#the approaching ruin is eternal

[lorephobic]

this is the funniest thing that sits and rots in my drafts because its been four months atp and i still have not thought of a single headcanon for these two

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (03)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content sexual jokes, rafe being a sweetheart( & an idiot) !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 02 ¡ 03 ¡ 04

The past week was beyond perfect, you knew something bad was occuring, whether you liked it or not. Unlike what you had in mind, the trip was fun, with you and Sarah attached at the hip, doing everything you missed out on for the past two years.

You partied a decent amount, had a lot of dates and dinners, with Rafe and Ryan third wheeling, of course. And that's besides the beach errands you ran at least twice a day. However, that all came crashing down when you got your period, falling into a state of apathy the moment you discovered you were on it. 

It was bearable at first, you still hung out with the rest, sunbathing while they surfed, sat to the side when they cooked, but your cramps had other plans, ruining your day when you no longer could tolerate the pain, leading to no good. You locked yourself in your room, isolating yourself from everyone else, immediately brushing off their attempts to allure you out.

It was that bad, even Sarah chose to keep her distance, giving you space, fully aware of your mood swings when it came to dealing with your period cramps. The blonde did everything in her power to keep you comfortable, only reaching out to you when it was necessary, and to that, you were grateful, because Ryan on the other hand, was behaving like a total bitch. 

And well, Rafe was sweet. He was clueless, yet, he knew you were feeling under the weather, offering to take over your tasks when Rysn forced you to do chores. You had to keep reminiscing over the fact that this was a mere joke, and that he’s off limits, hence he’s your brother’s best friend. 

But how could you? Rafe was an angel, everything you looked for in a guy, and while it’s only been a bit over a week since you’ve met him, the subtle gazes you exchanged did nothing but create a giddy mess out of you. 

You forced yourself out of bed, body drenched with sweat due to the thick hoodie hugging your figure. You approached the bathroom, with the intent of freshening up, eternally grateful it was connected to your room. 

With a groan, you reached for the wood cabinets, unlatching them with a swift movement. You reached for the container of spare pads you had brought, heart sinking to your stomach when nothing came within your reach, indicating you were out. That only added to your pent up frustration, letting out a cry as you tossed the box in the trash. 

Those were supposed to last you a week, yet, here you were, out on the second day of your period. Usually, your cycle wasn’t on the heavy side, that it completely went past your mind to bring more, just in case it was one of those days. 

Your parents were nowhere in sight when you called out for them, implying that they weren’t home. You had no choice but to reach out to Ryan, contemplating whether it was a good idea with how whiny he was, a good chance he’ll probably refuse.

Therefore, it was no surprise when you knocked and called out his name, receiving no response in return. You rolled your eyes, erupting through the door, instantly regretting the gesture as you came to a halt, spotting none other than Rafe on Ryan’s bed, with your brother nowhere in sight. 

Rafe was accompanied with his phone, laying flat on his chest, his bare back glowing under the sunlight peeking through the window blinds. You grew flustered to the sight, forcing your eyes away from the latter when he perked up, conscious of your presence mere inches away.

A low hum bubbled out of Rafe’s throat, stretching his arms over his head as he tossed his phone to the side, now facing in your direction. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile, seeking his shirt with his gaze, not wanting to put you in an awkward situation with the state he was in. 

Right, he was shirtless, it was rude of you to come in without knocking, especially now, as your gaze burned holes through his skin, too hazed to pull your eyes away from his broad torso. How could you, when his chest was out on display, the view inviting, so there, it left you no choice but to stare?

“Sorry,” you muttered through a breath, clenching the hem of your hoodie in between your fingers. “I didn’t know you’d be in here, I thought Ryan was ignorin’ me.” 

“It’s okay,” Rafe reassured, throwing his shirt over his head. “Ryan’s not here, he’s been gone since this morning.” 

“Right,” you nodded, his absence skipping over your head. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Do you need anything?” Rafe interrupted your plan of exiting, causing your hand to halt around the doorknob. 

“It’s nothing,” you brushed off his concerns with a polite smile, “Jus’ wanted to grab a few things, since the fridge is empty.” 

“Okay,” Rafe shot back, springing out of his seat. “Let’s go.” 

“Wait, what?” Your eyes slightly widened, taken aback by his suggestion. 

“Do you not want to go?” He playfully poked back, strolling past you, your eyes following his figure, landing where he stood against the railing. “I’ll take you.” 

“You don’t have to!” You instantly refused, hands waving in front of your chest. “I’ll just wait until he’s back, it’s no big deal–”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Rafe chimed back, his footsteps echoing through your ears, observing as he walked down the stairs. He looked over his shoulder, merely to glimpse in your direction. “I’ll wait for you downstairs, come down when you’re ready.” 

Rafe left you no choice but to do as he said, throwing on a decent outfit before heading downstaits, and making your way outside. The latter already had the engine started, his door slightly open, with the hum of the radio playing in the background. He perked up when you approached the car, tossing his phone in the cup holder. Rafe watched as you got in, quickly clicking your seatbelt on, so you don’t delay your leave any longer. 

The drive to the grocery store stretched with comfortable silence, atmosphere heavy with tension you both chose not to address, letting it seep through the whole ride. You let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding, exiting the car as soon as Rafe was parked. 

Rafe followed in your steps, attempting to catch up with you through the somewhat cramped space. It was a good grocery run, quick yet filled with chaos, as Rafe stacked the cart with unnecessary things that you knew would go unnoticed, only getting acknowledged once they’re past the due date. 

Despite your desperate need for pads; the whole purpose of this errand, your embarrassment took over everytime you circled around the aisle, eyeing it while you tried to come up with a good excuse for you to grab them, feighing the boy’s presence, who was growing suspicious because of how anxious you were. 

Rafe could only handle so much, halting when you hit your third round in the ‘hygiene care aisle’, the gesture earning a puzzled expression out of you. You turned in the boy’s direction, breath knocking out of your chest when you caught him observing the various type of pads displayed on the shelves.

“Which one do you want?” He questioned, hand landing on a random brand, one you’ve never heard of before. “This one?” ‘

He knew. The realization made your cheeks flush with heat, feeling it crawl past your neck, and settle across your face, your bewildered expression failing to hide your embarrassment. Usually, you were very vocal about your needs, you don’t get why it was hard to voice out what you wanted, especially in Rafe’s presence. 

Whether it’s you being nervous, or embarrassed, either way frustrated you, making you even more confused than you already were. 

“What?” You choked out, tensning from where you stood. 

“Do you not use that one?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing with confusion. He clicked his teeth, observing each one, until he pointed at another brand. “How about this one? I heard it’s a good brand.”

“You heard?” You repeated, your voice filled with disbelief. “I– listen, Rafe, I don’t need them, let’s jus’ leave.” 

“Who are you fooling here?” He scoffed, slightly teasing with his tone. “You clearly need them, this is the third time we’ve come through this section, it can’t be for no reason.”

You hated that he was right, his statement making you even more flustered, creating a mess out of you in front of him. You cleared your throat, striving to come up with an excuse that will get you out of this situation, merely to result with nothing in return. 

“It’s not for me,” shit, “Sarah said she needed pads, it’s not something I could bring up, since you insisted on tagging along.”

“Mhm,” Rafe hummed, a knowing smile tugging at his lips, not convinced by your explanation. “Now tell me, which one do you use?” 

“I’m serious!” You exclaimed, abashed by his teasing. 

“Sorry, I mean, which one does Sarah use?” He corrected, chest swelling with pride with his words were getting to you, affecting you whole as you stumbled to mutter a coherent sentence out. “Now hurry, we don’t have all day.” 

“Oh, shush.” You rolled your eyes, suppressing the smile forming on your lips. “Don’t rush me.”

You paused for a second, snorting when you noticed him reaching for his phone, for the mere purpose of searching the brand he has in hand, his curiosity getting the best of him. You snatched it from his hold, placing it back on the shelf, the action earning a puzzled look out of the boy. 

“What was that for?” He started, voice so soft, that you almost felt guilty for interfering. 

“It’s not a good brand,” you reasoned, reaching for the one you always used. “This one is, though.” 

“Yeah?” Rafe questioned, his lips smudging with a cocky grin. “Does Sarah use it?” 

“She does,” you choked out, tossing the box of pads in the cart, completely avoiding Rafe’s gaze. “Let’s leave before it gets dark outside.” 

Rafe made sure to grab a few more boxes from the brand you had chosen, throwing them in the cart along with the other stuff you brought. You both stood in line, having gotten everything you wanted, merely needing to check out, and then you’d be ready to go.

There wasn’t plenty of people in front of you, relieved once you eventually reached your turn. Rafe was kind enough to do all the heavy work, handing the stuff for the cashier to check them out, insisting you let him do it when you offered a helping hand. 

The lady assisting you grinned, catching sight of all the chocolate bars and essentials displayed in front of her, mind travelling elsewhere at the sight of you two. Rafe stood next to you once he was done, flashing the lady a polite smile, one she swiftly returned. 

“You’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you?” She started, her voice earning your attention, as well as Rafe’s, whose knuckles hovered over yours, the fraction sending shivers down your spine. “Taking care of your girlfriend while she’s ill; not a lot of men do that.”

Her words made you stop in your tracks, the assumptions causing your eyes to widen with shock. Your lips parted to speak, striving to correct the lady, action falling short when Rafe beat you to it, the words he mumbled next causing your breath to hitch. 

“Aren’t I the sweetest?” He cooed, slinging his arm around your shoulder, then applying enough pressure to bring you close to his chest, now fully tangled in his hold. “Isn’t that right, girlfriend?” 

“What the hell are you doing?” You whispered through gritted teeth, just loud enough for Rafe to hear you. 

He cocked his head to the side, flashing you a look that almost melted you in the spot, his attempt to get you to go along with the bit totally working, even if it was a low blow. You stiffened under his touch, turning back to the lady, who was admiring you two with so much endearment, you felt guilty confronting her about the situation. 

This is not something your brother’s best friend should do; pretend you’re his girlfriend out in public, well aware Ryan would be against it. Hell, if Ryan was there, Rafe would be knocked out on the floor, as you were painfully aware of how protective your brother truly was, especially when it came to his friends. 

You’ve had a few of his friends hit on you, and that, it didn’t end quite well, with him cutting them off the moment they crossed the line. You didn’t want that to happen with Rafe, knowing how much Ryan cherished their friendship. Therefore, you didn’t wanna come in between them, ruin the last ounce of hope Ryan was holding onto, even if your emotions got in the way. 

The sensation of Rafe’s arm sliding down your waist pulled you out of your head, tensing under the boy when his hand landed just above your hip, his breath fanning over the sliver of skin around your neck not being of much help. And when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did, with the latter leaning forward, and placing a chaste peck to your temple. 

His lips burned against your flesh, skin hot on yours, that the moment he withdrew from the touch, you felt the world stop around you, mind too hazy to comprehend the gesture. You stole a glance over your shoulder, instantly fixing your gaze back on the lady when you caught him already staring at you, not failing to hide the smug smile spread across his face. 

A sigh of relief escaped your throat when Rafe reached for his wallet, the action creating somewhat of a distance between you two, one you desperately seeked. He handed the lady his card, humming to himself as he punched in his code number, clicking his teeth when it went through, verifying he was done. 

“Have a great day.” The lady mumbled, handing Rafe the receipt, with the boy contently accepting it. 

“You too,” He forced a smile across his face, pausing before he continued his sentence. “She’s actually my sister, by the way.” 

The lady was taken aback by his response, pausing in her spot. She watched Rafe strolling away, turning back to you, as you were just as shocked as she was, frozen where you stood. 

“Let’s go, girlfriend.” He tugs your wrist, instantly interwhing your fingers with his. 

The walk to the car was silence, the warmness of Rafe’s hand radiating heat through your flesh, the sensation accompanying your head, along with what just happened, the situation shocking you to your core. You felt guilty for the butterflies seeping through your stomach, aware that Rafe was messing around, and that this was nothing you should contemplate about, as he was nothing more than your brother’s best friend. 

Rafe let go of your hand, walking around the car, and opening the trunk to throw the stuff inside. He handled them with ease, putting the cart back in the parking area, making sure to be quick with his action. By the time he was back, you were already inside the car, holding back until he took your side to speak. 

“What the fuck was that?” You muttered, watching as Rafe started the car, attention fixing on the rearview mirror while he drove out of the parking lot, the hand stretching out to the passenger seat doing things to you. 

“What?” He chuckled, manspreading as he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position. 

“First, you pretend I’m your girlfriend,” you frowned, a look of disbelief displayed on your face. “Then you proceed to tell her I’m your sister?!”

“C’mon,” he stifled out a laugh, grinning from ear to ear. “You have to admit, it was funny.” 

“It wasn’t!” You snorted, rolling your eyes as you relaxed back in your seat, focusing your attention on the road.

“It replaced the frown on your face,” he reasoned, “You can’t tell me it didn’t work.” 

That was alone to have you melting, shutting you up right in the spot. The next few minutes filled with silence, background music echoing through your ears as you leaned your head against the window, enjoying the ride back with the dim darkness seeping through. 

And you were so close to falling asleep, your plan going interrupted when Rafe approached the Airnbnb, parking the car in the drive through once you were there. You sat up, an exhausted sigh bubbling out of your throat as you stretched your arms over your head. 

Rafe grabbed the bags from the trunk, catching up with you once he retrieved everything. You swiftly unlocked the door for him, the gesture earning a grateful smile out of the boy. 

“Did you have fun, girlfriend?” Rafe teased, head turning in your direction. 

“Oh my god, shut up!” Your pupils dilated with disbelief, taken aback by his question. “Can you not? What if someone hears you?” 

“Hear what?” 

A familiar voice erupted through your ears, causing you to freeze in your spot. You leisurely turned in the noise’s direction, immediately catching sight of Ryan, who was seated around the table, with food splattered in front of him. 

Your throat instantly ran dry, caught off guard by your brother’s presence, mere inches away from where you stood. Your gaze shifted to Rafe as he came in view, walking past you to approach Ryan. 

He put the bags on the counter, dabbing Ryan up before he made himself comfortable next to the latter. Ryan whined with complaints, grumbling when Rafe stole a fry from his plate, protesting to the latter eating his food. 

“Guess what,” Rafe muffled, swallowing down the food in his mouth. He pointed in your direction, Ryan’s gaze following his finger, until it landed on you. “I took my girlfriend grocery shopping.” 

Ryan almost choked on the food he stuffed in his mouth, swiftly turning his head in Rafe’s direction, nearly breaking his neck with the gesture. His eyebrows furrowed with annoyance, growing irritated by the smug expression spread across his best friend’s face. 

As for you, you were just as shocked as Ryan was, not expecting Rafe to mention the situation so casually, not in front of Ryan, that’s for sure. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” Ryan barely managed to speak. 

“What?” Rafe tilted his head to the side, gaze shifting back to you. “She’s my girl.” 

“Fuck off, Rafe.” Ryan defensively shot back, “Are you fucking messing with me?” 

“He is,” you beat Rafe to responding, afraid something might break out if the latter continued teasing your brother any further. “The lady assumed he was my boyfriend, and he will not shut up about it.” 

That earns a giggle out of Rafe, far too amused to acknowledge the fuming boy from beside him, slightly less mad at the explanation you offered him.

They spent the next few minutes bickering, with you technically third wheeling on the side. Rolling your eyes, you took your leave, making sure to grab the bag of pads before you strolled up the stairs, with the intentions of approaching Sarah’s room. 

Fortunately, her door was slightly ajjared, the sight of Sarah sprawled across the bed filling the majority of your view. You knocked on the door, peaking your head through to earn the girl’s attention, successfully doing so as she glanced over, gasping when she spotted you. 

“Bug!” She chimed, her excitement a silent invitation for you to enter. 

“Hi,” you flashed  her a smile, instantly embracing the girl in a hug once she was within your reach. “I missed you.” 

“Me too,” she muttered, face nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “Where were you?! ‘Haven’t seen you all day.”

“I went grocery shopping with Rafe.” You casually responded, your answer earning a scuff out of Sarah. 

“I knew it!” She pulled back, rolling her eyes with a hint of annoyance. “Is that why you both randomly disappeared?” 

“I guess,” you pursed your lips into a thin line, suppressing the smile forming on your lips. “It was an emergency, he insisted on taking me, though I was planning on going with Ryan.” 

Sarah nodded with understandment, eyes trailing to the bag in your hand, instantly catching on to what you meant. 

“I did lie, though.” You confessed, nose scrunching with shame. 

“About what?” Sarah chuckled, perking with interest. 

“I said they were for you,” your eyes forced shut, “I’m sorry, okay? He put me in the spot, that was the only thing I could come up with!” 

“No, that’s–” Sarah’s sentence was interrupted by the burst of giggles erupting out of her throat, unable to contain her laughter for any longer. “That’s totally valid.”

“Why are you laughing, then?!” You chimed in on her laughter, lightly slapping her shoulder. 

“I’m telling you Bug,” Sarah started, suppressing her chuckles. “He’s not buying that.” 

“You’re making it worse!” You groaned into your hands, falling back on her bed, now faced with the ceiling. “I can’t even face him, you should see the stunt he pulled on me in the store.” 

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good…” she trailed off, waiting for you to continue. 

“Well, we were checking out, then this cashier said he was a gentleman, blah blah blah, she assumed I was his girlfriend, and he sort of went along with it?” You explained, face flushing with heat as you reminisced back on the memory, recalling the feeling of his lips brushing over your temple. “He was acting like an idiot, going all ‘aren’t I the sweetest, girlfriend?’ The lady totally believed it! And guess what, Sarah?!”

“What?!” Sarah almost gasped, curiosity getting the best of her. 

“He fucking kissed me!”

At that, an audible gasp escaped Sarah’s throat, shock displaying across her face as her hand came up to cover her parted mouth. 

“No fucking way!” She whisper-yelled, repeatedly slapping your arm with excitement. “Was it on like– you know–”

“No!” You clarified, growing flustered due to her assumption. “He kissed my temple, barely even a kiss, but it still happened.”

“You know, I was so invested, I forgot he was my brother.” Sarah mumbled, her statement easing the awkward tension seeping through. “That’s crazy– I mean, not to be weird or anything, but Rafe’s never this touchy with anyone, he sucks at showing affection, especially in public.” 

“Don’t say that,” you started, feeling your pulse quicken over her words. “I’m barely holding back as is.” 

“Shut up!” Sarah scoffed, “But I’m serious, I’ve received a lot of complaints from his past girlfriends about that, I’m surprised he’d pull something like this, with you, of all people.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be against this?!” You rolled your eyes, covering how flustered you were with fake annoyance. “Why are you encouraging it?”

“I mean, it’s not like I can stop you two from liking each other,” she cocked her head to the side, voice tinted with hope. “Besides, I’ll be happy with any decision that you make, as long as you don’t get hurt, of course!” 

“Sarah,” your lips formed into a pout, not expecting her supportive words, though they drove you over the edge, with the forming crush sparkling through your heart. “Stop, why are you so sweet?” 

“Oh, come on, I've always been sweet to you.” She cooed, cupping your face with her hands. “Now stop acting sappy, and go freshen up so we can watch a movie.” 

“Fine!” You mumbled, chuckling when Sarah pecked your forehead, the sensation like feathers on your skin. “That tickles!” 

“It’s a goodbye’s kiss!” She exclaimed, joining in on your giggles. “I know you’ll take long to shower.”

“I’ll be fast.” You replied, getting up from Sarah’s bed, the gesture earning groans of protest from the girl. 

You barely managed to escape Sarah’s grip, walking back to your room. A hint of confusion washed over your voice, noticing the way your door cracked half way through, when you could’ve sworn you shut it before you left. 

The frown on your face was instantly replaced with a smile as you caught sight of the snacks spread across your bed, along with a heating pad on the side, the familiar chocolate bars unveiling the identity of the person who sprawled these out for you. 

Your eyebrows curled at the sight of the cyan pink sticky note just above the heating pad, growing intrigued as you reached out to grab it, the smile on your face spreading into a foolish grin once you read what was written on it. 

I know it’s not much, but I hope you feel better, girlfriend ;) - r

Your heart skipped a beat at the note, feeling heat crawl past your neck, until it settled on your face. It wouldn't hurt to thank him for this, right? It’s not like you were making a move on him, your action a mere return for his act of kindness, nothing more. 

So you did, slightly hesitating as you exited your room, with the purpose of searching for Rafe. You followed the distant voice echoing through your ears, the sound growing louder the closer you approached the narrowed hallway. 

He must’ve been downstairs, along with Ryan, in the same position you left them in, probably still arguing over something absurd. The thought brought a smile to your lips, instantly fading once their words filled the echo of your ears. While you didn't mean to eavesdrop, you were somewhat glad that you did, Rafe’s next statement making your heart sink to your stomach, panic settling through your chest. 

“–Not! Relax Ryan,” Rafe argued, his voice slightly muffled. “I’m not gonna date your sister.” 

Oh. 

Oh.

“Don’t fuck with me, Rafe.” Ryan shot back, pent up frustration visible through his tone. “I told you already, my sister is off limits, don’t make me do something I’ll regret.” 

Rafe nodded, face twisting into something serious, replacing the teasing grin he had on his face. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, “She’s like Sarah to me, and you know that.” 

Humilation couldn’t describe how you felt in the moment, his statement like a punch to your stomach. A wave of emotions rushed through your insides, ones you couldn’t even concentrate into words. 

That should’ve been expected, however, it hurt hearing it out loud, from Rafe of all people. 

a/n hi!! i hope you enjoyed it heheeh i promise i have soething planned out theyre not going too fast

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @cnnamongrl @mattyskies @percysley @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb @purplerose291 @shincidios @laniirackssss @malibuhearts @adulterated-cocaine @bugg06 @murdockcastleslut @drwstarkeys @pretymads @klmaaaoooo @wearemadeofstardust0 @urbrunettebombshell @stylestarkey @riverxsq @louxmcl @totalswag @cl4uus @simpforboys @tearsfromasliverwolf-blog @bilssturns @fandomhopped @strsdoulikedem @congratsloserr @dr3wstarkey @xoxo-ada @stvrligghtt @rafeswhoooreee @kythefangirl25 @chaneydoll @blushmimi @akobx @empath-bunny @flirtism @stopnala @rafecameronswifeyy

[voxslays]

MON CHÉRI

Alastor x Overlord Wife!Reader (from this request) In which, reader is bored at an overlord meeting and decides to tease her husband instead of paying attention.

Overlord meetings—a large meeting usually organized by Carmine (and sometimes Zestial) that brought the overlords of pride together to discuss their souls and the exterminations. And man did you hate them. Being overlords, both you and your husband Alastor had to attend the mandatory meetings yearly, so naturally when you discovered that there was another one taking place today, you couldn’t help but mentally groan.

Alastor, ever the dutiful husband, had informed you of the upcoming Overlord meeting earlier that morning. He had mentioned it with a hint of sarcastic sigh underneath his eternal smile, knowing full well how much you despised those gatherings. He seemed almost happy about your suffering.

“These meetings are the same every year.” You groan, putting your face in the palm of your hands. “Can’t we just miss one?” Alastor chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he wraps a clawed hand around your waist, pulling you close. “I’m afraid not, dearest. Besides, it’s not all terrible, my dear.” You roll your eyes and let out a small ‘hmph.’ as you cross your arms angrily. How were they not that bad? They were usually three to four hours of listening to Carmilla rant about how many souls you all collectively owned and the dangers of the exterminations. Things you already knew!

And all Alastor would do was sit there and watch you suffer…but not this time. You were already plotting your revenge as you put on your finest accessories and sunday best. If he was going to force you to sit through the horribly boring meeting—then you might as well force him to sit through your relentless teasing, right?

Alastor leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and amused smirk playing on his lips as he fixes his black bowtie. "Planning on outshining everyone at the meeting, are we, my doe?" You smirk. “I guess you could say that.” You say in a sing-songy tone. Alastor chuckles, his gaze never leaving yours as he straightens his tie and approaches you. He reaches out and gently turns your chin towards him, before offering his arm. "Shall we get going, my dear?" You gently wrap your arm around his, pushing your hair behind your ear. “We shall.”

And thats how you got here, sitting in your chair at the meeting, bored to death. You’re not the only one either. The Vees are all on their phones, Rosie is eating a meat sandwich with meat that looks suspiciously like a human hand, and Zestial is simply staring into space—Yet, Carmilla keeps going. Your husband has his usual smile stuck to his face—with a hint of a snide smirk, one that almost reminds you of the grinch. A devilish smirk that only made you want to enact your schemes sooner. You wanted to ruin him.

You slowly place your hand on an unsuspecting Alastor’s thigh, lightly rubbing it. Alastor keeps his eyes on Carmilla, but you can feel him lean into your touch slightly, as his eyes gently flicker to yours for what seems like less than a second. You can feel how the overlord tries to keep his composure, but his leg muscles tense under your touch. A slight smirk plays at his lips as he leans forward slightly to continue listening to Carmilla's monotone voice.

You slowly drag your hands further up his thigh, closer to his clothed cock. Alastor visibly tenses this time, his breaths becoming more and more shallow—and almost desperate? Alastor throat quietly, maintaining his usual smiling demeanor as his hands grip the armrests of the crimson office chair tighter. "Darling…" The radio demon whispers, his voice carrying a warning undertone. "We're…" He swallows hard. "In a meeting." His voice comes out raspier than intended under all the radio-static as he smacks your hand away.

You roll your eyes softly, continuing to watch Carmilla as your hands continue their upwards assault, finally arriving at his clothed erection. You gently rub as the demon next to you grips his cane in one hand, and the arm rest in another—his grasp is so tight his knuckles turn white. Alastor's face flushes a light shade of red, his breathing becoming more and more ragged with each passing second. He bites his lip hard to stifle a grunt—his eyes flickering to you with a mix of desire and a clear 'stop this' message. "Fuck.."

A bead of sweat slowly trickles down from his forehead, as Carmilla stops her speech about the souls you and the others may lose during the next extermination, and turns to Alastor, a small scowl on her face. “Is something wrong, Alastor?” She asks in a low tone, her voice just as raspy as usual. Alastor quickly composes himself, his face returning to its usual calm smiling expression as he meets Carmilla's gaze. "Nothing at all, Carmilla. Just a slight…discomfort." He says, his voice strained as he tries to hide the effect your subtle touches have on him.

Carmilla gives a small hum of acknowledgement in response. “Are you sure you’re fine, darling?” You ask, feigning a sweet tone of sympathy. Being the doting wife you are, how could to bare to see your darling husband suffer in the silence of a meeting? If only they knew. Alastor nods curtly, his eyes darting back to Carmine for a split second before he turns his attention back to you.

"I'm fine, ma chérie. Truly." He says, his voice a little sharper than intended as he tries to maintain his composure. “All right then.” You say, as sweet as pie but mentally smirking. Carmilla looks between you two, her gaze lingering on Alastor for a moment before she nods and continues speaking about the plans for the upcoming year. "As I was saying, we expect a significant increase in soul activity during the new year, so we'll need to adjust our patrols accordingly…” Carmilla drifts off.

For the remainder of the meeting, you tease Alastor with your fingers. At one point, you even give him a handjob. The demon had to put his hand over his mouth to silence his grunts of pleasure. But finally, after three and a half hours of a nonstop lecture from Carmilla, you were free to leave. The other overlords started filing out of the room—the Vees practically running—and you followed, your husband close behind.

Once outside, Alastor practically drags you to the nearest empty room—using his shadows to fight against your resistance—closing the door behind you. He spins you around to face the wall, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he presses his clothed erection against your core. "That was very naughty, darling. Teasing me under the table?." The overlord lets out a small chuckle, his wide smile never leaving his face. “I don’t know what you mean.” You feign innocence.

“Dressed like this?” Alastor gently rips your shirt off your body. "Liar." He hisses, his fingers digging into your hips possessively. He can still feel the phantom sensation of your fingers under the table, slowly driving him mad during Carmilla's lecture. "You think you can get away with torturing me like that, my precious doe?" You let out a small gasp. “Alastor-”

"Answer the question." He growls through his smile, his breath hot against your neck as he leans against your back, caging you in with his arms. "Was it on purpose?” The red demons eyes glare into yours, as the surrounding radio static grows louder. “Your outfit, the subtle leg movements, the tiny touches on my thigh under the table?" Your breathing grows shallow in anticipation. “Yes.” You breathe out. His breath catches in his throat at your admission, the red-hot need in his eyes growing more intense. "And why, may I ask, would you do something so…" His voice drops to a husky whisper. "So…" He grinds his hips against yours. "…provocative?"

“I don’t know.” You gasp. A deep chuckle escapes Alastor's lips, tinged with both amusement and arousal. "You don't know?" He whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "Or perhaps you simply enjoy the thrill of teasing your husband?" You tense up, mentally deciding staying silent was the best course of action as you let out a small wanton moan. Alastor’s large gloved hands slowly slide up your sides, his touch gentle yet firm. “I will make sure you get back your teasing tenfold, dearest.” He mockingly coos, as he nips at your neck. “Hold on tight, ma chérie d'amour.” You were in for a long night—that’s for sure.

[malusokay]

Our Brains Are Rotting and Cicero Knew

On distraction, decline, and the intellectual rot Cicero saw coming. (from my substack)

O tempora, o mores—Cicero’s lament still echoes, like a parent sighing at their kid for putting the milk back in the fridge empty. He hurled those words into a world that thought it was collapsing, but honestly, Rome didn’t even know what real rot was yet. Cicero stood in the Senate, cloaked in self-righteous fury (as only Cicero could), accusing the guilty and clutching at virtues that were slipping through his fingers. “Iniquissima haec bellorum condicio est: prospera omnes sibi vindicant, adversa uni imputantur,” he said—history is cruel, always ready to share the credit for triumphs but quick to pin failure on a scapegoat. And oh, how disappointed he’d be to know his words, once etched in fire, are now buried in scrollable trivia, nestled between TikTok trends and threads about the dying sourdough starters.

