awkward situation simply because of a little crush.

I’ve read books of all kinds; it feels like everything I’ve ever read in romance novels. The overwhelming feelings and thoughts erupting all over my body when he was around. Jacob could never find out; I don’t want to ruin the friendship we have… I don’t want to lose him.

I first began to feel this way last year, it felt like the entire world drifted away when he hugged me when he returned from a camping trip with Seth. I hadn’t realised how much I missed him over that week, I didn’t want to let go.

“Everything packed?” Jacob asked my Father, “Blood? Garlic in case we attack them?”

“Very funny Jake.” Mother replied, swatting his arm with her hand.

I always wondered how Jacob knew them before I was borne, everyone always went quiet about that part. It was stupid of me to be jealous of my own mother for having a longer relationship with him, he wasn’t mine.

“Are you sure Leah is okay with you coming?” Father asked, I knew he didn’t want Jacob to come. Apart of me thinks he knows how I feel about Jacob, of course he wouldn’t want the boy his daughter had a crush on to come with them to Italy.

Jacob nodded and picked up my bags to place them in the car, “Yeah, everything is all set. Even Billy made sure my passport photo was ‘attractive’.”

“Jake can you tell Billy to stop trying to pay for your ticket. We are covering it.”

“Bella, the old man just wants to help.”

I hadn’t said a word since Jacob arrived, I just stood there biting my lip as they all loaded the car. Sitting in the back seat, Jacob joined me humming quietly as my parents went back inside to get two more bags.

“You okay Nessie?” he asked me in a serious tone. “I brought some motion sickness pills in case you get sick on the plane, since you’ve never been on one yet.”

The brush on my cheeks was making my hot skin boil. He was just being a good friend, like always. I managed to whisper a small, “I’m fine. Promise.” And he dropped the subject, keeping an eye on me from the corner of his eye.

I made sure to distract myself to the music playing in the car, with my Father so close I couldn’t afford to think of Jacob in any way. But seeing him sing along and enjoy himself to a few songs made me break my promises to myself, he was so enthusiastic and happy. His big tough Alpha persona was never something he had to use around me and my parents, he could be himself … and I loved it.

Joking around in the car with my mother, it was clear that they shared the same sense of humour. Jacob was always funny to me; it was only recently I started to become embarrassed if I laughed around him.

“I’m just saying, couldn’t we have sent a video of Nessie? Seems very unpractical to travel all the way to Italy to look at someone.” He nudged my Mother’s seat in front. “Isn’t that right Bella?”

“Oh, bite me.” Was her response.

My parents sat in the aisle across from us on the plane, Jacob gave me the window seat so I could ‘see the world’, as he said. I knew that it was Jacob’s first time on a plane too, so he was trying to stay cool and collected to stop me from freaking out.

“Need headphones? Apparently the initial take off is supposed to be loud and your ears pop, since yours are so sensitive I thought it might be good for you.” He said, rampaging through his backpack for the little ear buds. He had four sets, in case anyone wanted one.

My parents took them, Father hated being able to hear everyone’s nerves and thoughts so at least the sounds around him would be drowned out. Mother just wanted to play music to distract herself from being in a closed area with humans.

“Can we share some, to listen to music together?” I asked him, taking one bud from his warm hand.

“Sure… yeah.” He smiled slightly, pleased with my request. “Classical or modern music?”

“Modern… I’ve been listening to too much classical lately, Dad is starting to think I’ll start playing again.” Softly in my ear the music started to play, instinctively I rested my head on his shoulder and let the comfort surround me.

“Why don’t you? You play really well.” Jacob said.

“I just don’t have any passion to, Dad is always inspired by something. But I just go blank, so what’s the point in playing if your hearts not in it?”

I could hear Jacob’s loud heartbeat from the inside of his chest, the rhythmic beating was more soothing than any song that played through the headphones.

“Maybe the drums or guitar would be fun, I’d play those…”

“I doubt very well.” I laughed, imagining Jacob smashing away at the drum kit like a child. “No offence or anything.”

He was laughing with me, “None taken, it’ll be fun to make everyone suffer listening to it though.”

“Thanks.”

“Asides from you, Love.”

I died instantly inside. My entire body felt like it was on fire the moment the word left his lips; Jacob had never given me any romantic nicknames before. But Jasper always called me ‘Darling’, how was this any different? Why was I acting this way? I was glad that my parents were preoccupied mentally, I didn’t know for how much longer I could refrain myself from giving into my feelings.

When the plane took off, Jacob was right…. It was extremely loud, more for me than the other passengers around us. My overly sensitive hearing caused for a sharp pain to erupt from one side of my temple straight to the centre of my forehead. I crouched down in a defensive cradle, with Jacob’s arms around me.

“You okay? It’s almost over I think.” He rubbed my back. I looked up into his dark eyes from where I was, I saw the concern on his face and hated that I made him worry. Once I was able to bring myself up, the sound of the engines and jets were nothing more than slightly humming sensations at the back of my head.

“I’m fine, it’s toned down now.”

Jacob pointed out to the window, directly my attention to there. It was beautiful, I have never been this high up off the ground, even when I jump for snowflakes in the winter. The clouds looked as though they were painted so delicately with watercolour over the light blue sky, the sun was beginning to descend with the coming sunset within the next few hours.

“You know, you’ve never tried painting.” Jacob said, “I think you’ll be good at it.”

“You think too highly of me.” I shook my head and laughed lightly.

“Only because you are so incredible.”

“Right, everyone seems to think so because I am some ‘miracle hybrid baby’. But they never think of me as me, just what I am.”

“Is Renesmee Carlie Cullen suggesting that she is ordinary?” Jacob laughed.

“You know what I’m saying Jacob.” I could feel his breath on the side of my face. “Since I was borne everyone says I’m special, but I want to learn about what makes me…. me. I know I probably sound stupid, but everything has been handed to me, or I have been praised for absolutely anything I’ve done. But who am I as a person?”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” He said quickly, “I felt that way too once, I didn’t know what was important for me or who I wanted to be. But once you figure it out, it is the most wonderful feeling on earth.”

“How did you know?”

“You just do, it’s like the whole world changes.”

I drifted off to sleep shortly once the aircraft became steady in the air, Jacob woke me gently during the landing procedure and the four of us departed the plane swiftly.

The warm Italian air surrounded me the second we got out of the airport. The fragrance was fresh, but it was distinct in some new way that I had never smelt before. The hot sun felt so nice and soothing on my skin, giving me the unnatural hue glow. My parents were covered head to toe with bandanas and long sleeve clothing, sunglasses over their face. At times like this, I felt sorry for them having to cover themselves and hide away. I didn’t need to be subjected to that due to my half human nature.

Jacob enjoyed the sun and fast car we hired, rushing to the passenger seat next to my Father to get the full effect. I never understood their relationship. They were close, like friends, but Father was always very cautious over Jacob’s motives and actions. I found it insulting that he didn’t trust Jacob. When I reached the puberty stage of my development, something in my Father snapped and he forbade Jacob being around me as often as he was before. Naturally, he calmed down and removed the rule, but there was still tension between them sometimes.

I texted Alice that we arrived safely, even though she most likely knew my parents had. I took photos of the scenery on my phone; the hill tops were so beautiful and green. It wasn’t like a dull green our forest at home often was, this was luscious and full of life, most likely thanks to the strong sunlight.

“Bella and I will speak to Aro first, Jacob keep Renesmee outside in the entrance for as long as possible.” My Father spoke.

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of this trip? He wants to see me, so the quicker he does the sooner we don’t have to worry about him again.” I said, looking to my mother for support

“We have to make sure there aren’t any traps.” Jacob responded quickly, for once taking my father’s side.

“Renesmee isn’t wrong though, perhaps it would be better. It shows we trust them.”

“Bella, the more precautions we take the better.”

“We are here to prove that I am fully grown, hereby declaring that I am no longer a child! I think it’s time I have a say in how things go.” I snapped at my father. “You can read every mind in the room, Mum can shield us all, Jacob will protect me no matter what and I am more than capable of knowing when I am in danger.”

My father and Jacob kept quiet. The roaring sound of the car engine filled the space for the next few seconds until my mother spoke up, “It’s settled then, all at once we go in.”

“Bella!” Jacob called out.

“Renesmee is right. We are all adults now; we have to face them and show them we aren’t afraid of them. God knows I am ready to kill Aro with my bare hands, but we need to be rational about this.” She said, getting the approval of my father.

We parked outside of the big clocktower in the centre of the town, the streets were empty and there was not a soul in sight. The fountain just outside the large doorway shimmered in the sunlight, the water sparkling as it moved freely.

The door opened before we approached the last step, the dark hallway becoming illuminated by the natural lighting from the sun. No one greeted us in, but my Father leaded the way in silence. My Mother followed and Jacob stayed at my side, we walked closely behind them.

Although I was nervous, I refused to admit it. I had faced Aro once without fear, but now I was on his territory and we were outnumbered. A young human woman greeted us halfway through the halls, leading us for the remainder of the way. There was something about this place that made me think I had seen it before, in a familiar way something was calling out to me from behind the close doorways that we passed.

The women open the doors at the centre of the wall, a large creek followed and within seconds I could smell how many people there were in the room. Aro was the first I noticed; his smell had haunted my dreams for weeks after the confrontation. I was so afraid he would change his mind and hunt me down.

“Welcome.” He said, his blood red eyes scanning our faces and landing on me quickly. “My…my… dear child, just as beautiful as your mother.”

“Aro.” My Father nodded. “We come just as you requested, although I do hope you don’t mind our additional guest.”

“Of course not!” Aro smiled, his teeth in their constant fang like form. “We have grown quite fond of the wolves… slowly broadening our knowledge. Do come closer, please.”

He held out his hand, eyes still locked onto me. I moved towards him without consulting my family first, Jacob tried to hold my arm back but trusted me enough to let me go. I could feel my mother’s mental shield stretching out to protect me.

“Hello Aro.” I said with as little facial expression as possible.

“Renesmee.” He smiled; his hand still reached out towards me. When I was close enough to him, I raised my hand to his face and took control over the situation. I showed him of everything from the moment of my birth in small bursts and flashes, highlighting the scenes displaying me as carrying and non-dangerous. The others around him looked at me, disgusted by my existence.

When I was finished, I took my hand and stood back out of arms reach.

“Satisfied?” I asked, my mother’s personality shining through mine.

Jane was the first to snark at me, Felix leaning to whisper in her ear.

Aro was about to speak but the door to the side of the opened without warning, a young girl around my age and height walked through. She clearly came in here for something important by the expression on her face, but as soon as she saw me, we both froze in our places.

Her dark brown eyes and beating heart made me question what she was doing here. Aro must like to play with his food, I thought. She crinkled her nose and tilted her head to the side.

“Arabella, what is the meaning of this?” Marcus asked her with his course voice.

“The young ones, Sir, they require more food soon as Stephanie finished the remainder of the second tank this afternoon. I was informed to notify you.” She spoke eloquently.

Who are they? A voice said, I quickly turned around to see if anyone whispered in my ear. And what’s that smell? Wet... dog?

I looked back at Arabella and noticed her eyes drifted to Jacob, her nose still scrunched up as though she didn’t like the smell. My father was staring at her also, clearly, he was able to hear what she was thinking, but was I able to as well?

“Child, we have guests…. Do remember the rules now.” Aro said firmly, the girl nodded and turned to leave the room, looking over her shoulder one last time in my direction.

Another half breed? Was her final thought before she closed the door behind her.

“Adopting children, are we Aro?” My Father asked, raising his eyebrow at the leader. He walked closer towards me now, unsure of the situation.

“Just locals… we let them roam the Castle from time to time, no harm done.” He shrugged. “Please, where were we.”

“We have shown our proof and pose no harm, are we free to leave?”

