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imaginesandbandfiction · 2 months

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Triad Part 9 — Reunion Part 2

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is 3200 words of self-indulgent smut that ALSO moves the plot forward and then a 1100 word funny/sweet little gift at the end that ALSO ALSO moves the plot forward. If you want to skip the smut, just reading the bit beneath the *** will give you enough of an idea of what happened and why it’s going to be important in less explicit terms. Listen to Total Control by DJO if you want additional ~vibes~ and see if you can guess the two other songs that inspired/are referenced in this part. First person to guess each wins a drabble of your choosing (word choice tbd by the vibes I’m feeling while I write it lol).

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Warnings: Pure smut with dom/sub undertones, choking and restraints included. Buckle up folks!

When Az wakes up a few hours later, his chest hiccups with a sharp intake of breath. With his brain still stuck under the mountain, he struggles against the restraints confining him to the bed.

His thrashing startles you and Cas awake, and while the male loosens his grip and scrambles backwards, you tighten your arms around Az’s waist. Shadow swirl all around you, just as confused as their master.

“Shhhh,” you whisper, rubbing soothing circles around his belly button. “It’s okay, you’re safe. It was just a dream; you’re back home now.”

You keep whispering sweet reassurances as the shadows start to settle, wrapping you and Azriel in their calming chill. Slowly, he stops trying to wriggle away and relaxes in your arms, eventually twisting around to look at you.

“‘M sorry,” he mutters, voice still hoarse from sleep. You check the clock on the wall, noticing that it’s well past dinner time already.

“Don’t apologize,” you say, raising your hands to wipe the tears from his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs. “It’s our job to take care of you, Azzie.”

“And we love our job,” Cas quips, crawling across the bed with a steaming mug in one hand, which he holds to Az’s lips. “So be a dear and let us do it, yeah?”

Azriel rolls his narrowed eyes, but dutifully takes a sip anyway. The hot liquid merges with his insides, soothing aches both physical and mental.

Once the tea is gone, Cas reaches over for a croissant and lifted it up to Az’s mouth.

“I can feed myself, you know,” Az complains, reaching out to try and swipe the pastry from Cassian’s grip. Cas laughs and pulls it away, teasing him.

“Please? Just this once?” He pleads, eyes widening as he sticks out his lower lip in a pout. “You weren’t the only one affected by shutting off the bond, you know.”

The look Az gives him suggests that there will be hell to pay for this later, but Cassian’s entire face lights up when Az parts his lips. He takes small bites and chews slowly as both males stare at each other, bond shimmering with pleasure at the intimacy of the act.

It’s a gesture of trust on both parts and you watch, breathless and teary, as the intensity of their gazes deepens with each bite. After Cas shoves the last bit in, he lets his fingers linger longer than necessary, ghosting against Az’s lips.

Az swallows, smirks, and then sucks Cas’s fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue

“So that’s how you want to play this, huh?” Cas growls, patience draining from his body. You see it in the way his muscles tighten, a sign that he’s desperately clinging to the last of his self control.

Saying nothing, Az just hums around Cas’s fingers and it’s fucking hot, the way your usually dominant mate can so easily slip into a submissive role while still holding onto all the power. But through the bond, it’s clear that they both need this.

Cas needs to burn off some of the anger and frustration that had built up during Azriel’s absence, and Az (though he’d never admit it out loud) needs reassurance, to feel loved and desired. Letting his mates have their way with him is a sure fire way to calm the insecurities that have grown like ivy during his prolonged isolation.

Besides, he’s never fully defenseless. If things go too far, his shadows are always there to lend a helping hand in regaining control.

You make eye contact with Cas over Az’s head, matching grins on your faces as the possibilities flash down the bond, filling your minds with the most delightful images.

Letting his lips fall open again, Az runs his teeth along the fingers that start to drop just hard enough to send a shudder of pleasure down Cas’s arm. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, heart working double time to accommodate how rapidly his body awakens.

“On your back,” Cassian whispers, the power he’s trying to contain escaping through his voice where a hardness sharpens the edges of his words, turning them into weapons.

“Or what?” Az asks, scooting away from you so he’s fully facing Cas. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow, a half-smirk grazing the corners of his lips.

Red magic flutters out of clenched fists, siphons struggling to contain it all.

“You’re acting real smug over there,” he hisses, leaning in closer to Az, “for someone who’s seen me tear armies limb from limb.”

The darkness seeping into Cas’s eyes has Az straining against his tight sleep shorts, the confines of which are a sweet kind of agony.

And Azriel is smug because he knows exactly which buttons to push to get what he wants.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he whispers, eyes darkening as he smirks at Cas from across the room.

It’s a callback to when they first met, when Cassian had made it his personal mission to make Az’s life a living hell. Things came to a head one night after they’d been out drinking and they ended up fighting behind one of the seedy dive bars littered throughout Windhaven and the surrounding forest.

“RHYS DOESN’T NEED ANOTHER BROTHER,” Cassian bellowed, feeling his magic sparking beneath his skin.

Something in Cassian broke when Azriel’s lips had hardened, the Shadowsinger’s steely gaze piercing straight through Cas’s heart as he growled “I’m not afraid of you.”

It made Cas feel squeamish which, in turn, stoked the fires of his internal rage. His veins stung as red-hot flames licked their way through his body. Clenching his jaw and then each muscle below it, he used brute force to tame his errant magic.

He raised his arms, ready to shove the infuriating Shadow Master away when shadows swirled around him, tightening into shackles around his wrist. His eyes widened; he’d finally found someone who could give it back to him as hard as he liked to give it.