Our rot is quieter and more subtle, almost polite, like water slowly ruining the foundation of a house no one even lives in anymore. It doesn’t come with swords or collapsing senates, but with screens. Flickering, endless screens. A thousand voices all talking at once until it’s just static, white noise buzzing in your brain. The kicker? We hold the wisdom of entire empires in our sweaty little hands, every speech, every scroll, every fragment of brilliance painstakingly saved by people who didn’t even have plumbing—and we just let it rot beneath algorithmic garbage. We traded Lucretius for lip-syncs, ars est celare artem for captions written by bots.

And Cicero? Poor Cicero, who believed so fiercely in the res publica, in the duty to preserve both morality and intellect—he’d probably choke on his wine to see us not just distracted but actively sabotaging ourselves. “Nescire autem quid ante quam natus sis acciderit, id est semper esse puerum,” he warned, because ignorance of history is the fastest way to stay a child forever. And, well, here we are: eternal toddlers in the nursery of civilization, sucking on the pacifier of whatever mindless content the algorithm spits out next. We’re not just lost; we’re willingly staying lost. It’s almost impressive.

Yet we think we’re clever. That’s the worst part. We think we’ve outsmarted the ancients, with our steady diet of soundbites and videos, each one shorter and dumber than the last. Meanwhile, Cicero would be rolling his eyes so hard they’d get stuck. “Legum servi sumus, ut liberi esse possimus,” he’d remind us—slaves to the rules we create, but these aren’t the rules of a republic. They’re the rules of a distraction economy. We call it freedom, but it’s more like gilded captivity. Every thought reduced to a trend, every story a fifteen-second flicker. What freedom is that? It’s like decorating your prison cell with fairy lights and pretending it’s cosy.

The rot isn’t just in the content. It’s in the way we approach it, like tourists in a museum, glancing at the masterpieces but never stopping long enough to feel their weight. We skim the Iliad, marvelling at its age but missing its fire, its warnings, its unbearable humanity. We quote the poets but only because it sounds sharp on a tote bag, not because we understand the exhaustion behind it. The ancients fought for words like these, polished them with the desperation of people who knew empires could crumble at any moment. And what do we do? We scroll right past, looking for something quicker, easier, something that sparkles.

We are exactly the people Cicero feared: writing tweets no one will read, building monuments to vanity instead of virtue, shrugging off the weight of history for the cheap thrill of now. The ancients taught us better. They polished their words like marble, made them heavy and sharp, meant to outlast empires. But we’re just tossing them aside to chase the next shiny thing. It’s not that we don’t know better—it’s that we don’t care.

And so, our brains rot. Not from hunger, but from excess. From too much noise, too much fluff, too much everything. The cry of O tempora, o mores isn’t dead, but it’s definitely hoarse. And the worst part? We’ve stopped listening. We don’t even notice the silence.

thank you for joining me on my little 4 AM Cicero brain-rot spiral. Usually, things like this stay buried in my notes, but where’s the fun in that, right? Lots of love, Malu <3

[adragonprinceswhore]

Romancer

Aemond Targaryen x Wife

Summary: During King Aegon II tumultuous coronation, Aemond’s wife becomes the first casualty of the Targaryen civil war. The young prince’s grief drives him to Flea Bottom, where he meets a mysterious Qartheen necromancer, who promises to bring his love back. But as with any sorcery, there is a price to pay; with each of Aemond’s touches, she slowly rots away.

Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, death, violence, sorcery, necromancy, angst, longing, smut

A/N: Happy Halloween! 🖤

Word count: 4200

‘Twas but a fleeting instance. 

A dragon, the Red Queen, and her traitorous rider burst through the floors of King Aegon II’s coronation. 

Chaos followed. Shrill voices begging for mercy, children weeping, sobbed ramblings closer to nonsense than prayers.  

Prince Aemond, whose seeing eye had been fixed on his wife before the tumultuous entrance of Rhaenys Targaryen, steps to the side to protect his sister from Meleys’ wrath. 

When their cowardice wins, and the dragon and her rider leaves, his seeing eye falls back to where he had last seen his beloved. 

Only now, he cannot find her. 

As members of the King’s guard swarm around the royal family to protect them, a futile gesture far overdue, Aemond pushes between them to rush down the steps of the elevated platform made for the Targaryens to bask in the admiring gazes of their people. 

She couldn't have left, she was here just moments ago. 

His eye is frantic as it searches the soot-covered ruins around him. His silvery hair whips to the side as he desperately jerks his head from one side to another. Then, he catches sight of her hair. 

She lies on the ground, pushed down by large stones crushing her body. 

Aemond hauls them off with a strength bestowed upon him by his despair. A sob leaves his throat as he pulls her into his arms, gently stroking her hair, burying his face there and inhaling the dust decorating it. 

He holds her until the heat of her body leaves her. Until she’s cold as ice in his grip. Stiff and strange. 

Only once does he glance down at her, and to his horror, she’s changed. It’s not her anymore. 

The soft cheeks he used to trace his fingers down are now hollow. Her skin is discoloured, and her eyes lifeless. Almost white, like the soul has left them and in its wake, a mist settles over the grave that once was a loving gaze. 

Prince Aemond sits like that, with her lifeless, rigid body in his arms, for too long. 

He cannot tell how many hours have passed, but he knows that he has lost a day when the sun appears, and disappears. It feels like an eternity trapped in the blink of an eye. 

No one dares approach him. They know that the fiery prince will show no mercy to whoever chooses to disturb his mourning. 

So he’s left alone in his devastation, until he cannot bear it any longer. 

His fingers are blue from the cold air enveloping him in an embrace so chilling, it rattles his bones. 

His love has also turned impossibly cold in his hold. Colder than the freezing, blue burn of a dragon’s flame. 

When he can no longer withstand the chill, he finally stands. His legs almost give in and every inch of his body hurts. Still, he persists, never letting his love fall to the ground as he keeps a secure hold around her. 

She is heavier than anything he’s ever carried before. He knows her, and this is not her. How many times had he not lifted her onto their bed? Pulled her in his lap? This sack of flesh weighs far more than she ever did, and yet he cannot let go. So he persits, and carries her to their chambers, sacrificing his own aching limbs in the process. 

When he thinks he might pass out from the effort, he reaches their marital bed, and lays her on top of it. 

Tenderly, he places her arms on her stomach, brushes her hair from her face, and closes her eyes. 

She’s merely sleeping, nothing more. Nothing permanent, nothing everlasting. 

Soon, she’ll open her eyes, look up at him, and give him a smile that melts his heart. Until then, he carefully places a quilt over her, and lies down next to her to find sleep, as husband and wife, just like so many nights before. 

He finds slumber next to her, if only for a few hours. By the hour of the wolf, he’s once again awake, laying on his back, staring at the intricate carvings in the wooden canopy above him. In a moment of weakness, he reaches for her hand to hold, but when his touch is met by freezing cold fingers, he winches and quickly lets go, instead placing his hand on her stomach, covered by the quilt he’d placed over her. 

His mind is too restless to let him find slumber. One hundred ideas, possible scenarios, flash in his mind. Thoughts of how to fix this; how to undo this, won’t let him rest. 

The Seven say that death is final, but is that truly the case? Surely, in Old Valyria, where dragons roamed free and the practitioners of the dark arts ruled, warlocks would not be content with leaving death to the Gods? 

Another day passes by as Aemond is deeply submerged in his own contemplation. 

This cannot be the end of her; of their life together. His dear wife. His one true ally. The sweet mother of their future heirs. She is not gone. She cannot be.

By next daybreak, an idea from his latent mind floats into his consciousness, and causes the troubled prince to finally see clearly. 

Necromancy. The art of bringing back the dead. 

Fuelled by the fire of determination set ablaze within his chest, Aemond reluctantly leaves his lover's side, throws on a cloak, and orders a member of the King’s Guard to guard the door to his chambers with his life. 

Before he leaves, Aemond throws one last glance at his wife’s lifeless form, and kneels by their bed, pressing a chaste kiss against her cheek. ‘Tis cold and stiff, as he should have expected. Still, his heart breaks when his lips are not met by the warmth he so wishes would still flow within her.

“I will bring you a cure”, he promises next to her ear, and ventures out into the dark, bustling streets of King’s Landing.

Flea Bottom is as he remembers. 

Filthy and depraved. 

The mere smell of the streets corrodes the insides of his nostrils, air so thick with stench from pigsties and tanneries the prince buries his nose inside his hood and breathes through his mouth. 

Around each corner of the dilapidated buildings lurks another distraction; whores beckoning him into their lairs, conmen trying to trick him into buying false treasures. 

‘Tis not a place for the educated. Nor is it for the devoted. Flea Bottom is reserved for the lowest of men; the ones who revel in debauchery and make a living of their falsehood. 

With the help of a few silver stags, Aemond manages to navigate the dirt-filled cobblestones of King’s Landing’s foulest corner. By the hour of the eel, he’s directed towards a short, stocky man with small eyes obscured by thick, bushy eyebrows. 

At last, he has found what he’s looking for;

A foreign man familiar with the dark arts.

He smiles when the prince tells him of the task, cold yet amused, resembling a serpent, 

“There is always a price to pay, my prince. What are you willing to sacrifice?”

“Anything”

“What if the sacrifice is your own selfishness?”

Aemond does not need convincing. He has already made up his mind. Without her, warm and comforting and breathing in his arms, he is willing to offer the sorcerer anything. The strange man inspects him with beady eyes that shine in the fire dancing against the stoney walls,

“10 gold dragons. And I will restore your lady once more”

In the shadows of the night, Prince Aemond brings the warlock into his chambers. 

The mysterious man does not ask for much in order to perform his sorcery.

He orders a servant to bring him boiling water, sage, dirt from the courtyard, and a small vessel. 

The staff of the Red Keep work quickly, and when he has all he requires, he pulls out a short, thin dagger from the inside of his pocket, and hands it to his prince, 

“A drop of your blood, your grace”

Aemond complies, and slashes the tip of his ring finger with the small blade. The warlock catches his blood with the vessel and proceeds to the bed, cutting the skin of the prince’s wife as well, mixing her blood with his. He adds the soil of their land, smoke of burnt sage, and water to his concoction before working his fingers into her mouth to force it open, and pours the brew down her throat. 

Nothing happens. 

Quietly, he leaves her bed to wash his hands in the basin by the hearth. He does not seem displeased by the fact that his magic did not work, or frightened by the dragon prince observing him closely. 

Aemond inhales, ready to have the deceitful bastard executed, flames of anger dancing within his blood from the humiliating disappointment of trusting a common conman. 

But just as he’s about to unleash his fury, he hears it. 

A sigh, quiet as a whisper in the room, yet loud as thunder in the young prince’s ears, floats from their bed to where he stands. He whips his head so quickly to the side his neck hurts, and hurriedly walks towards where she lies, still with her eyes closed and in the same position he had left her in. 

He carefully brings his hand out, shaking like the leaves of a tree caught in a storm. His eyes cannot see her clearly, unshed tears becoming a veil of relief over his eye. His hand gently grabs hers, and despite her still cold skin, he feels it, the drum of her heart, dancing in her chest and sending waves of thuds through her body. He leans in closer, wanting to whisper a greeting against her soft skin, yet is disturbed by the presence behind him he had nearly forgotten,

“We have not yet discussed the price, your grace”

Aemond leans back and turns to face the sorcerer. He wears the same wicked smirk as before, as if the prince’s despair amuses him. 

Disgusting creature.

“You have your gold. You are dismissed”

“Oh, but that is not the price the Gods wish to see, my prince”, he says with a sickly sweet gleefulness that chills Aemond’s bones,

“Witchcraft angers the Gods. It mocks them. I told you your selfishness will be the price you pay, and They have agreed”

“What do you speak of? Spit it out”

His smirk widens, “Release her hand”

Aemond gently lets go of her, and watches as a bruise blossoms forth from underneath the delicate skin of her wrist. 

“With each touch, she moves closer to the Stranger once more. You may have her by your side, but you cannot indulge in her” 

Frozen in place, the prince does not answer. What will become of his life if he is not allowed to touch his beloved? Being beside her, yet so far away. 

The man forces Aemond out of his thoughts,

“Will you settle for that, my prince? Being tempted by her every day, until you draw your last breath?” 

“If that is the price the Gods wish to be paid” 

“Hm. And you are content with a life without heirs? Without a bedmate? Or will you look for that elsewhere? Have another bed your wife, claim the offspring as your own?” 

The question turns Aemond’s stomach. 

“Watch your tongue, warlock. Or I will take it” 

His icy voice does nothing but amuse the man further, whose lips draw even taunter as he feigns regret with a courteous nod,

“Forgive me, your grace. I did not mean offence. Surely, you must have considered all implications carefully to reach this conclusion”

In truth, he had not. But the thought of another touching what belongs to him, his most dear possession, is so repulsive to Aemond he swallows the bile pushing up his throat. 

No one else may ever touch her. 

By next morning light, she awakens.

Still in a delirious state, she asks her husband to come closer and embrace her, frightened by the visions she had seen in her resting state. 

The contentment Prince Aemond feels from once again speaking to her; seeing her draw breath, seeing colour reappear on her cheeks, is dulled the separation between them, and the realisation that this is how they will remain from now onwards. 

He tells her of it all; Rhaenys bursting through the boards, the necromancer and the price he paid to bring her back. 

A tear falls from her lashes when he tells her that they may never touch again, for she will once more decay if they do. 

With a forceful swallow, she pushes down her own sadness and nods, grateful that he loves her too much to live without her. 

And so, their new normality begins. 

They enjoy the same things they did before; taking their meals together, reading together, speaking of their duties together. 

He had told court that her life was saved thanks to a skilled maester visiting from Oldtown, aware of the dangers enlisting a man of the dark arts carries.  

Should the truth about her resurrection come to light, she might be sanctioned not only by the court, but by the Citadel as well, and thus forced back into the arms of the stranger. 

In their endurance, their days grow tense, each moment tainted by the unspoken heartbreak of separation. 

The most prominent change to their lives together is the longing squeezing the prince’s heart. 

Never before has he ached so much for something as he does for her touch. 

The pain inside his heart doubles when he catches her eyes observing him from across the table whenever they sit together. 

She looks so devastated by their separation, so overcome with yearning. 

He knows the feeling, ‘tis the same sorrow that reflects in his heart. And yet, there is nothing they can do. 

Aemond would rather spend an eternity with her, and never once more feel the warmth of her fingers on his flesh, than to watch her get pulled away by the stranger yet again. 

So he endures. 

An unforgiving storm whips the Red Keep with vexed, rainy lashes when he returns from Storm’s End. 

He is drenched, dripping from head to toe. His face looks haunted; as if he has met the eye of death himself. 

She sits by the hearth, embroidering a small, green dragon onto one of his tunics. Her needle clumsily pierces the tip of her finger as she sees her husband’s distressed state, 

“What is the matter, my love?” 

“Lucerys, he-, he’s dead” 

Aemond shakes from the cold of the rain soaking his clothes. With shaky fingers he peels off his leathers, until he is only in his underclothes, standing right before her by the fire to seek some warmth, 

“I did not mean to-, Vhagar-, she-”

The explanations die on his tongue. 

She meets his gaze, bewildered and pitiful, and nods in silent understanding, unsure of how to comfort him. Aemond sinks down to his knees, feeling the heat of the fire lick against his cold skin. ‘Tis little comfort; his bones still feel freezing. As does his heart, when he looks at her. So close, yet never close enough. 

Torture, that is what it is. A cruel jest from the Gods. 

“How can I ease your distress, my love?”, she asks, and he nearly whimpers at her sweet concern. If he cannot confess his suffering to her, then who? 

“I fear I am a selfish man, after all”, he says defeatedly, 

“Even now I miss you, when you sit before me. I crave your touch - to feel you near. To be inside you. I am not whole unless I am with you - part of you, my love”

The smile on her face is filled with sorrow, piteous eyes glimmering against the warm glow of the hearth. She shuffles in her seat, pulls her hand out, and opens it in an inviting gesture, 

“I can spare a few years in my elderly days if I may feel your touch for one more night, my love”

And who is he to deny his love? 

To dismiss her sweet pleas? 

He would never deny her anything. 

He moves forward, crawling towards where she sits like the depraved hound he is. When he reaches her, he pulls the skirts of her small clothes up to reveal the soft meat of her things, and lays his head there, only for a moment. 

A sigh escapes him, so content to feel her softness against his cheek once more. ‘Tis like finding salvation after a life in sin; an otherworldly experience. 

He nuzzles into her skin, and she brings one hand to the side of his face, gently tracing his cheekbone and threading the silk of his hair between her fingers. After a moment of still devotion, he pushes the fabric further up to kiss her cunny, the only drink his parched lips crave. 

A startled gasp echoes above him, and the hand she carefully stroked his hair with turns into a painful grip. He adores the sting against his scalp. Hurriedly, he steals a peak from her, wasting no time to finally feel whole again. 

Kissing his way up her panting body, he finally tastes the reward he had coveted so. Her lips are even sweeter than he remembered them; soft, warm and most comforting. 

He stands and pulls her up to do the same, leading her to their bed with quick, long strides. He removes her small clothes as if he despises them, tearing the fabric and grunting at the layers separating him from the light of his life. When she is finally bare before him, he strips himself and joins her on their bed, finding his home between her thighs. She is so slick he slides in as if he were the missing piece of her incomplete body, and they both cry out at the all-consuming bliss of finally being together, being one, once more. 

His arms snake underneath her back, pulling her so close to him each inch of her skin touches his. Their lips stay locked together, moans and pleasurable sighs bouncing between their mouths. 

He cannot tell if the wetness on her cheek is proof of her own relief, or his. 

Nevertheless, he kisses it away, closes his eyes, and disappears into the bliss of having her again. 

They stay intertwined through the night, and by first light, Aemond reluctantly lets go of his love. 

The light that illuminates their chambers is scarce in the early hours of the morning, yet he can see the discolouration travelling up the limbs of his wife; painting her legs and arms in odd, painful colours. 

Their indulgence had cost her greatly. 

Regret stabs his heart; potent and aching. 

What have I done? 

‘Tis as if the small dagger the warlock carried were lodged inside his chest, reminding him of the devious man he had become. 

A kinslayer. 

His bloodthirsty quest for selfish pursuits; justice, comfort, love, is naught but foolishness. 

And now those around him pay the price. 

Aemond makes sure to keep distance from her, and he suffers immensely from it. 

On the night he came back from Storm’s End, he had found peaceful slumber in the arms of his beloved. Each night since, he is tormented by nightmares; visions of his worst fears playing in his mind. 

Cold skin, blood, bruises.

He fears Rhaenyra’s wrath. The retribution he will have to atone for Lucerys’ life. 

Will he be the one to pay it this time? 

Or will the burden of his crimes once more fall on the shoulders of his loved ones? 

Aemond does not need to wait long for retaliation.  

Rhaenyra’s revenge go by the names of Blood and Cheese, a ratcatcher and a disgraced butcher. The pair snook into the chambers of his young nephew, heir to the Iron Throne Jaehaerys, and slew the boy in front of Aemond’s sweet sister, Helaena. 

His hands are no longer merely tainted by the crimson of Lucerys’ blood. His pursuit for vengeance cost him the life of his nephew, and his sister, so lost in grief she can no longer leave her chambers. He only visits her once, horrified by the ghost of a person the queen has become. 

‘Tis my fault.

And it echoes in the prince’s mind anywhere he goes. 

When he trains with Ser Criston. When he flies on Vhagar. When he breaks his fast with his wife.

‘Tis my fault. 

When his mother can’t meet his eye. When his brother sinks deeper into his cups. When his grandfather no longer confides in him.

‘Tis my fault. 

The only light remaining is his dear lady wife. 

She still regards him with love. 

Her eyes still sparkle as he enters their chambers after a long day. Her mouth still forms a smile whenever he greets her.

“Her sweetness is wicked”, Prince Aemond thinks, “So inviting, beckoning me in, yet I must remain at a distance”

They still sleep next to one another, separated by an arm’s length. A small distance that feels infinite as he longingly steals glances of her sleeping form. 

A siren calling to him, taunting him with her soft, warm flesh. 

He knows that a night with her in his arms would ease his distress; allow him to find slumber and wake up as a better man. 

I would be a better man, for her. 

And that is the last thing he thinks before he shuffles closer, gently pulls her into his arms, and buries his nose in her hair. 

If he were a better man, he would have stopped after one night. But by now, Aemond knows that he is not. 

He is a self-serving, weak craven. 

The first night of having her in his arms while she slept did not soothe the longing aching in his chest as he thought it would. It doubled it. And by next nightfall, he waited for her to drift to sleep before greedily pulling her into his arms once more. 

He sees the toll his nightly indulgence has on her body rapidly. The bruises that had decorated her limbs grow darker, like those of an apple decaying. They now travel from her hands and feet, up her arms and legs, and bloom out over her stomach, chest, and neck. 

Aemond finds himself looking at her less and less. 

‘Tis my fault. 

“Mayhaps we need to seek out the sorcerer again for council?”, she questions one day as she carefully observes the bruises colouring her body. She presses on one and winces, lips pulled down into a displeased frown. 

She is withering. Rotting away. 

“I will”, Aemond says, and the lie is so bitter on his tongue, he wonders if his foul ways have caused poison to grow from within him. 

He had stolen Lucerys’ life above Storm’s End. A quick affair, an instance that he regretted as soon as he saw Vhagar’s jaw close around the small dragon. He did not mean to do it; to take his life. He only meant to seek justice for his eye; for the pain his nephew had caused him. For disfiguring him. 

‘Tis what he has become known for; kinslaying. The merciless murder of the young boy who wronged him. If the court only knew of how vile he truly is.

With each night that passes, he steals another flicker of the flame keeping the light of his life alive. He sees her grow paler, the bruises now covering nearly every inch of her being, slowly working their way towards her heart, drumming weaker and weaker in her chest. 

And yet, he cannot stop. He needs solace; the only good thing in his life. Holding her near, feeling the heat of her melt the icy bolts of remorse and guilt shooting within him. 

Tonight, he knows it is their last time. She can hardly open her eyes anymore. Her lips are purple, skin a sick melody of various shades, and her heart beats slowly, as if it is fighting with each thud. 

Just like the nights before, he lies down next to her, pulls her into his arms, inhales her scent, and closes his eyes. 

“This time, she perishes by my hand”, he thinks, “She gave me everything, and yet I took more”

But what is love, if not to take? 

Take and take and take, until there is nothing left. 

No one savours love. 

No one would ever feel satisfied with only a taste. 

It is meant to be devoured. And that’s what Prince Aemond tells himself, as his love finally draws her last breath in his arms. 

“Forgive me”, his whisper begs, 

“I have devoured you. I have let my selfishness slaughter you. Now I await my own demise, one that will come to me soon”

His fingers gently dance over her cheek, 

“I welcome it. I welcome a chance to meet you once more”

He holds her closer, feeling the warmth of her body leave for the second time in their lives,

“Until then, sleep well, my love, and I will return to you soon”

A/N; I hope you enjoyed this little Halloween fic of mine! I tried to go with a bit more classic, haunting and tragic theme, and it was so fun to write.

If you enjoyed this, please check out my fic Colour My Mind, Bring Me Back. It has very similar vibes and I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Kisses!

[seongwars]

𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 | 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Pairing: Viscount!Choi San x Countess!Reader AU: non-idol | regency Rating: T/NC-17 Summary: After falling prey to one of Choi San’s cruel games, you vowed yourself to a life of eternal spinsterhood. But when a fire leaves the Choi estate in ruins, the very man you swore you would never forgive re-enters your life. Word Count: 6K Warnings: angst if you squint, mentions of hunting, not really proofread, inaccurate depictions of the era (sorry history buffs 😭)

Fic Masterlist | Taglist Signup

a/n: thank yunho's tiddie for getting this chapter across the finish line

“I need to speak with you,” you hissed to your brother as you approached the group of other hunters. Yeosang turned, one hand steadying the reins of his horse, his expression shifting from curiosity to mild annoyance at your tone.

“Can this wait? The hunt is about to start,” he said, gesturing subtly toward the assembled group. Riders were mounting their horses, hounds were being corralled ahead and the air alive with murmurs of anticipation.

“No,” you snapped, grabbing his arm before he could brush you off. “Not when it might involve our family.” 

“Alright.” He exhaled through his nose, glancing briefly at the others before steering you aside, away from prying eyes and ears. The cluster of hunters faded into the background as the two of you walked briskly toward the edge of the field.

“What’s this about?” 

You glanced over your shoulder, scanning the group of hunters in the distance to make sure no one was within earshot. 

“I overheard something while I was in the stables,” you began, your chest tightening as you replayed the conversation. “There were a few stablehands talking about the fire at the Choi estate. I don’t think it was an accident.”

“That’s a bold claim,” he said, narrowing his eyes. He studied your face carefully, searching for any trace of exaggeration. As a child your wild imagination had driven your tutors to the brink, and even now, you could tell that your brother wasn’t fully convinced.

“Yeosang, I wouldn’t be telling you if I wasn’t! They said whoever burned the estate was paid off.”

“Paid off by who?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your tone tinged with frustration. “They didn’t say. But they did mention something else.” You hesitated, swallowing hard before you forced the words out. 

“The Parks might be next.”

“The Parks?” 

You nodded, your throat tightening as you saw the realization dawn in his eyes. “Look, whoever’s behind this isn’t just going after one family—they’re working their way through the ton. Who isn’t to say that we’d be next.”

“And you’re sure that’s what you heard? Not just some stablehands gossiping about nonsense?”

“I know what I heard,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze with conviction. 

“There were three of them, they sounded nervous, like they knew something they shouldn’t!” 

Yeosang sighed. “If what you’re saying is true, we need more than just words. We need proof.”

At his words, your shoulders slumped, the determination you had clung to crumbling under the cold weight of reality. Proof. Of course, he was right. But where were you supposed to find it? How could you, when the rules of your world kept you firmly under watch, always one step away from being dismissed as nothing more than a hysterical woman with an overactive imagination? Especially a spinster, nonetheless. 

You opened your mouth to protest, to beg him to take action now instead of waiting, but before you could speak, the call of the hunt master’s horn reverberated through the air, signaling the start of the chase.

Yeosang’s head snapped toward the sound, and his brow furrowed. “The hunt is starting,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. He glanced back at you, his expression softening slightly. 

“We’ll revisit this later.”

You inhaled deeply, willing yourself to swallow your frustration. “Fine,” you said curtly, your voice clipped as you forced the word out. 

Yeosang gave you a small nod before turning to mount his horse. You trudged back to the stablehand, who was holding Darcy ready for you. You swung yourself into the saddle and adjusted your grip on the reins before departing with the rest of the riders.

The party moved smoothly into action, the steady rhythm of galloping hooves and excited murmurs weaving through the forest as they ventured deeper into the woods. From the treetops birds, startled by the thundering hooves, scattered as the scent of earth filled the air.  

Yunho rode just ahead of you, his posture effortlessly confident, flanked by your brother and Park Seonghwa. The group was focused, each rider scanning the dense underbrush with sharp eyes and heightened senses, poised to react at the slightest hint of movement.

The pace of the group slowed as they approached a small clearing, the riders fanning out to search for any signs of movement in the brush. You guided your horse forward, keeping to the edge of the group, scanning the treeline intensely. 

“Miss Kang,” a voice drawled.

You wrinkled your nose and tightened your grip on the reins. Who was this man? What was his name again? Did it even matter? Probably not.

“Surely this isn’t the place for someone as delicate as you,” he continued condescendingly. “Shouldn’t you leave the hunt to the men? A lady like you has no business out here.”

“Indeed,” his companion chimed in. “Perhaps you’d allow one of us to escort you back to the manor. It would be such a shame if you were startled by the prey, or worse, injured.”

Your jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, you considered playing the role of the delicate lady. But who are you kidding? You’re the daughter of the late Earl Kang. 

“Forgive me, gentlemen,” you said, voice thick with mock sincerity. “I didn’t realize children were allowed on this hunt.”

One of them bristled, his nostrils flaring, no doubt ready to retaliate with some clever insult. But when he opened his mouth, nothing came out, only a stuttered breath. The second man’s reaction was quicker, though not any less telling. He adjusted his gloves, a futile attempt to reassert his dignity after your jab as if that alone could restore his pride.

San, standing just behind you, let out a soft snort of amusement, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. 

The man scoffed, clearing his throat. “There’s no shame in recognizing one’s limitations,” he muttered, eyes narrowing as though waiting for you to cower.

“Ah, so you have recognized yours,” you shot back smoothly. “Admission is the first step to improvement.”

“Why you–”

“Is there a problem?”

Yunho’s horse appeared at your side, his usually warm, playful demeanor completely gone. In its place was something colder and dangerous. His head tilted slightly, the subtle movement more menacing than any overt threat. It was a warning, a reminder that he wasn’t someone to trifle with.

Muttering excuses to themselves, they retreated to a safer distance, throwing one last, half-hearted glare in your direction before disappearing down the trail.

“Are you alright?” 

You nodded curtly, but the tension bristling between San and Yunho made your irritation flare. They didn’t need to shield you like this, not from every little interaction. 

“I appreciate the gesture gentlemen, but I’m fine,” you huffed. 

Men, you thought irritably. Always so dramatic.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your posturing, but the hounds have picked up a scent,” Yeosang called, his tone dry as he pulled up beside you on his horse. 

The horses shifted restlessly, sensing the change in atmosphere, their hooves stamping against the earth. Norman barked once, his tail wagging eagerly as he waited for your command.

You swung down from your horse in one fluid motion, landing lightly on the ground. “Norman, to me,” you ordered.

The fox terrier obeyed immediately, bounding to your side, his nose twitching as he caught the trail of the beast. A flurry of motion erupted as a fox darted from the underbrush, its red coat flashing in the sunlight as it bolted toward the far side of the clearing. 

The hounds sprang to life, their barks rising in excitement as they surged forward, noses to the ground. Riders shouted commands to their mounts, urging them into motion, the clearing erupting into chaos.

You wasted no time charging forward after Norman, who was already disappearing into the brush. The sound of pounding hooves and snapping branches filled the air as you pushed ahead. The shouts and hoofbeats of the others faded behind you, swallowed by the thick forest as you slowed Darcy to a halt near a narrow stream, dismounting quickly as Norman paused to sniff the air.