“Of course, Edward. But please, feel free to explore Volterra, it is a beautiful time of year for a holiday.” Aro laughed in his high-pitched voice. Their black robes swayed swiftly as the door behind us opened once more. “I do hope you stay in the accommodation we have provided; I would love to get to know Renesmee more….”

This was not part of the plan; we knew that we could not defy against Aro and the others. Blackmail was a common tactic Aro used, only looking out for his own personal gain. I was surprised when my father nodded and agreed to his request, aside from Jacob’s heaving breathing I could hear footsteps roaming the halls outside. Light, quick footsteps.

Aro was up to something, all these years of fear and curiosity have made him feel threatened and vulnerable. The unknown of how many others of my kind there are around the world scared him, even more so if they had extraordinary powers. He seemed so dismissive to Arabella when she walked in, almost as if she gave away his secret. The image of her face was clear and perfect in my mind, she reminded me of my mother; a delicate frame and soft curves in the face. Her brown eyes held so much emotion that it seemed unnatural, sophisticated yet curious.

“The girl that came in before,” I spoke, “…am I able to speak with her?” Aro raised his eyebrow, Jane and Felix were angered by my request. “I barely interact with anyone my age, I was just wondering…. since she seemed to know about us…”

Aro looked to his co-leader, shocked and nervous. Jane had a sinister smile displayed in her bright red lips; I was afraid to look away from her in fear that she might lash out. Unexcitingly, my father was the first to comment on what I asked for.

“It seemed that Arabella wished to speak to Renesmee also, from what I heard so far.” He said.

The Volturi hated when my father used his powers against them, usually. But for some reason, they were even more enraged now. It almost came like a surprise to them, as though he shouldn’t have been able to hear the young girl’s thoughts at all. Perhaps the girl had a similar shielding ability to my mother and given my father’s experience with it, he was able break through it easier. But that still doesn’t explain why I could hear her, I thought loud in my own mind…. Ensuring that he too could hear it.

“We shall stay for the remainder of the week.” Father said, his golden eyes torn between me and the door Arabella escaped through.

“Aro, we mustn’t…” Jane protested.

“Hush now.” He snapped at her quickly, “I shall have Arabella take you to your quarters… I am afraid that is the only time you shall get to spend with her, she has important duties around here.”

____________________________________________________________________

A/n: If you like any of my work, please reblog. I promise it goes a long way in helping your favourite fanfic writers share their stories.

#twilight #fanfiction #Bella Swan #bella x edward #renesmee cullen #twilight rennaisance #skyfall8600

3 notes · View notes

lil-pine-mha-drabbles · 3 years ago

Note

Can u please write a Shoto fanfic (or could be for multiple characters) inspired by Murders by Miracle Musical? 😭😭😭 The line "all for nothing at all" hits very VERY hard for me. Can u make it as angst as possible too?

Todoroki Shoto x Murderer Reader

I listened to that song a bunch and still my brain didn’t process all of the story in that song, I hope that you will still enjoy this. I did work hard and I think I did ok, but I put my own spin on it.

TW: A LOT of blood, a few swear words, and heavy(ish) angst.

I got too into the storyline I forgot all the actual angst I was supposed to put in.

Here are some people that inspire me, @alpha-bnha-boys and @random-mha-thoughts

There are 2567 words to read below the line!

————————————

Were the woods always this scary?

The leaves rustled and the wind whistled as it sifted through the dark branches. It would have been a peaceful day if it weren’t for the darkness that had been put over the woods. You looked up through the cracks in the leaves to see that the sky was beginning to darken as well. You picked up your axe and wiped of the blood of the animal laying dead on the ground, the blood pooling around your feet. The smell was enticingly sweet, the scent of blood always fascinated you. As you grew older you figured out your favorite type of blood was human, there was something about the fact that there was no fur to get matted when the liquid gushed out leaving you in excitement to see the beautiful color on the white or chocolate skin.

You may be a murderer but you didn’t discriminate. You hoped desperately to find another human in these woods to harvest but you would wait and kill others patiently. The hunt is what you enjoyed; the feeling of raw adrenaline as you ran after your prey.

You had a quirk, and that quirk was a shifting quirk. You could change into any animal; real or fantasy that you could think of, but... whatever you choose you keep the appetite and diet of that chosen creature for a week.

If say, you wanted to be a horse, you would eat grass for a week, even after shifting back, if you wanted to be a dragon, you would be eating meat and spewing fire all week.

But, if you shifted into a herbivore then into a carnivore, you would not only be eating meat AND plants, you would have double the hunger for blood. To most people that would horrify them, but since you drank blood like apple juice, you had no problem going on a killing spree to sedate your desire.

You picked up the blood in the buckets you brought and rang out the already mangled body over the container. Finally you grabbed your shovel and dug by a dried tree. Soil that has a calcium deficiency ate up bodies quickly. If you buried and animal under a tree, the roots would wrap around the white bones in haste to receive their needed vitamin.

After the burial was complete you picked up the two buckets and walked to your cabin.

Now, these woods were special. There was a fountain of mirrors which showed your true inner self but only few have seen it. Those who have are trapped in the woods forever to guard the fountain from others who wish to see themselves.

You sniffed the air and quietly put down your buckets when you smelled it. Fresh prey.

Someone was in the woods whether they’re lost or they’re looking for the fountain, you don’t care, you’ll drink them up either way and leave their bones to the trees of the forest.

You turned into a bunny and jumped over boulders and bushes to reach the heavenly smell. It was sweeter then any human you have ever smelled, but it was surrounded by two other people. Well, you could eat two and save the sweetest for later, like a dessert.

There was a girl and two boys walking with picnic baskets through your woods. The girl was wearing bright pink, easy to spot. One boy had green hair that just made you want to rip out and watch the blood fall from the open scalp.

The last was the sweetest one. His hair was red and white, he would be easy to track down. If he ran you could sniff him out, or look through the darkness for his bright self.

The girl would be easiest to lure, you thought. She would like to chase the cute little bunny, but would ultimately get eaten by the big bad wolf.

You hopped out in front of the girl and her eyes went wide as she squealed to the boys next her how cute you were.

“Hoe, I am gorgeous, not cute.” You thought to yourself bitterly.

You hopped a little father away and the white and red haired boy tried to stop her.

“Uraraka, it’s dangerous in these woods, I wouldn’t recommend chasing the bunny.” He looked through you like he knew everything about you and you shook with anticipation.

Oh, this would be fun.

“Look, it’s cold. It’s shaking so much... please, I gotta help it.” You rolled your eyes and hopped away looking like you were limping. Your sweetest prey just sighed and waved her off like he knew she would be killed by you. The girl smiled and ran after you while the boys waited on the path for her.

When you lead her far enough that the boys wouldn’t see your smallest dragon form, you changed rapidly, stretching over her, your head curled around to the other side so she couldn’t run. You let her scream and then bit.

The blood squelched in your mouth as the neck snapped and your eyes rolled back at how good the flavor was. You sucked and sucked until she was nothing but a dried carcass on the floor.

You flew to the trees in your terrifying black creature form. “The Black Chaos.” The only way to describe this form is it looks like the chupacabra. Black fur that looked like porcupine quills, tail covered in spikes, claws as thin and as sharp as the sharpest knife, and wings that could cut through the thickest tree trunks in your way.

The two boys ran as fast as they could to where they heard the scream only for the green one to start bawling about his love, and your sweet, sweet prey looked around to assess the situation. He looked at all the trees till he locked eyes with you. His left side covered it self in flames and his right put a field of ice around his now screaming friend. You smiled at him, teeth glistening with the blood of the girl. Your eyes stayed on him as you flew up and over the trees.

He breathed a small sigh of relief, thinking you had left until he heard his ice shatter and you fly out, holding his last friend’s neck between your teeth. He was paralyzed with fear while sucked all of the blood from his friend while you locked eyes.

He couldn’t maintain eye contact much longer and turned to the side to throw up. You changed your form into your human body and watched from a distance curiously. Why did he feel sick? You were only eating a meal. Did he dislike you?

You had never felt this feeling before. It was one of dread and confusion, maybe, guilt. You watched him spill his guts for a bit more before he wiped his mouth and looked at you sitting on the ground, legs crossed, head tilted like a confused child.

“Why do you come to my woods, red one?” You asked.

“Why did you eat my friends?!”

“I was just having dinner, what’s the big deal? I’d rather have meals then friends.” You stated to him plainly.

He looked at you funny.

“I’m not afraid of death. When will you kill me?”

“Rather bold of you to think I was going to eat my dessert on a full stomach.” You looked at your black claw-like nails in thought.

“Dessert?”

“Dessert, your starting to get on my nerves. I might just keep you as punishment.”

“Is this some kind of sick twisted flirting?!” Tears streamed down his face, his eyes puffy red, and the darkness around him made you almost purr he looked so gorgeous.

“Is it working?” This time you did purr, your words surprised the boy as he flopped down onto the floor in defeat. “Well?” You asked again.

“Maybe you should have come up like a normal person and asked me on a date instead of EATING MY FRIENDS!?”

“I can see why you’re mad, but what is ‘date’?”

“A date, like where you take someone you might want to marry out to dinner or something.”

“Like a courtship then?”

“How old are you?” He asked curiosity lacing his voice as you purred because of the lovely sound.

“I was born in 1823. Lovely time I must admit, until they tried to burn me at the stake because I was the only person with a quirk.” You rolled your eyes then smile suddenly at the boy in front of you.

“How,” he coughed, “how old were you when you were killed?”

“Oh dear me, no, I wasn’t killed! I escaped into these woods, of course!!” Your smile must’ve grown larger because he looked like he became more uncomfortable. “Sorry, I smile too much.”

“No, you don’t smile too much, I just became uncomfortable because I’m sitting right next to my best friends’ corpses. No biggie.” He said with what you believed was sarcasm.

“I remember the first time I sat next to my best friend’s dead corpse, my father killed her when he found us kissing behind the barn! He wasn’t pleased that his daughter was becoming a ‘whore’. But! I showed him, after years of abuse from that bastard, I sucked his brains right out of his empty eye sockets! Good times, good times!” You laughed bitterly. “You probably think I’m some freak right? A girl can’t like girls and guys, it’s immoral.”

“Well, that’s not why I find you a freak, but you’re fine. It’s called being a bisexual. It’s not super new but it’s definitely more widely excepted now days.” He smiled at you slightly which made you smile a bit.

You two talked through the night like that. He explained that his father was emotionally and physically abusing him, and he had problems with showing emotion because of it. He wasn’t exactly “okay” with you killing his friends but he seemed more excepting then anyone you could think of.

You’d been with Shoto for months now. He was forever forced to stay in the woods. (With you not letting him leave only to go back to his father, it could be quite difficult.)

You talked about everything and anything, he taught you how to cook meat and how to prepare a meal without drinking blood. You stayed in your human form for the rest of the time he was with you and the only animals you were ever allowed to transform into were herbivores, which made sense. You hadn’t eaten raw meat in months and you thought you were doing better.

You thought.

You warned him. “Full moon is coming, stay in the cabin when I’m out, don’t leave. I won’t be able to control myself.” You told him, over, and over, and OVER. He didn’t LISTEN.

You were out in your most dangerous form, the Black Chaos. Wings spread out you hunted without being able to stop yourself. This was the only time of year you physically couldn’t restrain yourself from hurting others, and killing, and hunting.

Over the past hundreds of years that you’ve roamed these woods, this was the only time you were scared of yourself. You hated the way you couldn’t control yourself when you smell the slightest bit of sweet blood.

You had hunted ninety-nine beasts in the forest, bears, wolves, bunnies, foxes, dogs, dear, frogs, if they had meat on them, they were dead. Every time you hunt like this you count how many you kill.

It’s always a hundred. Exactly.

The moon was falling fast and you felt yourself slowly come back but something wasn’t right, you had seen a few animals pass you but you had no intention of killing them, yet you only had ninety-nine.

What was your body waiting for?