With one eyebrow raised, the silent Shadowsinger held out a hand. The shadows only released their grip when Cassian slumped forward with laughter tumbling from his lips. Cassian and Azriel clasped hands and were brothers from that day forward.

And though Cas’s jaw twitches now just like it did then, it’s not laughter that escapes his lips but a Cauldron-damned snarl. In a flash of red, he surges forward to clamp a hand around Az’s neck, shoving until messy curls thump against the headboard.

“You do look so pretty in blue,” Cas hums, candlelight reflecting off his teeth as he bares them in a wicked grin.

“Come here darling,” he says, reaching over to you with his free hand. You slip your own smaller one into it, mirroring the look on his face as he tugs you closer. “You keep quiet,” he says to Az, tossing his words out like an afterthought as he turns to look at you.

You look up at him all batted lashes and blown out pupils and he melts, all of the lines on his face disappearing. He pulls you into his side, letting his arm snake around your waist.

“And you, sweet little thing,” he whispers, lowering his lips to brush against your pulse point, “can get comfortable riiiiight here.” Cas arranges you on Az’s lap, straddling one of his thighs with your ass just barely brushing against his cock.

He squeezes Az’s throat a little harder, just for a few seconds, and then lets go completely. Az is completely silent, staring up at Cas with wide, eager eyes.

“Good boy,” Cas says, patting Az on the cheek before turning his full attention to you. His eyes flash a deep, blood red as he waves a hand behind him like an afterthought. From his fingertips, red magic shoots out like twirling arrows that wrap around Az’s wrists, pinning them to the headboard.

If he wasn’t so horny, Cas would be in a state of shock, but it’s like it doesn’t register that he shouldn’t be able to do that. Or at least that he’s never done that before. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and from the burning, crackling blue magic flowing through the bond from Az’s side you think that Az would agree if was capable of coherent thoughts.

Az’s wrists are bound tight enough that he can feel the restraints pressing into his skin, but they’re still malleable and comfortable. His shadows surround the red bands, curious and excited.

Cas leans in to press a firm yet gentle kiss to your lips, murmuring against them. “He’s being so good, isn’t he, angel?”

You agree, letting the desire buzzing in your body ooze out through your words. “So good.”

Then you stick your tongue in between Cas’s lips, coaxing a breathy moan from the male knowing it will have Az frothing at the mouth. He loves making the two of you put on a show for him, so you’re going to give him exactly what he wants. Except you make the rules this time, so you take your time exploring every crevasse in Cas’s mouth. Eventually, his hands slide up your waist, shoving up your thin top.

“Off,” he commands, leaning back to watch you slip the fabric over your head. You toss it aside and arch your back as you fold forward to press your hardened nipples against his bare chest.

“Pants, too,” he instructs, waving a hand at you. Within seconds you’re completely bare, cunt soaking Az’s pajama pants. Instinctively, you rub your clit against his thigh a few times and your ass brushes against Az’s clothed dick.

It has him rocking his hips back and forth, needing just a little bit of friction to take the edge off of his overwhelming desires. Keeping his mouth shut is taking too much of his focus so his body’s getting antsy.

“I think he liked that,” you say, acknowledging Az without turning around. Instead, you scoot forward, pressing your knees into Cassian’s sides to lift yourself and free up space for you to reach down, freeing his cock from its cloth prison.

Cas hums, saying nothing as he tightens his grip on your hips, lowering you onto him. He bends his legs, propping them up next to Az’s hips, and stretches you open, slowly easing himself inside. Behind you, Az whimpers, making Cas smirk as he tugs you down until your chests are flush. That gives Az a full, unobstructed view of what’s going on.

Once you’ve adjusted to Cas’s size, you start to ride him, chasing a rapidly building high. Cas guides you, chin on your shoulder so he can stare straight at Az while he says “I want you to come on my cock, can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes,” you hiss, grinding yourself down so his tip circles that sensitive spot deep inside you.

“Then we’re gonna get at least one more out of ya before it’s Az’s turn. He made us wait, so now we’re making him wait.”

Az is squirming behind you but staying silent—Cas never said he couldn’t move, only that he had to keep quiet. Like he can read Az’s thoughts, Cas laughs; a sharp, growling chuckle like a predator messing with his prey. “And I know you think you’re getting away with something back there, but I can feel you moving. Keep going, if you want, but you’ll pay for it later.”

This new side of Cas has you mumbling nonsense, just fragmented words and phrases conveying the message to keep going, right there. He uses his bent legs to his advantage, pounding up into you. The hands on your hips squeeze tighter and you hope they leave bruises behind so you can match Az.

It doesn’t take long for you to find your release, milking every last aftershock until you slump onto Cas’s chest, boneless and breathless.

“Got another one in there for us?” He whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I can try,” you mumble against the curve of his pecs.

“Good girl.” He helps prop you back up and, from his spot behind you, holds a hand out towards Az. The glowing red bonds dissolve, freeing his wrists, and he immediately scoots forward. Cas lifts you up, grabbing your ass to make room for Az to shimmy down flat on his back and then settling you with your knees next to his ears.

Two thick fingers dip into your dripping cunt. Cas collects some of your slick before shoving you down onto Az’s waiting lips.

He moves those fingers lower, circling the rim of Az’s hole to ease it open. Az whimpers, finally getting the touch he’s been wanting and it’s almost too much too fast.

Cas slides his free hand down the curve of your ass and onto Az’s neck, curling his fingers around to press against his mate’s pulse point.

“I told you to keep quiet,” Cas snarls. Shadows nuzzle up against the hard planes of Cassian’s body, murmuring apologies that only Az can hear.