“Good boy,” you murmured, patting Darcy’s neck before tying his reins to a low-hanging branch. 

The fox’s trail was fresh, and Norman was eager, his nose glued to the ground as he tracked it toward the underbrush. You followed him on foot, your boots crunching softly against the forest floor. The stillness of the woods wrapped around you, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves and Norman’s occasional barks. You were alone now, the rest of the party far behind, but you welcomed the solitude.

Or so you thought.

⊹

You cast another glance over your shoulder, now thoroughly exasperated, and picked up your pace again. San, undeterred, matched your strides easily, his legs longer than yours.

“Why are you following me?” you snapped, whipping around to fully face him.

“I’m not following you,” San replied smoothly, his tone light but with a teasing edge. 

“I’m following Norman.”

The words had slipped out before he could stop them, and for a second, San faltered, wondering if he’d gone too far. The last thing he wanted was to dig himself deeper into the mess he’d already made. He hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t meant to turn this into another jab, but his instinct for banter had betrayed him.

Did you really think he was just trying to irritate you? Probably. But the truth was, San missed this, missed you. Missed the way your quick wit always kept him on his toes, how you never backed down from a verbal sparring match. It was the only way he knew how to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

You huffed, turning away with an incredulous shake of your head. “Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath. 

“Y/N?” 

You froze, glancing over your shoulder to see San emerging from the thicket, his horse nowhere in sight. His dark hair was disheveled, strands sticking to his forehead, and his jacket was dusted with leaves and dirt.

His horse was nowhere to be seen.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

He hesitated, glancing around the clearing as if searching for an answer. “Just… making sure the others aren’t bothering you,” he said, his voice casual but not entirely convincing.

You sighed, crossing your arms.

“It’s not my fault the forest looks the same from every direction!”

You didn’t need San’s company, didn’t want it, even, but for now, you had no choice but to tolerate it. And if his sense of direction caused you any more trouble, you’d have no qualms about leaving him behind.

“I could shoot you here, and no one would hear it,” you declared flatly as San tailed you.

“I’d expect nothing less from you,” he replied, raising his hands in a mock gesture of surrender.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, resuming your focus on Norman, who was sniffing diligently at the ground ahead. The hound’s tail wagged as he caught onto a stronger scent, oblivious to the tension brewing behind him.

Norman barked sharply, drawing your attention. He darted forward, his nose glued to the ground, and you quickly followed, stepping over a fallen log as you trailed him deeper into the woods.

The trail grew narrower, the canopy above thickening until only slivers of sunlight broke through. Norman led the way, his excitement palpable, while San followed close behind, occasionally glancing around as if trying to memorize the route, though you suspected it wouldn’t help him in the slightest.

His footsteps crunched softly against the forest floor as he kept pace a few steps behind you. Neither of you spoke, but you were keenly aware of his presence, and it irritated you more than you cared to admit.

“The forest is quieter here than I expected,” he said, his tone casual.

You didn’t look back. “That’s how forests work.”

“Right.” He paused, then added, “Still, it’s nice. Peaceful, in a way.”

You huffed a noncommittal sound, keeping your eyes fixed ahead as Norman barked excitedly. He darted toward a cluster of dense underbrush, his body low to the ground as if ready to pounce.

“Norman, hold!” you commanded sharply, stepping forward to grab his collar before he could move any closer.

The terrier froze, ears pricked, gazing at you in confusion. You crouched, parting the brush to uncover the source of his alertness: a small den nestled beneath the roots of a massive tree, concealed by a tangle of brambles and leaves. Inside, tiny, wiggling shapes huddled together—fox kits.

Their tiny bodies were pressed together for warmth, and one stirred, its ears twitching as it let out a small, sleepy yawn before nestling back into the pile. 

San crouched beside you, his expression softening as he observed the scene. “They’re just babes,” he murmured.

You nodded, tightening your grip on Norman. The hound stood tense, muscles coiled, awaiting a command to chase. Yet he remained obedient, ears twitching at the soft sounds of the kits shifting.

“Come,” you said, your voice quieter now. “We’re turning back.”

The forest around you was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind and the distant baying of hounds further ahead. The rest of the hunting party would be expecting you soon, no doubt already boasting of their own triumphs.

“Before I forget…” San cleared his throat, shifting slightly as he walked beside you. You caught the way his fingers curled into the fabric of his coat before he shoved his hands into his pockets. 

“I wanted to thank you for covering for me the other day. You know, the fountain incident.”

Ah, yes. How could you possibly forget?

Your precious fox terrier had decided without warning that the fountain was the perfect place for a swim. In your futile attempt to retrieve him, you lost you balance and found yourself tumbling head first into the fountain and into the arms of your arch nemesis.

“The maids were going to assume that regardless,” you said flatly, giving him a withering look. 

“I had to preserve some dignity.”

“R-Right.” San cleared his throat. 

It was bad enough that he was in such close proximity to you, close enough to catch the subtle scent of your perfume. Close enough to notice the way the sunlight spilled over you, forming a halo that made you seem almost untouchable.

But worse than that?

Worse was the fact that his heart was racing when it had no right to. When he had no right to you. Not after everything he had done. Not after the way he had broken you heart all those years ago.

You weren’t even looking at him. Not really. Your gaze was distant, unreadable, as if the past had been buried so deep that it no longer touched you. As if he no longer touched you.

But San?

San was drowning in everything he thought he had left behind.

You walked ahead, keeping your steps measured and controlled. San, however, lingered just behind you as you refused to acknowledge his presence. 

After a long pause, he finally spoke. “It’s a lovely day.”

You hummed in vague agreement, not bothering to look at him. Undeterred, he tried again. 

“The ton has been lively this season.”

“Has it?”

“Do you think your brother will find a match?”

“I did not realize you were interested in the affairs of the ton, Mr. Choi,” you replied flatly. 

San let out a quiet chuckle. “Hardly. It’s just that there seem to be an abundance of bachelors this season.”

You froze. It was a harmless statement, just idle small talk, the kind of thing anyone might say in passing. But it struck something deep in you, like an old wound reopening. 

Was he implying that he was one of them? That he still held the ton in the palm of his hand, effortlessly sought after, endlessly desired? Was this his way of boasting? Of reminding you how highly he was regarded, how easy it was for him to be admired?

You didn’t want to show it. You didn’t want to feel it. But there it was, crawling up your throat, clawing at your chest. You could hear it clearly now, echoing in the back of your mind—the words that had made you feel small. Insignificant.

Pathetic little wallflower.

Your fingers clenched at your sides.

San must have noticed the change in your expression because he tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering with genuine concern. “Is something the matter?”

“Why do you care?” You forced yourself to breathe, to suppress the bitterness rising in your throat. 

“I was simply making conversation,” he replied carefully.  

Your lips curled in a humorless smile. “Shall I applaud you, then? For once again securing your title as one of the ton’s most eligible bachelors?”

San’s eyes widened, and you could see the confusion in his face. He hadn’t expected this. But you didn’t care anymore. You couldn’t let him think for one second that his attempts at civility meant anything more than a poor effort to make himself feel better.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said carefully. “Apologies, Y/N, I–”

“Do you enjoy making a mockery of me, Mr. Choi?” you interrupted, your voice cold and clipped.

San stiffened. “No, that’s not—”

“Then why else would you feel the need to remind me how desirable you remain? How you are still sought after, still admired, while my prospects ended the moment you decided I was nothing more than a means to an end?”

San flinched, as if your words had struck him harder than any physical blow. He opened his mouth, perhaps to defend himself, to explain, but you didn’t wait to hear it.

“Do not act as though you are granting me a favor by speaking to me now,” you continued, voice unyielding. 

“Not when you have already shown me that I am not worth courting, let alone marrying.”

You turned sharply and stormed off with your pulse pounding in your ears. Every step you took felt like it was pulling you further from the mess of emotions San had stirred in you. It was easier to leave him standing bewildered than to waste another second trying to make sense of his half-hearted apology, one that he probably thought would absolve him of everything.

Norman trotted quietly beside you, occasionally glancing up as if to check that you were truly alright. But in your anger, you didn’t notice the gnarled tree root sticking up from the ground. 

Your foot caught, and you stumbled forward, landing hard on your hands and knees. Pain shot through your ankle as you hissed in pain, clutching it as you tried to push yourself up, only for the ache to intensify.

“Y/N!” San was there in an instant, his hands reaching for you. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t need your help,” you cut him off. 

You straightened as much as you could, leaning heavily on your uninjured leg. Norman whined, nudging your arm, but you exhaled sharply and took a step forward, biting back the pain. 

San hovered behind you, watching, but he didn’t dare reach for you again.

And you didn’t look back.

The last thing you wanted right now was to be anywhere near him and you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you so vulnerable and hurt.

“She has sustained a twisted ankle, but it is nothing life threatening. She’ll need to be on bed rest for the next few days,” Dr. Song said, rolling his sleeves down.

You groaned, flopping back against the pillows as your mother flitted about the room, shooting worried glances between you and the doctor as though you had been delivered a death sentence rather than a minor injury.

“Y/N!” 

You felt the gazes of the hunting party on you as you made your way to the clearing with San’s gaze into the back of your head. Yeosang had rushed over, barking interrogations at San.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded. 

Yunho, however, was focused only on you. He stepped closer, his brows furrowed in concern as his gaze swept over your face.

“You’re hurt,” he stated, his voice quieter than the others but no less insistent.

“Oh, well I didn’t realize,” you muttered sarcastically. “What ever would I do without your keen observations, your grace?”

Before you could brush him off, he was already moving, his hands gentle but firm as he guided you toward a fallen log at the edge of the clearing. You barely had a moment to protest before he was kneeling before you, one hand steadying your calf while the other carefully unlaced your boot. Yunho’s jaw tightened slightly as he turned your foot with the utmost care, his fingertips ghosted over the tender skin just above your ankle.

“It’s swelling,” he muttered. “Why didn’t Mr. Choi help you?”

You hesitated.

What good would it do? Complaining about San wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t undo how he had to remind you that you were undesirable while he was the jewel of the season. If it were possible for rakes to be jewels.

“It doesn’t hurt as bad as when I fell on it,” you said, keeping your tone light. “I just needed a moment to walk it off.”

He shook his head, exasperated but unsurprised, before lifting you up on to his horse. 

“You’re not taking another step.”

From a distance, San tuned out Yeosang’s demands. His gaze remained locked onto you and Yunho, watching as the duke carefully adjusted the reins in your hands, his arm brushing against yours in a gesture that was both natural and infuriatingly intimate.

“You expect me to believe you left her alone in the woods?” Yeosang demanded, disbelief sharpening his tone. His gaze flicked over San, searching for any tell, any sign of guilt. He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer.

“San.”

“She said she was fine,” he snapped back, his expression unreadable. “Who am I to argue?”

Yeosang scoffed, unimpressed. “Fine? She was limping, you absolute bastard.” He crossed his arms and flexed his jaw.

San’s gaze flickered back to you, just as Yunho murmured something too soft for anyone else to hear, drawing a small, reluctant smile from you. His grip on his riding gloves tightened slightly.

“If anyone hears she was alone with you—injured, no less—you know what they’ll assume,” Yeosang said, his voice steely. “

A scandal of that magnitude would leave her no choice but to marry you. And we both know that’s the last thing she’d ever want.”

You stifled the urge to groan again, but when your mother turned toward the door to see Dr. Song out, an idea struck. If she was going to make a spectacle of your injury, why not use it to your advantage?

If you were stuck here at Yunho’s estate, left alone while everyone else fretted over the logistics of your recovery, perhaps you could finally set your plan into motion. A perfect excuse to slip away unnoticed, to uncover the truth behind the fire and to put as much distance between you and San. 

It was perfect. 

You let out a soft, pitiful whimper, shifting slightly against the pillows as if the movement sent a wave of pain through you. Pressing a hand to your ankle, you sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Ah—Mother!” you said, feigning discomfort. “It really hurts.”

After all, the mystery arsonist wasn’t going to wait for you to heal.

She spun back around in an instant, eyes widening with alarm. “Oh, my Y/N!” she cried, hurrying to your side. 

“Dr. Song said it wasn’t serious, but perhaps he underestimated the pain. Should I call for him again? Do you need more pillows? Something for the pain?”

You resisted the urge to smirk. Instead, you winced for good measure, leaning your head back against the pillows. “No…no, I’ll be fine,” you sighed dramatically. 

“I just need to rest. Perhaps… some ink and parchment and…possibly a bell for my needs.”

“Of course, darling,” she said, smoothing a hand over your forehead before standing. “I’ll make sure everything is taken care of.”

As she hurried out of the room, rattling off instructions to the servants, you finally allowed a small, satisfied smile to slip through. You adjusted your pillows, propping yourself up just enough to comfortably reach the desk beside your bed. The servant who entered moments later placed a fresh stack of parchment and a well-trimmed quill on the surface, bowing slightly before retreating without a word. 

Perfect.

You dipped the quill into the ink, tapping it lightly against the rim of the inkwell before pressing the tip to the page before scrawling out the possibilities. 

Revenge? Perhaps the Chois had enemies, as did most noble families. But servants? What threat did they pose? The person who burned down the manor was a paid servant, disgruntled enough to take the money for the job. You leaned back, exhaling slowly. Whoever was behind this wasn’t just wiping out a family—they were sending a message.

You let out a long, frustrated groan, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. You needed to find the stablehands from the hunt as they had been the last to handle the horses, the ones who would have seen who came and went, who might have noticed something others had overlooked. But how would you track them down?

You had no names, no descriptions, only the knowledge that they had been there that day. If they had been hired specifically for the event, they could be long gone by now, taking work where they could. And if they had belonged to a particular house, you’d have to sift through the web of noble connections, hoping to find out who had brought their own staff and who had relied on the host’s.

You leaned forward, staring at the notes before you, willing an answer to appear. Think.

And then it hit you.

A slow grin spread across your face as the idea took shape. If you asked your brother to casually inquire with Yunho about the hunt, he might be able to get you the information you needed without raising suspicion. 

Yunho would know exactly who had attended, whether they had brought their own stablehands or if all the workers had been part of his staff. And if any unfamiliar names cropped up, ones that didn’t belong to the usual estate workers…then you had your trail.

Now all that was left was convincing your brother to play along. You exhaled, already bracing yourself for the argument to come as you grabbed the bell the maid had brought for you. 

“No.”

“Please.”

Yeosang sighed, dragging a hand over his face. The last few hours had been nothing short of a whirlwind—between your injury and your mother’s insistence that the family remain at your side, declaring you far too frail to travel, he had barely caught a moment’s rest.

He had done his best to steer clear of your mother, but, of course, you had a way of pulling him into the chaos. His gaze flickered to the bell on your nightstand, the one you had requested, supposedly to communicate with the staff. He had half expected you to ignore it, assuming you had only asked for it to be difficult.

"You do realize you are asking me to procure information that, if traced back to you, could land you in even greater trouble?"

You gave him a pointed look. "Which is precisely why it must come from you and not me."

He dragged a hand down his face. "Unbelievable."

"So, you’ll do it?" you pressed.

“No.”

You huffed, crossing your own arms in a mirrored stance. "Yunho is your dearest friend. He could not possibly suspect you of ill intent!"

"That is precisely why this is a terrible idea. He knows me too well."

"Yeosang, please," you implored, lowering your voice. "I need to know who the stablehands were that day. If there is any hope of uncovering the truth, it lies with them."

Your brother remained still, his gaze unreadable as he studied you in the dim glow of the room. The fire crackled softly behind him, casting flickers of light that did little to ease the tension settling between you.

He exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching at his sides as though fighting the urge to throw a cushion at you, to shake you from your stubbornness, from your ceaseless meddling in affairs that, in his mind, did not concern you. 

And yet, this was his lot in life, was it not? The fate of an older brother to an eternal spinster, forever tasked with keeping you from bringing ruin upon yourself.

Still, Yeosang's hesitance was not born of fear. No, Yeosang had never been a coward. He was not afraid of what he might find; he was afraid of what it would mean, because once he set this course in motion, there would be no turning back.

"If I do this," he said slowly, "you swear that you will not act recklessly upon whatever you learn."

You straightened, meeting his stare unflinching. "I swear it."

⊹

You were reclining against the plush pillows of your bed, absentmindedly flipping through a book while your injured ankle was propped on a cushion. The past day had been an exercise in patience, something you sorely lacked, but you consoled yourself with the knowledge that Yeosang had promised to obtain the information you needed. Soon, you would know the names of the stablehands present at the hunt.

So when the door creaked open and Yunho stepped inside, your heart leapt in anticipation.

“Oh! Yunho!” You tossed aside the book resting in your lap and sat up a little straighter, smoothing the fabric of your dress in an attempt to look presentable. Not that it mattered—it was just Yunho.

“How is your ankle?” His gaze flickered briefly to where it was still propped up on a cushion as he pulled a chair closer to the bed.

“It’s fine,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “The swelling has receded.” 

You tilted your head, a knowing smile creeping onto your lips. “What brings you here?”

This was it.

He had the list. He had to. Yeosang had spoken with him—hadn’t he? Yunho had come all this way, personally, and he looked… serious. Hesitant, even. This was the moment where he confirmed what you already knew: Yeosang had done as he was supposed to.

“Well…Yeosang mentioned something to me earlier.”

Your stomach coiled in anticipation. 

“Yes?” you prompted, doing your best to appear patient despite the way your pulse quickened.

Yunho met your gaze.

“Would you be interested in attending the opera with me?”

You blinked at him, utterly dumbfounded. What?

“Of course, after your ankle has healed,” he added smoothly, as if that clarified anything.

“…I beg your pardon?”

“I was surprised too,” Yunho admitted, mistaking your complete and utter bewilderment for embarrassment. “But Yeosang seemed certain, and I thought…well, I thought you might allow me to accompany you.”

Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then it opened again. Your mind struggled to process what was happening.

Yeosang had what?

“There’s no need to worry about seating,” Yunho continued, evidently taking your silence as hesitation rather than abject shock. 

“I’ll secure us a private box. The performance is in a few weeks’ time.”

That traitor. That absolute menace of a brother who only had one task. 

Was this what he had been doing while you were here, anxiously waiting for actual information? Spinning elaborate tales about your supposed lack of a love life? To Yunho of all people?

You could already picture the scene: your brother, lounging without a care in the world, weaving whatever nonsense he pleased while Yunho sat there, soaking it all in like it was the most entertaining thing he’d heard in weeks.

“That… sounds lovely,” you finally managed, smiling tightly. You weren’t entirely sure how to feel about his invitation, but before you could dwell on it further, Yunho shifted the conversation effortlessly.

“Before I forget,” he murmured, nodding to the maid standing by the door. She stepped forward, presenting him with a parcel wrapped in simple brown paper. He made quick work of the string, letting the paper fall away to reveal its contents. Your initial skepticism was quickly replaced by genuine surprise. 

Nestled within the packaging were beautifully bound sheets of music, their once vibrant edges slightly worn, as if they had traveled through time itself. Your breath caught as you gingerly flipped through the compositions, your fingers tracing the delicate notes written by a hand long gone. The music was intricate, sophisticated, far more than anything you had ever expected from one of Yunho’s usual "finds."

“Where on earth did you find this?” you asked, marveling at the notes.

Yunho’s playful demeanor softened as he watched your reaction, clearly pleased with himself.

“A merchant from Italy was docked at the port,” he explained, leaning back in his seat.

You raised an eyebrow, still flipping through the pages. “Is that so?”

“Well,” Yunho admitted with a sheepish grin, “I may have mentioned I was looking for some rare items for a friend who appreciates these sorts of things. He showed me his collection, and when I saw the quality, I couldn’t leave without bringing some of it back for you.”

Your fingers trailed over the sheets, admiring the careful preservation of the compositions. And then—your touch faltered.

Something was wedged between the pages.

Frowning, you carefully pried apart two sheets of music, revealing a neatly folded slip of parchment tucked within. Your pulse quickened as you unfolded it, your eyes scanning the names meticulously inked in Yunho’s handwriting.

The list of attendees from the hunt.

Your breath stilled. The parchment crinkled slightly beneath your grip as the realization settled. It was a puzzle he had crafted for you to solve. He had hidden the list so cleverly, yet left it in a place only you would think to look.

Slowly, your gaze lifted to meet his. There was no smirk, no hint of mischief in his eyes. Instead, his expression was uncharacteristically earnest, like he had been waiting, hoping, for you to see what had been there all along.

"You little--," you chuckled, despite the flutter in your chest. The realization dawned upon you—this was more than just a simple invitation. "Yeosang never mentioned anything about the opera did he?"

A breath passed before he spoke again, softer this time. "Well? Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the opera, Miss Kang?”

There was no playfulness to soften the edges of the question. Just Yunho, waiting for an answer that seemed to mean far more than just one night at the opera.

Two | Four

a/n: yunho and san have more tension than reader and san at this point it should be a yunsan fic (now kithhh)

taglist: @e3ellie @scuzmunkie @syubseokie @sunnysidesins @notevenheretbh1 @litolmochi @intowxnderland @etaerealboy @foxinnie8 @sanriomilk @kang-ulzzang @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @vcutparis @ishz @park-simphwa @moonsanshine @drinkingrumandcocacola @matzofficial @mushy-mushroom04 @monsta-x-jagi @amoryeonjun @innocygnet @jaeyunlvrs @hwashiningstar @rachmmb @ffenjoyerdazme @shanabtsarmy @granolabar3000 @kawaikisses @hehetmons-flwr @starryunho @hwalighters @plum-stxr @kaituyyn @santineez @amazaynaastha @grandlightcandy @soso59love-blog @justsomekpopstuff @supportstudies @watermelonslut @Demondeansdomme @vixensss @atzlordz @swampbitch127 @ttrinie

[heliosunny]

If that okay, can I please get yandere The Herta x reader x Ruan Mein (poly headcanon)

I have a whole plot for a fic. Maybe i'll give some headcanons in the near future.

Yandere!The Herta x Reader x Yandere!Ruan Mei

Herta has found a way to stop time around a living person, keeping them in a state of eternal beauty. Ruan Mei, on the other hand, has found a way to slow biological processes to an unnatural degree. The problem? You are the test subject.

The sterile chill of Herta Space Station was an ever-present reminder of the artificial world you had become trapped in. A cold, lifeless place where the pursuit of knowledge outweighed the warmth of human connection.

And yet, despite the vastness of the station, you felt suffocated.

Two pairs of eyes—one sharp and calculating, the other deceptively soft—never left you.

Herta sat at the edge of a console, swinging her legs lazily as she gazed at you. Boredom, as she often claimed, was the only reason she paid attention to you.

Across the room, Ruan Mei hummed softly as she adjusted a set of data on her floating screen. Unlike Herta, her smile was warm, almost gentle, but the way she looked at you like you were a rare, fragile specimen—sent a shiver down your spine.

You were their test subject and you had no way out.

“You should be honored” Herta said matter-of-factly, hopping down from the console. Her boots made no sound against the pristine floor as she approached you. “I don’t usually care about humans, but you… you are an exception.”

Your breath hitched as she reached out, cool fingers tracing the side of your face with a detached curiosity. “Such a fragile existence” she mused. “But don’t worry. I’ll preserve you. You won’t have to wither away like the others.”

From behind, you felt Ruan Mei’s presence before she even spoke. A gentle hand slid over your shoulder, pulling you into an almost comforting embrace. “Herta’s methods are too harsh, don’t you think?” Ruan Mei whispered near your ear, her voice honeyed, but laced with something darker. “Freezing you like one of her dolls? That’s too cruel… I would never treat you so coldly.”

“You’re lying” you said, barely above a whisper.

Ruan Mei laughed softly, fingers stroking your hair as if you were a cherished pet. “Oh, I would never lie to you.” She tilted her head. “I simply want to preserve you properly. A slow, careful process… where you remain alive, untouched by time. Isn’t that better?”

Herta sighed dramatically. “You’re going to ruin my fun, Ruan Mei.” She leaned against a terminal, arms crossed. “If I freeze them now, they’ll be perfectly unchanging. They’ll be mine forever.”

“But they won’t be able to feel, Herta” Ruan Mei countered, her fingers tightening ever so slightly in your hair. “What’s the point of preserving something if it loses its warmth?” She turned her gaze back to you, her smile deepening. “You don’t want that, do you?”

You swallowed hard. Both options were cages, just in different forms.

Herta tapped her chin. “Fine. I’ll let them keep their warmth…” Her lips curled into a smirk. “But only if they stay still.”

You didn’t get the chance to react before a chilling sensation crawled up your legs. Your muscles stiffened, a numbing cold locking your limbs in place. Panic surged through you as you tried to move, but your body refused to respond.

Ruan Mei tsked, kneeling beside you. “Herta, that’s cheating.” She ran her fingers over your frozen arm, sighing. “You always want to break your toys too quickly.”

“They’ll still be aware” Herta said, shrugging. “I’m not completely heartless.”

You gasped as warmth slowly returned to your fingers which is Ruan Mei’s doing. Her methods were different. Instead of outright freezing you, she manipulated your biology, altering the very essence of your body to prolong its state.

Neither option was mercy.

“You’ll belong to one of us in the end” Ruan Mei whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “So be good and choose wisely, dear.”

Your heart pounded as both women loomed over you.

You had to leave.

Your hands trembled as you slowly sat up on the research table, muscles aching from the forced stillness. Across the room, Herta and Ruan Mei were distracted- arguing, again.

“Y/n keeps resisting” Ruan Mei sighed, running a hand through her long hair. “If you keep pushing too hard, she’ll break.”

Herta, as always, looked unimpressed. “They should be grateful. I’m offering them something no other human could achieve—perfection.” She turned, glancing at you. “And yet, they keep struggling. Honestly, it’s annoying.”

This was your chance.

You exhaled softly before moving. With quiet steps, you pushed off the table, heading toward the exit. You had no plan, only instinct.

Just a little further...

“Ah-ah.”

A sudden weight pulled at your wrist, stopping you mid-step. Ruan Mei’s fingers curled gently around you, deceptively soft, like silk tightening into steel.

She sighed, her voice laced with amusement. “Where do you think you’re going, dear?”

You didn’t answer. You rarely did. Words were wasted on them. Instead, you yanked your arm back, hard.

For a split second, Ruan Mei’s eyes widened, surprised by your defiance. You twisted, shoving against her, forcing her grip to loosen. It worked—barely. You broke free, stumbling backward.

Herta tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh? Finally showing some fight?���

You ignored her, making a break for the door. Just a few more steps. Just a little... Something cold is approaching

Not the air, not fear, but Herta’s power. It wrapped around your body like invisible chains, locking your movements in place.

You clenched your teeth, muscles burning as you fought against it. Move. Move. MOVE.

Herta sighed. “Tsk. You’re being difficult.” She flicked her fingers, tightening the hold. “Why do you keep running? There’s no escape.”

Your breathing was uneven, but you still managed a glare.

Ruan Mei chuckled, stepping closer. “You’re so stubborn.” She brushed her fingers along your jaw, tilting your face toward her. “But I know, deep down, you care for us. That’s why you won’t say it outright… You don’t want to hurt our feelings, right?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line.

She wasn’t completely wrong.

Despite everything, despite the cage they forced you into—some part of you still cared. It made it harder to fight, harder to hurt them. And they knew that.

Herta sighed, lowering her hand. The freezing hold on your body vanished, sending you collapsing to your knees.

“You’re interesting” she muttered. “Annoying, but interesting.”

The cold grip of Herta’s power had left, but the phantom sensation still clung to your limbs like frostbite. Your body ached from the strain, yet you refused to show it.

Ruan Mei’s fingers remained against your cheek, her touch deceptively warm. “You’re so tense” she murmured, tilting her head. “Are you afraid of us?”

There was no point in answering. They'll do as they pleased anyway.

Your silence made Ruan Mei smile, as if she found your resistance adorable. “Oh, dear, we’re not your enemies” she crooned. “You’re just confused.”

Herta scoffed from behind. “They’re not confused. They just don’t appreciate what we’re doing for them.”

Your fingers twitched against the cold floor.

What you’re doing for me?

Your lips parted slightly, but no words escaped. You weren’t one for talking, and even if you were, what could you possibly say that would change their minds?

So, instead, you acted. Your body surged forward. Not toward Herta or Ruan Mei, but toward the small, sharp scalpel lying on the nearby counter.

Ruan Mei gasped, momentarily caught off guard by your sudden movement. Herta’s eyes flickered with intrigue, her hand rising just a fraction.

You snatched the scalpel in a tight grip, pivoting swiftly.

Ruan Mei’s expression faltered for the first time. “You wouldn’t.”

You would.

The small blade pressed lightly against your own neck—just enough to break the skin. A thin line of warmth dripped down your collarbone.

If they wouldn’t let you go… then you would take the one thing they refused to control. Your own life.

For the first time, true panic flashed in Ruan Mei’s eyes. “No—! Stop, dear, please.”

Herta’s entire body stiffened. “You’re being unreasonable” she muttered, but there was something off in her voice. Frustration? Fear?

Your grip on the scalpel remained firm. You weren’t bluffing.

For the first time, they had lost control.

The realization made your heart pound—not from fear, but from hope.

“I—” Ruan Mei swallowed hard, taking a step closer. “Put it down, sweetheart. Please.” Her voice, usually laced with amusement, now trembled. “We just want to protect you. You matter to us.”

You didn’t react. You just pressed the blade slightly deeper.

A small sound escaped Ruan Mei. “No, no, no—” She reached for you, panic overriding her usual grace. “Let me help, love—”

That moment of desperation—that single second of hesitation—was all you needed. With your free hand, you snatched the vial from the counter beside you, a small, forgotten bottle of one of Ruan Mei’s biological solutions. You didn’t know what it did. You didn’t care. With a swift motion, you threw it to the ground.

The glass shattered. A thick, burning chemical filled the air.

Ruan Mei gasped, stumbling back as the fumes stung her eyes. Herta hissed, raising an arm to shield her face. You ran.

Your legs screamed in protest, but you forced them forward, through the haze, through the pain—toward the exit.

Your chance. Your only chance.

But your body froze mid-step, a suffocating cold locking your limbs in place.