You looked out towards where the sun was rising and felt yourself stay on edge. Whatever was happening, Black Chaos still held the rains of your body.

That’s when it hit. The sweetest scent, Shoto.

He must’ve left the cabin looking for you now that the sun had risen, you wanted to call out to him, scream, “run!!! Stay away!!” But no words left your mouth as your body surged forward, bounding on all fours, not even utilizing your wings.

You saw the head of red and white hair in the distance and you finally let out and agonizing scream. “RUN!!!” That was all you could say before your eyes turned red and he turned and ran.

The chase was on.

You could hear his breathy huffs as he ran you could hear the leaves crunch under his feet, his sobs that wracked his body as his tears fell. He was terrified, of YOU.

You were screaming and crying and trying to stop this mess but the thing inside you wouldn’t stop seeking blood, his blood.

Finally after twenty minutes of running and crying on both parts, he tripped and you loomed over him, your long black tongue lolled out and touched his face, caressing it sweetly, wiping his tears as his chest rose and fell rapidly. Not only from all of the running, but also the fear of you.

He always said he wasn’t afraid of death but after looking into your eyes, your eyes that held death, he realized something. He was afraid, but he was in love with death. He loved you. YOU. The one who comforted him and joked with him and learned how to be human from him.

“I love you!” He yelled out as your long tentacle tongue wrapped around his neck, your teeth inches away from biting down.

“I love you so much it aches! I want to live with you forever! I want to teach you to be human and hug you when you’re sad!” He cried and cried and watched as your own tears fell for your eyes.

Then you bit down.

You screamed in agonizing pain as your only love was ripped from you by yourself. You did this. Your human form came back to you and you slammed you fists on Shoto’s chest.

“I love you so fucking much!”

“I’m so sorry!!! I’m so sorry!! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry... I’m so—“ your laid your head on his chest and cried and cried and cried.

Shoto’s hands moved to your face and wiped your tears.

“I love you too. You’re wonderful.”

You hugged him tightly crying harder in relief. How was he alive?

“It’s cliché to say that your love woke me up, but look at where we are.”

You look around and a smile made it’s way to your face. You were in the Fountain of Mirrors. The water had already healed Shoto’s neck.

He had tripped into the shallow pool when you were chasing him and you were too worried about him to see that you were surrounded by the water.

“You’re a guardian now. Of the woods, I mean.” You laughed threw your sobs.

“I know. And I will be forever.”

And so, you and Shoto live in the forest of Murder for the rest of the days of the earth. You looked into the mirror to see yourself a beautiful swan, you were no longer Black Chaos, you were White Savior, helping all people away from the fountain instead of gobbling them up.

The End.

#anime #mha drabbles #mha headcanons #mha imagines #mha x reader #mha todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x you #angst #murder #mha fanfiction #monster reader #witch reader #mha todoroki x reader #mha todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #shoto todoroki

48 notes · View notes

gangrenados · 4 years ago

Note

A-z for vampire jason? Please

•Could you do all the AU!Vampire alphabet with Jason, please?

I wanted to use a more vampire-ish gif BUT I can't say no to a shirtless gif of this dude, sorry

Warning: blood, death and murder mentions

A - Accident - would they turn someone to save their life?

I don't think so, that person has to be really important to Jason for him to consider turning them into a vampire. Like you, one of his siblings (cuz batkids care about each other idgaf), Alfred or his close friends...maybe even Bruce but I'm not so sure about that one...

B - Bite - how do they bite? Sensually, aggressively? Do they make it hurt or try to be gentle?

When Jason bites you he tries to be gentle and not apply so much pressure. He doesn't want to hurt you too much, so he prefers to take things slow.

Of course, if he comes to bite you in privacy then he will do it in a sensual way, doing everything possible to give them hickeys since they like to see them afterwards.

Now, if he is feeding on someone unimportant then he doesn't care that much if it hurts or not. Of course, it all depends on who this person is, because if it is someone who made him angry then he could even tear the skin so that more blood comes out.

C - Control - do they take advantage of their powers?

Of course! He uses every one of his abilities when he has to fight, it would be very foolish if he didn't.

Besides, he uses them for extremely normal things, like not turning on the lights at night to go to eat something, using his cloaking ability to scare you a little and flying around when he feels very overwhelmed and wants to be alone for a while...

D - Dangerous - how scary they can get? How bad things can they do? What’s their ethics?

When Jason is mad it's better to stay away and let him deal with it. Anger is not an unknown emotion to him, but he truly prefers for you to not see him when he's about to rip someone's head.

His eyes turn blood red and his fangs come out, in this scenario his fully strength comes to light and he's not afraid to use it. Jason is an agile and stoic fighter, so you wouldn't know what happened before you're death.

He's capable of killing or injuring someone pretty fucking badly (or even dismembering if he's feeling playful)

E - Exchange - do they opt for blood bags or animal blood, if possible?

He prefers human blood as it is easier to get and tastes a little bit better as well. However, I think that in a life and death situation he wouldn't pay much attention to that detail.

F - First bite - on what occasion would they bite you for the first time?

Jason is really unsure weather biting you is a good thing or not, he doesn't want to put you in pain and he's really sure a small bite will lead to him sucking your blood. He tries really hard to avoid biting you.

The only way Jason will bite you if he's starving really bad. He would just go where you are and bite down on your arm without much care

Jason is too hungry to be polite and after you see part of his face covered in blood and a little grin because now he's not at the verge of dying, Jason will apologize for almost drying you.

G - Growl - are they more on the “civilized” side or do they enjoy hunting their prey down?

Jason absolutely loves haunting his prey, the thrill of the chase gives this man joy. He will do anything to make this situation enjoyable for himself, he doesn't care that much about the pray because, well, they're gonna die either way, right?

The only "prey" Jason is careful with is you. He still scares you in a joking way when he's about to suck your blood, but he doesn't torture you...

H - Hate - how do they feel about their kind? About themselves?

He feels like a monster in every way possible. It sickens him to the core the fact that he has to hurt you to be with you, he hates himself for all the horrible things he has done in the past.

It's an neverending torment, but Jason stills hope he can change.

I - Intimacy - how fast would they let you close to them? Would they want to share with you what they are?

It took you YEARS to get closer in an emotional level with this man and yet it's hard to understand him sometimes.

Jason is a complicated person, he believes that if someone gets close enough to him something bad will happen to them. That's the reason he tends to avoid you.

He told you the vampire part when you found him in a compromising position: Jason's entire face was covered in blood along side his hands.

He was standing next to a corpse, whipping away the blood from his chin as he licked it eagerly. It has been so long since he has eaten something, living with a human was surely a hard task.

"Oh shit..." he turned around at the sound of your voice, his panicked eyes meeting your scared ones. " Is that you J-jay?"

Jason took a few steps away from the corpse,spreading his arms fearfully."I can explain, babe..." he said slowly. This is the end, he fucked up and there's no way you can forgive him this time.

"Fuck!" He shouted when you fainted, speeding up to catch you. Jason's fingers brushed your face lightly, smearing blood on your skin." Damn, I fucked up..."

J - Joke - would they do pranks on other people with the use of their powers?

You can bet you life he would.

His family is used to dealing with Jason's stupid pranks, so are the Outlaws. In fact, everyone who has a decent relationship with him will be a victim of his pranks.

L - Life - do they wish they were human?

Yes, that thought tends to cross his mind every time he sees the simple life the humans have or when you're asleep on top of him.

He knows your life is a lot shorter than his and it scares him to know you one day will die and leave him. Jason wants to spend his life with you for the eternity, maybe he will need to use other methods to make his wish come true.

K - Key - what’s the way of making them open up to you?

Acceptance, love and a lot of patience.

Jason feels like a burden every time you put se effort in trying to connect with him, however, it warms his heart since it's always a surprise when someone is kind and sweet towards him.

M - Murder - would they kill someone while feeding? Have they ever done so?

Jason has murdered people before, so yeah, but he usually tries to avoid drinking blood from criminals because you don't know where this people have been.

That why he prefers to buy some clean blood or just ask one of the people he trusts for some of theirs. But if the thing gets extremely bad, Jason is not opposed to just feed off a random civilian...

If Jason feeds of normal people, then he tries to be gentle and not suck them dry, even when he's starving really bad.

He once accidentally killed a civilian while feeding on his early vampire years. Jason didn't even asked them if it was okay if he drank some of their blood, he was beyond hungry and too altered to be polite...he still feels guilty of it.

N - Nature - do they justify their doings? Do they consider them natural?

Of course he doesn't! Jason thinks he's a freak, as well as the rest of his kind but maybe his way of thinking has to do with the fact that he wasn't born a vampire.

This is his new life so he has to keep up if he still wants to live. But there's no way someone can convince him that drinking blood, having sharp fangs, the ability to fly, among other weird things like being able to camouflage.

O - Odd - do they have any specific hobbies or habits?

Jason wanted the whole vampire aesthetic, so he learned how to sleep upside down as well as levitating. It's weird having a normal human day and then finding your boyfriend taking a nap in the rooftop.

But Jason has been trying to convince you to buy a coffin.

" You said you're tired of the footprints in the rooftop, if we had a coffin you wouldn't have to worry about that!" He says so confident it makes you roll your eyes ." Besides it would look dope."

He also as deployed a love for bloody milkshakes with extra whipped cream (he has been speeding too much time with Dick lately)

P - Pain - are they sadistic? Do they enjoy what they do?

Jason is not sadistic with you, he hates the thought of inflicting your pain on purpose. But if you're on the freaky side then you can convince him to be a little mean with you during the nasty, and even then Jason will always ask how you doing and if you want him to stop.

Taking that apart, he can be sadistic with the people he doesn't like. During fights Jason will mock them as he crushes them without blinking, what if he's confronting someone who harmed you? Well, Jason is gonna make that person feel pain ,he wants their suffering to last.

R - Roles - do they enjoy pretending to be normal people? How do they feel about leaving their life behind to start a new one?

He had to leave his life behind even if he wanted to, coming back from death is not a normal thing to do and it gets even weirder when you find out you're blood sucking creature.

Jason tries his best to pretend to be a normal human when you go out, he doesn't want to draw too much attention. It annoys him and he doesn't want you to be exposed to be uncomfortable.

S - Scars - do they leave marks or try to make the wounds small and invisible?

Jason doesn't understand why, but it makes him so happy to see his bite marks on your skin, for him they're like hickeys in a twisted way.

He also like to leave the normal hickeys when you're doing the dirty.

T - Turned - how were they turned?

(This apply more with this Arkham Knight version cuz yeah)

Jason was turned after a few days after being locked in Arkham. He remembers vaguely what happened since his mind was still off in that time.

Jason just knows he was in one of the many cells with one or two goonies of the Joker and high pitched voice of Harly complaining about the Joker leaving her alone.

Then Jason felt a sharp pain on his neck, blood running down his cleavage and staining part of shirt and the weird thought of "why is this taking so long?" That filled his mind.

Next thing he knew was that he had to feed of blood for the rest of the eternity.

U - Universe - what’s their biggest wish that they can’t achieve as immortals?

A decent mental stability and a good relationship with his family.

Jason has been through many things that he does not wish on anyone, the negative things he thinks about himself are embedded in his brain and it is difficult for him to ignore them sometimes.

As hard as he works to overcome all his insecurities and traumas, he feels that he will never be able to escape these demons. Still, he tries to be better...

Now, we all know that batfam is somewhat complex and no matter how much they support each other, there is always that tension present. Jason looks like he doesn't care, but that's a lie.

He cares about them even if it is hard for him to show it, and he wishes that the relationship they have was more stable and not so chaotic.

V - Vampire - would they turn you?

Yes and without hesitation if you were at the verge of dying or after he had a crisis because he became suddenly aware of the short lifespan humans have.

Jason can't bare the fact of living without you, it sickens him to think about the day of your death...he just can't let you go.