You feel Az still beneath you but are so close to your second peak that you keep grinding against his face. It only lasts for a few seconds before Cassian loosens his grip.

“You better make her cum. If you want me to fuck you, I want to hear Y/N scream your name,” he whispers, leaning down to graze his teeth against the skin behind Az’s ear.

“Please, Az,” you whine, fingernails digging into the headboard as you writhe against his mouth searching for your release. His tongue darts into your folds and then he sucks on your clit, lapping up towards it with the flat of his tongue. “Fuck, do that again.” He obliges, wanting nothing more than to feel your walls fluttering against his tongue, to please you, to please Cassian. It’s getting to be too much, having Cas’s fingers working his hole open and you humping his face.

When he dips his tongue into you again, you stutter into your climax. Your hips thrust up until your clit hits Az’s nose and then you grind down, each small movement sending shockwaves through your system.

“Az,” you cry, slumping back against Cas as you’re hit with the full force of a second orgasm without getting the chance to recover from the first. It hits just on the pleasure side of the pain/pleasure spectrum and you ride it out, pulsing walls sucking his tongue back in.

“Good job, honey,” Cas murmurs, wrapping an arm around your chest to pull you in as tight as possible. You let your core fall away from Az’s mouth and Cassian helps you crawl off of Az. Collapsing on the bed next to Az, you curl into his side, seeking out his warmth.

Love you, you mutter through the bond, sending a flutter of purple magic his way. Shadows wrap you in a soothing cocoon in answer.

Cas tugs Az down the bed, flipping him onto his stomach and pulling his hips back so Cas can slip his tip into the loosened hole.

“You ready for me, baby? Think you can take it?” Cas asks, low and breathy since he’s teasing himself as much as he’s teasing Az.

“Yessss,” Az hisses, trying to tip his hips forward to take more. Cas barks out a laugh and smacks a flat palm down on one of Az’s cheeks.

With your head curled to the side, you have a perfect view of the slight jiggle of Az’s ass. Cas’s other hand tightens around the sloping waist leading down to toned hips, and then he slaps again two, three, four times.

“I never said you could speak,” he scolds. Az’s eyes are bright and glinting with unshed tears as he grasps desperately at the last remaining shreds of his self control.

Cas waits for a full two minutes, slowly pushing his cock in deeper. Az stretches to accommodate him, tight rim tugging to try and speed the process along. “Fuck, you take me so well.”

When his pelvis is flush against Az, he bends down and slides his hand into the dark hair standing out against the white sheets. He tips Az’s head to the side, exposing one ear so he can mutter against it. “Okay, you can speak now, baby. You’re doing a good job, Azzie.” Azzie. The nickname shouldn’t arouse him like this, make him clench even tighter around Cas. It’s the name that you call him when you’re feeling sweet, when you really want something, or when you’re trying to get his attention when he’s really, really broken. Az isn’t sure which one of these things Cas is trying to communicate. All three, probably, with the way he’s nipping at Az’s earlier hard enough to break the skin.

“Cas,” Az groans, arching his back to rub his dick against the silk beneath him. You scoot down and push him up on his forearms, slipping into the space beneath him to line your head up with his leaking tip. Cas starts thrusting, strokes wild, deep, and messy as he loses himself in the feeling of Az’s tightness, pounding against his prostate.

“Not gonna last long,” Cas grunts, body frothing with lust and magic after spending so long teasing his mates.

You suck Az in between your lips, swallowing as much of him as your current position will allow, and feel him twitch against your tongue.

“Me ‘neither,” Az mumbles against the curve of your stomach, right below your belly button. His lips ghost against your skin, sending cool shadows in the direction of his breath.

He fucks into your mouth every time Cas bottoms out in him, pushing him even deeper. Cas doesn’t last long, spilling into Az with a strangled choke. Azriel speeds up, hips bucking wildly as he takes

“Gonna come for us, baby?” Cas rasps, running his hands up and down Az’s thighs, slumping forward to keep his dick inside, softening against Az’s prostate.

“Y-yes,” Az keens as he spills himself into your mouth like all he was waiting for was permission. His cum drips down the back of your throat and you swallow it all, sucking him through the aftershocks of his orgasm until he whimpers, overstimulated and wriggling in between you and Cassian.

Cas pulls out and guides Az until he’s laying back with his head and shoulders propped up by only the biggest, fluffiest pillows. You curl up against his side and lift your hand to Az’s neck, grazing the darkening bruises there. Within seconds, Cas has his hand wrapped around your wrist, squeezing it tight as he pulls your hand away.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, letting his own free hand settle atop Azriel’s collarbone, fingertips following the trail of marks at the base of his mate’s neck. “I want him to wear them like a necklace.”

Az flushes the prettiest shade of red you’ve ever seen and you hum in acknowledgement. You turn to face Cas, grin as wild as your post-fuck hair.

“Next time, I want you to choke him ‘til he’s blue in the face.”

Golden, molten-lava lust oozes through the bond followed by a bright white flash of shame that’s engulfed by shadows in less than a second.

***

Az is up early the next morning, needing a moment to himself before his mates wake up. Alone at the kitchen table with only the slowly rising sun to keep him company, he works on shrouding the memories of last night in the darkness at the very back of his mind.

When his shadows alert him that someone’s coming up the walkway, he bolts to the door to catch them before they knock or, Mother forbid, ring the bell and wake his slumbering mates. He still has his coffee in one hand when he swings the door open, scowling

“Why, good morning, Shadowsinger,” Rhys drawls, a shit-eating smirk spreading across his face, smooth as butter. “I can come back later if you’re currently indisposed.”