Herta’s voice was eerily calm. “You just had to make things difficult, didn’t you?”

Ruan Mei coughed behind her, her voice trembling. “Darling… why would you do that?” Her tone was no longer sweet. It was shaken. Frightened.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breath shallow. So close. You had been so, so close.

Tears pricked Ruan Mei’s eyes, but her lips curved into something unnerving. “You almost broke my heart...” she whispered, stepping forward.

Herta clicked her tongue. “We’ll have to restrain them better next time.”

Your vision blurred as the ice tightened around you, swallowing you whole.

You were no longer sure how much time had passed.

The constant experiments, the whispered reassurances, the subtle shifts in your body, it had all blurred into something… different. Your thoughts weren’t as sharp as before. Most important of all, you stopped trying to escape. Not because you didn’t want to. But because… the thought of leaving felt wrong.

You hated how your hands no longer trembled when Herta ran cold fingers through your hair. You hated how your body no longer flinched when Ruan Mei pressed a kiss against your temple, murmuring praises.

You hated that when they told you to sit still, you obeyed.

You hated that you couldn’t tell if it was by choice anymore.

The incident was insignificant.

Ruan Mei had been handling a delicate set of biological samples when a sudden alert blared through the lab, startling her just enough for a sharp glass vial to shatter against her palm.

A thin line of red trickled down her fingers.

You moved on instinct. Your hands reached for hers before you could stop them. Gently—almost tenderly, you turned her palm upward, examining the wound.

“…Oh?”

Ruan Mei blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

You didn’t speak. You rarely did. Instead, you reached for a nearby cloth, pressing it against the cut with practiced care. The warmth of her skin against yours was unsettlingly familiar.

She let you.

Herta, watching from the side, smirked. “How interesting.”

You didn’t react. You focused, wrapping Ruan Mei’s hand with slow, steady movements. Your fingers trembled slightly, but not from fear.

It was muscle memory.

The act of caring, of tending to wounds, it had always been a part of you. Even now, even after everything, that part remained.

Ruan Mei chuckled, breaking the silence. “My, my… you really are sweet, aren’t you?”

Your hands froze for a fraction of a second.

Then—warm fingers brushed against your cheek.

You flinched.

Ruan Mei’s smile deepened. “How adorable.”

Herta swung her legs over the console, tilting her head. “It seems all that time adjusting you has finally paid off.”

A chill ran down your spine.

Ruan Mei giggled, curling her now-bandaged fingers around your own. “You didn’t even think before tending to me, dear.” Her voice was honeyed.

Your heart pounded.

No...no, no, no.

This wasn’t right.

This wasn’t you.

But as Ruan Mei leaned in, her lips ghosting over your forehead, and as Herta smirked knowingly, you knew it was too late.

[seonghrtz]

ME & THE DEVIL.

SYNOPS𝑖S,ㅤㅤsukuna falls in love with the purest angel.

両面宿儺ㅤ♡ ⠀ angel!reader⠀ . . .ㅤ fluff & angstㅤwarnings suggestive blood death ooc sukuna　─　13k words.

The worst crime a creature of darkness could commit was to fall in love with a creature of light.

Sukuna Ryomen was aware of this, and yet he allowed himself to be loved by an angel, just as he allowed himself to love one.

But his disobedience cost him dearly, and his whole world fell to ruins. For the first time in his life, everything he had ever sworn was beautiful was reduced to cold, distant memories that occasionally disturbed him in the dead of the night.

The peaceful life he had once been promised, sworn to under the stars, had been taken from him in the cruelest way, just as the only person he had sworn his eternal love to had been taken from him, ripped from his arms, turned into nothing more than a sweet memory that could no longer be touched. It had been like taking away the oxygen he needed to stay alive.

And now he was trapped in chains, thrown deep into the cell of the maximum security prison in the dark lands he once called home, and now was nothing more than a place where he was imprisoned, without the slightest will to live, and with only revenge trapped in his thoughts and the deepest desires of his dark and broken heart ⸻ which he believed he no longer had, since it had been taken from him, just like the life of his beloved.

𝔊aia, The Society of Humans

Sukuna rolled all four of his eyes at once and smoothed his black hood over his pink hair. He hated going to Gaia, hated leaving his home in Umbra, the Society of Darkness. Although the presence of demons and creatures of darkness was permitted by law in Gaia, its inhabitants were not very fond of them ⸻ especially with their frightening appearance and deadly gaze ⸻ but unfortunately it was only in Gaia that he would find the best whisky of the Three Societies. So much work for a bottle of alcohol.

The demon held the leather pouch with two bottles he had bought and another with a slaughtered calf that he would have Uraume prepare for dinner. However, his plans fell apart when he realised that there was something wrong with his surroundings in the Lost Forest ⸻ the path that would lead him to Umbra. In one swift movement, Sukuna stopped and turned to see a white figure hiding behind a tree with a broad trunk. Out of patience, he left his leather pouch with the drinks and the calf on the ground and approached the tree. Ryomen leaned one of his arms against the trunk and waited for the figure to leave its hiding place ⸻ which didn't take long.

"Oh," the person ended up facing Sukuna's cloaked chest, startled by the demon's sudden presence.

"Oh?" Sukuna repeated the stranger's words, raising an eyebrow.

Looking down with eyes that conveyed nothing but boredom, he analysed the person before him. Her long, white gown seemed to glisten in the dim light filtering through the massive treetops of the Lost Forest. Something that hadn't gone unnoticed by Sukuna, aside from the unique, angelic beauty of the stranger before him, was her majestic wings.

Those wings could only belong to someone from Oriana, the Society of Light. And not just anyone, but an angel.

An angel…

This little encounter between them was wrong in itself, as it was against the laws of the Three Societies.

Though the Society of Light and the Society of Darkness lived in eternal feud, the only thing they had agreed upon for thousands of centuries was that no being from Oriana could have contact with a being from Umbra, and vice versa. Interaction between the two societies was strictly forbidden. So much so that the worst crime a creature of darkness could commit was to have a romantic relationship with a creature of light.

And that rule applied to Gaia as well.

Without a word, Sukuna turned his back on the angel and went to gather his things and leave for Umbra, he had already spent too much time in the lands of Gaia for his liking.

"You..." the angel began to speak, trying to get Sukuna's attention, but nothing seemed to stop him.

"Can you stop following me?" Sukuna turned around, burning with anger. "Or would you rather be a side dish with the calf at my dinner party?"

"You... you wouldn't do that, would you?" She looked at him in horror at the idea he was suggesting.

"You want to stay and find out?" A sinister smile formed on Sukuna's lips, making the angel tremble all over and take small steps backwards. "Just as I thought, how pathetic you are," he murmured the last part.

"I am not pathetic!" The angel said with conviction, but her posture still showed fear, as did her trembling voice.

"The very fact that you're an angel, on Gaia, far away from your brilliant, stupid society, following a demon through a forest, tells me exactly how pathetic you can be. Now leave me alone."

"What's your name?" She avoided the last topic, even more curious, but without moving.

"That's none of your business," Sukuna made his way to the portal that would take him back to Umbra, this time without an angel in his way.

All five times Sukuna had returned to Gaia with the solemn intention of buying at least two bottles of whisky, he had met the (pathetic) angel who had followed him through the Lost Forest. She kept asking him questions, to which he answered with absolute silence. But during the five times, she didn't seem to mind his silence because she knew he was at least listening to her ⸻ which seemed to be enough to make her happy.

But the sixth time Sukuna went to Gaia, she wasn't waiting for him in the forest.

The demon was surprised by the little angel's absence and shrugged his shoulders when he realized that she wouldn't appear on his path.

He briefly tried to convince himself that it was better this way, both for his short patience and for the innocent, pathetic angel who knew nothing of the world she lived in.

But something seemed wrong…

It seemed wrong to walk back to Umbra in silence, with only the sound of the forest itself ringing in his ears. Sukuna wouldn't admit it, but a part of him, deep down, missed the thousands of questions the angel had asked him, both about himself and where he came from. But he couldn't miss that singular thing.

It was best to stay away from her, so he wouldn't get into any unnecessary trouble. Although he liked getting into trouble and unnecessary fights, Sukuna preferred to avoid anything that involved Oriana and the Light Ones; it was easier to get into a fight in Umbra, where he knew the laws and the rules of the game. Not to mention that he knew that if he got involved in anything with Oriana and was found out, even if he hadn't done anything, the creatures of light would do everything they could to put him in prison for life.

Sukuna looked back once more and, realising that there was nothing there, not even a shining white figure, he simply stepped through the portal into the chaos that was the Society of Darkness.

"Where were you last time?" Sukuna asked when he met the angel again after the fiasco of the last time he was in Gaia.

"Oh, did you miss me?" The angel smiled openly at the demon's comment when they met on one of the paths in the Lost Forest.

"Answer my question." Sukuna said authoritatively.

"I was in Oriana, my mother asked me to come back because she felt I was spending too much time in Gaia," the angel smiled and walked after Sukuna as she always did, "You know, you never told me your name..." She commented, playing with the white fabric of her dress.

"Why should I tell you my name?" Sukuna asked.

"Because I've already told you mine!"

"My name is none of your business."

"I promise I won't bother you anymore if you tell me your name!"

"Don't make promises you don't intend to keep." Sukuna rolled all four eyes and turned to the angel.

"Please," she begged him.

"And stop begging, you look pathetic doing it."

Sukuna looked into the bright, innocent eyes of the angel before him. There was something there that made his heart skip a beat. The way she looked at him was so pure that a part of him wanted to corrupt her completely, but the other part wanted to drown in this purity that made him feel less like a monster for a few seconds ⸻ even though he was a demon by nature.

"Lord Sukuna." He said quickly, using his title.

"Lord?" The angel asked curiously, "Do they have titles in Umbra?"

"Do you think Umbra is the end of the world?"

"No, no! In Oriana we don't have much information about Umbra..." She explained quickly.

"So you want to go to Umbra?" A mischievous smile appeared on the demon's lips.

"I'd love to, actually!" she said, delighted at the idea of getting to know another place, especially the mysterious Umbra.

"You'd be killed the moment you set foot in there," Sukuna laughed at the angel's fearful reaction to his statement.

"But... but I... I've never done anything..."

"Understand something, Angel, Umbra and Oriana do not mix, it is forbidden by law, so I think you better stop what you are trying to do or planning to do, because in the blink of an eye you will be killed. Oriana is the safest place for your kind, and I suggest you get back there before it is too late for you to see the light again.”

"Lord Sukuna..." She swallowed dryly, "I know I'm not the best company you could have, but please... I just..." She took a deep breath, giving up on saying what she really wanted to say "I... I'm sorry for bothering you all this time, I..." The angel turned her back to Sukuna, ready to walk away and perhaps leave Gaia forever, but was stopped by a hand on her forearm, holding her tightly and preventing her from leaving.

"Never stop speaking your mind. Finish talking and I'll let you go."

"I... I just wanted a companion, someone to talk to, but I think I was looking for that in the wrong person."

Sukuna's hand slowly left the angel's forearm.

"Angel..." Sukuna said and turned to leave. "Meet me here, same time, tomorrow."

"Lord Sukuna?" The angel glanced at the demon who had his back to her, but received only silence from Sukuna as he made his way back to Umbra.

Sukuna took a deep breath for the tenth time, wondering why he had acted without thinking the day before. He waited for the angel while he thought about everything that had happened and why he thought it was a good idea to take her to a less crowded part of Gaia ⸻ or rather, a field away from people. The truth was, even he didn't know why he was acting the way he was.

That angel could only have bewitched him...

And if she hadn't bewitched him before, he was certainly bewitched the moment their eyes met.

For some reason, the angel looked neater than usual, even wearing hair ornaments that matched her white dress with gold details.

"Sorry for the delay, Lord Sukuna!" The angel smiled as she approached the stone he was sitting on while he waited.

Sukuna just stared at her and got up, taking a different route from the one he usually took.

"Where are we going?" She asked curiously, having been curious ever since she had been told to meet on the road to the Lost Forest, something that was certainly far from Sukuna's fetishes.

"I will take you to a deserted place to devour you," Sukuna said calmly.

"WHAT?!" The angel's eyes widened in shock at the demon's comment.

"Well, if you keep quiet, I might consider sparing your life, if I don't turn you into dinner first."

Silence fell between the demon and the angel as they walked, and all that could be heard was the sounds of the forest and their footsteps on the leaves, the broken branches on the ground, and the fertilized earth beneath their feet. Sukuna was surprised by the angel's silence, but didn't question her, while she herself was lost in her thoughts, trying to prove something true about him devouring her.

"We're here." Sukuna said, drawing the angel's attention and freeing her from the thought loop she was trapped in.

She looked around; it was an open, flowery field, and there was a cliff overlooking the sea, which seemed to connect with Gaia's sky on the horizon. Enchanted by such a beautiful view, the angel approached the cliff, feeling the icy, salty breeze against her body.

"If you stand too close to the cliff, you might fall." Sukuna said from behind the angel, frightening her.

"Oh, you're right!" She said, a little frightened at the thought of falling from that height.

"You have wings, do you know that?" Sukuna rolled his eyes, "You can fly if you fall."

"Oh, that's true, well, it would be true if I could fly, but I can't.”

"Haven't you learned how to fly?" Sukuna said in a provocative tone.

"Um, I just got hurt and the healer said that if I wanted to fly again, I'd have to spend some time recovering, without forcing it."

"That must suck for you..." Sukuna shrugged and sat down on the grass to bask in the sun.

"You have no idea, almost everything in Oriana is on top, so it's easier to fly there. That's why I spent so much time in Gaia, everything is on the ground here, I don't need to use my wings," the angel sat down next to Sukuna and looked up at the clear blue sky, "What's it like in Umbra?"

"Why are you so interested in Umbra?"

"Because... Well, because nobody in Oriana talks about Umbra, it's almost as if it's forbidden. I once asked a group of colleagues if they knew anything about it and they just stared at me and then scolded me for commenting on the place."

"There's nothing wrong with Umbra, Angel, it's just an ugly place that harbours evil people with terrible hearts, it's no place for creatures of light."

"But you're generalizing, aren't you? Not least because you are an exception, aren't you?"

"Exception? An exception to what?" Sukuna arched an eyebrow.

"Well, you're not evil, maybe you've said some evil things to me, but you've never done anything too bad."

"Gaia's laws are completely different from Umbra's. I just don't feel like being arrested again."

"Have you ever been arrested?" The angel asked him incredulously.

"Like ten times? Or more?" the demon shrugged, "It's quite common in Umbra. Why is that? Isn't there a prison in Oriana?"

"Well, we do have something called a detention center, where those who break Oriana's laws are taken, but it's rarely full."

"Ah, you really are privileged..."

"Lord Sukuna, you told me that Oriana and Umbra don't mix, but why?"

"You really don't know anything, do you? What did they teach in the schools in Oriana?"

"Nothing to do with Umbra, the only thing they say is that we can never go to Umbra or have contact with any dark beings," the angel murmured.

"And here we are, aren't we..."

"But what's so wrong that our contact is forbidden by law?" The angel asked curiously.

"It's a long story..." he said, uninterested in this particular conversation.

"Aren't you going to tell me?"

"Maybe another day..."

"So you mean we'll have more meetings like this?" She smiled excitedly at the thought of seeing Sukuna again.

"Yeah... maybe... if you behave like a good little angel, I can think about..."

The angel lay down beside Sukuna and looked up at the clear blue sky. It was beautiful, and as much as it resembled Oriana's sky, in some ways it was extremely different. But perhaps it was the presence of the person, or rather the demon, next to her that made everything she knew, or thought she knew, seem completely new.

"Your marks... the ones you have on your body, were you born with them?" she asked, breaking the silence between them.

"Uhum," Sukuna mumbled in reply.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Why the hell would I have a favorite color?"

"Now that you've said it... I don't know either. In Oriana there aren't many colours, it's always light tones and often the same shades of white and gold. When I came to Gaia, I was enchanted by the variety of colors..."

"You really do surprise yourself with very little..." Sukuna squinted at the angel, "How did you manage to come to Gaia?”

"I was tired of Oriana. It was always the same things to do, it was the same boring routine every day. Just playing the harp, sitting by the crystal lake, reading and talking about the same things... I begged my grandfather, who is a general, to let me go to Gaia, if only for a few hours.” The angel's eyes focused on the slowly changing shades of blue in the sky, from light blue to pinkish orange, as her mind wandered through her memories: "Did you know that there is no night in Oriana?"

"Why don't they have a night?" Sukuna raised an eyebrow. Oriana was the complete opposite of Umbra; while one was bathed in light, the other was bathed in darkness.

"When the sun goes down, the sky turns orange until the next day's sunrise.”

Time seemed to flow when she was in Sukuna's presence. He said nothing and answered her questions indifferently, maliciously, spitefully or sometimes not at all. But the angel was happy. She was happy that she didn't have to spend so much time bound by the pure customs of Oriana, that she could speak freely and ask her thousand questions without being silenced for merely expressing a genuine curiosity about the worlds beyond the sacred portals of the Society of Light.

"Lord Sukuna, thank you for showing me this place and listening to me..." the angel murmured as she turned her head sideways to look at the demon's profile.

"Tsk... it's not a big deal..." Sukuna just stood there with his four eyes closed, enjoying the breeze (and secretly his new companion).

Sukuna had never thought that meeting this angel would become part of his routine in Gaia. Even Uraume had noticed that his Lord's frequent forays into the Society of Humans were no longer just about the good bottles of whisky or the cheap meat. However, Uraume knew better than to question his Lord and put this fact to one side ⸻ at least Sukuna seemed less grumpy when he went to Gaia.

Although he denied it, especially to himself, it was a form of entertainment to be in the company of the innocent and curious Angel.

And, in a way, it made him feel a little better that he had broken one of the strictest rules in the Three Societies.

Looking around, the demon saw the young angel munching on a typical Gaia fruit as she accompanied him to yet another secret location far from any civilisation that he had suddenly decided to take her to. It was a great surprise to him that she simply followed him, without questioning or even suspecting that this might be the last time she would see the light of day. It was amazing how much trust she had in him and how naive she was about her own world, her own people. And even though Sukuna had no intention of hurting her, except with his unfiltered words that came out without thinking, he couldn't help but wonder what would happen to her if she accidentally bumped into another demon, or perhaps a perverse human from Gaia.

It was almost comical how concerned and protective he was when it came to the Angel. Even if he refused to accept such feelings, only justifying his actions with the idea that she wouldn't survive a second without him by her side.

And when she almost fell on her butt in the middle of the road, it was as if Sukuna had received a sign from the universe itself, confirming his theories.

‘She's not even safe from herself,' he thought as he watched her laugh at her own disaster. She was too precious for any of the worlds.

"Are we there yet?" She turned his head in Sukuna's direction.

"Uhum," he mumbled.

And before she could complain that he had given her the same answer a long time ago, Sukuna pointed his head in front of her, making her look expectantly where he was looking.

The great waterfall, with its crystal-clear water reflecting the sun's rays divinely, had enchanted her.

It was beautiful. Just as beautiful as the open field of flowers by the sea that Sukuna had taken her to the other day. But these trees with their green leaves, the flowers, the water falling in a steady, calm rhythm, it was all so beautiful, so wonderful in her eyes.

"How did you know such a beautiful place existed?" Smiling, the angel approached the edge of the pond and placed her hand in the water, surprised to find it warm and not as cold as she had imagined.

"I found that out when I was hunting." Sukuna replied, sitting down on a rock near the edge and getting his feet wet.

"We... Can we swim here?" she asked excitedly.

"Um, go ahead." Sukuna said nonchalantly, after all they were far from Gaia's civilization and it was very unusual for there to be any people or creatures there.

Without further ado, the angel began to remove her long satin skirt and the pearl belt, then the top of her dress and the necklace she was wearing.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sukuna caught the Angel's eye just as she was about to remove her underwear. He had kept quiet, just watching her undress, but he hadn't imagined that she would be naked in front of him.

"Taking my clothes off? To swim?" Her speech came out more as a question because she was confused by the situation.

"You know you don't have to be naked, right?"

"But in Oriana it's very common to bathe in the lakes without clothes..."

"Are you telling me that you get naked? In public?" Sukuna arched an eyebrow in disbelief at the creature of light before him.

"And why wouldn't we? It's actually quite common over there."

"Yes, but I'd advise you not to do it here in Gaia, or anywhere else but Oriana..."

"Hm? Ah, well then..." Giving up on the idea of taking off her underwear, the angel simply removed her hair ornaments and walked over the wet stones into the lake "Aren't you going in too? The water's fine."

Sukuna stared at the angel for a few minutes, watching her play with the water, before deciding to take off his clothes and join her in the water. However, he was content to stand at the edge, leaning against a rock.

The angel approached him with a slight smile on her face, leaning her back against the stone and standing next to Sukuna.

"So in Oriana you strip naked in public?" Sukuna asked with a mischievous smile and was answered with a murmur and a positive nod from the angel, "Hm, I'd pay to see a show like that..."

"I wish I could take you to Oriana," she sighed, "but apparently there's some kind of spell on the sacred gates that prevents anything but a creature of light from passing through."

"Why do you think I wanted to go to your fancy little town?"

"Because you always take me to beautiful and enchanting places, I'd like to thank you for that."

"I don't need your thanks, let alone to see your gold-painted paradise." Sukuna said dismissively.

The angel shrugged at Sukuna's reply. She was getting used to the demon's blunt and direct manner.

Looking at the water, she noticed that it was so clear that she could see the bottom. Interested in a small pebble that caught her eye, the angel dived to the bottom without saying anything and returned to the surface with the stone in her hand. She had been so busy admiring the red stone that she hadn't noticed Sukuna looking in her direction.

"What do you have in your hand?" the demon asked in a tone that did not hide his curiosity.

"It's a red stone," she said smiling, "On my first trip to Gaia, I came across a merchant who sold jewelry, he had several necklaces with the same stone, I think it's called a ruby... But whatever it is called, it reminds me of your eyes"

"So you like stones?" Sukuna asked, ignoring the angel's last comment about his eyes and especially the fact that his heart was beating a little faster.

"Yes!" she replied with a smile.

"Follow me!" he ordered as he climbed out of the water and picked up his clothes from a rock, but didn't put them back on.

Confused by the sudden change of plans, and a little sad to be leaving the warm water, the angel picked up her clothes and began to follow the demon, who walked around the pond, without asking any questions. When they reached the edge of the waterfall, Sukuna went behind the water and disappeared from the angel's sight.

Uncertain about what was happening, but trusting the demon, she closed her eyes and went behind the waterfall as well. When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to see a path behind the water. But what made her eyes sparkle were the coloured stones set into the wall, glowing and illuminating the whole place.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Sukuna asked as he followed the path in front of him.

Without hesitation, the angel quickened her pace and followed Sukuna. It didn't take them long to reach their destination, a small hot spring.

"The water is better here than outside." Sukuna said as he stepped into the water.

The angel left her things on the ground and stepped into the water, relaxing next to the demon.

"Just when I think you can't surprise me anymore, you come along and prove me wrong, Lord Sukuna."

"Or maybe it was your golden palace that wasn't so interesting."

"Well, I think you'd be surprised by Oriada's angelic beauty."

"More surprised than to see you swimming naked in a pond?" A mischievous smile formed on Sukuna's lips as his predatory eyes stared intently at the angel.

"Lord Sukuna!" A blush spread across the young angel's face as she turned her head to the side, trying to avoid the demon's gaze.

A small laugh escaped Sukuna's lips as he was amused by the angel's reaction. Maybe spending time with her wasn't the worst thing in the world, as he always tried to convince himself it was. She had a special way of making Sukuna want her by his side ⸻ even if it was forbidden. Sukuna squinted at the angel, noticing the doubt in her expression, showing her indecision about whether to say what she was about to say.

"If you thank me again, I'll never take you anywhere again." Sukuna lied.

"Ah! How... How did you know what I was going to say?" She looked at him, startled.

"You're as predictable as an open book."

"Oh?! But I know how to disguise it well."

"I doubt it." Sukuna smiled sideways at the direction of the conversation.

"I'm a very good liar!" She swam over and stopped in front of Sukuna.

"Oh yeah?!" Sukuna brought his face close to the angel's.

"Yes!" She said with conviction.

"Hm." He murmured as he pulled the angel by the waist and brought her closer to him. "Then tell me a lie."

"Ah... well... I won't lie right now, because I don't want to," she said confidently, but Sukuna couldn't help but laugh when he heard her answer.

She really knew how to amuse him.

Sukuna had always been indifferent when it came to Gaia. He obviously preferred Umbra, for various reasons, but lately Gaia hadn't been such a hateful place for him, even if he still believed that humans were the weakest and most influential creatures he'd ever seen. But as long as he was on Gaia, with some special company and away from civilisation, Sukuna thought it was a good pastime ⸻ although he wouldn't admit it, being stubborn as he was.

Little did Sukuna know that teaching Angel how to hunt would be so much fun.

From a very young age, the demon had learned to use various tools and strategies to catch small prey. And it was almost a talent, as if he had been born to be a predator.

But the Angel he knew had no such ferocious instincts, and even less skill with weapons. While Sukuna was a predator, the angel was nothing more than a small, defenseless prey.

The fact that she was so clumsy amused the demon, who could hardly contain his laughter when he saw that she couldn't keep the bow and arrow together.

With a sideways smile, Sukuna positioned himself behind the angel and helped her. He put her arms in the right position and told her to aim at the tree in front of them. Taking a deep breath and holding it, the Angel released the arrow, sending it flying into the hard gravel of the tree.

With a big, bright smile, the Angel turned to Sukuna, proud of her achievement ⸻ even though he had helped her.

"Let's raise the level," Sukuna smiled sideways and pulled the angel through the Lost Forest until they found a majestic deer near a small lake. "Now do what you did with the tree," he whispered in the angel's ear, so as not to frighten his prey.

The angel positioned herself, holding the bow and arrow just right, and took aim at the deer. But when she looked at the animal, she couldn't let go of the arrow. Hitting the tree was one thing, but now an animal seemed too difficult. She lowered the bow and arrow and looked at Sukuna with a depressed expression.

"I... I can't..."

Sukuna just watched the angel, knowing deep down that she couldn't hurt what she saw suffering in front of her. She was too pure for such brutality.

The demon simply took the bow and arrow from her hands and positioned the weapon perfectly before hitting the small deer in one of its vital points. The angel closed her eyes as the animal grunted in pain.

"Let's go." He walked around the lake to pick up the animal and headed for the waterfall that he had taken her before.

Arriving at the place, Sukuna wasted no time in making a fire and gathering the things he had brought from Umbra to cook for the angel. He prepared everything, taking out of his leather pouch a few other ingredients he'd taken from the kitchen at home ⸻ hoping Uraume wouldn't miss them too soon. The demon wasn't the best in the kitchen, but he'd seen Uraume make this kind of broth for so long that he hoped it would work.

"Do you need help, Lord Sukuna?" The angel asked as she approached the demon who was preparing the food.

"No," he replied, "just sit there," pointing his head in the direction of a rock near the water.

Without questioning him, the angel obeyed his command and sat down on the rock, watching as Sukuna cut the fresh meat from the deer with his back to her. The demon had broad, strong shoulders and there were black lines that adorned his body perfectly. The Angel felt her own cheeks begin to burn with every second she looked more closely at every detail of Sukuna's body ⸻ the one that most resembled a sculpture.

Suddenly ashamed of where her thoughts were taking her ⸻ thoughts she hadn't imagined she would have ⸻, she stood up and began to walk around the pond, observing the different kinds of flowers that were around. Sukuna could always point to the fact that she was surprised by the smallest things, but where she came from they didn't have all these vibrant, captivating colors. It was truly a fantastic experience for her.

The angel picked some flowers and sat down on the stone she had been sitting on before. Sukuna, meanwhile, continued to concentrate on preparing the food.

The demon was so focused on his goal that he wouldn't settle for anything less than perfection (and he certainly wasn't doing it all for the angel, he kept telling himself). However, all his concentration on the broth he was preparing was taken away when he felt something resting on his head. Looking up, he saw the angel standing behind him with a huge smile on her face.

"What's that?" He asked, feeling her adjust the object that adorned his head.

"A flower crown."

"A what?" he asked, incredulous at the answer.

"A flower crown." The angel repeated her answer with a slight chuckle.

But who would believe it, or even imagine the scene? A demon with a crown of flowers on his head. It didn't seem like words that would fit into a sentence in a harmonious and positive way. And maybe it didn't help that the demon in question was none other than Sukuna Ryomen.

Sukuna just rolled his eyes and poured some of the ready-made broth for the angel sitting next to him. She gladly took the bowl and didn't take long to taste it.

The demon looked in the angel's direction with a hopeful expression, feeling a slight fear grow in his chest to know what she thought of the food.

"Is there anything you don't know how to make? This is delicious!"

"Of course it would be delicious, I made it myself," he said smugly, but deep down a sense of relief was inevitable.

"Could you teach me to cook? I bet I'd be better at cooking than hunting."

"Who knows, one day..." Sukuna said vaguely.

Thinking about such a moment in the future seemed quite unlikely in reality, but nothing stopped him from imagining such a situation ⸻ not even for a moment.

Gaia's sun shone brightly, its rays reflecting off the crystal clear waters of the calm sea before the curious gaze of a creature of light.

Sukuna, following the path to a small abandoned hut, noticed that someone was missing from his side and turned to see the angel watching the landscape.

"Hey, Angel!" Sukuna caught her eye "If you just stand there, we can't get into the sea!"

"We can get into the sea?!" She asked excitedly, running across the sand to catch up with the demon.

"And why can't we?"

"Well, we don't have a sea in Oriana, but I read some books that talked about scary sea creatures."

"These creatures tend to stay at the bottom of the ocean, there's not much for them on the coast."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Do I look like I'd lie?" Sukuna turned to face the angel, then rolled his eyes when he saw the expression on her face at his question. "Okay, no need to answer, I get it." Sukuna made his way to the wooden hut that stood on the other side of the beach.