He doesn't care if it's selfish, he will transform you into a vampire so the two of you can be together for the eternity. Jason is aware he might feel extremely awful after, but again, he dosen't give a fuck as long as you're alive.

W - War - would they engage in fighting their own kind for the humanity’s sake?

Well, he goes out every night to fight crime...I guess that's a yes, but it has to be a really serious fight for him to fight against his own kind.

Y - Yandere - would they become dangerous to you (their lover)?

Jason can be pretty obsessive and extremely protective, he just wants you to be safe and that's sweet, but he can get suffocating really fast.

Because of this Jason doesn't hesitate about killing those who harmed you in cold blood, as well as keeping you safe from the horrible things the world has to offer.

Jason would not abuse you by any means, but if he has to scare you to make you understand why you have to be careful, then he will. However, it takes a lot for him to do that.

Z - Zombie - are they on their way to losing sanity?

Jason has made a lot of progress since the pit days, but I don't think it takes much to make this man go insane.

It's not gonna be a cute thing if he loses his mind. Jason would turn into a cold hearted man with prominent sadistic tendencies and little to no care about other people's lives. However, the last point is just for criminals, Jason still has a soft spot for those who can't protect themselves...he doesn't cross that line.

If he reach this point there's a big chance Jason will try to make you leave, since he doesn't want you to get in trouble OR in the other hand, he will basically make you stay with him even if you don't want to cuz he truly believes he's the only one in this world that can protect you.

Tag list @bathroom-sand @aterriblelangblr @simpery @strangerthings14 @jyarumu0619 @kellieriddle96 @adarksoul098 @rosethegothamhistorynerd @duckmylife18 @panic-attheplace @malfoys-demigod @darkraven1983 @magicisabluewish @hamdehlesmis @lucy-roo @lovelyartemisa @missmaskedwriter @c0-77 @ginevraxrogers @imagines-fluff-yandere-smut @shadygoateeprincess @nervousfandom @ghost-bitch @silverw19 @thegirlwholovesbooksblog @hecatemacbeth7 @unknowntoanyone @mistalli @screechingghostbananafarm @psych0crybaby @barnowl48 @waroncheer @lady-stirling @ghostly-ginger @greeknerd007 @la-femme-lupita @jasonsballsack @violettessuniverse @wondergal21 @pree-2003-blog @dreamxcollide @thirstiestpotato @magicalbeanie @dreamingforthosewholost

#vampire! Jason todd #vampire au #jason todd x reader #Jason todd imagine #jason Todd headcanon #jason todd #dc imagine #red Hood imagine #red Hood x reader

142 notes · View notes

ladyhallen · 4 years ago

Text

A Conversation in the midst of Conflict

Read on AO3 | FFN

Sansa was born from a clutch of five eggs.

Her dam, a red fire dragon from the south, was probably the reason why the eggs hatched slowly and not all at once, as it usually happened in the North. Her sire, a regal ice drake of the North, viewed this as a sort of terrible thing and regularly nosed worriedly at the rest of her slowly hatching siblings.

Robb, first, with the ice scales of their sire and fire breath of their dam. Sansa, who had felt her sire nosing at her worriedly, went next just to reassure him. She had the coloring of their dam and her fire claws, but the ice breath of their sire.

The rest of the clutch hatched more slowly and it took Sansa a lot of effort to distract their worried sire.

Not that Sansa was that overly concerned. As a young dragon, technically a hatchling until she passed her third decade, Sansa was more concerned about food, play hunting with Robb and finding treasure.

Dragons loved treasure, though it varied on what that treasure was.

Sansa’s dam treasured beauty, thus she surrounded herself with beautiful things. That was one of the reasons why she mated with Sansa’s sire who, as an ice drake, was naturally very beautiful.

Sansa’s sire treasured sharp things, hence his need to hunt down some animals for their claws.

Robb and Sansa discussed their possible treasures under the wide, comforting wings of their dam. With just the two of them, it was quite cozy and she sometimes didn��t understand why her sire was so worried about the rest of the clutch that were taking their time hatching.

Robb, who already shared their dams tendency to fixate on something, wondered if his treasure would be a mix of both. Sansa, who was more whimsical, wondered if hers would be difficult to find.

All that went away in the events of the following years.

A decade under her belt, the rest of her clutch hatched and the western dragons arrived and talked of interlopers. Small, bipedal and without wings or claws. They were also killing dragons.

Sansa curled up under her dams wings and listened with fascination and no small amount of horror.

Without wings, claws or scales, they were killing dragons and stealing their eggs and their treasures.

Her sire, being the strongest dragon, banded all of them and they stood under his banner. He trooped them all to the west and negotiated.

Sansa, of course, was left with a handful of the younger hatchlings, as well as the older dragons. They watched over the mountains and Robb watched with ever increasing vigilance over them. This made Arya and Bran chafe something fierce, when Robb had previously been a fun playmate.

Torn between rowdy, rambunctious clutch-siblings and a fiercely overprotective clutch-brother, Sansa took to wandering down the mountain and finding something else to do.

Hunting was a communal activity and everyone contributed. At most, that took a few hours. Sansa had the rest of the day to think about what to do.

And then she encountered a shiny pink bipedal.

It took Sansa a while to understand what she was looking at, because she had never seen a bipedal of her own.

She crawled forward, trying not to make noise, like she was hunting the skittish hairy buffalo’s. She crawled until she was nose to nose with the strange creature and could smell him.

And it was a him, she realized. There was a distinct scent of maleness and steel. Oil, steel and salt. And something sour.

With another whuff of breath, Sansa realized that the bipedal was awake.

It’s eyes were wide and it was saying something with its maw. Nonsensical noises that no dragon could hope to understand, because it was so loud.

“Hello?” she said, hoping he could understand her.

The bipedal went still and the sour scent increased. He gripped something iron firmly and Sansa touched it curiously with her nose. She sneezed when the scent of old blood overwhelmed her.

To her horror, that old blood scent was of dragons.

Sansa back-pedaled in a hurry, staring at the steel. What a horrible thing. Did he wash his iron in dragon blood?

Sansa wanted to fly away, but if she did, this bipedal might hunt her down. She knew some dragons who liked the hunt. If this bipedal wanted to hunt her, she would not oblige him.

With a low growl, Sansa crouched and prepared to pepper the interloper with a blast of ice breath. It might not be as impressive as her sires, but it would hopefully blind the interloper on what direction she would fly to.

The bipedal dropped his iron and Sansa was confused enough to stop. What was he doing?

He knelt and…he showed his neck.

Different species though they were, surrender was something universal, as was submission.

She got closer, because he smelled better without the iron thing muddling his smell. Just to be sure, she blasted it with a bit of ice breath, coating it in ice and snow and burying it under the earth. The air smelled clearer and she approached him with an energetic swish of her tail.

“Better,” she decided loudly. She sniffed him again and added a lick for good measure. There, he smelled like her.

His eyes were wide and he smelled overwhelmingly sour again.

“Are you afraid?” Sansa asked, realizing why he smelled sour. “Do not be. I will not harm you.”

Sansa curled around him, letting him rest on her fire scales so he would be warm and purring, a low rumbling sound that was designed to put hatchlings to sleep.

When she next looked, the bipedal was asleep.

Sansa purred deeper and rested her snout on her paws.

Sansa blinked and realized that she’d fallen into a light doze. A muffled groan made her realize what woke her up.

Her bipedal was awake! And he was no longer smelling sour.

Sansa hurriedly stood up, stretching her wings wide and investigating the scent of meat on fire.

“Why is your meat on fire?” she asked. “And why are you eating it like that?”

The bipedal went still and then continued moving, offering her a bit of the burned meat.

It was an insult to offer burned meat to an ice drake, but Sansa realized that this bipedal probably didn’t know that.

With a huff, she froze the meat before eating it delicately between her fangs. It was difficult, because the bipedal had drained it of blood too, making it incredibly dry to eat. Her nose wrinkled the entire time and the bipedal made a chittering noise.

Sansa blinked at his maw full of fangs.

He didn’t smell aggressive. Instead, he smelled….happy?

With a hesitant twitch, Sansa imitated him and he chittered louder. He smelled happier. Sansa purred.

Sansa bundled up her bipedal in a warm cave and hunted him a buffalo for good measure. She dropped the struggling creature in the cave, to the bipedal’s loud shouts. He killed it, which made Sansa huff irritably. Well, maybe he liked his prey to be dead? Sansa preferred to hunt hers.

Sansa nosed a couple more leaves on top of the entrance and a few more piles of snow, before leaving. She could not stay a couple more hours, or Robb would ring the alarm and the search would begin.

Something made her want to stay. This bipedal, this pink, hairless creature…he was so helpless. He shivered constantly unless she was touching him. He was also helpless at catching prey. He was…important.

The bipedal touched her snout and Sansa shivered.

With a sigh, she licked him head to toe again and left.

Robb looked at her suspiciously the entire time, but Sansa had rolled in the lake before entering the cave, so he couldn’t possibly smell the bipedal on her.

“Where were you? I needed help with our clutch-siblings,” he exclaimed, his tail thrashing back and forth irritably.

Sansa herself was still. “You were being annoying. Dam and sire are not here, but that does not make you in charge,” she said sourly.

“But I am,” a larger, elderly dragon posited, bulk unnoticed with his dark color in the cave. “And where were you, Sansa ice-eater?”

Sansa sniffed. “By the lake. Because you were all smelly.”

They let go of that and Sansa huddled with her clutch. She found herself idly wishing that she was curled around her bipedal.

Cor struggled with sleep, because he was so tired.

Tired, cold and exhausted, but not hungry. Because there was a freaking water buffalo hanging in a spit in front of him.

He was also, he thought with some hysteria, some sort of friend to a dragon.

He hadn’t actually wanted to kill any of the majestic creatures, and after his first kill, he deserted, leaving the army and hoping to die in the colder climate of the mountains.

He just hadn’t realized that the mountains were the home to the stronger, more deadly dragons and he’d realized he was fucked the moment he woke up from his exhausted nap face to face with a fucking ice and fire drake hybrid.

He saw the fire scales, and the ice fangs and knew he was a dead man.

Except.

Except the hybrid hadn’t eaten him, and other than sniffing his sword and threatening to kill him, hadn’t even looked like it wanted to hurt him.

He’d discarded the sword quickly and the hybrid had buried it in ice and dirt. A dragon who breathed ice. It was insane.

The hybrid then curled around him and Cor was exhausted enough to fall back asleep because the hybrid was a furnace of heat.

He woke up, caught a bird and roasted it, which seemed to wake up the hybrid. He offered it some and he damn near cackled at its face when it ate cooked meat. It had to ice it over. Note to self, no cooked meat for the hybrid.

He didn’t regret throwing away his sword because the dragon was cautiously friendly.

He regretted only having a knife though when the hybrid dropped a living water buffalo near him and he didn’t have his sword to kill it with. A lucky strike and the buffalo was dead. The dragon looked confused but not offended.

It also left, but not before piling the entrance of the cave with more ice and dirt. More a blockade or a door than anything.

Also licking. Let’s not forget the licking.

Cor was confused, but alive. He was also very much done of smelling like dragon drool and had to wiggle out of the pile of ice and dirt just to have a bath. He knows there’s a lake near, because water buffalo’s lived near water.

It took a while to find it, and he was almost in tears at the sight of all the water.

The first splash of water on him was heaven sent and also ice-cold freezing.

He was in and out in five minutes, the fastest he’d ever bathed in his life. There was a lack of soap and his clothes were still dirty, but it was warm and he’d rather have dirty clothes than hypothermia.

A huff of air behind him, and Cor knew it was the hybrid dragon before he could turn around.

“Good morning!” he greeted, more cheerful after the bath.

The dragon huffed at him, looking confused, before opening its mouth.

Cor, somehow, knew it was going to lick him again.

“No!” he exclaimed, dodging the tongue.

The dragon looked even more annoyed.