And—oh. Az’s free hand flies to his neck, fingertips ghosting over the bruises littering his throat. In his haste to get to the door, he forgot to deal with those.

Rolling his eyes, he swings the door open wider, beckoning his brother in.

“Come in, you mongrel. But if you wake my mates, you’ll choke on my shadows.” The threat is light-hearted but completely serious when paired with the ice cold glare pinching at the corners of his eyes. Shadows nip at Rhysand’s heels as he follows Az into the cozy little kitchen, sinking into one of the worn, wooden chairs surrounding the table.

Azriel opts to lean against the counter, one leg propped up and a hand clutching the cool marble. Rhys waves one hand, pouring and summoning a cup of coffee with a flick of his hand.

“Show off,” Az snorts into his mug as he takes a long sip of his (black) coffee.

“Somebody’s jealous,” Rhys teases as he adjusts the cream and sugar levels until they’re just right.

Az lowers his mug revealing a nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Of you? Never.” Disgust lasts mere seconds before laughter is bubbling out of his mouth, rumbling deep in his chest. It helps him breathe a little easier.

“I wouldn’t mind swapping places with you for a few days.” Rhys winks as he lifts his mug to his lips.

“You’d have your hands full with those two.” Az waves his mug, gesturing vaguely towards his neck. “This is an anomaly.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. Cassian always did like being thrown around a little bit too much.” Both males laugh, thinking about a younger Cas holding the full force of his power back in fights, grinning up at his opponent with a mouthful of blood and asking Is that all you’ve got?

It’s quiet for a while as they sip their coffee, but then Rhys sets his mug down and leans forward, clasping his hands and resting his elbows on the table.

“It’s okay if you liked it, though. They’re your mates, brother. It’s a safe way to be vulnerable, to let your guard down.”

Az’s hazel eyes narrow and his shadows spring into action, swirling around his feet. Rhysand waits patiently, knowing that cracking Azriel’s hard exterior would take time and a delicate hand.

Eventually, he speaks.

“I…enjoyed myself. Cas’s magic is much more powerful than I thought.”

“Oh?”

“It was damn near refined. I’ve never seen him have that much control over it, not even on the battlefield.”

Rhys hums and cocks his head, picturing the explosive bursts of red that had cleared battlefields many times before.

“That makes sense, actually. Cassian’s always been afraid of his power, more comfortable using physical force than magic. It could be a mutually beneficial exercise for the both of you—for all three of you, really. By letting your guard down, you likely allowed Cassian to tap into some of your self control. And the unequivocal trust that stems from bond ensured that both of you felt safe enough to let power flow freely through the bond. I suspect that if you keep practicing, Rhys pauses to flash a wink and a cheeky grin at the blushing Shadowsinger, “then eventually you’ll be able to borrow from each other outside of the bedroom, too.” He punctuates his sentence with a shrug; after all this Triad Bond was rare, so his ideas were merely conjectures.

“So you’re saying we can strengthen our magic by having sex?”

“Sex is a powerful act—of love, of trust, of acceptance—it could become a safe space for you to explore the depths of your powers together.” Az twists his face up in a (hilarious, in Rhys’s opinion) mixture of confusion and intrigue dusted with disgust.

“This isn’t one of Y/N’s trashy romance novels.”

“Or…maybe it is?” Az’s eyes narrow and his shadows stiffen like they’re offended. “Is it really so hard to believe that you’re worthy of a grand love story, brother?”

Azriel frowns, but before he can answer you stumble into the kitchen with Cassian a step behind you to prevent you from falling. Your feet are heavy as your body tries desperately to cling onto sleep. The sight of Azriel leaning against the counter with a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips and one of Cas’ oldest sweaters with the sleeves bunched around his wrists prompts you to scurry faster—the soft version of the Shadowsinger is your favorite.

“Morning, Azzie,” you mumble against his shoulder as you press your face into the soft wool, arms around his waist squeezing tight. Behind you, you hear the familiar low rumble of Rhys’ laughter and are grateful for the opportunity to bury your head further into your mate to hide your blush. You hadn’t noticed him; tunnel vision took over as soon as you saw Az looking sweet and cozy with his baggy clothes and steaming mug of coffee.

“Oi, I’m here, too,” Rhys teases, prompting Cassian to pull him into a bear hug.

“Good morning, Rhysie,” he croons, peppering sloppy kisses all over the High Lord’s face. Rhys chokes on his laughter as he tries to shove the brute off of him.

Cassian is stronger, though, and only tightens his grip further.

“Careful, brother,” Rhys drawls, suddenly stilling as he catches Az’s dark and stormy gaze locked on them, a slight twitching of his jaw betraying his well-concealed jealousy. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble later.”

Cas loosens his grip and turns towards Az, grinning at the sight of his mate’s narrowed eyes.

“That’s exactly what I’m hoping will happen,” he says, swatting at the errant shadow nipping at his neck.

Rhysand backs away, hands held up in surrender.

“Alright, well, I’ll leave you to it. And, Azriel, do try to keep your mind open, trust is a powerful magic.”

With that, a cackling Rhysand disappears, leaving you and Cassian to deal with the sputtering Spymaster left behind.