The hut had been abandoned for years, but it was still in good shape and usable. It looked more like a single person's house on the beach, as everything in it was for one person. Sukuna used to go there when he went fishing, but that was a long time ago ⸻ it was easier to hunt or buy something at the Gaia market than spend time waiting for a fish to show up.

The angel left the leather bag she was carrying on a wooden chair outside the house and watched the scene unfold before her. The more time she spent with Sukuna, the more she realised that she knew very little about the world. There were many things she had never seen, and things she had never imagined could exist. And she never thought that she would be eternally grateful to that stubborn, arrogant demon for showing her all that, for making her feel things she never thought she could feel.

"I thought you were excited about going to the sea."

"Well, I guess I'm a little scared." A short laugh escaped Angel's lips.

"Angel..." Sukuna approached the creature of light, holding her face to make her look at him, "I'm here, if anything happens I'll save you."

"What if we go in together...?" The Angel bit her bottom lip.

"OK, then get ready," Sukuna let go of the angel's face as he went into the hut to drop his and the angel's things and take off his clothes, leaving only his underwear.

When he came out of the hut, he found the angel already in her underwear, curiously watching the scenery, as if she still had doubts about going out to sea even if she wanted to. Sneaking up on the angel, Sukuna took her in his arms as if she were a bride and walked out to sea while she struggled against his big, strong chest, begging him to let her go.

"Lord Sukuna, please let me go!" The angel pleaded.

"Since you ask!" Sukuna released her into the sea.

"I can't believe you did that!" the Angel said as soon as she came back to the surface.

"You're the one who asked me to let you go!" He raised both upper arms, as if to declare himself innocent of such an accusation, and crossed both forearms as he smiled sideways, suppressing the urge to laugh at the whole situation.

"That was very evil– AH!" The angel screamed in fright as she felt something brush past her leg and leapt into Sukuna's lap, who caught her without the slightest effort.

"What happened?" Despite a smile on his lips, Sukuna's tone could not hide his concern.

"Something went through my leg..."

"It must have been just a tumbleweed," the demon's explanation reassured the Angel, who slowly got off from his lap.

"It's not that bad..." the Angel smiled slightly, "but I still think I'd prefer to be a little closer to the coast."

"So you want to go back?"

"Uh, just until I get used to it."

With the waves breaking on her knee, the Angel let her intrusive thoughts take over and she kicked at the water, wetting Sukuna in the process. The angel looked at the demon beside her, shocked by what had happened, and Sukuna just looked at her, expressionless, which made her shudder a little with fear.

"Was that a request for war?"

"No, Lord Sukuna, I didn't mean it, I swear–"

"You have five seconds."

"Five seconds?" She looked at him doubtfully.

"Five... four..."

Without thinking too much, the angel just ran as fast as she could.Without even finishing counting, Sukuna took off after the angel. He kept his speed down, though, because he knew it wouldn't be any fun if he caught her first. But as he grew tired of his own game, the demon soon caught up with her and threw her over his shoulder.

"Lord Sukuna, please forgive me, I swear I didn't mean to"

"I'm not entirely convinced of that..."

"Please, I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" Sukuna stopped walking, interested in the angel's proposal.

"Yes! Anything!" The angel pleaded.

"I don't want anything right now." Sukuna lifted her from his shoulders and carried her in his arms, "But I hope you will remember this promise."

Time passed slowly as they enjoyed each other's company. As the sun began to set, the angel returned to the hut, dripping wet as she held several small shells in her hands. She left the shells on the table and Sukuna soon handed her a bowl of stew he had prepared.With the bowl in her hand, she left the hut and took a seat on the steps, enjoying the food and watching the sun set. It wasn't long before Sukuna joined her.

They both watched the horizon as they enjoyed their meal. There was no greater tranquility than that moment. But a strong wind blew across the shore, sending a shiver down the Angel's spine.

"I think it's time to go in." Sukuna stood up with the two bowls in his hand and walked into the hut, followed by the angel.

"Um, Lord Sukuna... it's starting to rain..." The angel said as she looked out the window and hugged her own shivering body.

"You are shivering." Sukuna approached the angel and rested his big, strong chest on her wings.

The angel felt a shock run through her body and a sudden warmth that slowly warmed her icy body and stopped the shivering.

"Your body is warm."

"I know," Sukuna whispered into the angel's ear.Without hesitation, he grabbed her waist, turned her towards him and then picked her up. He calmly walked over to a small three-seater sofa and sat down with her still on his lap.

"Lord Sukuna..." the demon's name came weakly from her lips as she rested her hands on his strong shoulder, drowning in the depth of his crimson eyes.

"Hm?" He murmured, looking at the face he adored so much.

"You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen." One of her hands reached for Sukuna's face, running her fingers gently over the marks on his face.

"I disagree. There is nothing in the Three Societies that compares to your beauty."

Sukuna's lips reached for the Angel's and captured her in a soft kiss ⸻ something that was certainly controversial given his personality. The kiss didn't last long, but it was enough to make Sukuna thirsty for more. When they parted, the Angel tried to catch her breath, but it wasn't long before Sukuna was kissing her again, this time with a certain need, an unquenchable desire to have her all to himself.

The demon sat her down on his lap, using two of his hands to hold her there while the others traveled the length of her body, decorating every little curve.

"Lord..." The angel let out a faint moan as she felt Sukuna's hand squeeze her breast.

"You're so perfect..." Ryomen murmured as he approached the angel's neck and kissed the length of it.

"Sukuna... you... you're..." the angel let out a louder moan as she felt something hard against her intimacy as Sukuna kissed her collarbone and with one of his skilful hands undid the knot of the bra she was wearing and wasted no time in sucking on one of her exposed breasts.

"How do you feel?" A mischievous smile formed on Sukuna's lips as he watched the angel's satisfied face.

"It's... good," she moaned softly.

"You seem to be enjoying it, would you like some more?" One of the hands that had been on the angel's waist moved down to her ass and she gasped as she felt a strong squeeze.

"Uhum"

"Use your words, angel," he murmured in her ear.

"Yes... please... please..."

"I'll make you feel so fucking good..."

"Do you still want to go to Umbra?"

Sukuna's question had been the first thing he had said when he had met the angel again on the way to the Lost Forest.

"Yes! I'd like to go there." The angel smiled, her cheeks flushed.

The angel thought that after what had happened between her and the demon the last time they met, it would be difficult to look him in the eye again, and perhaps she wasn't entirely wrong. Sukuna had touched her in places she had never imagined being touched so viciously. But she couldn't deny the indescribable pleasure she had felt that night.

"Okay, then, let's go to Umbra," Ryomen shrugged, as if it were no big deal.

"Wait, really?" She looked at him hopefully, hoping this wasn't just a joke.

"Yes, but you can't go to Umbra like that." Sukuna looked the angel up and down, observing her natural angelic appearance.

"What do you mean?" she tilted her head in doubt.

"If you go through the portal, you'll soon be recognised. In Umbra, things aren't as clear as your clothes."

"So what do we do?"

"Put these clothes on." Sukuna handed the angel a burgundy dress with black details.

"Shall I put it on here?" she asked, holding it to her chest.

"It's not like you've never taken your clothes off in front of me," Sukuna smiled sideways, teasing the angel.

"Lord Sukuna!" the angel said embarrassed.

"Lord Sukuna? That's not what you called me last night."

"I'll change behind that tree." She said, ignoring both Sukuna's comment and his cheeks burning with embarrassment, and went to change.

"We need to fix your wings too..." Sukuna said as soon as the angel returned ready. "Can you hide them?"

"If I have a cloak, maybe I can."

"Too risky, I think we have to stick to my main idea."

"Your main idea?" The angel looked curiously at the demon who was fiddling with his leather bag.

"Let's paint it black." He took two tins of paint from the bag.

"You really came prepared..." The angel looked at him in amazement.

Sukuna opened one of the tins of paint and positioned the Angel so that she was facing away from him. The demon wasted no time and quickly stuck his hands into the can and began to run his paint-smeared hands over the Angel's wing feathers, but she quickly pulled away, laughing at Sukuna.

"That tickles!" She turned to Sukuna with a big, bright smile as she laughed.

Sukuna just watched the Angel and felt the urge to take that sound and put it in a bottle so he could get drunk on it every night.

"I think... I think we'd better hurry so we don't waste any time." Sukuna looked away from the angel and took a deep breath, controlling the urge to take her for herself at this moment, in this place.

The angel agreed, holding back a laugh as Ryomen ran his inky hands down the length of her wings.

"We need to do something about your face," the demon said after he had finished painting the angel's wing, closing the tins of paint and taking a cloth to wipe his hands.

"My face?"

"Put this on." He handed her a lipstick and she put it on without question.

"Can we go now?" She asked excitedly.

"I think we're ready."

"Lord Sukuna, may I ask you something?" The angel's hands found the fabric of her skirt and she began to play with it, trying to distract herself.

"Hm?" He turned to the angel, waiting for her to speak.

"How do we get to Umbra?"

"Through the portal," he replied bluntly.

"But how do I get through the portal?"

"Like everyone else," Sukuna held out his hand to the angel, who took it immediately. "Unlike Oriana, there is no barrier that prevents creatures other than creatures of darkness from passing through the portal. Anyone can pass through, but most aren't curious about Umbra because it's an ugly place with a bad reputation."

"So if I'd wanted to go to Umbra all along, I could have?"

"Yes, but you'd soon be barred because you look like a creature of light, so you had to change your clothes and your wings." Sukuna replied, "And remember, under no circumstances are you to say you're from Oriana."

"All right." She said with a smile, feeling more relieved and excited for everything that was to come.

𝖀mbra, The Society Of Darkness

The Angel had never imagined that she would actually pass through the portal and visit Umbra. This moment seemed more like one of her dreams than reality, and she couldn't help but be amazed by the whole place around her ⸻ no matter how hard she tried to hide her curiosity.

Umbra was completely different from all the descriptions she had read in the books about it in Oriana and Gaia. It wasn't a pretty place, and it was certainly dark and gloomy, but it had a unique charm that enchanted her.

The ground beneath her feet was rocky and barren, dry and devoid of vegetation. The surrounding trees were basically just a twisted trunk and branches, creating a frightening and sinister appearance. The sky was dark, as Sukuna had told her, and she had no idea whether it was morning, afternoon or night.

"We're in the Dark Forest, soon we'll reach my land." Sukuna said, still holding the angel's hand and leading them through the place.

"Your land?"

"Uhum," he murmured in confirmation, "my land is not so far from the forest, but it is far from civilization."

"Why do you live so far from civilization?"

“Because I have no patience.”

And just as Sukuna said, it wasn't long before they arrived at Sukuna's home.

"Do you live in a shrine?" The angel asked as she looked at the huge Torii in front of her and a huge shrine in the background, but like everything else she had seen in the Dark Forest, it had a frightening appearance and an evil aura.

"Something like that," Sukuna shrugged as he entered his own territory with the angel. Even he couldn't believe he was taking a creature of light into his own home, something he had promised himself he would never do, in life or in death.

"Lord Sukuna." A servant bowed as he saw his master.

"Where is Uraume?" Sukuna asked the servant.

"In the kitchen, making tea for your brother."

"Really?" Sukuna rolled his eyes, ignored the servant and pulled the angel into the room.

"You have a brother?"

"Twin," Sukuna replied indifferently and led the angel into the room where he took his meals.

The Angel simply observed the interior of the sanctuary, which was much larger than it appeared. She had the feeling of being in a palace, but one that was much darker. There were many shades of black, red, grey and even gold. There weren't many paintings on the walls (at least not the kind she was looking for), but the few that were there depicted wars or monstrous animals.

"Jin..." Sukuna's boring tone made the angel turn her attention to the demon instead of her surroundings.

"Ryomen– Oh, you have a visitor?" The man called Jin turned to the angel with a friendly smile.

Jin, as Sukuna had called the man earlier, was the complete opposite of Sukuna. He was tall, but not as tall as Ryomen, and he didn't have four arms or any visible body markings. Perhaps the only similarity was the pink hair. Other than that, nothing was the same. He certainly didn't match the descriptions of demons she'd read in some of Gaia's books, and even less did he resemble some of the ones she'd met at the Human Society fair ⸻ although she didn't consider those to be any kind of parameter for characterizing the citizens of Umbra.

Sukuna quickly introduced the angel, hiding her true identity as a creature of light and calling her by her name. It was the first time Sukuna had called her by her name and not "angel", well, apart from the intimate evening they had spent on the beach when he had spared no expense in using her name.

"I'm sorry Ryomen, I didn't know you had a guest today. I just wanted to introduce you to your nephew, Itadori Yuji." Jin said with a smile on his face as he held his son in his arms.

The angel approached the baby with more curiosity than the boy's own uncle and smiled as she noticed the huge rosy cheeks and a few pink strands on his head.

"Would you like to hold him?" Jin asked the angel with a gentle smile.

"May I?" She turned to Sukuna and waited for his confirmation to hold the newborn in her arms. "He's so cute."

"His face looks like a knee." Sukuna said as he approached the angel and looked at his nephew.

"Don't say that!" The angel scolded Sukuna, who just shrugged with a mischievous smile, "He's the cutest little thing I've ever seen." She smiled at Jin and handed the baby back to him.

"Isn't he a bit small and big-headed?" Sukuna asked.

"He has the proportions of a healthy baby, and that's what's important, Ryomen," Jin said politely, "Now that I've introduced you, I'll be going home. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss."

"My pleasure!" The angel smiled "I hope Yuji grows up healthy."

"Thank you," Jin smiled before leaving the room.

"Well, I think I'll ask Uraume to prepare something for us to eat and then I can take you to the garden."

"Do you have a garden?" She asked in amazement, never imagining Sukuna to be the type of person to have a garden or anything like that at home.

"Don't get too excited, it's not as nice as the places I've shown you in Gaia," Sukuna said, referring to the places in Gaia that contained extravagant and unique flora.

The Angel simply sat down at the table and waited for Sukuna to return so that she could continue her questioning about Umbra and her own home. The Angel had an endless curiosity, she loved to discover new things and understand what she didn't know. Though the people of Oriana found her questions irritating and unnecessary, telling her that perhaps it was better to live in ignorance than to dwell on reality, Sukuna embraced her curiosity and answered what she knew, always answering with the truth and never trying to soften his answers. The demon never criticized her questions, or even said they were annoying or unnecessary ⸻ although at first he was a little irritated by the number of questions she asked. But he let her ask anyway, he loved the sound of her voice and found her curiosity admirable.

“You seem amused by the decorations." Sukuna sat down on the edge of the table.

"This isn't exactly how I imagined your home."

"No?"

"No, I didn't think it would have much decoration, really."

"The shrine and the land belonged to my ancestors, I just inherited everything. And making changes is a lot of work and a headache, so I decided to leave it as it was."

"Your ancestors?" The Angel asked, curious about Sukuna's past generations.

"The Great Demon King." Sukuna replied, surprising the angel and making her eyes widen.

But before she could ask him if he was joking, or even ask him about his family tree, some servants entered the hall, set the table and served the banquet. On the table were various foods that the Angel had never seen before in her life.

"If you don't like it, don't eat it," Sukuna said before starting to eat.

The angel looked at the food with fascination, but soon gave way to her desire and curiosity to learn more about Umbra's cuisine and what made it different from Oriana's and Gaia's.

"This is very good!" She smiled as she tasted one of the dishes and Sukuna just watched her, holding back a satisfied smile. He watched as she tried all the dishes, commenting on what she thought of them as if she were a judge in an eating contest.

After they were satisfied with their meal, Sukuna took her to his garden. The garden was a gloomy place, there were some trees with twisted trunks like those in the Dark Forest, there were some flowers that were shades of dark blue and purple, there were some that had black petals, there were some bushes with dried leaves and some that seemed to be rotting ⸻ something that Sukuna said was characteristic of the species itself.

The Angel approached a tree that had some flowers that seemed to be hanging from it, their petals in shades of purple and blue.

"It's a fuchsia." Sukuna said.

"It's beautiful... If I had a garden, I'd want it."

"And what's stopping you from having a garden?"

"I have no home..." The angel turned to Sukuna with a smile, but her attention was soon drawn to some sort of small house behind him. "What's that?"

"My Cerberus' house."

"Cerberus?"

"My dog. Would you like to see him?"

"Do you have a dog?" The angel asked excitedly, although she didn't have any dogs in Oriana, there were plenty of them in Gaia and she loved playing with them.

Without saying a word, Sukuna approached the little house and opened the door, revealing a huge, monstrous dog with three heads and a snake tail. The angel watched the beast with fear and took small steps backwards.

"It won't attack you." Sukuna said.

"I think I'd still prefer to keep a safe distance..."

"Come on." Ryomen held out a hand to the angel, who reluctantly took it. He took her in his arms and approached Cerberus, who was staring at them with his three heads. He didn't look like he was about to attack her, the little angel in her master's arms was no threat. Or perhaps the dog was aware of his master's feelings.

"He's kind of cute..." The angel murmured, reaching out a trembling hand to the middle head, which approached and sniffed it, soon followed by the right and left heads mimicking the movements, getting used to her scent. The middle head lowered itself, allowing her to stroke it. "And the fur is very soft..."

Without the angel noticing, Sukuna gradually let go of her and let her play with the infernal dog. He moved away a little, folding his arms across his chest. As he watched her, Sukuna began to notice things he hadn't noticed since the night before they ended up together. Though he had noticed her change in personality ⸻ something that happened when he was only in the Angel's presence ⸻ he noticed his own heart growing restless, pounding so hard against his chest that it seemed it might jump out of his body and into the Angel's delicate hands at any moment. She had been an extreme change in his life and in his own feelings. But what surprised him most about the whole situation was that he didn't even mind the change, in a way it pleased him enough. And Sukuna wouldn't complain if he could see a scene as domestic as the one that was unfolding in front of him.

If he could, he would take the Angel for himself and only for himself.

"I think he... or rather they liked me!" She said excitedly as she approached Sukuna with a smile, followed by the dog.

"Would you like to meet the civilisation of Umbra?"

"What? Are you serious?"

"If you behave, we can go."

"I'll behave, I promise!"

"I'll have the horse prepared." Sukuna said with a sideways smile, "Stay here with Cerberus until I get back. And don't be disappointed if you find that Umbra is nothing but a morbid place."

"I'm sure I won't be disappointed, because sometimes it's not the place that counts, but the company."

"Tsk... I won't be long," Sukuna turned to look for a servant with a smile still on his face.

He was fucked…

𝔊aia, The Society of Humans

Sukuna was almost one hundred percent sure that this wasn't the best idea.

It was a fact that the demon liked to keep things between him and the angel private ⸻ less public and more private. But a few weeks before this day, Sukuna had found it almost impossible to say no to the creature of light.

Not that he hadn't tried to say no. He had, many times. But his voice didn't seem to come out as he uttered that simple little word, watching the angel's hopeful face.

It was all a great dilemma for him.

And that's why the two of them, cloaked and hooded, walked through the bustling shops of Gaia, observing the stalls.

They hadn't bought anything, they were just enjoying each other's company as they walked hand in hand. They just commented to each other about the products that caught their eye at the stalls. It wasn't as if they didn't have the money to buy anything. Sukuna had enough money (and plenty of it) to buy all the stalls in the place, but he needed the Angel to really want something there for him to put his hand on his money. But the Angel didn't seem that interested.

However, what seemed to be a quiet (and romantic) afternoon went up in smoke when the Angel heard her name called out in the crowd.

She looked forward and saw her grandfather in his armour, along with other Oriana guards. They stood out from the crowd with their golden armour, which seemed to radiate light from within.

The angel squeezed Sukuna's hand, sensing her desperation, and took a few steps back.

"Angel...?" Sukuna looked at the creature of light doubtfully, sensing the awe coming from it.

"We have to get out of here!" The Angel said frantically as she ran to pull Sukuna between the tents.

The angel pulled Sukuna into the Lost Forest, but the guards and her grandfather continued to pursue them.

"What's going on?" Sukuna asked in a serious tone as he dodged an arrow.

"My grandfather is chasing me..."

"Why?”

"I argued with my grandfather. The last time I was in Oriana, we had an argument and I said something like the people of Umbra deserved our respect and that it wasn't fair to judge them mercilessly based on myths and false accusations. My grandfather didn't like his granddaughter defending those he had always tried to destroy. I just didn't know he was going to come after me– AH!!". 

The angel fell to the ground as she felt something cross her bruised wing.

Sukuna looked back angrily, searching for the archer who had shot his beloved, only to find a dozen creatures of light pointing an arrow at him. The demon just laughed mockingly at the whole situation, he couldn't spend all his time running, he had to fight too.

"Angel..." he said, catching the eye of the creature of light lying on the ground behind him, "remember you promised me you'd do whatever I wanted?"

"Sukuna–"

"Run!" Sukuna said, interrupting the angel, "Run without looking back. I'll take care of them." He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the fight if he knew she was in danger.

"But..."

"I didn't think you were the type to break your promises."

"Will you find me?" The Angel asked, worried that she would never see the Demon again.

"Always."

After hearing Sukuna's answer, the angel got up, feeling a pain in her wing, and ran deeper into the forest.

Sukuna fought fiercely against the guards, who, despite being outnumbered, were no match for the demon. However, after knocking another guard to the other side of the forest, a shrill scream echoed through the place, alerting Sukuna and making his heart clench in his chest as he recognised the voice.

Running between the trees, Sukuna reached the cliff where he had taken the angel on their first encounter. But it was no longer a beautiful place, not as it had been when he was there with her, not when he knew that the scene before him would haunt him forever.

At the edge of the cliff, two of Oriana's guards held the angel tightly, and beside them lay one of her wings. Sukuna's jaw clenched at the sight of the torn wing; not even a demon would do such a thing to his own kind.

"Surrender, demon, and we'll set her free," the angel's grandfather said.

"RYOMEN, DON'T DO THIS!" The angel screamed through her tears as she tried to free herself from the guards' grip.

With each passing second, the tightness in Sukuna's chest grew as he struggled to decide what to do. He could fight all those guards (who were certainly no match for his fury), or he could surrender, accept the punishment and save the life of the only being capable of touching his heart of stone.

Not even Sukuna could believe that he, the most feared demon, would think of surrendering. Just to save the life of a creature of the light.

"Let her go and I will gladly surrender." Sukuna looked from the angel to her grandfather.

"RYO, PLEASE–" her whimper came out weak and garbled.

"Promise me she'll get out of here safely."

"Of course she'll be safe, she's my granddaughter." The angel's grandfather straightened his already upright posture, trying to convey an air of superiority that made Sukuna roll his four eyes, "All right, let's take this demon to jail."

"NO!" The angel shouted, "YOU CAN'T ARREST HIM! SUKUNA HAS DONE NOTHING"

But as the angel tried to free herself from the guards again, her body was thrown backwards, causing her to lose her balance and fall off the cliff.

Sukuna's four eyes widened in shock at the sight, and her body quickly ran to the edge of the cliff to search for the angel's body. Without one of her wings, she wouldn't have been able to fly and save herself. But when he looked down, all he saw was the angel's body being engulfed by the seawater, taking her to an unknown place and out of his reach.

In his moment of vulnerability, Sukuna was stabbed in the back and gradually his vision began to blur until it became a black screen.

𝔘mbra Maximum Security Prison

Jin watched his surroundings as one of the prison guards led the way. Never in his life had he imagined that he would be walking through Umbra's maximum security prison. Of course, he knew about his twin brother's possible imprisonment, but it had never occurred to him that he would be incarcerated in a prison that housed those who defied the laws of the Three Societies, and especially those concerning Oriana.

The guard motioned for Jin to sit in the chair facing a cell, and he simply nodded as he looked around.

Everything was so dark and damp and didn't seem to be hygienic at all. Jin took a deep breath and looked ahead, seeing his brother in the middle of the cell, bound by numerous chains that were supposed to hold him down. However, Jin soon realised that those chains weren't capable of holding his brother, they were there because Sukuna didn't want to leave, he had already accepted being in this unhealthy place.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?" Sukuna's voice was hoarse. Jin would have been scared if he didn't know Sukuna.

"I was just waiting for an explanation from you."

"What?" Sukuna looked at his brother, "Do you think it's time for bedtime stories?"

"Well, if that's the only way you can explain what you're doing in this prison..."

"I have nothing to explain."

"Ryomen," Jin sighed, "you're being held in a maximum security prison, I think you owe me an explanation for that."

There was silence in the room, causing Jin to take a deep breath and wonder how his brother could be so stubborn.

"You know what kind of person is imprisoned here. Don't tell me you were pestering Oriana's government in your spare time?"

"I wasn't pestering anyone, I was just living my life."

"And how did you end up here if you were just living your life?" Jin asked, confused.

"I was living my life with an angel..." the name of the angel left his lips with a tone of melancholy mixed with the anger he felt at the whole event that had cost the life of the only person that mattered to him.

"She was an angel?" Jin's surprise only increased when he recognised the name of the person who had been with him the last time they had met. "Having a relationship with a creature of light is the worst crime a creature of darkness can commit. And you were never one to sympathize with anything or anyone related to Oriana."

"She was different from those stupid angels... and very stubborn." Sukuna sighed.

"Ryomen..." Jin called to his brother, finally understanding the whole situation that had led to his current predicament. "I thought you were involved in a murder or an attack on Oriana's government, but... Ryomen, you've fallen in love with her."

Sukuna felt a pain in his chest, as if his heart was about to be ripped out of his own body.

In love.

He was hopelessly in love with the Angel and would never be able to say such a thing to her.

"It doesn't matter anymore..." Sukuna tried to appear indifferent.

"And why not?"

"She's dead." The words Sukuna had been so afraid to say came tearing out of his throat. He had avoided saying them, hoping it would hurt less, but it didn't, it hurt just as much.

"Ryomen..." Jin murmured his brother's name. He didn't know what Sukuna was going through, let alone what was going through his mind, but Jin could imagine it. He couldn't bear it either if he lost his wife and son. "You shouldn't give up. From what little I know of the Angel, I know she would want you to carry on."

"You don't understand, Jin." Sukuna clenched his fists, "She was the purest being in the Three Societies, and yet they had the nerve to kill her. They ripped off one of her wings as if she was nothing and then killed her in the most cowardly way."

"I know that losing someone important is painful and may be a pain that never heals, but you have to move on, be strong for yourself and for them. And cherish all the moments, all the memories you shared. She can't be here with you physically, but I know her love will always be with you.”

Before either Sukuna or Jin could say anything, a guard appeared to escort Jim out of the prison. Sadly, Jin said goodbye to his brother, who remained silent, staring at a fixed point on the floor.

To honor her memory…

What the Angel wanted most of all was for the Three Societies not to be divided by laws, and for them to treat each other with respect. And if that was what she wanted, Sukuna would do anything to fulfill one of her noblest dreams, even if it meant an inevitable war.

As the barren earth of Umbra began to tremble, Sukuna found a sense of satisfaction growing in his chest.

After escaping from the maximum security prison and freeing all those held there, Sukuna had assembled an unstoppable army hungry for vengeance.

The angel was right. The people of Umbra deserved the respect of the others, and if they were incapable of giving it freely, then Sukuna would have to enforce it in an unconventional way: by starting a war after centuries of "peace".

Ryomen's thoughts turned back to the Angel. He wondered if she would be proud of him for leading the creatures to receive what they should have received years ago. Perhaps she wouldn't be so happy about the means Sukuna had chosen, but she would certainly be proud if it brought positive results.

Sukuna would turn the Three Societies into hell itself for the Angel, and that's exactly what he was going to do.

In the midst of the chaos, it wasn't difficult to invade Gaia, especially as the humans were no match for the creatures of darkness. And when Sukuna reached Oriana's portal, which prevented the dark creatures from passing through, he smiled mischievously.

There was nothing Sukuna couldn't do, and no portal would stop him from avenging the Angel's unjust death.

With his four hands clenched into a powerful fist, Sukuna punched the portal until it shattered into tiny, insignificant pieces. A sigh escaped his lips, it had been easier than he had thought.

𝕺riana, The Society of Light

As he stepped through the portal, the demon immediately noticed the golden sky and the great buildings hovering above him ⸻ just as the Angel had described them to him long ago.

There was certainly something angelic about Oriana, but he knew that the vast majority of the creatures of Light were as rotten as the trunks of the Dark Forest.

Almost at the centre of the entire Society of Light civilisation, Sukuna noticed a large building that resembled a temple, made of white marble and decorated with gold and gems that reflected the light.

If the Angel's grandfather was anywhere, he had to be there.

As some of the creatures of darkness entered Oriana and fought with the guards of light, Sukuna was busy trying to figure out how to get to the top while dodging the attacks coming his way. After climbing some sort of golden tree, Sukuna arrived at the temple, causing the whole place to shake.

"Demon." The angel's grandfather appeared on the other side of the temple, holding his bow with an upright posture that conveyed superiority, something frightening, but not to Ryomen. "What do you think you're doing?"

"A war?" Ryomen shrugged.

"And why are you starting a war after centuries of peace?"

"Peace?" A dark laugh left Sukuna's lips, "You creatures of the light treat my people with contempt, imposing laws that only benefit you and branding all creatures of the dark as villains. We have stood by and tolerated you for many years."

"And why now? Why are you revealing yourselves now?"

"Because I didn't care before... until you took the one good thing from me."

"If you hadn't got involved with my granddaughter, she'd still be here!"

"Oh really..." Sukuna rolled his eyes and attacked, hitting the Angel's grandfather square in the face.

Ryomen felt his anger take over as he viciously attacked the creature of light. There was nothing left to stop him, for the only thing that had any influence over him was no longer at his side.

"She..." the creature of light choked on his own blood, "My granddaughter... still lives..."

Sukuna felt a hand close around the angel's grandfather's neck.

"She's... she's in the... Sacred Garden..."

"And where is that?" he asked harshly.

"Behind... the temple..."

"If that's a lie, know that I'll cut you seven feet to the ground myself." The demon struck the creature of light one last time, knocking it unconscious, and made his way back to the temple.

The Sacred Garden was a place beyond Sukuna's imagination. There was a huge pond of crystal clear, translucent water surrounded by a garden of gold and white flowers and some fruit trees. Although it was a beautiful sight, the angel hadn't lied when she said that everything in Oriana followed the same colors.