“No licking!” he cried out.

The dragon rumbled a sour growly note, but stopped trying to lick him. It nosed at Cor’s hair and sneezed.

“I know, I smell,” he confided. He felt a little bit mad at talking to a dragon. “But there’s no soap here, or soapwort.”

Soapwort, which you could crush and simulate the effects of soap. Extremely handy during long campaigns and the army ran out of soap. Except, it seemed to thrive only in hot and temperate climates. Not in the extremely cold mountains.

The dragon made its own rumbling noises. Noises that had so alarmed Cor the night before seemed to be more conversational than anything in the light of day.

It was more of a comfort to Cor than the dragon probably knew. He had been alone for so long that even random noises that seemed to answer and talk back at him was more conversation than he had in weeks. At some point, Cor gestured and dragged his hand across it’s scales.

The dragon then went still.

Cor also went still, because shit, he’d forgotten he was talking to a dragon.

Then.

Then wonders of fucking wonders, the dragon pushed up at Cor’s hand.

Cor had acquainted himself with enough animals to know what that meant.

Cor petted the dragon. The dragon fucking fell asleep on him!

Sansa had fallen asleep on top of her bipedal and he had looked uncomfortable and smelled hungry.

She hurried him along to his cave, where she knew his food was.

Some of the hairy buffalo was still there, he must not have been so hungry then if he left some. Sansa watched him eat and wanted to purr again. There was something incredibly soothing watching her bipedal take care of himself.

She could just watch him move around and do whatever it was that bipedals do and be content.

An alarm rang in her hindbrain and Sansa raised her head up.

Her bipedal..??? Had she…had she….made this creature her treasure???

With a squawk of alarm, Sansa licked her bipedal goodbye – ignored his shout of disgust - and flew back to her elders.

“How did you realize you’d found your treasure,” she asked the Eldest of twelve clutch. Her name was a long one and Sansa only bothered to call her Eldest like all the other hatchlings.

The Eldest peered down at her through old, milky eyes and smelled amused.

“I looked at my treasure of shiny rocks and wanted to no one else to touch them,” she crooned in her old, soothing voice.

Which. Was exactly what she felt, staring at her bipedal.

“Ah, thank you, Eldest,” she said.

Sansa wandered over to her clutch-siblings and curled around Rickon tightly. He was still a few months old and struggled to coordinate wings, tail and limbs without tangling himself up.

Robb stared at her suspiciously, because he was just like that, and Sansa rolled her eyes.

She was just in time for storytelling and listened with interest about the dragon who went mad talking to birds. The lesson being to eat your prey quickly and not to play with it, or it’s blood.

Sansa had heard the same stories told over and over since she was hatched. Some of them were boring, but something about the story made her hackles rise up and listen.

What about old Aicorn who played with his bird before eating it. The bird had gotten a bite at Aicorn’s tongue, drawing blood. Aicorn, who drank at the bird’s blood too…and both of them apparently went mad.

Blood. Sharing blood?

Sansa felt her tail move in excitement. To be able to understand her treasure. What a gift.

Sansa curled tighter around Rickon, who grumbled irritably, and went to sleep.

Cor was alarmed to find the dragon sniffing him over with intent the next day.

The dragon hadn’t done that since that disastrous first meeting and Cor wanted to cry. Why? Why was the dragon suspicious? Had he done something wrong?

He did notice that the dragon had left really fast yesterday, seemingly alarmed over something.

Then the dragon opened its mouth and revealed those incredibly sharp fangs. Cor went still, especially when the dragon aimed those fangs at his…at his fingers? Did the dragon want his finger?

Cor obliged, cutting a finger at one fang and the dragon licked at the blood, wrinkling its nose.

It hurt, but not so much, because the dragons fangs were ice cold too.

Then, to his horror, the dragon bit at its own forepaw and offered the welled up blood to Cor. Difference in species or not, the gesture for that was the same.

“Are you insane?” he asked loudly.

The dragon huffed, a tail pushed him forward and he tripped. The dragon, in a crazy show of coordination, pushed that bleeding forepaw at him and Cor involuntarily licked and swallowed.

He wanted to wretch immediately.

“Eurgh!” he gagged. “Oh my god, it tastes like day old buffalo blood.”

To his alarm, there was a hum in his mind, a feminine voice going, “How do you know what day old buffalo blood tastes like?”

Cor wasn’t educated, but he was smart. He immediately understood what that blood sharing was for.

“Did you…just exchange blood with me so we could talk?” Cor asked. He wasn’t sure what to be surprised about anymore.

“Did you not want to communicate?” the dragon asked, sounding distressed. “I thought you did, you chittered about so loudly.”

Cor was loud. The dragon, who made a thud every time she landed. The dragon who purred like an extra large cat. And sure, Cor was the loud one.

“Communication is fine,” Cor said dryly. “What’s your name, anyway? If you have one. My name is Cor.”

“I am Sansa of the Stark line, First Clutch of the Fire Drake Catelyn and Ice Drake Eddard, Lord of the Northern Mountains and Protector of the Seven Dragon Clans of the North,” the dragon announced proudly.

Cor was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open. What the fuck.

He was hanging out with a fucking Drake Lord’s daughter.

Practically a princess.

And she kept licking him.

Cor blinked out of his thoughts and looked at the dragon in front of him.

“Nice to meet you, Sansa,” he said. “Why do you keep licking me?”

Sansa laughed, which sounded rumbled terrifyingly out-loud, but sounded nicely in his mind. “Because you smell wrong. Like oil and salt and steel.”

“What are you called, Cor?” she asked. “I keep calling you fleshy bipedal.”

Cor choked on a laugh. “You’re not wrong. I’m a human.”

“A human! What a nice word. Yes, I will say it often. Human,” Sansa sang. “Much better than bipedal.”

“Have you been calling us that?” Cor asked with a smile. Yes, he could see the humor. King Mors thought that the dragons were savage, beastly creatures. But instead, they had clans. They had hierarchy. They had Lords. They were nobler than the humans that Cor knew.

“Yes, it was what we saw, so we called you that. Cor, why are your people here?” Sansa asked. She sounded curious.

“Because King Mors is a crazy, bloodthirsty monster that wants your peoples gold,” Cor answered bitterly before he could think about it.

“Gold?” Sansa asked, looking curious.

If what he remembered about theories about telepathy was true….

He thought long and hard about gold and tried to project the thought to her.

“Oh! You mean the shiny, yellow stuff!” she exclaimed. “It’s useless. It’s too soft to be used as a structure and too easily mixed with other metals for anything else. It’s mostly just good for decoration.”

Cor really did laugh then. Dragons found gold useless. What else?

“You don’t use gold as treasure?” he had to ask. “Then what do you treasure?”

Sansa sat on her haunches and tucked her tail around her limbs neatly. “Different things. It depends on the dragon? My dam treasures beautiful things. My sire treasures sharp things.”

That was fascinating. Different dragons and different treasures. He knew that lore book on dragons was trash.

“And you?” he had to ask. “What do you treasure?”

Sansa peered at him, blue eyes slitted and intelligent. “I treasure you, my fleshy bipedal human Cor.”

After that declaration, which Sansa found immensely embarrassing and simultaneously pleasing to say so bluntly, her human, her Cor, turned red. It was a fascinating look on him and she wondered why she turned that color.

He spluttered and made flailing motions with his limbs and Sansa just watched him. She could really just watch him move around and be pleased. He was such a helpless thing and she treasured him so.

After he calmed down from his upset, Sansa and Cor talked long and hard into the afternoon about serious things. Mostly about the war and what they could do to avoid it and possibly stop it.

“My dam and sire are trying to open negotiations,” Sansa offered. “Though no one knows how that is going. They have been gone for three moons and the hatchlings are lonely.”

Cor snorted, that strange affectation that conveyed so much with so little. “If King Mors is who they’re negotiating with, then no, things won’t go well. But. If they talk to Prince Regis, then things…might be resolved.”

Sansa pondered this. “How do we make your Prince Regis be the Lord of the humans then?”

Cor answered hesitantly, “When King Mors dies.”

Sansa smiled, a mouth full of ice fangs. “Then he will die. And then we will talk to your Regis.”

Their conversation, which had veered into the treasonous territory (for Cor that is), was derailed when a large hybrid ice drake dropped down and landed on Sansa’s back, screeching.

Since Cor had no connection to that ice drake, he didn’t attack immediately. It might be friendly. Or not. Cor could understand Sansa and she sounded annoyed, not angry.

“Clutch-brother, what are you doing?” she demanded.

The ice drake hybrid, her freaking brother, growled. Low, deep and threatening.

Staring at the two dragons and cataloguing differences, Cor immediately realized that the other dragon was male. It was smaller, and it’s wings wider. It was also covered in more spines than Sansa and it’s claws were ice instead of hot-bone. But it was also older, the feet more proportional to the rest of him and none of the awkward coltishness in Sansa’s limbs.

“I have found my treasure and I am talking to him,” Sansa suddenly said and Cor wanted to die all over again. Declarations of affection so boldly said were awful. Cor had absolutely no defence against it.

The embarrassment almost made him miss the other dragon’s squawk of offense.

“Treasure is treasure, especially if you’ve found it. Stop being dramatic. My treasure hasn’t hurt me at all and he is a helpless thing, always easily cold and I have to hunt for him. He’s not a monster,” Sansa said reasonably.

Embarrassment faded to outrage. He was not helpless, thank you very much. Just very unused to the weather. Eos was much more temperate and he knew what he was hunting there. Also, he couldn’t use his sword. Sansa had very much buried it under dirt and ice.

The other dragon stopped sounding so angry.

“Of course I can talk to him,” Sansa said, making Cor huff. “And yes, he can talk back and we understand each other. We shared blood. Like Aicorn the mad and his birds.”

Like Aicorn the who??? Mad? Does drinking dragon blood make one crazy?

Cor had concerns.

Both dragons suddenly turned to him and Cor wanted to be nervous but he was just. Tired. It was almost five hours since he last ate.

“My clutch-brother wants to talk to you as well,” Sansa said. “Shall I use my fangs? His teeth are uncomfortable. It is always hot.”

No, thank you. Cor had a knife.

The other dragon licked at his wound and offered Cor his own bleeding paw. Cor braced himself for the taste for the second time and gagged again.

By the Astrals, the taste was not improved with knowledge. Day old buffalo blood, somehow, more spicy this time.

“I swear, it really tastes awful,” Cor groaned. “I need to wash my mouth out.”

A distinctly male voice sounded in his head, very offended, “You don’t taste like venison either, fleshy bipedal. You taste like over-fermented lion.”

“Call me Cor,” he told the dragon. Fleshy bipedal sounded distinctly condescending said in that voice and Cor hated it.

The dragon sniffed like a crotchety old grandma. “Robb of the Stark line, eldest child of the First Clutch of the Fire Drake Catelyn and Ice Drake Eddard, Lord of the Northern Mountains and Protector of the Seven Dragon Clans of the North,”

By Bahamut’s wings, did these dragons have to announce themselves like that all the time? It must be tiring.

For the second time, though with another, older and wiser dragon, plans continued. Still treasonous. Though Cor was getting very fond of the dragons and angrier with the humans for killing dragons.

Plans solidified, and Robb, while a very stuck up and paranoid dragon, was obviously a genius strategist.

“While it pains me to suggest this, clutch-sister,” Robb eventually said slowly. “Your treasure might have to part ways with you to seek out this Regis. He has to be informed of what his sire is doing before things go beyond terrible. I will have to go with him, because how else will he convince the humans of our bloodsharing?”

“And why can’t I go?” Sansa demanded. “Do not forget that we are born only a few days apart, clutch-brother.”

“I can leave without garnering suspicion,” Robb explained. “Since sire and dam need reports and might need help. I can convince the Eldest to send me. You, however, are the only one that can control our clutch-siblings. Which you have been leaving to me while you cavort with your treasure.”