Taglist: @wallacewillow0773638@hnyclover@anutellaa@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog@queerqueenlynn@brujitafantomatico @nickishadow139 @starcrossedsan @dustyinkpages

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the-cricket-chirps · 6 months

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Terracotta stirrup jar with octopus

Helladic, Mycenaean

ca. 1200-1100 BCE

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astronicht · 23 days

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Replying to a comment on this ask reply about evil in the North in LOTR (but it was too long to actually put in a comment ,)

@warrioreowynofrohan I'm so glad evil is in the north in The Silmarillion!! I have also been promised that the story of the creation of the world is also in there, since Frodo fell asleep during Tom Bombadil’s early medieval cosmology lesson. I really, really want to know what happens in Elf Creation, because Tolkien did not write a book about it academically but CLEARLY had at least a few opinions about early medieval ideas of where the world came from, which he possibly just put in Middle Earth, if he had them fleshed out enough. This makes me nuts bc CS Lewis, meanwhile, wrote a whole-ass book called The Discarded Image about his idea* of the medieval vision of the cosmos (like where is outer space, where are the planets, where’s heaven, etc, including How It All Got Made) and also per the word of a thesis supervisor back in the day who was super into this stuff, worked symbolism of the planets in the medieval cosmos into one of his fictional works.

*bc the rest is under cut: if you want a more accurate read for medieval and Renaissance cosmology, the textbook is Planets, Stars, and Orbs by Edward Grant. I would not recommend TDI for historical accuracy

Lewis brushes over early medieval ideas only briefly (early medieval anything is actually not usually included in medieval academia on a theme; it’s sort of a weird zone from ca. 600-1100 AD, and Grant doesn't cover it either). But while the book is interesting on some points, it's pretty misleading, and CS Lewis's one solid error was presenting all of medieval cosmology as a Single Idea, which it also very much was not. People did not magically stop arguing about how the world got made and what it looked like for one thousand years, and modern scholarship has looked at that. But he was reading all the same texts as Tolkien, and this weird oversight that has bothered me for years, and for YEARS i have been wondering if Tolkien thought something else. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t! WHY did he put the seven stars (the five visible planets plus the sun and moon) on Aragorn’s sword PLUS the sun and moon, throwing off the count entirely?? Maybe he did not actually give a shit). I look forward to finding out, and probably suffering for it.

RE: Gollum! Your actual question! Honestly at the moment (aka at the end of Fellowship), Gollum seems like such a thoroughly Grendel figure that I almost get worried I’m being lured into a 1:1 comparison, when Tolkien seems to enjoy making a bunch of different references within each character. Strider is King Arthur, Strider is that guy in that saga nicknamed Strider, Strider is another guy with a sword situation in another saga(??) (I have not read enough Norse sagas). Gollum, though, is associated with the underground and with water; he has his dark low pool; Grendel lives in a low dark pool (with his mum). Even being cast out by a matriarch maaaaybe suggests something of Grendel’s Mother, who is just as much a main character, or perhaps more so; she’s the final boss of the Grendel bit of Beowulf, after all. So in conclusion: yeah I see your point! I'd be curious to figure out what else is being folded in. However, assuming the Grendel similarities are on purpose, congrats to Tolkien for the only good Beowulf adaptation ever.

#astro lotr #i was trying to find the passage i was referencing in cs lewis but im sorry i read that in 2019 in a pizza parlor and i am late for work #always think critically of your sources especially if they are me!! etc etc

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dominadespina · 1 month

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WHAT HAPPENED TO COUNTESS MARIA OF SALONA?

Maria Fadrique was born around 1370, the daughter of the last Catalan Count of Salona, Don Louis Fadrique, and his Greek wife, Princess Helena Fadrique, also known as Helena Kantakouzene or The Despina, Helena Asenina.

Not much information about her early childhood has been preserved. We do know that she grew up as an only child to the noble couple and was likely prepared and claimed as the only heir to the County of Salona.

In 1382, at the age of 12, she lost her father and became the Countess of Salona in her own right. However, due to her age, she was deemed too young to manage the county, so her mother, the Dowager Countess Helena Fadrique, took charge as regent. That same year, she was betrothed to Bernat Hug, a son of Felip Dalmau, but the betrothal was annulled.

Despite reaching the age of maturity in 1386, at 16, an age when she was now deemed fully capable of managing the County of Salona, her mother remained in power over all state affairs, and Maria had yet to step a toe into the world of politics. That same year, her mother betrothed her to a son of the Serbian Emperor Symeon Uros for political reasons, but this betrothal, like the first one was annulled. That same year, she was betrothed to an alienated associate of the King of Aragon, but the wedding never took place.

From the years of 1388-1391, Helena refused to repay damages to a Venetian citizen who suffered the loss of property aboard a ship from Ancona by her late husband, Don Luis Fadrique, in 1380. This made her mother very unpopular with Venice.

Her mother was quite hated by the people, who most likely would have preferred Maria to take charge over state affairs, but this never happened. Even at the age of 20, Maria had not taken charge over state affairs. This decision to keep the Dowager Countess in charge would eventually cause their deaths.

Though Necdet Sakaoğlu in his work “Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları” claims she was betrothed to Manuel II in 1393, I have not seen another source to confirm this claim.

In this same work, Sakaoğlu tells the story of the capture of Maria and her mother in late 1393 or early 1394. “Turkish soldiers captured the Frankish ship that was bringing Maria to Istanbul in the Dardanelles and captured its occupants.” - Necdet Sakaoğlu, “Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları,” pg 88.

Upon meeting the beautiful and affianced Countess, Sultan Yildirim Bayezid Han was smitten with her, and both the mother and the daughter were brought to his harem in Edirne, and Maria became his concubine.