In the midst of the flowers, and facing a defoliated golden trunk, was a glass coffin in which the angel lay serenely.

Ryomen felt his heart clench in his chest as he approached the glass coffin. One of his hands rested on the glass, incredulous and afraid that this was his own mind playing tricks on him.

He had spent days believing that his beloved, sweet angel had died, blaming himself and angry at himself for being her undoing. But there she was. Lying serenely, just as he remembered her.

Then Sukuna opened the glass lid of the coffin and a hand reached for the angel's icy face.

"Forgive me..." the words came from his lips like a breeze and he slowly approached her face to kiss her goodbye before returning to the war.

But as Ryomen reluctantly pulled away from the angel, she slowly opened her eyes, startling the demon.

"Ryo?" She asked confusedly, trying to tune into her memories.

Sukuna whispered her name and took her in his arms, nuzzling her against his strong arm. Oh, how he had missed feeling her in his arms.

"What happened?" she asked, confused.

"It doesn't matter anymore..." He replied, running a hand through the angel's hair. His hands moved down to her face, gently caressing her cheek before kissing her.

𝕾omewhere in Gaia, The Society of Humans

With a small porcelain watering can, the angel smiled as she watered her fuchsias, which were growing every day. She looked at the blooming flower in front of her and remembered the day she had fallen in love with it. Surely it was a memory that would live forever in her heart.

She walked through the small garden and into the house, where she saw her husband sharpening one of his knives while drinking tea.

"Jin sent a letter." With a smile on her face, she approached the demon and sat on his lap.

"He always sends letters."

"It's Yuuji's birthday, he's turning five." She smiled excitedly.

"That brat only has birthdays and never grows up," Sukuna huffed, dropping the objects in his hand to hug his beloved's body, one of his hands running up her back, stopping on the angel scar where one of her wings should have been.

"I know you like Yuuji deep inside." The Angel approached Ryomen's face and kissed him.

"Perhaps, but there are things I like better." A mischievous smile formed on Sukuna's lips as he approached the angel's neck. He planted a kiss on a particular spot of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

Five years ago, the Angel broke one of the most sacred laws of the Three Societies, the one that prevented contact between a creature of Light and a creature of Darkness. And five years ago, Sukuna Ryomen led an army to avenge her (presumed) death, ready to fulfill her wish for unity between the Three Societies. Five years ago, the Three Societies signed a peace treaty that did not prevent contact between them, but encouraged cultural exchange between the societies.

But all that was over, as was the law that forbade love between a creature of light and a creature of darkness. And now the angel could live out her dream, enjoying a peaceful life with her beloved. And Sukuna, well, he had found the peace he had dreamed of. He had no more worries, not when his whole world was safe in his four arms.

© seonghrtz, 2024. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[looulouv]

words unspoken — epic!telemachus x reader

pairing: telemachus x gn!reader synopsis: after the battle, the ithacan palace is left in complete silence. maybe there are still some words to be said, and a new beginning is due. genre: fluff, maybe a just a tiny bit itty bitty angsty, but not really warnings: mentions of battle aftermath, blood, and reflections on death, tele being tele word count: 1.4k author's note: it's here !!!!!!!!! spending my summer writing this instead of doing my homework is so nice. i hope you like it, and don't be afraid to like and comment. also keep in mind that reblogs help me grow <3 besos pt 1: here! first meeting: here!

When his father —who just smiled after teasing him— turned to him with a quiet yet firm command to let his mother know he was home, Telemachus did not hesitate. Or rather, he didn't let his hesitation show.

His eyes flickered to the guard standing beside him, their clothes smeared with the blood of the suitors, eyes now tranquil as ever. He supposed it was due to the new peace the palace had, now silent after years of noise that belonged to them, from the clang of goblets and dishes hitting the floor, to countless fights and brawls, screams and yells to the servants and boisterous laughter that bounced off the walls. The halls of the palace were now eerily silent, save for the muffled voices of the remaining servants, the soft crackle of torches still burning in the aftermath of battle. The smell of blood still lingered, the metallic scent making Telemachus scrunch his nose in slight disgust, but it was faint, overpowered by the familiar sea salt that always clung to to the palace's walls.

As they kept walking, he met their gaze briefly, and they just gave each other a faint smile, still walking through the halls to Penelope's chambers. The walk felt eternal. They walked in silence—not an awkward one, but charged with something unspoken. Telemachus felt it in the way his fingers twitched by his side, in the way his throat tightened every time he tried to find the words.

He snuck another glance at (Y/N), catching the way their sharp eyes softened ever so slightly as they took in their surroundings, maybe feeling the new beginning approaching. He wondered what they were thinking though—if they felt the same weight in their chest that he did, the same tension curling between them like an unstrung bow just waiting to snap.

Then their gaze shifted. And for a brief second, their eyes met.

Telemachus was quick to look away, his heart stammering against his ribs like a startled bird. Gods, when had he become fifteen again? When had he returned to that state? The nervous wrecks, stumbling over words, or just struggling to say anything?

He cleared his throat, forcing his voice to come out steady, praying to the gods that it wouldn't crack. "Y-you fought well today. Like always, I mean, not like you don't fight well in general… I-I just, I've never seen you fight like that so I just thought it was pretty… Pretty good! Yeah, pretty good…"

The guard turned to him, one brow slightly arched like they were wondering what in the world was wrong with him. Then, to his utter ruin, they smiled.

"Mhm, thank you, my prince."

It was teasing. They always called him that in jest, never in true formality, but this time, it felt different. This time, it felt… affectionate.

"And I'm sure you fought efficiently as well. You have improved greatly, I can tell. You look… different." They added, eyes going over his frame, and Telemachus couldn't help but feel warm inside, trying very hard to ignore the flush on his cheeks.

They reached Penelope's door soon after, pausing at the door. Telemachus went in alone, (Y/N) waiting by the door like always, as if they still had to vigil for the queen's safety. Once Telemachus stepped outside, both prince and guard could see the imposing form of Odysseus, looking more and more nervous as he stepped closer.

Telemachus looked at his father, almost like he still couldn't believe it was him right in front of his eyes, and just let him know that Penelope was waiting for him. Next, the king entered what had been his chambers for the first time after twenty years.

From within, quiet voices could be heard—his mother's soft, melodic voice and Odysseus' tone changing to an incredibly soft murmur.

Yet Telemachus and (Y/N) decided to let the married couple have their moment alone, walking through the halls aimlessly.

Telemachus exhaled, feeling his chest ease slightly. His parents were together again, reunited after years and years of waiting. Finally.

Yet why did his chest feel restless?

He turned to his guard, to the friend he had come to adore over the years, to the same person that left him tossing and tossing at night, incapable of sleep due to the amount of space they claimed in his mind. Something in him tightened when he realized they were already watching him, head tilted slightly, as if waiting. As if expecting something.

That was his chance.

"Listen," he started, voice lower now, less confident, with a certain shakiness. "There's something I need to—"

"You have something on your face."

Telemachus blinked. "What?"

His guard let out a quiet huff before stepping closer—far too close— reaching up to brush their thumb just beneath his jaw, then over his eyebrow, and finally, just over the apple of his cheek.

"Blood and… lipstick." They smirked, eyes glinting with amusement before adding a soft murmur. "I suppose both of those are not yours."

Telemachus forgot how to breathe.

Oh, he was going to die. Right there, slain not by a sword, but by them.

"I-It's my mother's! My mother's lipstick!" Like that didn't sound any more embarrassing, but he felt like he had to let them know.

"I know, Telemachus. You didn't have it when you walked into the queen's chambers."

He swallowed, every nerve in his body alight. He wanted to thank them, nervously joke about how his mother had reacted to his return, but nothing came out.

Until it did, and it wasn't even remotely close to what he had in mind.

"I love you." He blurted out in a soft breath, voice barely above a whisper, but he was sure they heard it with how close they were.

"What?" Oh, gods.

Telemachus felt his heart hammering so violently it actually hurt. Gods, why were they so terrifying? Had he made a mistake? He couldn't stop shaking.

"I'm in love with you." He said, trying to make his voice sound confident, yet he knew he was failing. "I'm really sorry... I apologize if that's strange for you to hear… B-but I needed you to hear it…"

They just blinked, their hand still on his cheek, and Telemachus prayed that it would stay there.

"I've known you for years, and yet every time I look at you, I see someone new. Someone stronger, braver. And I can't stop looking, I don't want to. I-I don't think you realize how much you mean to the people in this palace— to me."

He just hoped they would at least hear him out, or he was sure that it would be his ruin. Telemachus would willingly throw himself off the window he had by his left if this ended terribly.

"How do you know it's love?" (Y/N) suddenly asked, eyes not leaving his. And Telemachus saw it. The vulnerability, the hesitation. "You were gone for a year, how do you know it's love?"

"Because no matter how far I was, how many nights I was seas away from you, my heart never left you, (Y/N). I thought about you every single day, like you would just appear from inside my mind and materialize. I missed you terribly, and I don't know if you—"

And then—gods above— it happened. Kind of strange, but Telemachus wouldn't complain right, really.

In reality, he hadn't noticed the way (Y/N) kept stealing glances at his lips, like they were debating if they should just go for it or just stop him from rambling any further with their hands over his mouth. Like they weren't sure how to deal with the situation. But in the end, they must have thought… to Hades with it. They dipped him.

His mind blanked. His breath hitched. He barely had time to register the warmth of their hands steadying him, grabbing him by the waist, the absolute audacity of them tilting him back like some swooning maiden—before their lips were on his.

Soft. Warm. Then, certain. Like they were hesitant at first but regained their footing.

Telemachus could feel himself giving in, forgetting about everything, melting into their touch while he lifted his hands to cup their face delicately, like he was afraid to touch them, as if they would vanish into thin air.

And then it was over. (Y/N) pulled away, standing him upright again as if they hadn't just ruined his entire existence with one kiss.

Telemachus just blinked, stunned, still processing what had just happened, his legs trembling and his brain foggy. He swore that he died, arrived at Elysium for a brief second and returned to his home. "That was—"

"Nice?" They smiled sheepishly, eyes wide with expectation.

"Yes!" He let out, rather loud he dared to admit, before composing himself and clearing his throat, giving a small nod. "I mean, yes… That was… Nice."

Then, quickly, before they could tease him further, he added,

"Would you… perhaps, allow me to do that again? This time, I'd like to lead…"

His guard just tilted their head, lips pursing before replying.

Then, simply, "No."

"No?" Telemachus' heart plummeted. "Did you not like it? Was it bad? Is it me?"

Their eyes widened slightly with surprise, as if realizing what he thought. (Y/N) shook their head, short strands of hair flowing before they brushed it behind their ear.

"No, I meant that…" Their voice grew softer, and, for the first time since he had met them, Telemachus could see the faintest hint of pink bloom across their cheeks. "… I want to do it again."

"Oh. Oh!" Telemachus let out, his face brightening. And before he had time to say yes, they reached for his waist again, their other hand gripping the soft fabric of his clothes to pull him closer.

Yes.

Yes, he could definitely live with letting them lead.

[suuuupernovaaa]

In Secret ft. Benjicot Blackwood

You’ve been meeting Benjicot in secret for some time now, and he’s done hiding.

Tags: Benjicot & Bracken!Reader, no use of y/n, mature 18+

Roughly a 30 minute walk from Stone Henge, your ancestral home, was a rock formation in the woods. Possibly a long forgotten home or shed of some sort, it had long turned to ruins out here in the wilds of the riverlands. Weeds and wildflowers sprung through the cracks in the crumbling structure, pulling it back into nature slowly but surely over time.

It was here that you’d been meeting Benjicot Blackwood in secret for nearly three years now.

This was the place where you’d first met, shared your first kiss, and dreamed of a future together that was not possible with the feud between your great houses.

The Blackwoods of Raventree hall despised your Bracken bloodline, and it was a sentiment your family returned. If anyone found out that your Saturday walks were to meet the enemy, you’d never be allowed outside your fortress walls again.

The day was hot and you shed your outer dress, holding it in your arms and donning only your inner clothes as you walked. The sun crept across the skies, and only the shade of the forest kept you from truly suffering in the heat.

Benji was already at your ruins when you arrived, seated on the ground and leaning back onto his elbow, picking wildflowers and discarding them into the grass. He glanced up as he heard your approach, and his solemn expression melted into a smile.

He stood up, eyeing you from head to toe with that ever-growing grin on his face. It took all your self control to not sprint the last two paces between you.

The days between your meetings felt like their own individual eternities. You lived for these moments, these few hours on Saturday in the ruins with Ben.

He wrapped you in his arms when you reached him, and spun you in a circle. You laughed and he held him tightly once he sat you down, two feet firmly on the ground.

“So eager for me that you’ve undressed already, have you?” he teased, peppering kisses all over your reddened face.

“It is quite hot, Benjicot,” you replied tersely, and he laughed.

“Sure, sure.” He pulled you flush to him, and began slowly inching your under clothes up, up, until you were bare from the waist down, his hands digging into the flesh of your backside, and kissed you firmly on the mouth.

As they always did, your lips parted for him, giving him eager entrance, and you sighed when his tongue met yours.

He pulled you up by the shelf of your behind, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he backed up, sitting on the edge of the stone ruins.

You could feel his hard length beneath you, and you moaned as his mouth left yours and trailed hot kisses down your neck.

“Are you wet for me already?” he whispered into the skin of your neck, and you could only nod in response.

He bent forward, holding you tightly as he laid you on the ground, now kneeling between your open legs.

“I think of your cunt constantly,” he breathed, his lips trailing down your chest. “How wet you are for me, and how you moan my name. Gods, it’s all I think of.”

He took one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling firmly, and your back arched off the itching grass as you gasped. Only seconds later, his hand found your dripping center, and he pressed circles into your clit with his thumb while two fingers pressed inside of you.

“Oh, Ben,” you moaned, your head falling to the side as you met his fingers, thrust for thrust.

He let go of one nipple with a pop, and before moving to the other whispered, “How fast shall you come for me today, my little love?”

You could not answered as he continued rubbing your clit and petting your inner walls. You were coming apart before him so quickly, but you could not feel embarrassed.

You reached down and as quick as you could, untied his pants and released his throbbing cock. He hissed when you wrapped your hand around it and started pumping, eager for him to join you in pleasure.

“Gods, yes, that’s so good,” he hissed, and brought his mouth to yours again in a sloppy, desperate kiss.

It was not long at all before you were tumbling over the edge together, and you screamed his name as you did.

He collapsed on top of you after, his head on your chest, and you breathed rapidly together for a while.

This was everything you lived for. Being here with Benji, bringing each other pleasure or just talking, it didn’t matter. It was all you wanted.

After a while, he propped himself up on his elbow and smiled down at you with such joy and intensity that it made you blush.

“You must marry me, my lady,” he said, and your smile faded.

“Don’t tease me, Benjicot. You know we would never be permitted to wed.”

“And if we married in secret, forced their hands, would you leave your family and join mine?”

You furrowed your brow and reached up to cup his cheek.

Abandon your family? Your parents, siblings, all those you’d known and loved your whole life? They’d never speak to you again if you married a Blackwood - especially the Blackwood heir.

Could you be enemy to your family the rest of your life?

Your eyes met Benjicot’s again as he stared down at you with the wildness and intensity he was known for.

The alternative was each of you marrying another. Maybe never meeting in secret again as life’s burdens made it impossible. You took a moment to sit in that reality and imagine what was worse: losing Ben, or making an enemy of your family?

“I would marry you, Benjicot Blackwood, if you are being serious,” you replied.

His answering smile was enough to tell you, this was the right decision.

“Meet me here tonight, when the moon is high. Bring only what you can carry. You’ll be my lady-wife when we are finished, and we’ll never be parted again.”

[pureshadough]

crk reread - prologue

(long post with lots of images under the cut!)

why the fuck are the prologue cutscenes so low quality and bitcrunched?

are the ancients ever referred to as just The Five anywhere else in game? i think it's literally just in this single instance. very strange

soul jam's nature was so Dubious during prelaunch. are they unique to the virtue holders specifically, or a universal concept given a title and Emphasis for these exceptionally strong instances of them? we have soul stones which are described as having their essence, but its never been particularly clear if each individual cookie has a soul stone as like, their actual SOUL or not, and if souljam is moreover supposed to be synonymous in this use-case. i think devsis probably didn't really know themselves until a bit of a ways in. interesting to look back on

i have a deep appreciation for how all of the ancients get crowns & diagrams of their kingdoms behind them EXCEPT for lily

and if you didnt manage to catch on to the fact she was the odd one out of the group, this quad shot spells it out even clearer

do we ever see the flags for hb and gc's kingdoms outside of this cutscene? can't remember. surely we do

I still have no fucking idea how she's here for this.

god damn kim has been putting her heart into every single pv line since day one. i need more people to listen to the korean voice acting for this game the delivery is genuinely so fucking excellent across the board

the use of eternity in this sentence is. Interesting.

IVE NEVER NOTICED THAT THEY BOTH START TO CRUMBLE DURING THIS??? dark moon magic is some wild shit my dude

these early early game (practically prototype) cutscenes are SO strange looking by comparison to today. lily looks like shes from a newgrounds flash animation from 2008 here. wet cat

ever wondered why the vanilla kingdom is permanently airborne?

Yeah

it wasn't always airborne

you can also briefly catch the souljams scattering across earthbread in that shot!

small detail people often forget about: while many cookies have indeed escaped the witches grasp after being baked before, im of the understanding here that gingerbrave is uniquely the only cookie to have ever escaped from inside the oven itself, mid-baking process. the kid also manages to avoid most every hazard for the unknowable amount of time he was running before he at last passed out from exhaustion after attacking a wolf. King shit

corporate wants you to find the difference between these two images

oh what the fuck i COMPLETELY forgot about this. all of them knew each other pre-game! what! sure!

okay now This.

are we ever gonna come back around to this one devsis because What the fuck are you talking about. Why. Does this not completely undercut everything going on with white lily. In the first 15 minutes of playtime. WHY DOES STRAWBERRY PROCEED TO NEVER BRING THIS UP AGAIN. GINGERBRAVE DOESNT EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE THIUS AT ALL IN THE MOMENT???? ITS SO DARK IN HERE

the sugar gnomes immediately approaching three Actual Children when they happen to congregate within the ruins of the old kingdom they lived at and going REBUILD SOCIETY is so fucking funny to me

i know the intentions of most of this is near-exclusively to teach the player the base game mechanics but the concept of cookie cutters as they function in the gacha being a Real Thing in this universe is so. ????!?!??!?!?!??!?

i recall wizard gets disproven here a few chapters later but Man even the game cant decide on which variation of its lore to go with

SUMMONING BEACON

ahhh yes good old chili pepper and her singular personality trait of Is A Thief. i will be skipping most of her dialogue henceforth

will we EVER elaborate on what this fucking power from "The Legends" is supposed to be. Ever. We are so far removed from this initial plot at this point. devsis has the opportunity to bring back the funniest chekhovs gun in all of fiction

custard cookie's korean performance makes him INFINITELY more tolerable to listen to. dare i say its Cute, Even. he's just a little guy.

thats about it for prologue besides a bunch of really short & unvoiced tutorial cutscenes. I am forever haunted by the fact like 70% of the details established in this like 45 minute stretch have been pretty much completely abandoned in the modern day. GOD I WISH THEY DID ANYTHING WITH STRAWBERRY SEEING A COOKIE GET EATEN. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. i remembered she had *a* scene involving a witch encounter but not whatever the hell they were trying to do with THIS. The missed potential for her to have the most insane possible conversations with DE/lily. A literal nine year old coped better with seeing god consume its own creation than her. Fuck.

[redvexillum]

A/N: OKAY. No shit, Kit. You didnt think people actually believed you that I suck on airport doorknobs! Also, THE ALCOHOL SHOULD'VE KILLED ALL THE GERMS. AIN'T THAT HOW IT WORKS??? I AM NOT WRITING ANGSTMAS. IT'S JUST smoll sad. Besides, here's peak SMUTmas. I shut off my brain for this one. So, please enjoy.

SUMMARY: You, a human, were taken to the depths of Hell, where you met Lucifer and Alastor, believing you were finally someone worth cherishing. However, behind the scenes, you were nothing more than a bargaining chip in their deal.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, two in one hole, double penetration, dub con, oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasm, just ...gratuitous smut.

The name haunted you, a cruel brand seared into your identity: Discount Dolly. 

It wasn’t just a nickname. No, it was a condemnation, a relentless reminder of how little the world thought you were worth. Cheap. Useless. A placeholder where someone better should have been. No matter how fiercely you tried to scrub it away, the words clung to your soul, seeping into the deepest parts of you like ink spilled on fragile parchment. It screamed of your worthlessness, a truth you had accepted as fact. 

Until the night everything changed. 

One moment, you were nobody—a shadow among shadows. The next, you were swept into the depths of Hell itself. The underworld, where souls writhe in torment for eternity, welcomed you not as a sinner, but as an anomaly. A living, breathing human. You. The first of your kind to ever set foot in this forsaken realm. 

And for the first time, you were seen. 

Here, in a place where the damned screamed into the void, you were valued.

It began when you met Him. Lucifer, the King of Hell, with his all-consuming presence. And his right hand, Alastor, the Radio Demon, who carried with him the dissonant hum of static and a predatory grin that seemed to promise ruin and delight in equal measure. Their attention had unravelled the tightly wound threads of your miserable existence, stitching together something raw, electric, alive. 

For the first time in your life, you were…cherished.

The air was heavy with the intoxicating aroma of berries and lavender, steam curling lazily around the ornate bathroom. You sat naked on the cool lip of a porcelain bathtub, vulnerable and exposed, yet strangely safe. Alastor’s voice, rich and smooth, hummed an old, haunting tune that tickled the edges of your memory, its age betraying a time long before you were born. 

He approached with a basin of warm, fragrant water, the golden light of the room catching the glint in his sharp eyes. As he tilted the basin, water cascaded over you in a soothing wave, drenching your skin in its warmth. His movements were unhurried, reverent even, as if the act of bathing you was a sacred ritual. 

“You seem… content, Alastor,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile intimacy of the moment. 

His ever-present grin curved slightly, softer somehow, though no less unsettling. “Oh, my sweet little lamb,” he cooed, his tone dripping with honeyed malice, “content doesn’t begin to cover it. The King and I… well, we’ve struck quite a fortuitous deal.” 

His words hung in the air, weighted with hidden meaning. As he dipped a sudsy sponge into the basin, you shivered—not from the coolness of the room, but from the heat of his gaze. Slowly, he pressed the sponge to your shoulder, massaging it in firm, deliberate circles before gliding it downward. The moment his hand replaced the sponge, cupping your breast, you gasped, a sharp intake of breath that seemed to echo against the tiles. 

“Ah, Alastor…” The sound of his name slipping from your lips was involuntary, raw with need. 

His grin widened, dark amusement gleaming in his eyes. “Last night wasn’t enough to satisfy you, was it?” he teased, his voice low, conspiratorial. The memory of Lucifer and Alastor both taking you, driving you to the brink of madness with their relentless pleasure, sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. 

Alastor’s clawed fingers trailed downward, the razor-sharp tips leaving a tingling path across your stomach. When he reached the apex of your thighs, his touch turned featherlight, a maddening tease that left you trembling. His finger pressed against your sensitive nub, eliciting a sharp, involuntary jolt that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. 

“Such a good little lamb,” he murmured, his voice thick with a dark, possessive affection. Slowly, he circled your clit, drawing whimpers from your lips with every deliberate stroke. “We wouldn’t be here without you, my dear. Your sacrifice… your submission… has secured everything.” 

You trembled, caught in the delicate balance between pleasure and fear, each sensation sharpening the other until it left you raw and exposed. The room still echoed with your whimpers, your body aching for the release Alastor had so cruelly denied. Your stomach clenched, both from the remnants of your peak and the gnawing unease creeping into your chest. 

His lips brushed against your temple, a ghost of a kiss, as his claw moved with agonizing precision. “Will you continue to be good for me?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your skin, his tone laced with dangerous promise. 

The whispers had reached even your ears—of another demon, a rival whose acquisition of long-coveted territory had sent shockwaves through Hell’s twisted hierarchy. This demon had claimed lands that Lucifer and Alastor had schemed to possess for decades. A delicate matter, Alastor had reassured you with his gentle tone, brushing off your questions with a cryptic smile. He had promised it would be a pleasant deal but withheld the details, leaving you stranded in your own spiralling thoughts. 

Now, he busied himself preparing you for this enigmatic meeting, his presence a blend of mockery and tenderness that left your pulse erratic. When his touch left your trembling core just shy of satisfaction, a frustrated whine escaped your lips before you could stop it. 

“Patience, my pet,” Alastor murmured with a low chuckle, his voice a dark caress. “You’ll have plenty of this later tonight.” 

Your brows knit in frustration, but before you could protest, he returned to the task at hand, meticulously washing away the last traces of soap from your skin. His hands, deliberate, and his grin, sharp like a wolf savouring its meal. 

Once you were cleaned, he dressed you in a gown that flowed like air itself—soft, ethereal white fabric that clung delicately to your curves. Gold bangles adorned your wrists and ankles, their faint clinking a soft melody with every movement. The sound sent shivers through you, a subtle reminder of captivity masquerading as elegance. The thought of manacles flickered briefly in your mind before you forced it away, banishing the notion with a shaky exhalation. 

When you stepped into the bedchamber, everything shifted. The atmosphere was oppressive, the air heavy and cloying as if it sought to press you into submission. Your breath caught in your throat, and an instinctive panic gripped you, screaming at you to turn and flee. Every nerve in your body urged you to run, yet your legs refused to obey. 

The weight of the room vanished instantly as two firm hands landed on your shoulders. You glanced up, finding Alastor’s piercing ruby eyes watching you, his red-tinted monocle gleaming in the dim light. His tufted ears flopped slightly as he tilted his head, the gesture deceptively soft against the sharpness of his questioning gaze. 

“Steady now,” his voice purred, a mix of reassurance and command that sent heat rolling down your spine. 

Drawing in a shaky breath, you forced yourself to focus, your chest rising and falling in a deliberate rhythm. You turned your attention to the others in the room: Lucifer, ever poised, stood at the head of the gathering, flanked by two figures who exuded power and danger in equal measure. 

One was a tall, lanky figure with a flat-screen television for a head. His sleek, tailored blue suit mirrored Lucifer’s taste for refinement. The other was a stark contrast—a broad, thickly built man with a rough goatee and messy brown hair, dressed in what looked like a plain white robe. The TV-headed man’s grin stretched across the glowing screen, an unsettlingly wide display of jagged white lines. 

“Vox,” he introduced himself with a flourish, his deep voice smooth yet charged with static. He inclined his head toward you, the screen flashing briefly as if mimicking a wink. “At your service, my sweet little angel.” 

“H-hello,” you stammered, the word barely audible as you instinctively stepped back—only to collide with Alastor’s firm chest. His claws once again pressed gently into your shoulders, a silent warning that escape was not an option. 

Your gaze flicked nervously to the larger man, the one with the wild brown hair. As he rose with a groan, his sheer size became apparent. He was the tallest in the room, his presence commanding without even trying. His red eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your skin prickle. 

“Name’s Adam,” he said, his voice rough and unpolished, a sharp contrast to the others. His lips curled into a cocky grin as he leaned slightly forward. “So… ya ready to fuck?” 

The audacity of his words hit you like a bolt, stealing the air from your lungs. Heat flared across your cheeks, and you opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. The weight of their stares bore down on you, and your heart hammered against your ribs like a drumbeat of impending chaos. 

Behind you, Alastor chuckled darkly, his fingers tightening on your shoulders as if to anchor you in place. “Oh, my dear,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement, “the night has only just begun.” 

“W-what?” The word caught in your throat, your voice cracking under the weight of confusion and dread. Your head whipped between Lucifer and Alastor, desperately searching for answers. Alastor’s grin remained fixed, unshaken, his eyes gleaming with unsettling amusement. Lucifer, however, bit his lip, guilt painted across his face like a poorly concealed secret. 

“Oh, no way,” Vox erupted, his laughter loud and cutting through the tension like a blade. “You didn’t tell her?” 

The sound coiled in your stomach, a physical sensation that twisted tighter and tighter. Your gaze snapped back to Lucifer, your eyes pleading for clarity, for reassurance—anything that could make this moment feel less suffocating. 

Lucifer finally cleared his throat, stepping forward as if to shield you from the weight of what was to come. His fingers slid into yours, his touch warm but hesitant, like a fragile thread trying to tether you to him. “Dear,” he began softly, his voice faltering. “I… I know we should’ve asked you first, but…” He hesitated, the words caught somewhere between his guilt and his desperation. “Y-you could say no, if you would like.” 

“I—” you started, but the words faltered as your thoughts tumbled over themselves in a chaotic spiral. “I don’t… I don’t even know what you’re asking me.” 

“Basically, sugartits,” Adam cut in, his voice a crude interruption, “we all made a deal that involves us all fuckin’ ya, so quit stalling and strip already!” 

He wasted no time, peeling off his clothes without shame. Each article of clothing fell carelessly to the floor, the sound of fabric hitting tile stark against the room’s suffocating silence. Vox rolled his eyes at Adam’s antics but said nothing, his static-filled screen flashing with flickers of amusement. 

You froze, your mind reeling, until Alastor leaned in close. His breath, warm and steady, brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His voice, edged with static, pierced through the fog clouding your thoughts. 

“My sweet little lamb,” he crooned, his tone a blend of saccharine and menace, “you want to be useful, don’t you?” 

The words hit like a hammer, and your body stiffened instinctively. 

“You said it yourself,” Alastor continued, his grin audible even if you couldn’t see it. “You’d do anything to stay by our side. Isn’t that right?” 

Your breath hitched, your fingers trembling as they curled into the fabric of your dress. He wasn’t wrong. 

You wanted to be useful. 

The memories rose unbidden, like phantoms clawing their way to the surface. Flashes of darkness, of loneliness, of shouts and screams, glass shattering around you. The echoes of your past clawed at your resolve, threatening to drag you back to a time when you were nothing, no one. 