The last was said with such a dirty look that it made Cor laugh despite his exhaustion. So. Sansa was supposed to be babysitting but was instead with Cor.

“Do not laugh,” Robb said sternly, which made Cor laugh harder. “Our clutch-siblings are hatchlings. And they all three breathe fire. It is a miracle that there hasn’t been an avalanche yet.”

Okay, point.

“Don’t be sad, Sansa,” Cor said, because he did agree with Robb. “I’ll finish this as fast as we can.”

Sansa, there was no other way to say it, pouted.

“I will miss you, my treasure,” she whispered to him.

Cor blushed again.

The human encampment was exactly where Cor left it. The only difference was the multitude of dragons surrounding it.

Robb eyed it and exchanged glances with Cor.

“We might need to change our plans,” Robb said.

They couldn’t sneak in, there were too many sensitive senses watching.

“What’s happening? Can you tell?” Cor asked.

Robb sniffed long and hard, eyes on the encampment and on the very large ice drake by the very middle.

“There is no war,” Robb said. “But negotiations are not going well. Neither side understands each other. I have no idea what magic your people are using to talk, but it is not translating well.”

Cor immediately smacked his head. Of course, the king and his blood had magic. He had forgotten.

“I don’t think magic does well with dragons,” Cor said, remembering the king’s face when he tried a fire spell at one dragon. “I think you’re all immune to it.”

Robb tossed his head. “And what do we do now?”

Cor, because he was regaining his old confidence, laughed. “We drop in the middle and I’ll talk. You make sure no one kills me.”

Robb eyed him. “If you die, my sister will kill me. I am not jesting. She will rip me limb from limb.” The dragon sounded nervous.

Cor smiled toothily. “I don’t die that easily.”

The good news was that King Mors was dead.

The bad news was that the very large ice dragon in the middle of the encampment had killed him with one ice spear and it was making negotiations…icy.

Fortunately, Cor had a reputation before he left as a prissy asshole prodigiously good with a sword. That meant the newly crowned Regis remembered him well.

Clarus pointed a sword at him, but Cor just ducked aside impatiently.

“Hey, King Regis,” Cor shouted. “Let me talk to you. You’re going about this wrong.”

A lot of the imperial soldiers tried to skewer him right then and Cor sort of forgot that he only had a knife. And no sword. Fuck.

But he had a dragon behind him.

Robb roared and when that made everyone else scrabble for weapons, the even larger ice dragon roared louder.

“No, really,” he shouted in the sudden, suspenseful silence. “I have to talk to you. I know how to talk to the dragons.”

King Regis looked more tired than anything. “Sure. We need all the help we can get. The translation spells aren’t going well since they keep slipping off.”

Cor shook his head. “Of course it won’t, the dragons are nulls. You have to bloodshare to be able to talk to one another. Though it really tastes terrible.”

Regis stared. “What?”

“Yeah, what he said,” Clarus said, sounding stunned.

Sighing, Cor explained.

Sansa sat at the ledge and stared at the horizon irritably.

It had been five days and Sansa missed her treasure. Terribly. Incredibly. It made her very being ache.

“Sansa, you’re so boring nowadays,” Arya complained.

Sansa slid down and curled around Arya, who protested. “My treasure is away. I miss him.”

Arya nudged her and nudged her until, annoyed, Sansa lunged and chased after her. Bran and Rickon, who were watching, the little rascals, joined in and climbed up her wings.

The rest of the elders watched them indulgently.

They rolled around, biting, scratching and play hunting until the hatchlings fell asleep, exhausted. Sansa returned to her ledge, sighing.

Except.

There, on the horizon, were several dragons.

And on one dragon was her treasure. Her very being just knew. That one was hers.

With a cry of happiness, Sansa launched herself off the ledge and flew towards him.

Her lovely, her precious treasure.

He launched himself at her in mid air to Robb’s alarm. But Sansa caught him. She would always catch him.

And she felt it as she held him in the cradle of her fire claws. That she was whole.

#fanfiction #SanCor #sansa stark #cor leonis #ffxv #asoiaf #crossover #dragons #honestly #why do i even bother posting in tumblr anymore #it's just not worth it sometimes #hardly any feedback #no reblogs #dragon au #ffxvxasoiaf

98 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 5 years ago

Note

Ppssst how about Yan!Alucard? He’s been betrayed and let down so much that now that a darling has appeared that he really likes he’s desperate to make sure they’re completely unable to betray him?

Considering the events of season three, I thought it’d be fair to give Alucard a bit of a break. The man just needs a single goddamn hug, and if I have to be the writer that’ll give it to him, then so be it.

TW: Emotional Manipulation and Unhealthy Attachments.

He knew it was a terrible thing to do.

You’d been nothing short of kind, ever since you turned up on his doorstep. Your companions were suspicious, and often earned a second glance, but you’d been angelic from the start, a traveler who wanted little more than to be able to defend themself from all the darker creatures in the world. When Taka and Sumi betrayed him, you stayed at his side voluntarily, offering him comfort and never muttering a word of distaste as he prepared his ‘cautionary measures’. Through and through, you were kind. That's all there was to it.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew it was out of guilt, out of shame and disgrace and pure pity. He knew that taking advantage of your sympathy was something more fitting of a parasite than a man, and weeks later, the thought of it still made him feel vile. He’d imagined sending you away, telling you to leave or shouting something awful and loud enough to make you do so out of your own volition, but then you’d make a joke or laugh or touch him so gently, and he’d shut his mouth until he managed to convince himself he couldn’t say anything at all.

Even now, he could hardly bring himself to speak. That delicate, fragile smile was painted over your lips, nimble fingers fussing with the bandages that still covered his chest, all of it was just too precious for him to give up. Alucard probably didn’t need your help, his wounds were already mostly scarred-over, but you’d insisted on making sure there was no risk of infection. You were reluctant the first time, doubtful of yourself the second, but now you positioned yourself in his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, having climbed into his bed without so much as a warning to its occupants.

You were practiced by now, too, able to keep up a conversation while you worked. “I read about a new curse today,” You started, glancing downward, as if you’d be able to see the Belmont Hold through the castle’s floor. “It’s not fatal, but I almost wish it was. The writer seemed to think it’d replace your brain with that of a goat’s, leaving you to stumble around and eat grass until some poor soul puts you out of your misery. He said he learned about it from barn animal who could speak perfect English”

Alucard nodded, absentmindedly beginning to toy with the ends of your hair. “Must’ve been what happened to Trevor.”

“Take that back!” You shoved playfully at his shoulder, chuckling when Alucard pouted and clutched the spot dramatically. His heart skipped a beat at the sound, but you were too preoccupied with rolling your eyes to notice. “When you get rid of the dolls sitting at our kitchen table, I might let you complain about your old partners. I’m not going to believe anything you say until you stop holding debates with them whenever my back is turned.”

“You’ll understand once you’ve seen them… the actual them, I mean, not the dolls.” Alucard pulled at the strand now spun around his finger, regaining your attention. “Why don’t we take another look at the armory, tomorrow? I’ve been meaning to get things in order, and recently, I’ve had the strangest urge to melt down every bit of silver I can find.”

You stiffened as soon as he finished, your palm going still against his chest. Alucard leaned forward, attempting to catch your eye, but you only fixed your gaze on the sheets, determined to focus on anything except the man in front of you. “I… I don’t plan on staying forever, you know.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” He muttered, hoping you wouldn’t sense his resentment. “We still have plenty of time together, don’t we? Another day, at least.”

“Another day, another week, another month... I could spend a century here and still be as helpless as I am right now.” You sighed, taking a turn towards discontent, your stare carrying a new determination when it finally met Alucard’s. A determination he wasn’t used to, not when it came to you. A determination he didn’t like. “I didn’t ask for your help so I could categorize weapons or rebuild castles or…” You trailed off, scanning over him briefly. “Or apply bandages. I came to learn, but it feels like so long since you’ve been willing to teach. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I have a home, a real home, and a family who’s still waiting for me to return. There are still night creatures attacking at random, and I don’t know how long I can sit around playing nurse with a clear conscience.”

Alucard grit his teeth, pulling away from you. It was much easier to dig his nails into the mattress than it was to embed them in your skin. You were here for your family and your home, how could he forget? You’d always been so considerate. “Night creatures who’ll be attacking you the moment you leave these walls. A sword in your hand won’t guarantee your survival.” He scoffed, forcing a laugh, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “Give it time, (Y/n). You’re not ready--”

“Then help me be ready.” You’d never interrupted him before. Not with such a deadly seriousness, anyway. “Isolation isn’t good for either of us. I understand that you're worried, but I need to improve, I need to help people.” You took the hand still resting at your side, intertwining your fingers with his, your features softening. “And I want you to be the one to teach me, Adrian. I couldn’t think of a more capable instructor.”

Neither had Taka. Or Sumi. His father hadn’t been able to ask for a better son, and his mother couldn’t have been more proud of her family.

Clearly, his company had done them nothing but good.

Alucard flinched, violently, throwing himself away from the hand still resting on his chest. He bared his teeth, leaving you to react reflexively, drawing back and falling off of his legs, barely giving yourself a second to recover before rushing to his aide. “I’m sorry, I’ll… I’ll find a balm! I shouldn’t have put any pressure on--”

“I-It’s alright,” He assured, forcing a sense of strain into his voice. Pain wasn’t new to Alucard, nor were the expressions and tones that accompanied it, and you never failed to fret whenever he cringed or scowled in just the right way. You moved to leave, mumbling something about getting herbs from your room, but he only caught your wrist, halting your efforts before they’d truly begun. “Phantom aches, that’s all, it’s nothing to concern yourself with. Just… stay by my side, for now. I know it’s selfish of me, but I’m afraid I’ve grown rather used to having you nearby.”

You nodded, as you always did, and settled into the headboard next to him. There was no hesitation, no excuse, just a never-ending tenderness. That’s all there ever was. Loyalty, and devotion, and tenderness.

It was an awful thing to do. Friends didn’t take advantage of friends, lovers didn’t take advantage of lovers, and decent people didn’t prey on the kindness of others. It was a despicable, rotten, monstrous thing to do.

But, Alucard was already a monster. He was born one, and regardless of how far he tried to distance himself from the blood in his veins, he’d be one until the day he died.

He might as well begin to act like it.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere prompt #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere scenerio #yandere castlevania #castlevania imagine #castlevania imagines #castlevania netflix #alucard x reader #yandere alucard x reader #yandere alucard #castlevania alucard #yanderecore #yandere core

910 notes · View notes

ladyreapermc · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: Closer (August x Reader)

Author’s notes: so this is both my entry for Steph’s birthday writing challenge AND her second birthday present. She gave me: August - fuck or die situation. My brain came up with the rest and the lovely @meetmeinthematinee was my beta. So @toomanystoriessolittletime I hope you enjoy this filth as much as I enjoyed the one you wrote for my birthday!

Summary: you and August go undercover to dig information on a Donaka Mark, but get caught and end up in a very unsual situation.

Pairing: August/Reader; Donaka

Wordcount: 5k

Warnings: suggestion of violence and electric shocks; smut (unprotected sex; oral (male receiving); fingering; penetration; voyeurism and exhibitionism; power play; degradation; squirting; overstimulation; choking; tiny bit of breeding kink). Yes, I did go wall out with this one. I think it broke my smut brain. LOL. Now, I tried to make sure the consent was very very explicit, but the fuck or die situation is dub-con-ish, so be warned.

It was the pounding of your head that woke you up, the headache so intense that it pulled you from unconsciousness almost like a flick of a switch but your vision was blurry, and your focus was slippery. All you could process at first was the bright morning light bleeding through the wide window panels and the softness of the bed beneath you. The sheets silky soft and smelling of fresh laundry.

“You’re awake, good.” His voice was low and gravelly, surprisingly soothing but a far cry from August’s smooth baritone so you shot to a sitting position, forcing your senses to apprehend your surroundings despite the throbbing in your head.