That same year in 1394, Helena died, but it is not clear if it was due to an execution or other reasons. According to Laonikos Chalkokondyles, the Countess Helena disgraced herself and brought shame upon the people of "Delphi" by committing her authority into the hands of her lover, a priest called Strateus, for which reason the Archbishop of Larissa denounced her to the Basileus (Sultan) and gave him the pretext for taking over the County of Salona. - The Byzantine Family of Kantakouzenos (Cantacuzenus) Ca. 1100-1460: A Genealogical and Prosopographical, pg 161.

As for Maria, she was executed a year later in 1395 after Bayezid found her unworthy of him, and eventually lost interest in her. However, this reason seems highly improbable.

When Bayezid lost interest in her, he wouldn’t have executed her but instead discarded her or even sent her away to the old palace in Bursa. The reason for her execution must be something else, either she was executed for political reasons or she went against the rules or even committed a crime. Nonetheless, it is highly unlikely for a Sultan to execute a concubine because he lost interest in her.

( Sources: The Byzantine Family of Kantakouzenos (Cantacuzenus) Ca. 1100-1460: A Genealogical and Prosopographical, Necdet Sakaoğlu, “Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları".)

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pwlanier · 10 months

Text

An archaic ritual bronze water vessel 'he' with an anthropomorphic cover,

probably late Shang dynasty, ca. 1200-1100 B.C.

The vessel cast in two parts with thin azurite and malachite patina, the lid in anthropomorphic form of a face with broad nose, bulging lips, wrinkled forehead and large, wide open eyes, at the temples with two bottle-shaped horns. The body with relief decoration of a serpentine tail wrapping around the wall, on the side of the sloping spout with 'kui' dragon, on the sides with ram's head-shaped eyelets, their openings continuing into the ears of the lid and presumably used to fasten a rope.

Courtesy Alain Truong

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thoseboysinblue · 1 year

Text

I’m Glad It’s You

Christian Pulisic x reader

After a tough loss, you are the only person Christian wants to see.

Word Count: 1100

Requested: No

Warnings: None

Eliminated.

Those were the words ringing in your ears as you watched the man you love and his teammates drop their heads in defeat. Tears welled up in your eyes as you saw them consoling each other.

You knew he'd take this loss hard, always being much harder on himself than he should be. Truthfully, they had fought brilliantly against a strong Dutch team but had fallen short.

As the team made their way off the field, clapping for the fans that had supported them so well, he found your face in the crowd. You held up your hand signing "I love you" in sign language and blowing him a kiss. He reciprocated the sign and blew a kiss to you and his mom who had now linked arms with you before dropping his head again and walking into the tunnel.

You all waited around seeing a few of the guys coming out to join their families in the stands but you had a feeling Christian wouldn't be. Your suspicions were confirmed when you received a text from him.

Christian: Hey, I'm just going to head back to the hotel. Will you meet me there? Tell mom and dad that I love them and I'll call them later but that I don't really want to be around anyone besides you for now.

Y/N: Sure, baby. We are all so proud of you. I'll see you in a bit. 💙

You showed his mom the message, a bit nervous that she'd be upset that Christian didn't want to see them.

She nodded, giving you a knowing smile. "I knew one day a girl would come along that he'd want there to console him more than me" she says to you as the tears escape from your eyes. "And Y/N, I couldn't have hand picked anyone better for my son, I'm glad it's you that he wants right now."

You hug both of his parents and tell them that you are sure the two of you will meet them for breakfast in the morning before you all leave to go home, you and Christian back to London, his parents back to the States. With that, you leave the stadium, quickly hopping in a taxi to head to the team hotel.

Your nerves grew as you got closer to the hotel, praying that your words and actions would be what he needed tonight.

Once you arrived, you made your way to Christian's room. Knocking quietly on the door, not even sure he'd made it back yet, you listen for any signs of movement in the room.

Finally he opens the door, with blood shot eyes, quietly ushering you inside before pulling you into an embrace as the door shuts behind you. Your heart breaks for him as he rests his forehead against your shoulder.

Tears slip from your eyes as you feel him shudder against you. You pull him in as tightly as you can, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and scratching your fingers lightly along the the back of his hair. You both stand there embracing for several minutes, the silence only broken by your occasional sighs and sniffles.

He shifts slightly, moving to rest his forehead against yours as you both reach up to wipe the tears from each other’s faces. A shadow of a smile dresses his lips before he presses them gently to yours. You pour everything you have into the kiss, hoping to convey all of the love you can to him without saying a word.

As you naturally break away from him, he slips his fingers through yours before turning and moving towards the bed in his room. You kick your shoes off as both of you climb into the bed. You sit with your back against the headboard as Christian moves to wrap his arms around you and rest his head on your chest.

Once you know he’s comfortable you speak quietly to one another, as you scratch your fingers along his scalp with one hand and softly trace shapes along his arm, wrist, and hand with the other. You decide to order some food and turn on a movie, hoping to lift his spirits just a little.

“Christian, do you want to talk about it?’ you ask tentatively.

He shakes his head softly against your chest, squeezing you tighter.

“Can I at least say something?”

He shifts so that he can make eye contact with you, nodding for you to continue.

“I’m sorry about tonight” you started as tears filled your eyes again. You take a couple of deep breaths before continuing. “Christian, I love you, and we are all so proud of you. You gave everything you have to give out there. Sure it’s a disappointing outcome, but no one is disappointed with any of you guys.”

He nods as a tear slips from his eye that you wipe away with your thumb, leaving your hand resting on the side of his face. “Tonight we are going to grieve the end of this journey. Tomorrow we are going to celebrate all that you accomplished here,” you offer a slight smile.