Suddenly, Lucifer’s hands cupped your face, pulling you from the spiral. His thumbs caressed your cheeks with a gentleness that felt out of place in the suffocating room. His ruby red eyes searched yours, filled with something warm, something real. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice soothing like a balm over your frayed nerves. “It’s going to be okay.” 

But it wouldn’t. 

You didn’t want them to leave you. 

You couldn’t go back to that hollow, miserable existence. 

You couldn’t be her again. Discount Dolly. The forgotten girl. The one the world discarded. 

“I want to do this,” you whispered, the words trembling on your lips. They didn’t feel like they belonged to you, alien in their desperation. “Please… let me do this.” 

A smile spread across your face, a brittle, fractured thing that felt like a mockery of joy. Your hands loosened their grip on your dress, trembling as they fell to your sides. You wanted to be useful. You wanted to be cherished. You wanted—needed—to be loved. 

If you gave them this, if you offered all that you were, then maybe you’d finally matter. 

You’d finally be enough. 

And they’d let you stay by their side, wouldn’t they? 

The room crackled with tension, thick and suffocating, as Lucifer’s voice trembled through the air. “A-are you sure?” he asked, his usual composure faltering as his brows knit together in uncertainty. His eyes, normally sharp with dominance, softened with a flicker of doubt that only you could evoke. 

“Oh, my king,” Alastor interjected, his tone laced with playful derision, though his eyes burned with something far darker. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now.” His voice, smooth as velvet, curled around you as his fingers grazed your skin, unclasping the golden buckles that held your gown together. One by one, the delicate restraints fell away, the fabric pooling to the floor like liquid moonlight, leaving you utterly bare under the weight of their gazes. 

The air turned icy, a sharp contrast to the heat flooding your cheeks. Every nerve in your body felt exposed, raw, as four pairs of hungry eyes devoured the sight of you. Adam groaned, his voice a guttural growl that sent a shiver coursing down your spine. “Fuck, she smells good,” he rasped, his desire painfully evident as his length continued to grow, already throbbing with need. 

Alastor chuckled, the sound a mix of dark amusement and unrestrained lust. “Oh, you’ve no idea,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “Her taste is absolutely… divine.” His hand found the curve of your lower back, a gentle yet insistent pressure as he guided you toward the massive, intricately carved bed—a bed you knew all too well, its every inch steeped in memories of sinful indulgence with Lucifer and Alastor. 

Your legs moved like they weren’t your own, your body pliant under Alastor’s control. You leaned into him, your back pressing against his firm chest, the scent of him intoxicating. His erection stirred against you, the hard line of it unmistakable even through his trousers, a silent promise of what was to come. 

“Relax, my dear,” Alastor purred into your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of it. Slowly, deliberately, he spread your thighs apart, exposing your most vulnerable self to their ravenous gazes. The cool air kissed your heated skin, and your breath hitched as his fingers slid between your folds, spreading you open with a precision that left no room for modesty. 

“Do you need aid, my little lamb?” His voice was soft, teasing, but the sharp edge of his grin pressed against your shoulder betrayed his true intent. “After all,” he whispered, his fingers parting you further, “your cunt is so delightfully tight, a tad small for our… stature.” 

A tremor coursed through you at his words, and your eyes darted to Adam’s cock, the sheer girth of it already stretching the bounds of your imagination. Panic and desire warred within you, leaving you trembling. The memory of their size, the fullness, the ache—they had ruined you for anyone else, and you knew it. Still, you nodded, your submission a silent plea. 

Lucifer wasted no time, summoning a small, ornate blue box that shimmered with an unearthly glow. Vox, stripping out of his suit with deliberate slowness, raised a brow. “What’s that?” His voice was deep, almost sardonic, but curiosity danced in his glowing cyan eyes. His dark, navy-toned skin gleamed under the light, the bioluminescent gill-like patterns tracing his torso mesmerizing.

Lucifer cleared his throat, his usual confidence faltering under your gaze. “This,” he said, lifting a tiny blue marble from the box, “will help her… handle us. It also ensures our… session is prolonged.” His voice wavered, uncharacteristically hesitant, and he avoided your eyes until he crawled onto the bed, holding the marble to your lips. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to—” His words faltered, guilt clouding his eyes, but you silenced him with a soft, deliberate kiss to his fingers. Opening your mouth, you took the marble, its sweetness blooming on your tongue. The taste was like honey and something indescribable, intoxicating and otherworldly. 

As his fingers lingered, you suckled on them, your eyes never leaving his. Lucifer’s breath hitched, and the tension in his shoulders melted away as his arousal became impossible to hide, straining against the fabric of his pants. 

Then, with a sharp snap of Alastor’s fingers, the room shifted. Clothes disappeared instantly, leaving nothing but bare skin and raw desire. 

“Really, Alastor?” Vox growled, glaring at him. “I was setting the mood.” 

Lucifer shot Alastor a heated glare as Alastor awkwardly shielded the throbbing erection with the hand not currently holding your mouth open. 

“I decided we might as well get on with it,” Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, his grin never faltering. “I have a date with my sweet little lamb tonight,” he murmured, nuzzling your cheek against his, his breath hot against your skin. “We were supposed to indulge in all the delightful pastries of Cannibal Town…” His voice was low, a hint of something darker woven through the words. 

A collective groan of disgust rippled from the surrounding men. 

For a brief, fleeting moment, you almost forgot the situation at hand, the heat building between your legs almost too much to bear. But then the aphrodisiac coursed through you, the effects slamming into your body with brutal force. Your heart began to race, thundering in your chest. Your cunt clenched painfully, the wetness pooling between your legs, a desperate need to be touched. The heat radiating from your skin made it feel like you were on fire, your nipples hardened, the sensation so sharp it made you whimper. And your clit—aching, throbbing—demanded attention, as if every nerve in your body was screaming for release. 

“Now, who wants to clean her up?” Alastor’s voice was sultry, dark, as he slowly brought his hands down to spread your pussy open, exposing your weeping hole to the men. 

A soft moan slipped past your lips, your body shivering with pleasure as you felt every tiny movement down there, every touch, even just the air brushing against your sensitive skin. 

“Oh, me, me, me!” Adam’s voice was eager, thick with desire. He lumbered toward you, kneeling between your legs. His lips latched onto your clit, and your head immediately fell back onto Alastor’s shoulder, your body trembling as the intense pleasure hit you like a tidal wave. 

“That’s it, little lamb,” Alastor whispered against your ear, his hands kneading your breasts with expert care, the same way he had done earlier—firm, insistent, and intoxicating. 

You felt a sob rise in your throat, the pressure building deep inside of you, as Adam’s tongue worked magic on your folds. The sound of his desperate licks and slurps filled your ears, your body alive with sensation. All you could focus on was the way Alastor teased your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, and how Adam’s tongue flicked over your sensitive clit, each flick sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. 

With a loud, sharp gasp, your hips jerked forward, the first wave of orgasm crashing through you. The intensity of it left you breathless, but Alastor’s rough pinch of your nipples only heightened it, sending you spiralling further into a dizzying, intoxicating bliss. 

“Oh, fuck,” Vox groaned from nearby, his grip tightening on his own cock, pumping it quickly, the sounds of his hand meeting his balls adding a raw edge to the air. 

“Damn, fuck, that’s delicious,” Adam murmured, his voice thick with need, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. 

You felt Alastor shift, his cock pressing against your dripping cunt. He teased you for a moment, the tip of his head rubbing against your folds before, with one swift motion, he plunged into you completely, filling you with a delicious, intense stretch. 

“Ah!” you cried out, the sensation of him filling you making your entire body tremble, the sound of his soft grunts against your ear adding to the heat. 

“Hey, no fair,” Vox snapped, his teeth gritted, eyes flashing with jealousy. “I said I get to fuck her pussy first.” 

Alastor sighed, lazy and unconcerned, his movements steady as he pumped his cock in and out of you. Your lips parted in a breathless moan, the sounds spilling from you heavy, languid, and full of desire. “And you can, old pal,” he chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with mockery. “In fact, I’m giving you the chance for your pathetic cock to touch mine,” he added with a wicked smile, his words laced with venom. 

Vox stuttered, his words barely coherent as he asked, “Wh-what, like, we can fuck her pussy together?” 

Alastor responded with nothing more than a small hum, his gaze focused on you as he continued to fuck you in a rhythm that left you dizzy with pleasure. 

“Then dibs on her mouth!” Adam declared eagerly, his hands roughly gripping your hair, tugging it so sharply that you could feel strands of it rip from your scalp. The sting of pain only sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, intensifying the sensations flooding your body. You parted your lips willingly, feeling the sheer thickness of him stretch your mouth open, your lips pulling taut. The sensation was almost unbearable, your throat tight with the need to gag. But you didn’t pull away. Instead, you opened wider, the salty taste of him flooding your senses as he began to thrust, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with brutal force. Your throat constricted, and your body shuddered with each harsh thrust. Saliva dripped down your chin in thick strings as he pounded your mouth, your moans now mingling with gags, the sound almost primal in the raw, carnal intensity of it all. 

“Oh, fuck, yeah, babe, I like a sloppy bitch,” Adam groaned, his voice low and dark with lust as his hips thrust into you, the rhythm slow and purposeful, each movement pushing you closer to the edge of insanity. His cock was buried deep inside you, sending waves of heated pleasure that made you moan, unable to hold back your reactions. 

Your breath hitched, and your eyes fluttered open when you felt another touch, one that was hot and needy, brushing near your core, the same spot where Alastor was relentlessly pounding into you. The sensation was electric, sending shocks of pleasure radiating throughout your body, leaving you breathless. 

You were impossibly wet, slickness coating your thighs and dripping down Alastor’s cock, the bed beneath you damp with the mess of your arousal. The heat between your legs was unbearable, the desire to be filled, stretched, and owned overwhelming. 

A sob tore from your throat when Vox’s cock finally slid inside you, stretching you wider than you thought possible. It was slow at first, agonizingly slow, as he filled you, the feeling of him invading your body bringing both pain and pleasure. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, so fucking tight,” Vox groaned, his voice rough, his hands gripping your hips tightly, as he began to thrust deeper, pushing into you with slow, deliberate force. “Oh, fuck, you’re so fucking hard, Alastor,” he huffed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he shoved in deeper, widening you, forcing your body to accept him. It felt like you were being torn open, stretched beyond your limits, but it felt so fucking good that you couldn’t help but moan in need. 

Your scream of pleasure was muffled by Adam’s thick cock in your mouth, his thrusts becoming faster, more insistent, as you felt yourself completely consumed by the overwhelming sensations. The stretch was too much, yet you needed more, so much more. The aphrodisiac that buzzed through your veins made you insatiable, your mind spinning with the desire for them, for all of them, to take you, claim you completely. 

“Come on, Lucifer,” Adam huffed, his pace increasing as his cock slid in and out of your mouth, filling you in every way. “What are you standing around for with your cock in your hand?” 

As Alastor and Vox fucked you in a chaotic rhythm, each thrust from one of them keeping you on the edge, you felt the bed dip beside you. Your wrist was gently lifted, guided to Lucifer’s thick cock, which was already hard, his body trembling with barely contained need. Instinctively, your fingers curled around him, the warmth of his skin against your palm sending a shock of heat straight to your core. Lucifer began to move, his hips rocking slowly, pushing himself into your hand, sighing deeply as he groaned, “God, you feel so good, so fucking good.” 

The room was alive with noise—the wet sounds of bodies colliding, the slap of skin against skin, the desperate gasps, groans, and moans that filled the surrounding air. The scent of sweat and sex was thick, wrapping around you like a haze, your mind swimming with pleasure, making everything else fade away until there was only the overwhelming sensation of their bodies, their heat, their need. 

At that moment, you realized what you were feeling. You loved it, loved how your body was nothing but a vessel for their pleasure. The way they used you, made you feel, made you forget about everything else in the world—it was addictive. You didn’t have to think, didn’t have to feel anything but the pleasure that they gave you. The sound of their voices, their grunts, their moans as they came undone in you was all that mattered. 

Your back arched as Alastor and Vox picked up the pace, their thrusts harder, faster, their hands gripping you, making sure you felt every inch of them. The moment Alastor moaned, his body tense and vibrating with release, you felt his hot seed spill inside you, and that was all it took. Orgasm ripped through you, your body shaking, your muscles tightening as waves of bliss cascaded over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. 

Vox quickly withdrew, straining, his cock still twitching in the aftershocks of his near-orgasm. His hand gripped the base of his cock tightly, trying to hold back, his body trembling with frustration. 

Alastor, still panting, let out a short, mocking laugh. “Too bad you couldn’t finish, old pal.” 

“You bastard,” Vox gritted through clenched teeth, his tip turning dark blue from the pressure he’d applied, his voice rough with both frustration and desire. “You did that on purpose.” 

The world felt distant, lost in a haze of pleasure as Adam finally withdrew, both of you breathing heavily, caught in the aftermath of the intense rhythm. Your jaw ached, but the sensation only heightened the desire swirling within you. Your eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, lips parting in a soft gasp as you leaned in closer, a desperate yearning pulling you toward him. You craved the feel of him, the warmth of his body, and you moved instinctively, trying to pull his cock back into your mouth. 

“Woah, woah, slow down, babe,” Adam’s voice was low and teasing, but there was a breathless edge to it, a raw need that matched the pulse of your own desire. “I don’t want to finish just yet.” 

You shuddered, the heat inside you building as you felt your own arousal mixed with Alastor’s seed, dripping out of you, and you moaned softly at the sensation. Your body throbbed with longing, aching for more, the intensity almost unbearable. You couldn’t understand why everyone had stopped, even Lucifer, who had been gently rocking into your hand, now still, his cock pressing against your skin differently, a soft tension that only added to the weight of your need. 

You felt Vox shift beneath you, his frustration like an unspoken force in the air, but your mind couldn’t focus on anything but the unbearable heat spreading through your core. You were on fire, every inch of your skin sensitive, your body aching for release, craving any touch that could soothe the deep ache inside you. 

“We should hurry,” Lucifer’s voice broke through the fog of lust, soft yet full of concern, a tenderness that soothed the frantic pace of your heart. “My sweetie is hurting.” His hand, cool and gentle, cupped your cheek, and you leaned into the touch, your breath hitching. His skin felt like silk against yours, a cool balm to the feverish heat radiating from your body. The contrast of his touch was electrifying, and you nuzzled into it, feeling the sensation wrap around your soul. 

Your limbs trembled, not just from the pleasure, but from the weight of your emotions. A soft giggle slipped from your lips, light and unrestrained, the pleasure bubbling over inside you. But then you were moved, your body gently placed onto Vox’s lap, his cock nudging at your entrance, the pressure soft but insistent. Another tip pressed against your tight asshole, and the sensation stole your breath away—so full, so tantalizing, the dual sensations making you shiver with anticipation. 

In front of you, Lucifer and Alastor stood, their cocks hard and waiting, the sight of them almost too much to bear. Alastor’s cock hardened further under your gaze, his eyes dark with unspoken promise, while Lucifer’s was fully erect, the heat of his body pulling you in like a magnet. The air between you crackled with tension, desire thick in the atmosphere. You were caught between them, a willing participant in the dance of pleasure that only grew more intense with each passing second. 

Your hands reached for them, trembling slightly as you cupped their cocks, the heat of them igniting something deep within you. The moment your fingers touched them, Vox and Adam entered you—one in your pussy, the other in your ass—the sensation was overwhelming. You moaned softly, feeling the stretch, the fullness, and your body responded to their every movement, each thrust filling you in ways you could never quite explain. 

Lucifer’s cock slid into your mouth, and you moaned against him, the taste of him, warm and salty, spreading through you like fire. The heat was intoxicating, the way he filled you, the way his presence consumed you entirely. Your breasts swayed with the motion of your body, each movement making you feel more alive, more connected to the sensations flooding through you. Your hand slid down to stroke Alastor’s cock, working him slowly at first, feeling the smoothness of his skin beneath your touch. You gasped softly before leaning in to take him into your mouth, lips tight around him, swirling your tongue around the head as your hand continued to stroke Lucifer’s length. 

Every part of your body felt alive with pleasure. You felt weightless, as if the sensation had lifted you from the earth. Your head tipped back, releasing their cocks for a moment to enjoy the pleasant thrusts from Adam and Vox.

Alastor and Lucifer were in their own world now, their eyes closed, lost in the shared pleasure, their chests slick with sweat as they moved together, brushing their cocks against each other in front of you. The sight of them, so in tune with each other, made your heart race, your body craving more, needing more. 

And then, as if to push you to the edge, Adam slammed his hips into your ass, stretching you further, his cock pressing deeper, filling you in ways you hadn’t imagined. The pressure was intense, but the feeling of Vox’s cock inside you at the same time made you cry out, the sensation of being so full, so completely overwhelmed, bringing you to the brink of madness. You gripped Vox’s shoulder tightly, the sensation of his skin beneath your hands grounding you as their pace quickened, building faster, harder. 

Every thrust, every movement, every touch sent waves of pleasure through you, your body responding with cries of ecstasy, your mind reeling. The heat was consuming, the tightness of your body, the overwhelming feeling of being filled, it was too much, and yet it was everything. 

“Fuck yeah,” Adam groaned, his voice thick with pleasure as he thrust deeper, his hips slapping against your soft, trembling ass. A sharp sting followed as his hand came down, smacking your round, fat cheeks with force, making you gasp. The sudden shock of sensation sent a ripple of heat through your body, your moan escaping in a long, breathless sigh. Your tongue lolled out, and your eyes fluttered shut as your body shivered in response to the intensity of it all. Vox’s cock continued to stretch you, filling you completely with every deep thrust, the raw power of him pressing against your cervix, filling you in ways that made your entire body hum with need. 

Your voice climbed with every thrust, growing louder, more desperate. Your hands gripped Alastor and Lucifer’s cocks, your fingers trembling as you traced the length of them, tasting their salty essence as your tongue flicked over the heads. The taste of them was intoxicating, pushing you further into the haze of pleasure. You could feel the hot, pulsing urgency of their arousal as you worshipped them, your tongue sweeping across their sensitive tips, drawing groans of satisfaction from both of them. 

Without warning, Adam and Vox thrust into you at the same time, their cock filling you from both ends. The pressure was overwhelming as they both hit your sweet spots simultaneously, one in your ass and the other in your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, and with a scream of pure ecstasy, you felt your pussy spasm, squirting a flood of liquid over Vox’s cock, making a mess of the moment. Vox’s deep, guttural groan sent waves of heat through your core, and he repeated his words, “Yeah, babydoll, feels good, ugh,” as he continued to fuck your messy, spent pussy with relentless force. 

Alastor’s grip tightened on his cock as he started to pump faster, his movements quicker, more desperate. He summoned a shadow tendril, and it wrapped around Lucifer’s cock, pumping up and down in perfect synchronization with Alastor’s own pace. The sight of their bodies moving in unison, the raw power of them working together, drove you wild. Your eyes locked onto the red, angry tip of Alastor’s cock, disappearing into his fist before reappearing with each stroke. 

Your body swayed with the relentless rhythm of Adam and Vox, their thrusts growing faster, harder, until you felt your mind cloud with pleasure. Your entire body trembled as you neared the edge, your eyes widening when the first hot splash of cum hit you. It filled both of your holes, making you gasp for breath, the warmth spreading inside of you, threatening to overflow. You couldn’t hold back anymore, and once more, you spilled out, liquid dripping from your spent pussy in a shameful flood. 

Lucifer’s low moan filled the room just after, and you felt the heat of his release as strings of white-hot cum splashed across Alastor’s arm and stomach. Alastor’s cock pulsed, and he aimed it at your face, marking you with his spend in a claim so deep, it sent a shiver down your spine. 

For a moment, time seemed to slow. All the men moaned in unison, their pleasure thick in the air, the room heavy with the intoxicating scent of sex and satisfaction. They basked in the afterglow, but for you, it wasn’t enough. Your body burned with unfulfilled need, the ache deep inside you begging for more. A small, desperate whimper escaped your lips, the sound of it soft but undeniable. 

“Fuck, I think she wants more,” Vox smirked, his eyes glinting with mischievous amusement as his claws inched toward your nipple. But before he could reach it, a shadow tendril shot out, wrapping around his wrist, halting him mid-motion. 

“One orgasm. That was the deal,” Alastor said, his voice dark with authority, though there was something dangerous and possessive lurking beneath the words. More shadow tendrils materialized, lifting your body away from Adam and Vox, taking you away from the heat of them and placing you firmly in Lucifer’s lap. 

“What are you—hey!” Lucifer protested, startled, but his voice faltered as Alastor’s shadow tendrils placed you delicately on his lap, your body exposed and vulnerable, ready for whatever twisted pleasure Alastor would decide next. 

"Do tend to my sweet little lamb, won’t you?" Alastor batted his eyes with mock sweetness. "I need to escort these two gentlemen out and finalize the deal." His voice was light, as if he didn’t see the weight of the moment, the gravity of what was unfolding. 

Your mind was hazy, spinning in a whirl of pleasure and heat, your body thrumming with a mix of want and emptiness. Your breath came in frantic pants, each exhale a reminder of the desperate need clawing at you. Your cunt tingled, aching for something to fill the void, to make you feel something, anything, beyond the overwhelming emptiness that gnawed at you. 

Your fingers, trembling and needy, moved down your body, dancing across your clit, seeking relief. Your hips began to gyrate in sync with your touch, slick with both the demon’s release and your own desperate arousal. The feeling was maddening, a desperate plea for something that could never truly be given. 

"Oh, sweetie," Lucifer’s voice was soft, almost kind, but it only deepened the aching wound inside you. "Let me tend to you." His fingers slid into you, two of them, pushing and curling with a precision that made your body scream, both from pleasure and the hollow ache that would never be filled. You keened, your moans torn from your throat as you began to ride his fingers, your hands gripping the sheets for some anchor in this storm of sensations. 

"L-Luci," tears pricked at your eyes, the pleasure too much, yet never enough. Your voice trembled, broken, as you whispered, "I-I was useful, right, L-Luci?" The words slipped from your mouth, your laugh hitching painfully between moans. The question wasn’t about him, not really—it was about you, about how much you were worth in a world where nothing ever seemed to matter. 

Lucifer’s gaze was unreadable, his lips a thin line as he watched you, the quiet storm of emotions brewing in your eyes. He didn’t answer immediately. He just kept pushing, his fingers deep inside, his touch igniting every nerve in your body, but it was empty. It was nothing more than a shadow of the emptiness that gnawed at your core. 

“I’m now…I’m now…” Your lips twisted into a grin, but it was hollow, twisted, a fragile thing held together by desperation. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the sweat on your skin. These weren’t happy tears, though. They couldn’t be. How could they be, when the only thing that felt good was the lie? "I’m now…worth something m-more?" 

Lucifer’s breath caught, his eyes flicking shut for a moment. He bit his lower lip, as if caught between wanting to say something and not knowing how. His fingers, slick with your arousal, swirled around your burning, sensitive clit, his touch purposeful, but it was nothing more than an echo of what you truly craved. Your body trembled, taut with the rising tide of another orgasm, but it didn’t matter. Not really. 

“You are priceless, my sweet doll,” Lucifer murmured softly, his voice an attempt at comfort. He gathered you into his arms, pressing you to his chest, his lips brushing against your tear-streaked cheek. But all you could hear was the word “doll,” ringing in your ears, an echo of everything you were—broken, empty, worthless. 

Doll. 

Doll. 

Doll. 

You were a doll. A hollow thing, a toy to be played with and discarded. A discount doll, discarded in a shop where no one came to look, a price so low that nobody even bothered to pick you up. The thought curled inside you like a poison, twisting everything you once were into something so small, so insignificant. 

You turned your head, your eyes wide with a broken, pleading innocence, and looked up at Lucifer. "Am I worth purchasing?" The question slipped out of you, the words barely a whisper as the muscles in your body tightened with the rising orgasm that was coming, but it was a hollow wave. It was empty. Your walls fluttered, but it felt like nothing—a void that only your despair could fill. 

You laughed. But it was fractured, cruel. Tears mingled with the laughter as you clung to Lucifer, feeling his warmth, his body, but it couldn’t erase the cold that had taken root inside you. 

No matter. 

No matter. 

No matter. 

It didn’t matter what price tag you were. It didn’t matter what anyone thought. In the end, you were still a doll. 

Unless, of course, Lucifer and Alastor still wanted to play with you. Then, maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely worthless. 

Not yet. 

Not until they, too, eventually grew bored of you like everyone else. 

Please follow #DRP Smutmas 2024 to get all the latest updates of our stories!

Wanna hang out with me? Come talk to me at Voxtek Server!

[mercurianchild]

🦇spooky season astro observations part 2🦇

🕸️Mars in the 8th house signals a strong connection to the occult, death, and transformation. People with Mars in the 8th may have an intense drive to uncover hidden truths, and they may be drawn to witchcraft or other forms of shadow work. Their energy can be magnetically dark, with a fearless approach to taboo topics.

🕸️Moon in the 6th house deals with health and routines, and the Moon here can bring a strong connection to emotional healing through ritual. Individuals with this placement may be drawn to herbalism, crystal healing, or other forms of spiritual wellness. Their intuition is heightened when caring for others.

🕸️Scorpio inner planets placements is the ultimate placement for those drawn to the darker, transformative side of life. Sun in Scorpio individuals are often fascinated by death, magic, and the unseen world. They thrive on digging deep into life’s mysteries and may have a natural gift for divination or witchcraft.

🕸️With Capricorn Venus love feels like a haunting echo from the past, bound by ancient karma. You’re drawn to the eerie beauty of time-worn places, old cemeteries, or crumbling ruins. Relationships may feel fated, almost as if you’ve been tied to your lover through lifetimes of karmic debt. There’s a cold, gothic romance in your heart, where love and death are intertwined.

🕸️ Saturn in Aquarius can be a sign of the occult scientist—someone who wants to apply a structured, rational approach to magical or esoteric studies. These individuals might be drawn to astrology, tarot, or numerology, using logic and systems to uncover deeper truths about the universe.

🕸️With Pluto Square Ascendant you radiate a dark, haunting energy that others find unsettling. There’s an aura of death and rebirth around you, as if you’re always walking with ghosts. People sense something powerful and dangerous lurking beneath the surface. It’s as though you’ve been touched by the underworld, and those around you feel compelled—yet afraid—to dive into your depths.

🕸️Neptune sextile Pluto aspect pulls you into the depths of the collective unconscious, where the boundaries between life and death dissolve. Neptune’s ethereal influence combines with Pluto’s underworldly energy, making you a natural channel for spirits or ancestral energies. The occult comes to you not as a study, but as a calling from the depths of the unknown. Here, magic isn’t a practice—it’s a descent into a labyrinth of shadows, where the answers you seek may come from voices long forgotten.

🕸️Moon sextile Pluto is a restless spirit, constantly seeking the unknown. Strange dreams haunt your sleep, filled with symbols and omens. There’s a wildness to your emotional world—Uranus shakes things loose, making room for paranormal experiences and unpredictable psychic flashes. It’s as if your soul is tuned to the frequency of the strange and the uncanny, always ready to hear the whispers from beyond.

🕸️With Venus trine Neptune love becomes a ghostly whisper, something otherworldly and untouchable. Venus trine Neptune connects you to love that feels eternal, as if your heart beats in tune with the spirits of long-lost lovers. You might fall in love with the idea of someone rather than their flesh and blood, forever chasing shadows in the mist. There is beauty here, but it’s veiled, as if you’re dancing with phantoms in a moonlit graveyard.

🕸️ Lilith in the 4th house brings forth ancestral shadows and hidden traumas, making you deeply aware of family secrets and the haunting legacy of those who came before. There’s a sense that your roots are tangled in dark magic, and the walls of your home may hold the spirits of your lineage, forever seeking to communicate their untold stories.

🕸️ With Lilith in the 7th house, relationships become a cauldron of dark magic and transformative energy. Here, individuals may attract partners who challenge them to confront their shadow selves, revealing deep truths and hidden desires. This dynamic often feels like a mystical dance between power and vulnerability.

That’s it for part two. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

Much love🥀 -mercurianchild

[darkst4lker]

a bed full of snakes is a warfield. // harry potter.

slytherin!harry potter x slytherin!reader

plot: ever since your first year, when you and harry entered slytherin, you've been rivals. always wanting to be better than the other, always fighting, always teasing each other. the problem is that you're so alike, you can't stand each other. until one night harry wakes up from a nightmare, and you help him calm down.

tw: rivals to lovers, mentions of violence, trauma, a nose bleed, sixth year, half-blood prince events, harry is the same harry as always just maybe a little more arrogant bc y'know, he spent five years in slytherin. fluff, angst, nightmares. low caps on purpose. draco and harry get along here.

notes: english is not my first language, but i hope you enjoy anyways. sorry if there's any mistakes.

horace slughorn lessons weren't an easy ride for someone who doesn't know potions. luckily for you, you were one of his most talented students like you were once for professor snape before he started teaching defense against dark arts.

in fact, you were so good at potions that you couldn't possibly believe how on earth harry james potter could be standing in this class and being the best one at it when a year ago he was a failure at this subject.

there was a part of you that was livid by the fact that he was succeeding at the only field you always surpassed him, because you and harry had a tendency of making a nasty competition out of the rest of subjects. but, there was another side of you that was about to explode out of excitement.

you sure loved a good competition, and harry provided that for you and you for him every single time since the two of you entered slytherin five years ago.

it became sort of a symbiotic relationship because he stimulated your arrogance and thirst for success like no other person in your life, it was a hunger you both carried driven purely by the need of being better than the other.

yet, the problem between you and harry was probably the fact that apart from being in an eternal competition, you two fought like if you were at war. draco malfoy, a friend of both of you, hated to be in the same room as the two of you at the same time and so did harry's bestest friends: ron and hermione. you and harry knew how to be awfully insufferable.

well, at least that's what everyone thought until that day.

it was a quite beautiful and warm day outside. the sky was clear as you were leaving slughorn class after being surpassed (again) by harry. at this point it was getting tiring to always lose to him but not even harry could ruin that day for you.

as you walked out of the classroom friendly grabbing pansy's arm, you saw him: his green eyes always standing out, his messy uniform and the way his skin appeared so soft to the touch. you dismissed the thought quickly as harry's look went to yours, and a cocky smile appeared in his lips as he approached you and pansy.