Sitting in an armchair only a step away from the bed was Donaka Mark, sharply dressed in dark trousers and a dark dress shirt, the first two buttons undone. His sharp brown eyes watched you with unsettling interest and suddenly your mind was flooded by the memories of the night before.

You and August were supposed to infiltrate Donaka’s illegal fight club. CIA and Interpol weren’t all that worried about the fighting itself, but there was evidence that Mark might be financing a few militias in the Middle East and providing some other unsavory services through the Silk Road. You had been the intelligence agent that picked up Donaka’s trail and Sloane had agreed that it would be a good idea for you to join August in this undercover mission. Donaka might have promising information that could aid US troops in Iraq, and it wasn’t as if August would know what to look for or even how to breach Mark’s files.

Something went wrong though. Maybe someone leaked information about the operation because before you could even try to sneak out to check the servers, Mark’s security team caught up with you and August and the last thing you remembered clearly was August trying to fight them off while you got knocked out by a prick of a needle on the back of your neck. Now here you were, apparently the morning after, still in your satin red dress, mostly likely in Donaka’s compound God knows where faced with the man himself.

You had seen pictures of him before. He was, for all intents and purposes, a real businessman in the entertainment business. You knew he was of Chinese heritage, born of a Chinese father and British mother, but grew up in the US, where he made his fortune. He was a handsome man, but there was an air about him. A certain frost in his demeanor, but mostly in his eyes that sent chills down your spine.

The way his brown gaze pinned you down, tracking your every move made you feel like prey being stalked by a dangerous predator and despite any logical reasoning, there was a throb in your center that made you deeply embarrassed.

“How’s your head?” he asked, voice perfectly pleasant, movements deliberately slow as he reached for the bedside table and picked up a glass and round pill waiting there, offering them to you. “The sedative I use tend to have some undesirable side effects.”

You didn’t reply but took the aspirin, swallowing down with the water before returning the glass to him, following his movements as he set it aside and returned to his seat, his gaze settling on you once again.

“Where’s August?” you had to force your throat to work, terror clutching your gut, especially with the smirk that surged on Donaka’s face.

“He’s somewhere here,” he gestured vaguely, and you followed the direction of his fingers towards the door.

It was ajar and for a second you wondered if you could make to it before Donaka caught you but as you shifted on the bed, your limbs seemed to be made of concrete so you very much doubted it.

“Would you like to see him?” Donaka offered in that same placid tone. You decided you hated it, still, you nodded. “I’ll take you to him, but first…” he indicated another door that stood just a couple feet away from the exit. “I’d like you to change.”

You hesitated, but did you really have a choice? Donaka might be alone with you here but he was twice your size and an apt fighter according to his file. Even if you somehow managed to take him down, he would have security around the compound and you had no idea how big it was or where August might be. Best to play along.

With slow, careful steps you walked into the bathroom, finding a pale pink lace nightgown hanging behind the door. The fabric soft and silky but completely see-through. It fitted your body perfectly, like a second skin and as you stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself, a flush rushed to your cheeks. You could see the smooth skin of your belly and the shadows of your panties beneath it.

You wondered why Donaka wanted you to wear this. Was it another form of humiliation, to make you parade around in sexy lingerie like a kept pet that he could display to the world? Well, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing your shame. With your chin held high, you stepped out of the bathroom and he looked up from his phone to glance at you, his smirk widening at the sight of you.

“Beautiful,” he moved into your personal space and his size made you swallow thickly as you had to tilt your head up to keep your gaze at him. “So, so beautiful. Turn around.”

You hesitated, of course, every inch of you opposed to giving your back to this predator but once again you knew you had no choice so you complied with his order and nearly jumped when he touched you, his calloused digits a strange contrast against the softness of the nightgown. His fingers traced a path from your shoulder to your nape, before he gathered your hair and with dexterous fingers, Donaka braided it tightly, letting the tip fall at your back.

“And for the final touch…” you heard his shift and the rustling of fabric before you were startled by the cold silver surrounding your neck and clicking close at your nape. “Now you’re perfect.”

Donaka guided you to a mirror and you swallowed the lump of desire in your throat. There you stood in flimsy lingerie, a choker of diamonds around your neck, his large hands resting on your shoulders, warm and surprisingly pleasant. You looked hauntingly beautiful and you hated it.

“Come.”

He offered you a hand and this time you didn’t even bother hesitating. Letting him guide you through the long halls of his villa, down a few stairs until you two reached an underground floor. The walls were made of bare concrete and the air was cold and damp, raising goosebumps on your bare arms.

Down here you saw some of Donaka’s men stationed around and you could see exactly who they thought it was the real threat between you and August and you couldn’t say you didn’t agree.

At a nod of his head, one of the men pushed a door open and Donaka waited for you to step in first before he followed, the heavy metal plank clicking closed behind him, surrounding you with darkness, the damp stench here was heavier and while your eyes adjusted, the only thing you could really see was shadowy shapes.

Bright light inundated the room suddenly and your ears caught a soft wince. For the first time, you realized that slumped form in the center of the room was August, battered and bruised, hands and legs tied behind his back, breathing ragged, cuts and wounds dotting his face; dry blood caking his hair, mustache, and stubble.

You whispered his name softly, falling to your knees to reach for him, but at the first touch of your hands he growled like a rabid animal and you pulled away startled.

“I’m afraid he put up a bit of a fight, unfortunately,” Donaka spoke from somewhere behind you, but you ignored him, too focused on the man in front of you.

“August…” you called again, inching carefully letting him see your hands until you rested it against his cheek and he let you, his blue eyes trailed on you as if he was finally processing who you were. “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

Slowly he edged closer towards you, letting you cradle his head in your lap as you brushed the hair away from his face and tried to assess the damage. August was in bad shape but nothing seemed to be particularly fatal, thankfully.

“May I have some water for him?” you asked, finally looking over at Donaka, surprised to see he was sitting on a chair watching you and August. “Please?”

There was a moment of silence and then the door opened again, another one of his men stepped inside with a bottle of water and set by your foot before leaving again. You unscrewed the cap, bringing it to August lips and helping him to drink slow sips. You had no idea how long he was down here. Probably as long as you were in that room.

“You truly care for him, don’t you?” Donaka spoke and that flush raised to your cheeks again, heating your chest and neck. “Don’t bother to deny it. I see it in your eyes. Are you in love with him?”

You looked down at the man below you that seemed to be a little more awake now, his gaze steadier and less hazy as he took in his surroundings and you. Even in this terrible state, August was beautiful and your heart thundered in your ribcage. How could you answer without compromising yourself or August?

“Does he love you?” Donaka asked and you didn’t even realize he moved until he crouched to enter your line of sight. “I mean, you know what he is, don’t you?”

Biting your lip, your attention shifted to the man on the ground again. You knew some things, having read his file. Most of it was blacked out so you knew it was bad. There was a reason he was called The Hammer after all. You knew how Sloane liked to operate. You knew that you sent in this mission to collect the data while August was sent to eliminate the threat.

“They say the prettiest faces hide the worst monsters,” Donaka ran a finger from August’s temple to his jaw and you could see the way the agent tensed under the touch. “And he sure is beautiful.”

A bright flick of metal appeared in Donaka’s hand and it took you a second to realize it was a blade. Your heart stopped for just a second as he traced the tip over August shoulder, but with a quick motion he cut off the ropes bounding his hands and legs. Just as fast as the blade appeared, it vanished and August was free. In a flash, August was on his feet, crowding Donaka against the wall of the bunker, one thick forearm pressed against the older man’s throat and the knife in his hand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Donaka warned, seemingly completely unaffected by the threat of the blade.

“Why not?” August growled.

You screamed as sharp, electrical bolt ran through your spine, blinding you to everything around you. Good thing you were already kneeling because the shards of pain raking your body would have made you fall gracelessly. Your body was overtaken by seizures and you shook on the ground like a fish out of the water.

As suddenly as it started, the shock receded, leaving you gasping and sobbing, tears hot on your cheek; blood metallic on your tongue; muscles as if made of jelly, completely unresponsive. You could only look at August’s stunned expression and Donaka’s cold amusement.

“That was level one, and that pretty collar goes to eleven. Want to see what two looks like?” You tensed in fear, curling into a ball like a little mouse waiting for their punishment.

“No!” August shouted, letting go of Donaka and through your glassy eyes you could see the fury in his cold blue ones. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I guess he does care about you, sweetheart,” Donaka said, his smirk widening, and you could only whimper in response.

“She’s nothing,” August hissed, and his words felt like acid in your ears, making you curl into yourself even more. “She knows nothing. Let her go.”

“That I believe,” Donaka replied, and you could feel the heaviness of his stare on you. “That she knows nothing about your extracurricular activities. That she’s nothing…”

Donaka clicked his tongue and his shadow fell over you, his strong hands forcing your muscles to uncurl until you were sitting up, his hand wrapped around your neck, holding your chin up so you could look at August.

“You like her,” he whispered, lips brushing against your temple and you could see August’s jaw clenching. “You like her naivety and purity. You crave her innocence. We’re not too different, Agent Walker.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” August asked through clenched teeth and Donaka stood and moved away from you. You didn’t turn to look, but you heard the scrape of metal against concrete and knew he must have taken a seat again.

“What I always want. I want to watch.”

There was a long pause and this time, you dared to look over your shoulder and there was Donaka on the metal chair, legs spread apart, and you could see the volume in his trousers. It made you swallow and blush, looking back at August.

“You’re going to ruin her and I’m going to watch.”

The silence was heavy in the room. Enough that you could hear the drumming of your heart and August’s deep exhale he contemplated your captor. For a moment, you wondered what Donaka meant by ruin but all it took was a quick look at yourself and you knew.

The worst thing was that you wanted it. A little dark seed had settled itself deep in your heart and mind the first time you saw August. The first time you contemplated those solid muscles and the menace that he exhaled.

You were always attracted to violence, that much you knew – but August was something else. Something primal and dark and every time you let your thoughts turn to that, you felt your body igniting with that forbidden desire that you usually kept completely hidden.

Against your better judgment, you let your gaze settle on August and you saw the darkness in his eyes but also the blaze of want as he contemplated you, taking in for the first time your flimsy attire and you could see it affected him, just like Donaka expected.

“It’s ok,” you whispered getting up. Your limbs still felt unsteady as you moved closer to him, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the slow and controlled beat of his heart as you gazed up at August through your lashes. “I want this.”

Those words seemed to snap the last shred of control in him because he caught you by the nape and smashed his lips against yours. The kiss was brutal, all tongue and teeth, and your knees nearly gave out from the heaviness of your desire, the coiling tendrils of your pleasure making your core throb and your panties soaked.

His other hand found its way to your thigh and ass beneath the nightgown, kneading and massaging the supple flesh, pulling you tighter against his chest and you could feel his rock hard erection against your belly, making the heat inside you increase.

You had caught glimpses of August in his underwear back at the hotel. You knew he was massive and you wanted him. You wanted him inside your mouth and inside your cunt, spearing you open in the most savage of ways.

The last rational part of you might have taken notice that you were not alone, that Donaka was still lurking behind you but that thought just made the want in your gut increase. You wanted him to see August taking you. The animalistic part of you even wanted him to take you too.

“August…” you whimpered softly and was surprised by a slap across your face. Why that made desire throb inside you even more you didn’t know, but your whimper turned into a wanton moan.

“Sir or master, girl!” August hissed and you nodded obediently, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Know who owns you.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“That’s better.” He gripped your jaw, his hold like iron as he looked at you with a glare. “You look like such a good girl on the outside but you’re nothing but a dirty little slut. I bet right now you’re dripping, wanting my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled as best as you could as he kicked your legs apart, cupping your sex and you jolted, excited and ashamed because he could feel the dampness of your panties, his fingers rubbing you roughly against the lace, making your head spin with the overwhelming sensations.