He pushes up to kiss you softly before he moves to sit with his back against the headboard, wrapping an arm behind you pulling you closer into his side. He then reaches across and grabs your hand, watching intently as he interlaces and releases your fingers, both of you delicately stroking along each others fingers and palms.

“Were my parents upset that I didn’t want to see them?” he asks quietly.

“I think they were a little, because they want to be here for you too, but they understand. I told them we would meet them for breakfast in the morning,” you answer feeling him nod his head beside you.

“I’m glad it’s you, y/n” he breathes out as you turn to look at him as he pulls your hand to his mouth placing a kiss over your knuckles. ‘It’s not that difficult to find someone to celebrate the highs with” he offers a small smile.

‘It’s a lot harder to find someone to support you on nights like tonight” he continues. “And I’m glad it’s you” echoing his mother’s words. “I couldn’t imagine spending this hellish night with anyone else. When I was walking down that tunnel after the game, I knew, I only wanted to see you, I only needed you tonight. I knew if I could get to you, I’d be ok.”

“Christian” you sigh, a single tear dropping from your right eye which he wipes away. “I’m always going to support you, good nights, bad nights, wins, losses, because you are all I need too, and as much as my heart is broken for you right now, I’m glad it’s me, too.”

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic x reader

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gemsofgreece · 5 months

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Can you make a post about the evolution of Greek art from the ancient times until now in modern age?

Because we often talk about the evolution of art but unfortunately we don't appreciate after ancient times the other art movements Greece went through the centuries.

That’s true! I am sorry for taking ages to answer this but I don't know how it could take me less anyway hahaha I made this post with summaries about all artistic eras in Greek history. I have most of it under a cut because with the addition of pictures it got super long, but if you are interested in the history of art I recommend giving it a try! I took advantage of all 30 pictures that can be possibly attached in a tumblr post and I tried to cover as many eras and art styles as possible, nearly dying in the process ngl XD I dedicated a few more pictures in modern art, a) because that was the ask and b) because there is more diversity in the styles that are used and the works that are available to us in great condition in modern times.

History of Greek Art

Greek Neolithic Art (c. 7000 - 3200 BC)

Obviously, with this term we don’t mean there were people identifying as Greeks in Neolithic times, but it defines the Neolithic art corresponding to the Greek territory. Art in this era is mostly functional, there are progressively more and more defined designs on clay pots, tools and other utility items. Clay and obsidian are the most used materials.

Clay vase with polychrome decoration, Dimini, Magnesia, Late or Final Neolithic (5300-3300 BC).

Cycladic Art (3300 - 1100 BC)

The art of the Cycladic civilisation of the Aegean Islands is characterized by the use of local marble for the creation of sculptures, idols and figurines which were often associated to womanhood and female deities. Cycladic art has a unique way of incidentally feeling very relevant, as it resembles modern minimalism.

Early Cycladic II (Keros-Syros culture, 2800–2300 BC)

Minoan Art (3000-1100 BC)

The advanced Minoan civilisation of Crete island was projecting its confidence and its vibrancy through its various arts. Minoan art was influenced by the earlier Egyptian and Near East cultures nearby and at its peak it overshadowed the rest of the contemporary cultures and their artistic movements in Greece. Colourful, with numerous scenes of everyday life and island life next to the sea, it was telling of the society’s prosperity.

The Bull-leaping fresco from Knossos, 1450 BC.

Mycenaean Art (c. 1750 - 1050 BC)

Mycenaean Art was very influenced by Minoan Art. Mycenaean art diverged and distinguished itself more in warcraft, metalwork, pottery and the use of gold. Even when similar, you can tell them apart from their themes, as Mycenaean art was significantly more war-centric.

The Mask of Agamemnon in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens. The mask likely was crafted around 1550 BC so it predates the time Agamemnon perhaps lived.

Geometric Art (1100 - 700 BC)

Corresponding to a period we have comparatively too little data about, the Geometric Period or the Homeric Age or the Greek Dark Ages, geometric art was characterized by the extensive use of geometric motifs in ceramics and vessels. During the late period, the art becomes narrative and starts featuring humans, animals and scenes meant to be interpreted by the viewer.

Detail from Geometric Krater from Dipylon Cemetery, Athens c. 750 BC Height 4 feet (Metropolitan Museum, New York)

Archaic Art (c. 800 - 480 BC)

The art of the archaic period became more naturalistic and representational. With eastern influences, it diverged from the geometric patterns and started developing more the black-figure technique and later the red-figure technique. This is also the earliest era of monumental sculpture.

Achilles and Ajax Playing a Board Game by Exekias, black-figure, ca. 540 B.C.

Kroisos Kouros, c. 530 B.C.

Classical Art (c. 480 - 323 BC)

Art in this era obtained a vitality and a sense of harmony. There is tremendous progress in portraying the human body. Red-figure technique definitively overshadows the use of the black-figure technique. Sculptures are notable for their naturalistic design and their grandeur.

The Diskobolos or Discus Thrower, Roman copy of a 450-440 BCE Greek bronze by Myron recovered from Emperor Hadrian’s Villa in Tivoli, Italy. (British Museum, London). Photo by Mary Harrsch.

Terracotta bell-krater, Orpheus among the Thracians, ca. 440 BCE, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Hellenistic Art (323 - 30 BCE)

Hellenistic art perfects classical art and adds more diversity and nuance to it, something that can be explained by the rapid geographical expansion of Greek influence through Alexander’s conquests. Sculpture, painting and architecture thrived whereas there is a decrease in vase painting. The Corinthian style starts getting popular. Sculpture becomes even more naturalistic and expresses emotion, suffering, old age and various other states of the human condition. Statues become more complex and extravagant. Everyday people start getting portrayed in art and sculpture without extreme beauty standards imposed. We know there was a huge rise in wall painting, landscape art, panel painting and mosaics.