“guess you'll need to settle for the second place.” harry said, obviously teasing you. hermione and ron came chasing after him making obvious that he went out of his way to mess with you.

an annoyed sigh left your lips, it was almost funny to see how harry ego became bigger after every class because it meant that you would surely enjoy much more the moment you finally archived to bring it down.

as you looked at him, his eyes made you shiver a little. the bastard was pretty as a sin, and charming as a snake, but he always forgot that you also knew how to behave like a snake too, and finally your mouth opened to answer him.

“can't live without me, can you?” you answered, an arrogant smile placing itself on your lips. “just wait until i figure out how you managed to cheat in slughorn classes, and i will become his favorite like i was with professor snape.” you added, firing back at him with a determined expression.

“oh, please (y/n). the only reason you were snape's favorite is because he literally hates me unprovoked.” harry joked and you got instantly irritated. “and don't pretend you aren't obsessed with me either.” he said, obviously teasing you.

you looked at pansy, who seemed a little desperate to flee from your encounter and you released her arm letting her go silently. then your eyes went right back at harry.

“for merlin sake, potter.” you said, rolling your eyes at him. “you scared her.”

“no, you scared her.” harry answered, crossing his arms. “you're the one who gets all worked up when i tell you the truth.”

“what on earth are you talking about, potter? you were shit at potions all these five years until months ago, don't get arrogant on me.” you mimicked his actions, crossing your arms too as the words left your mouth.

“yeah sur-...” harry was obviously about to fight you back, until hermione voice interrupted him, making you both remember that you weren't alone.

ron stood back from the encounter clearly tired of your rivalry, and hermione by the other hand seemed in a hurry.

“harry, please we need to go or we're going to be late for herbology.” she said, annoyed. “by the way, hi (y/n).”

“hi granger.” your voice came out friendly. “please hold your dog leash tighter the next time.” you added, a mocking tone on your words as you looked at harry.

you and harry's friends weren't exactly «besties» but you did not hate each other at all. not after what you did for harry in third year.

you had proved that you cared for harry deep inside when a dementor made him fall of his broom breaking it in the process and you stayed by his side for hours before he woke up and even bought him chocolate frogs. hermione and ron didn't understood why you asked them to not tell harry, but they did what you requested out of respect and you disappeared before harry opened his eyes.

and that was your little secret, one you intended to keep forever.

how could you not? knowing that would only make him more arrogant that he already is. also, is not like you did that because you liked him anyways, right?

i mean, he's insufferable, but you didn't wanted him to die by any means. it scared the shit out of you even thinking about the possibility.

in fact, it frightened you so much that you were fighting for him to be safe even now, but he doesn't need to know yet. no one had to know.

except for, of course, dumbledore.

“if im a dog then what are you? a kitten?” harry answered clearly irritated and hermione pulled him by the ear to get him off your neck and dragged him the other way, leaving you with an heated answer stuck in your tongue.

but even if harry's words had made you furious, they also had a clearly effect on you.

“bye, (y/n)” ron said as he followed them, clearly enjoying not being the one scolded by hermione for once. his words brought you to reality again.

as harry left unwillingly with hermione and ron, you stood there for a second. the corridor was almost empty, and you heart was beating subtly faster than always.

was this something normal? when did you started to feel like this?

you didn't knew at all, sometimes it was like you felt this since first year without noticing. yet, this emotion you didn't wanted to acknowledge was really starting disturb your peace.

it seemed harry potter always managed to ruin your day.

hours later, you found yourself laying on your bed. the green sheets embraced your body comfortably, trying to induce you into dreams, but it was impossible.

you were wide awake in the pale moonlight crossing the water covering the windows of the slytherin girls dorm in the dungeons. a sigh left your lips, as you rolled in bed trying to find the exact position to finally catch sleep but instead you heard the door of the boys dorm opening and closing. then steps and a calm sob.

this was not the first time you heard this in your time on hogwarts and you knew what was it, but all these years you were too coward to go out and do something about it.

it was harry, and you knew that he had one of his horrid nightmares.

you decided this was the last night you wouldn't go out and help him, because even if he was annoying, irritating and a bastard, your rivalry had its limits.

as you stood up in your black pajamas, your heartbeat got faster. what were you going to say to him?

for once, a part of you decided it didn't matter.

so when you opened the door, you saw him sitting im one of the sofas of the common room, crying quietly, his face slightly red and with a nose bleed that was getting worse and worse, staining his neck and his pajamas.

you almost ran to his side, casting a quick accio charm with your wand to get an elegant green hanky with your silvery initials embroidered in one of the corners. a gift from draco that you haven't got to use until that night.

harry looked at you almost in shock as you sat on the sofa with him, but he stayed silent, sobbing without making almost any sound. he seemed surprised to see you there but he seemed to calm down a little when you grabbed his face sweetly and used your hanky to carefully try to clean the blood from his face, holding it to his nose.

your fingers got stained with his blood, but you didn't seemed to care.

“hold it in place” you almost whispered, talking to him like he was a crying child.

he subtly nodded, tears still coming out from his eyes.

your fingers approached his cheeks, wiping his tears away even if they would keep coming out. then, while seeing his face, you remembered the photo of james potter in his seeker uniform on the quidditch shelf on one of the hallways in hogwarts. yet, when you eyes met his, another iconic photo came to your mind.

the portrait of lily evans in slughorn's shelf. her loving eyes were the same ones her son had inherited, the constant vestiges of her life were alive in harry and spoke through him like an ocean of sweetness.

you didn't knew why you paid so much attention to harry's parents photos, but something had drawn your curiosity and through the years it became more and more real what everyone thought:

“you really look exactly like your father.” your voice came out, still in a whisper while grabbing his cheeks. “except for your eyes.”

you didn't added what everyone said next, because harry knew it all too well.

he leant against your hands, accepting your touch and a sad smile came out his lips, genuinely moved by your words. words that even if he had heard them a thousand times before, for some reason, he never expected to hear them from you.

and that made his heart skip a beat.

“thank you.” harry managed to say. your soul felt almost wounded at the sadness in his voice, the voice of a dying man, a dying boy, that once had survived death but it kept chasing him over and over again.

and while you fought him on daylight, now you wanted to protect him under the watery moonlight coming from the windows.

“don't mention it.” you answered. your hands didn't moved from his face, now caressing it tenderly.

“please don't tell-...” he was going to say, but you interrupted him.

“i won't tell anyone, you don't have to worry.” you said as you got closer to him. “i never did.”

of course you wouldn't tell a soul. as much as you loved your slytherin mates, you knew that a bed full of snakes is a warfield, and being a lot of them the sons and daughters of death eaters they were surely going to eat harry up with rumours and mean insults.

and, every other time you had heard him come out of his room at night, you always kept it private because being a snake meant surviving at any cost, even if that meant feasting on your own kin to keep yourself alive. slytherin was about enduring, about succeeding.

and those were qualities that helped harry in the many times he had to face tom riddle, slytherin made him understand the dark lord much better but the cost was the constant fear of becoming him, of not being capable of surviving, of transforming into an omen.

“it was one of your nightmares?” he nodded after you muttered the question, taking one of your hands to hold one of his.

“it was about the night my parents died.” harry confessed. the tears had stopped for a moment, but a couple of them left his green eyes. “snape taught me occlumency to keep voldemort out of my head, but i keep having nightmares.” he explained, his voice too calm for someone that cried a lot just minutes before.

you looked at him, his burden becoming extremely palpable to you. the curse of being an unwilling child forced to fight a war that he didn't started, and that he didn't wanted.

you didn't thought much about what you were doing when you took off his glasses, put them on the small table beside the sofa and pulled him into a tight hug, one of your hands in his back, the other on his nape, caressing him.

harry cried on your shoulder, and you tried your best to make him feel held.

“it's okay, let it all out.” soft words left your lips, reassure him. “im here”

he hugged you back, almost desperately. like if he hadn't been comforted in a long time.

“im here, harry i will help you. you're not alone” you said and you instantly regretted it, knowing your words probably blew up your intent of not revealing the secret you've been keeping from him.

as you both broke the hug, harry spoke.

“help me?” he asked, clearly in disbelief. “why would you ever help me?” he asked you, a smile escaping his lips through the tears as if you just told him a joke.

you sighed. it was time to reveal your secret.

“because even if i love to fight with you, i don't want to see you die.” you confessed, you words in a seriousness harry had never heard on you.

he went silent for a moment, suspecting you had something say.

and it was true, because when the year started you parents began to pressure you to become a death eater. a destiny you would quickly share with draco in no less than a couple months.

but you knew way better than that, and in fear of having to do something awful or worse (having to hurt harry) you ran to dumbledore and explained him everything.

albus received your confession with open arms and offered you a way to help harry: joining the order of the phoenix and act as a double spy under the tutoring of severus snape who also acted as a double spy.

you were forbidden of sharing most of that information with absolutely anyone, but here you were, about to confess in front of one of the people you hated the most.

or maybe you loved the most.

because who would put their lives on a stake for a person in who they don't believe? for someone you don't love?

the most beautiful sacrifices are made out of love, out of adoration.

and maybe and just maybe, you loved harry potter.

the realization came to you suddenly, as he waited for an explanation while looking at you.

yet, a realization came to him too.

“(y/n), what did you do?” harry asked, his eyes widening for a moment. “what did you do?” his voice was soft, yet desperate.

“there's a lot of things im willing to do for you.” you admitted, trying to dismiss his question one last time.

“for salazar, please tell me what did you do.” he pleaded, scared that you could be in danger.

something cracked on your insides because facing his desperation, how could you deny him all your secrets?

“i've joined the order.” your answer struck him like a punch straight on the face. “my parents want me to become a death eater, so i spoke to dumbledore. i'll be a double spy.”

harry face went from having a sad expression to a surprised one.

“but how? why?” he desperately grabbed your hands, you thought his eyes had a hint of fear in them but you dismissed it. “you can't just do that for me, you're sacrificing your life if voldemort finds out.”

“i'm doing it happily, harry.”

“but why?!” harry exclaimed, then he remembered that everyone were sleeping and closed his eyes in frustration. “we were fighting this morning, tell me why would you do this?”

“you don't understand.” you said as his hands grabbed yours tightly.

“you can't say that after saying all of this to me, (y/n).” he answered, obviously getting annoyed. “i don't want you to do this.”

“i think i love you harry.” you admitted, looking at him in the eyes. “i did it because i love you, i was just too stubborn to admit that to myself. i sat by your side in third year when you passed out and fell off your broom because i love you. i bought you chocolate frogs that time because i love you, i beated the shit out of crabbe in fourth year because i love you and he said some blood purist shit about you.” you confessed, looking at him, your voice getting weaker with every word said. harry smiled at the last sentence, now understanding why you did that to crabbe in fourth year. he had thought all this time that it had been just a discussion between both of you that escalated. harry remembered your wounded knuckles, and something inside him trembled. “all i ever did was because i love you, even when i fight you.” you finished, your eyes about to tear up a little.

the realization was too hard for you to handle, knowing he probably didn't liked you back.

you both were tearing up, his nose bleed had stopped long ago yet some stains of blood were in his clothes and in your fingers.

your hanky rested on the sofa, your eyes were on his like it was the first sip of water you got on a whole lifetime.

“remember that time in fourth year i approached you with ron, and i stayed silent for like a whole minute im front of you and then fleed?” harry asked, smiling sweetly towards you. you nodded in response, clearly remembering the awkward encounter. “i wanted to invite you to the yule ball, but i got scared.” he confessed. “and then you ended up going with draco so i started picking on you the whole event because i was jealous.”

a laugh escaped your lips as he spoke, you could have never imagined his intentions and now here he was, erasing your fear of harry not loving you back.

“i think i love you too.” he continued. “this is weird tho, i never thought we would be speaking of this”

“yeah, you're right.” you answered, taking your hand out of his to give him a friendly punch on the arm. “how i will get used to be all sweet with you when we're always insulting each other?”

“we'll get there someday.” harry said, chuckling.

a brief silence came between you both as your eyes explored each other's faces, and in a moment he just stopped thinking and made a move.

harry grabbed your cheeks and pulled you to steal a kiss from you, it was sweet yet you felt his subtly swollen face because of the tears, a little taste of blood because of the rest he had on his lips, your own tears finally running free. both of you weren't exactly experienced on kissing, but you managed to keep it loving.

it was the kind of kiss you never thought you and harry would give each other. the intoxicating embrace of a hidden love that somehow managed to survive all these years to finally bloom.

a kiss soaked in a infinite mantra of sacrifice, of purity, of unconditional love. the kind of love you're willing to die for.

yet, the kiss was brief and tender. when you both broke it, your cheeks were subtly pink and his were too.

“this is a good start.” you whispered close to his face, finally accepting the feelings inside your heart.

“yes, it is.” he smiled at you, and then it seemed like an idea crossed his mind.

there was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again.

“if you're going to be a double spy, you'll need to be trained.” harry said. “i can help you practice. it frightens me to think of you dying.”

his offer made you giggle, and you nodded.

“okay.” you answered. “i can help you with potions in return.”

“i mean, i've been managing as you already know, but i don't understand a single thing of what im doing so i could really use your help.” harry confessed, smiling. “you see, i found this book on my first class, it has notes to get every potion right.” he added. “and a spell i desperately want you to learn if you're really going to risk your life like that.”

you leant against his shoulder intertwining your hands.

“im up for it, what's the spell called?” you answered as he leant his head against yours.

harry didn't answered right away, he struggled in his insides to share the information, but now he felt safe with you.

you both didn't had a clue of what was going to happen or if you were going to be together right away. harry needed time, you needed time and all these confessions after years of fighting non stop were confusing the hell out of you. yet, a war was coming and you were going to play a dangerous part on it.

and knowing that you had already made your big move on the board to help keep him safe while putting you at risk, harry realized you really could use knowing his secret.

« a secret for a secret » he thought, thinking on your confession.

when he finally answered, his voice sounded serious but the intention of helping you was there.

his words were dripping honey, the kind of honey someone has inside when they want you to be safe. when they love you so much, they are willing to die thousands of times for you too.

“sectumsempra.”

I HOPED YOU ENJOYED IT!! im a sucker for slytherin!harry so im planning writing more things of him in the future!! ♡

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSPEAK NOW * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where it's Y/N's wedding day, but Matt isn't the groom. During the ceremony, an act of impulse on the boy's part changes the fate of everything.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　slightly angst, but with a happy ending!

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The cool orange color of the corner lamp lightly illuminated the walls of Matt's room, painting the room with a serene aura. He was still in his bed, mentally preparing himself to get up and start the day slowly, his thoughts still hazy from sleep, a low voice reminding him of the tasks he had to do - writing the script for the next video, answering emails, and posting his collaboration with Prada.

For a moment, he allowed himself to bask in the feeling of tranquility, but that peace was abruptly interrupted when the sound of his bedroom door slamming open echoed through the walls.

Matt turned abruptly to the source of the sound, frowning and opening his mouth to curse whoever had barged into his room so suddenly, but the words caught in his throat when he saw Nick standing there, his eyes wide and his hand holding an envelope tightly.

"Nick, what the fuck?" Matt's voice sounded hoarse and rough from lack of use as his eyes traveled from Nick's face to the envelope and back again.

"Matt... It's from Y/N." Nick muttered apprehensively.

The boy sat down abruptly on the mattress when he heard his ex name, watching Nick slowly approaching and leaving the envelope on the crumpled comforter that covered the younger boy's legs.

"I don't know what it's about, I just found it on the floor in front of the front door."

Matt took the paper delicately, a feeling of apprehension growing in his chest as he recognized Y/N's elegant handwriting on the sender, his own name, and his brother's in the recipient field. His mind wondered why she had sent that, who even sends letters through mail in 2024?

With shaking hands, he tore open the envelope and removed the paper inside, barely noticing Nick's silent exit. His heart sank when he noticed that it wasn't just any paper. It was an invitation... a wedding invitation.

The words printed in embossed letters and in gold color on high quality paper, announcing the day she would become the wife of her current boyfriend, or rather, fiancé.

An overwhelming mix of emotions hit him head-on. Matt gasped, holding the invitation as if it were a precious artifact, but also a knife that pierced his heart. He could feel the bitter taste of regret filling his mouth as his memories with Y/N ​​flooded his mind.

He found himself transported back to the happy days when they were together, each moment shining in vivid colors before his eyes. The shared laughter, the hugs on cold or hot nights, the whispered promises of eternal love... Everything seemed so close, and yet so far away.

Tears threatened to flood his eyes as he struggled to process the magnitude of the situation. He bitterly regretted letting Y/N go, letting his insecurities and fears ruin what they shared. He knew he had no one else to blame but himself for his own loneliness.

A violent internal struggle unfolded within the boy. A part of him wanted to throw the invitation through the window, refuse to witness the ceremony that would tear him up even more inside. But another part, a stubborn and masochistic part, insisted on attending, as if seeing Y/N unite with another man was the punishment he deserved for his failures.

Matt clutched the invitation tightly in his hand, lightly crumpling the expensive paper, feeling fragile and broken. Every beat of his heart echoed with the weight of a decision he didn't know if he was capable of making. He felt the weight of loss pressing down on his shoulders, the pain of a wound that never seemed to heal.

Silent tears streamed down his cheeks as he fought his emotions in turmoil. He loved Y/N more than anything in this world, and even though he had already lost her the day he saw her walk through his bedroom door for the last time, he still held on to the narrow thread of hope he had in him, but now he was in danger of losing her forever, and it tormented him to the core of his soul.

With an anguished sigh, Matt finally let out a choked sob, pressing his hand against his mouth to muffle the ugly sounds, quickly glancing at the door left ajar by Nick. The last thing he wanted was to worry his brothers.

He knew he had no choice but to face the painful reality that Y/N would move on without him. He wished, with all his being, that things could have been different, that he could go back in time and right the wrongs he had made.

But now, all he could do was accept the invitation he held in his trembling hand and prepare to witness the love of his life being given to someone else.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt took a deep breath as he, along with his brothers, entered the imposing church where Y/N's wedding was about to take place. The decor details seemed to jump out, a lush fusion of fresh flowers - Y/N's favorite - and delicate fabrics, creating a fairytale atmosphere, exactly as he and Y/N had fantasized about for so many nights.

The rows of chairs were lined up precisely, each adorned with a floral arrangement. Matt watched the carefully planned details, feeling a pang in his heart.

As he rotated his gaze around the space, his eyes met Y/N's parents accompanied by her fiancé, who was already looking back at the triplets. Matt's eyes widened slightly when he noticed the man open a gentle smile towards him, a strange feeling of resignation and envy flooding him almost automatically.

Victor, who he saw so much of only through Y/N's social media, was tall, with slightly curly brown hair that shone in the light, and vibrant blue eyes that seemed to reflect genuine joy. Matt couldn't help but notice how he perfectly fit the stereotype of the type of man Y/N always seemed to prefer - an observation that left a sour taste in his mouth.

The boy wondered if Y/N really had a specific type or if it was just a coincidence that he and her fiancé shared similar characteristics.

He forced himself to look away, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions and his heart screaming that he should just turn around and go back home. With a resigned sigh, Matt followed his brothers as they found their assigned seats.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt's heart was in turmoil as he anxiously awaited the long-awaited moment of the bride's entrance. His eyes darted nervously around the church, his breath caught in his throat as he tried to control the flood of thoughts that threatened to consume him.

And then, as if time had slowed down, soft music filled the air, announcing Y/N's arrival. His breath seemed to catch as he saw her appear in the aisle, a glimpse of ethereal beauty in her stunning wedding dress. His heart was filled with a mix of joy and pain when he saw her so perfect.

Matt thought he would only see her in a wedding dress on their own wedding day.

Tears threatened to blur his vision as he fought to hold them back. He wanted to scream from the rooftops and release all his pent-up anger, but his words were lost in the void of his silent anguish.

"Matt, are you okay?" Chris asked beside him in an almost muted whisper, only receiving a short nod in return.

As she approached the altar, Matt felt his leg begin to bounce involuntarily in a mixture of anxiety and hesitation. Every step she took seemed to sound like an echo in his own broken heart, a constant reminder of what could have been but would never be.

He had to do something.

When Y/N finally reached the foot of the altar, Matt clenched his right hand into a fist tightly, his teeth biting his thumbnail in a desperate attempt to contain whatever was wanting to come out. He watched with a lump in his throat as she and Victor turned face-to-face, everything sounding muffled against his ears.

He had to.

Every word spoken was like a knife in his heart. He wondered if Y/N could feel the intensity of his emotions, if she could see the love and sadness mixed in his eyes as her own eyes circled the room momentarily, carrying a mix of nervousness and anxiety.

Silence hung in the church, heavy and dense, as the priest finished his solemn last words.

"If anyone has anything to say against this union, speak now or forever remain silent." Finally came the phrase so feared and long awaited.

The priest's voice echoed through the sacred space, resounding off the walls as the guests held their breath. Matt felt his heart hammer in his chest, almost hearing it in his ears, a tumultuous mix of fear and determination swirling in his mind.

He needed to.

And then, before he could think twice, before he could stop the urge that welled up inside him, Matt stood up. His body acted on instinct, his chair scraping with a harsh sound against the floor at the abrupt movement of his body.

The loud sound cut through the silence like a knife, causing the guests to turn to his figure in shock, eyes wide in horror. The priest raised his eyebrows in surprise, his words frozen on his lips as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes.

Victor, Y/N's fiancé, looked at Matt with flaming hatred in his eyes, a completely different expression than the one he displayed moments before the ceremony. He knew who Matt was, and he knew Matt would mean trouble for him.

But Matt ignored all of this. At that moment, all that mattered was Y/N. His blue eyes brimming with fear and love looked intensely into Y/N's shocked ones, who seemed frozen in place.

"I-I..." Y/N began, clearing her throat and turning to face the sea of ​​guests. "I need a moment."

And then, without waiting for a response or further intervention, Y/N got down from the altar and turned around, starting to run towards the back of the church. Her footsteps echoed in the silence with the click of her high heels against the floor, each beat of her heart matching the frantic pace of her run.

"Matt!" Nick called through gritted teeth, quickly glancing at the people around him as he raised his right hand, holding Matt's wrist tightly. "Sit down, now."

Matt barely had time to process what was happening before his instincts took over again, pulling his wrist from Nick's grip quickly. He ignored the confused murmurs of the guests accompanying him as he ran after Y/N.

He had to reach her, had to find a way to explain himself, to convince her to listen. He couldn't let her go without a fight, not after everything he had risked.

Matt's feet pounded the church floor as he ran, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He barely noticed Victor's screams echoing behind him, barely noticed the dirty looks that glared at his back as he chased the only love he'd ever had. All that mattered was reaching Y/N, holding her hand, and never letting it go again.

Matt pushed open the back doors of the church hard, his mind spinning in a whirlwind as he prepared to face whatever was on the other side.

He was expecting the worst - a furious face, eyes full of rage, cutting words thrown his way. But what he found was the complete opposite of that.

Y/N's figure was there, just a few feet away. She held her heels in one of her hands, her veil was lying on the floor next to her bare feet, and her beautiful dress was rumpled, but there was a huge smile on her face, and her eyes showed an intense relief.

Matt frowned in confusion, his own mind in turmoil as he tried to process what was happening. The boy expected her to confront him, to blame him for interrupting her perfect day, for destroying her dreams. But not that.

Before he could do anything, Y/N dropped her heels onto the delicate veil before running towards him, her steps quick and purposeful. She stopped before Matt, her eyes shining with an intensity that left him speechless.

Without hesitation, the girl raised her hands towards his face, cupping his red, hot cheeks, her fingers touching his skin with a tenderness that made him shiver. And then, so suddenly, she pulled him towards her, her lips meeting his in a deep, desperate kiss.

Matt felt the world disappear around him as he gave himself over to the gesture, all his questions slipping from his mind, his hands finding their place around Y/N's waist almost automatically, as if it was marked into his soul.

He could feel the warmth of her body against his, the soft touch of her lips against his own, and Matt had never, until that moment, truly understood how much he missed that.

Matt's lips gently parted from Y/N's seconds later, his eyes remained fixed on her face, as if trying to decipher a complex riddle. He felt the euphoria of the moment still pulsing through his veins, but a sense of confusion was still mixed with the intensity of it all.

"I... I don't understand." The boy murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he struggled to find the right words to express the whirlwind of thoughts that assaulted him.

Y/N shook her head, a soft smile still playing on his lips. She pulled away slightly, maintaining eye contact with Matt.

"I know this is all very confusing." She began, her voice soft and comforting. "But I'm so happy, Matt. So happy and relieved that you're here."

Matt's confusion deepened even further as he took in her words. He couldn't understand how she could be so serene and happy after everything that happened and what he did with her special date.

The boy felt a weight on his shoulders and an immense desire to look behind his shoulders towards the door, feeling as if someone would open it at any moment and expose them to the public.

"When I sent the invitation." Y/N continued. "I felt scared. Scared that you wouldn't show up, that you would choose not to be here. But deep down, I knew you would come. I knew you wouldn't let me down."

Her words hit the brunette like a wave of comforting heat. He watched her intensely, his racing heart overflowing with love as goosebumps ran through his whole body.

"Don't get me wrong, Victor is an amazing guy, but... Matt, he's not you. He never was. No one will ever be you." She unbuttoned her lace sleeves before rolling them up, ripping off the flower that was attached to the fake belt at her waist and throwing it over her heels.

She really was something.

"Y/N-"

"Run away with me?

Y/N's suggestion left Matt speechless. His body remained static as his eyes stared at her, his orbs filled with shock and disbelief. He never imagined that she could suggest something so radical.

"Matt, please, we have to go. Run away with me."

A smirk slowly grew onto Matt's face before he took her right hand in his, pulling her close tightly and picking her up in one quick movement, his right arm supporting her back and his hand gripping her waist tightly, while his left arm held her legs beneath her knees, pressing her against his body.

A squeal escaped Y/N's throat, who wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her hands on the back of his head tightly, hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder, a loud laughter passing through her lips.

"You're unbelievable, pretty girl... Come on, let's go."

So glad you were around when they said: Speak Now.

© vanteguccir

[w2soneshots]

could you write about being at school with harry as your mate/ friend thta you fancy? need something get me tgrough this shithole of a school🙏

Highschool sweethearts -W2S

words: 0.7k+

warnings: light angst, pining, making out.

summary: you and Harry both fell for each other, though nether of you wanted to admit it. One night, at a party on the beach, things change.

notes: I’ve never done a young Harry fic but I had so much fun writing this! Hope you’re okay lovely, you’ve got this!!🤗💞🌟

I watched as Harry walked towards me, a cheesy grin plastered on his face. "Hey, y/n?!" I tilted my head to the side. "Yeah?" I wondered what he wanted, I'd been avoiding him recently since I caught feelings and don't want to ruin our friendship.

"You going to the party tonight, at the beach?" He asked, leaning against the locker next to mine. "Uh- I dunno..." "oh come on! It'll be fun... please?" He stared at me, awaiting an answer. I thought for a second before nodding. "Okay, okay, I'll go." He swiftly pushed himself off of the locker. "Yes! Great! see you later."

My mind was whirling as I got ready, all of the possible outcomes of tonight running through my head. It's currently summer in Guernsey so it's pretty warm outside, though it'll get cooler once it gets dark, so I grabbed a jacket before I left.

As I walked to the beach I tried to calm myself down. I wasn't sure why I was getting so worked up over the boy I've been friends with since primary school but it was definitely becoming a problem. I couldn't be near him without going bright red if his arm grazed mine or he smiled at me. It was extremely annoying.

When I got there I spotted my friends. I walked over to them and sat down on one of the beach towels laid out. One of my friends nudged my arm. "Guess who's coming over?" She whispered into my ear with a teasing tone. I sighed. "For fuck sake... Harry," I muttered to myself.

"Hey! You made it." Harry plonked himself next to me, with a cheerful smile. "Mhm," I replied, dryly. "You okay?" He asked, brows furrowed. "Yes, I'm fine." I smiled, trying to reassure him. He didn't look convinced but thankfully he dropped it.

As it started to become dark some of the boys set up a fire that we all sat around. Harry left me alone after our previous encounter but I caught him staring multiple times. Some of my friends were now extremely drunk, I had decided at the start of the night that I wasn't going to drink and it seemed like Harry had done the same.

As it approached two in the morning people began heading home. I was dreading the dark walk back to my house. "y/n?" I heard my name so I turned. It was Harry once again. When he had my full attention he continued, "did you want me to give you a ride home?"

I thought for a moment. "Uh- yes please," I put on a smile. He smiled back, though his was genuine. "Come on then, let's go." He turned and we walked side by side to his car. I got into the passenger seat, buckled myself in and then he turned the engine on.

The drive was silent, the only noise being the wind coming in through the open window. I sighed softly, leaning my head against the side of the car and wrapping my jumper around myself. "You alright?" He asked. "Mhm, just tired."

When he pulled up in front of my house I turned to him. "What's going on with you?" He asked abruptly. I was slightly taken aback. "Uhm... what do you mean?" "You know what I mean. You've been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?" He seemed to be annoyed.

I sighed, realising I was going to have to stop putting off telling him the reason. "Okay, okay," I took a deep breath, "I- I think I... fancy you Harry." I said quietly, not looking into his eyes. "You- wait, you fancy me?" An embarrassed grumble left my mouth as I leaned forward to put my head in my hands.

The car was completely silent for a good fifteen seconds, though it felt like an eternity. "This is so stupid." I swiftly looked over at him. "What?" "You fancy me, I fancy you and nether of us told the other." He explained. Surprise covered my face. "You fancy me?" "Of course I do you donut." He laughed slightly.

I smiled back before leaning towards him, our faces only centimetres apart. He leaned forward, closing the gap between our lips.

When I eventually pulled away I opened my eyes to see him chasing my lips. "I've got to go, I'll see you at school?" His face softened. "Yeah,  yeah, okay bye." I kissed him one last time before getting out. He waved, waiting until I got into my house safe then drove home with a bright and content smile on his face.