“You think he can smell you from all the way across the room?” August asked, releasing your jaw and spinning around to face Donaka, his lips against your ear, one hand down your panties the other alternating between squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples. “Are you this soaked because you know he’s watching?”

Your answer was a pathetic little whine as you caught Donaka’s dark stare, his large palm cupping his erection through his trousers. August forced you to walk forward until you were standing right in front of the other man, close enough to touch but Donaka made no motion to reach for you, just inhaled sharply.

“She smells sweet,” he said, his voice lower, sultry, and sending shivers down your spine. “Like ripe cherries.”

August hummed in reply, one finger dipping into your panties and running up your folds as if he was gathering the nectar of a honeycomb and you gasped at the overwhelming tingling of your swollen clit. He brought his glistening finger to his mouth, sucking it in like it was the most delectable delicacy he ever tasted and you had to press your legs together against the quivering of your cunt, clamoring to be taken.

“You taste so good, pet,” August huskily whispered against your ear.

His hand returning to your core while the other exposed your breasts, the sound of the ripping lace loud in the quietness of the room, punctuated by your breathy moans, August low grunts as you rubbed your ass against the volume in his pants and Donaka’s soft hums of appreciation.

In seconds August had you listening to nothing but the sound of blood rushing through your ears as his fingers worked faster and faster against your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure starting at your center. They spread through your entire body and it only got even more intense when he pushed two fingers inside you, crooked like a hook and rubbing that perfect spot over and over as he fucked you, making you whimper and shake as if your insides were being completely consumed by pleasure.

“Sir, I’m gonna…” you hiccupped, tears in your eyes, and that only made August chuckle and redouble his effort, his thrusts so hard now you felt his knuckles hitting your pelvic bone uncomfortably but you couldn’t care less.

Your entire body tensed and arched as the coiling knot snapped and your cries reverberated through the bare walls of the bunker as your cunt fluttered and you gushed warm, clear liquid all over August’s hand. He laughed against your bright red cheeks.

“Bad girl…” he tsked, pulling his soaked hand away from your cunt and panties. “You got me all wet.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mumbled, eyes on the ground and nearly jumped when August shoved his wet fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself and it was enough of your core to throb and pulse once again, apparently yearning for more.

You swirled your tongue and sucked his fingers, cleaning every drop of your juices from his skin; picturing something else instead of those thick digits. Picturing the hard edge that was pressed against your ass, hot and pulsing.

“On your knees,” August ordered, pulling his fingers away and you didn’t have to be told twice, hands eagerly going to his waistband and you noticed that his belt was gone. Pity, it would have been nice if he could tie you up with it. Or even spank your ass with it, leaving bright red welts on the soft skin of your ass.

You made quick work of his buttons, pulling the pants down along with his underwear, releasing his long and thick, glorious cock. Just the sight of it had your mouth watering. You desperately wanted it; to feel it filling you and coating your tongue with his cum. Stroking the back of your throat, making you choke and cry.

Before you could reach for it, August took a hold of your braid, holding your head still and away from him. He smirked at your hitching whines as you looked up at him with a pout while he kicked his pants to the side and started to undo the buttons of his shirt, letting go of you only long enough to shrug off the fabric.

Now he stood before you completely naked. A work of art by God or something more devious because his thick thighs and solid torso, along with the sculptured chest and chiseled features could only speak of temptation of the darkest kind.

“Sir, please,” you begged, crawling forward, your knees wet from your previous release, your cunt still dripping. “Let me taste you.”

“Dirty little cock slut,” August whispered, hand twisting around your braid until it was wrapped around his palm tight enough to make your scalp burn, while he stroked himself until his tip was glittering with his precum.

“Please.”

He took a step forward, so close you could smell his sex, musky and heady and it only made you want him more. You licked your lips and watched him through your lashes, waiting for authorization. You were a good little girl, you took what your sir gave you. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Finally, August let the tip of his cock rub against your lips, coating them with his essence and you traced and gathered every drop with your tongue eager for more, until he pushed the head past your lips, invading your mouth with a hard thrust that had you gagging almost immediately.

“Is this what you want, slut?” August growled, fucking you hard and fast, holding your head still as he took what he wanted from you, making you choke and sputter, tears leaking from your eyes, spit running down your chin as he brought you nearly to his pubic hair, holding you there as your throat worked around his head before pulling back and finally allowing you to breath.

You watched him through tearful eyes but August wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was on the man behind you and you wondered what Donaka was doing. Was he touching himself? He did say he wanted to watch August ruin you and here you were, being completely wrecked by the man in question. As he took every inch of pleasure from your mouth, you could feel the gathering waves at your center again, preparing for a new tide.

Another pathetic little whine escaped you when August pulled away from your mouth, allowing you to breathe fully and finally looking down at you as he rubbed your spit over his length, his eyes a dark pool of something that almost made you afraid.

He tugged you to your feet again. His lips were bruising and biting against your swollen mouth, his tongue unrelenting as if he was chasing his own taste. The reprieve to your raw knees was short-lived because August was pushing you down again but this time he followed, maneuvering your body until you were on all fours, spine low, ass up looking at Donaka as August knelt behind you.

You held your breath in expectation watching those haunting eyes, like a bottomless pool of darkness taking you in, the bulge in his pants evident but he didn’t make any motion to take care of it and you would admire his self-control if your mind wasn’t pulled away from that and shifted back to the way August yanked your panties down and rubbed his cock against your folds teasingly, the tiny sparks of pleasure barely enough to soothe the burning volcano of want deep inside you.

“Sir, please fuck me. I need to feel you inside me.”

The words were out before you even registered them but they were obviously the right thing to say because you felt the first press of his cock against your slit, stretching it almost painfully and you gasped and moaned, wanting to rock back but August kept you still with an iron grip on your hips, painting bruises on your skin as he pushed inch by agonizingly slow inch, filling you up like never before.

You could feel every single vein and ridge of his cock. The pulsing and twitching of his length filled you to the brim and the sensation was impossible to describe. A sort of completion that you had never experienced in your life and that would only be made more perfect when August finally decided to move.

It was like he could read your mind because he started to rock his hips in tiny little thrusts at first, the friction driving you insane with wanting and all you could do was chant more and harder and faster, please now, you need it so bad. August chuckled against your ear, his body covering yours as he ground his hips.

“You want more?” he grunted, licking the sweat dripping down your temple and wrapping the braid around his hand again, pulling your head. “You want me to use that pretty hole so he can watch?”

“Yes, please,” you whimpered almost hypnotized by the intense gaze that locked you in place as August’s thrusts started to gain speed and strength, rocking your body forward with its force and reducing you to a moaning mess. “Oh yes, sir. Just like that, please.”

Any rational part left of your brain was completely turned off by the primal call of desire. Your entire body was alight with pleasure like your nerve-ends were little fireworks just waiting to be kindled. From your mouth spilled the most obscene sounds. Moans and hitching little gasps and cries, as fresh tears blurred your vision.

Could you cry from feeling so good? So perfectly completed and raised to the heavens almost in a trance-like state of rapture? You didn’t know and you honestly didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to you was the growing pleasure in your core, threatening to spill and overtake you completely.

It seemed to swallow you whole, especially when August started to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, his grunts and groans becoming louder and louder as the lewd words poured out of his mouth.

“Such a delicious cunt. Holding me tight. Pulling me deep. Trying to milk me dry. Do you want me to fill you up with my cum, huh?” he asked, his sharp thrusts hitting your cervix and making you cry out. “Paint your pussy with my seed, maybe even put a piece of me in there? Does my pretty little whore want me to put a fucking baby in you?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please, sir!” you whined, beyond coherence now, already submerged in the midst of your second world-shattering orgasm. August could be asking you to set the world on fire and you would gladly agree so as long as he kept fucking you.

Just. Like. That.

“I want everything. Please.”

The hand on your hair let go only enough for August press a hand in the middle of your back, pushing you face down on the concrete, your cheek pressed against the damp floor and your ass raising higher, changing the angles and now he was hitting your sweet spot with every violent ram of his cock. The second wave of pleasure didn’t even have time to subside for the third one to crash around you.

Now you were sobbing, the ecstasy and bliss becoming too much to your oversensitive sex, especially as August kept rubbing your clit, pressing harder and harder, making a new flow of liquid to gush and soak down your legs.

It was deliriously good, but also almost like torture, your walls clenching and quivering. If trying to hold his cock in or push it out you didn’t know, but it didn’t deter August from his salvage thrusts that were slowly losing their rhythm, but going deeper and harder, pushing you forward and scraping your cheek as much as your knees.

You were crying now, pain mixing with pleasure, your thighs quaking, tired of keeping you up. Your lower back hurt from the awkward angle, your knees cut to ribbons by the rough ground. Your cunt ached from the constant slam of his pelvic bone against your swollen flesh and all you wanted was to let go and sleep.

August’s tug on your braid made you scream and you forced your torso up to preserve your neck. You were looking at Donaka once again as August gave his final thrust, burying himself to the hilt and letting out a loud growl as he spilled inside you and you nearly sobbed because it was finally over and you could finally rest.

When you August finally pulled out of you, your limbs gave out completely and you fell in an awkward heap on the ground, too exhausted and sore to move a muscle. Your mind felt untethered and floating, unable to register the words being exchanged by the two men.

All you wanted was to curl into a ball and forget everything and it was so easy to let the darkness snaking in the corners of your mind claim you. It whispered seductively at you, like the warm hug of a caring lover, the perfect contrast to the violent fucking you just endured.

Before you slipped away completely, you felt two strong arms surrounding you, picking you up from the cold, hard ground. Even your lashes felt like lead otherwise you would dare to force them open to see who was carrying you away.

“You did very well, pet,” a voice whispered, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. “You might just survive this.”

Tag List (use the link in my bio to add or remove yourself)

@toomanystoriessolittletime @meetmeinthematinee @theolsdalova @penwieldingdreamer @fanficsrusz @eevee-of-rivia @reid-187 @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day @sallyp-53 @anxiteyfilledcupcake @pinkzsugar @angelic-kisses13 @futuristic-imbecile @wonderlandfandomkingdom @krazycags01 @beyond-antares @cumberbatchbaps @sgt-morgan @a-really-bi-girl @nonsensicalobsessions @poisonedjoinery @soarocks @partypoison00 @hnryycvll @keiva1000 @shellbilee @ivvitm1109 @babayagakeanu @trippedmetaldetector @missrandomista @stxphmxlls @geralt-yennefer-jeskier @savaneafricaine @foxyjwls007 @bohemianrhapsody86 @thehumanistsdiary @black-ninja-blade @lux-ravenwolf @softrogers @d0ntjudgemy50shades @i-cant-remember-my-old-login @agniavateira @nadia-rosea @mary-ann84 @littlefreya @cap-barnes @elisewithak @omgkatinka @dearlybelovedluke @jaskierhastwohands @hell1129-blog @rahdaleigh @peaceinourtime82 @shadesofarrogance @wednesdaybraids @thiccgeralt @iloveyouyen @geralt-of-baevia @dancingwendigo @mejana @obsessedwithcavill @watermeloncavill @celestial-vomit @lovethyauthors @henry-cavlll @thethirstyarchive @kittyslove @twlohasmp @lifeofrileyp @iamtheembodimentofhate @luclittlepond @heelsamizayn @radaofrivia @suueeeeeee @wondersofdreaming @adorkabeezle @trust-tequila @townmoondaltwistle @buckysgoldenheart @bichibibi @summersong69 @dogslednation @instantkoalagladiator @littlemissthistle @shewritesinthethirdperson @reebs-life @shehobbit

if your url is crossed out, tumblr didn’t let me tag you.

#henry cavill fanfic #keanu reeves fanfic #august walker x you #august walker x reader #donaka mark x reader #fanfic #stephsbirthdaywritingchallenge

295 notes · View notes