Mosaic from Thmuis, Egypt, created by the Ancient Greek artist Sophilos (signature) in about 200 BC, now in the Greco-Roman Museum in Alexandria, Egypt. The woman depicted in the mosaic is the Ptolemaic Queen Berenike II (who ruled jointly with her husband Ptolemy III) as the personification of Alexandria.

Agesander, Athenodore and Polydore: Laocoön and His Sons, 1st century BC

Greco-Roman Art (30 BC - 330 AD)

This period is characterized by the almost entire and mutually influential merging of Greek and Roman artistic expression, in light of the Roman conquest of the Hellenistic world. For this era, it is hard to find sources exclusively for Greek art, as often even art crafted by Greeks of the Roman Empire is described as Roman. In general, Greco-Roman art reinforces the new elements of Hellenistic art, however towards the end of the era, with the rise of early Christianity in the Eastern aka the Greek-influenced part of the empire, there are some gradual shifts in the art style towards modesty and spirituality that will in time lead to the Byzantine art. During this era mosaics become more loved than ever.

A mosaic from the island of Kos (the birthplace of Hippocrates) depicting Hippocrates (seated) and a fisherman greeting the god Asklepios (center) as he either arrives or disembarks from the island. Second or third century CE.

Introduction to Byzantine Art

Byzantine art originated and evolved from the now Christian Greek culture of the Eastern Roman Empire. Although the art produced in the Byzantine Empire was marked by periodic revivals of a classical aesthetic, it was above all marked by the development of a new aesthetic defined by its salient "abstract", or anti-naturalistic character. If classical art was marked by the attempt to create representations that mimicked reality as closely as possible, Byzantine art seems to have abandoned this attempt in favor of a more symbolic approach. The subject matter of monumental Byzantine art was primarily religious and imperial: the two themes are often combined.

Early Byzantine Art (330 - 842 AD)

The establishment of the Christian religion results in a new artistic movement, centered around the faith. However, ancient statuary remains appreciated. Most fundamental changes happen in monumental architecture, the illustration of manuscripts, ivory carving and silverwork. Exceptional mosaics become integral in artistic expression. The last 100 years of this period are defined by the Iconoclasm, which temporarily restricts entirely the previously thriving figural religious art.

Mosaics in the Rotunda of Thessaloniki, 4th - 6th century AD.

Macedonian Art & Komnenian Age (843 - 1204 AD)

These artistic periods correspond to the middle Byzantine period. After the end of the Iconoclasm, there is a revival in the arts. The art of this period is frequently called Macedonian art, because it occurred during the Macedonian imperial dynasty which generally brought a lot of prosperity in the empire. There was a revival of interest in the depiction of subjects from classical Greek mythology and in the use of Hellenistic styles to depict religious subjects. The Macedonian period also saw a revival of the late antique technique of ivory carving. The following Komnenian dynasty were great patrons of the arts, and with their support Byzantine artists continued to move in the direction of greater humanism and emotion. Ivory sculpture and other expensive mediums of art gradually gave way to frescoes and icons, which for the first time gained widespread popularity across the Empire. Apart from painted icons, there were other varieties - notably the mosaic and ceramic ones.

Paris Psalter, 10th century AD. Prophet Isaiah from the Old Testament in the company of the symbolisms for night (clear inspiration drawn from the ancient deity Nyx) and morning (Orthros, not to be confused with the mythological creature).

Palaeologan Renaissance (1261 - 1453)

The Palaeologan Renaissance is the final period in the development of Byzantine art. Coinciding with the reign of the Palaeologi, the last dynasty to rule the Byzantine Empire (1261–1453), it was an attempt to restore Byzantine self-confidence and cultural prestige after the empire had endured a long period of foreign occupation. The legacy of this era is observable both in Greek culture after the empire's fall and in the Italian Renaissance. Contemporary trends in church painting favored intricate narrative cycles, both in fresco and in sequences of icons. The word "icon" became increasingly associated with wooden panel painting, which became more frequent and diverse than fresco and mosaics. Small icons were also made in quantity, most often as private devotional objects.

Detail of Anástasis (Resurrection) fresco, c. 1316–1321, Chora church, Constantinople (Istanbul) (photo: byzantologist).

Cretan School (15th - 17th century)

Cretan School describes an important school of icon painting, under the umbrella of post-Byzantine art, which flourished while Crete was under Venetian rule during the Late Middle Ages, reaching its climax after the Fall of Constantinople, becoming the central force in Greek painting during the 15th, 16th and 17th centuries. By the late 15th century, Cretan artists had established a distinct icon-painting style, distinguished by "the precise outlines, the modelling of the flesh with dark brown underpaint, the bright colours in the garments, the geometrical treatment of the drapery and, finally, the balanced articulation of the composition". Contemporary documents refer to two styles in painting: the maniera greca (in line with the Byzantine idiom) and the maniera latina (in accordance with Western techniques), which artists knew and utilized according to the circumstances. Sometimes both styles could be found in the same icon. The most famous product of the school was the painter Domenikos Theotokopoulos, internationally known as El Greco, whose art evolved and diverged significantly in his later years when he moved in Spain and was involved in the Spanish Renaissance, and though it often alienated his western contemporary artists, nowadays it is viewed as an incidental early birth of Impressionism in the mid of the Renaissance’s peak.

Icon by Andreas Pavias (1440-1510), Cretan School, from Candia (Venetian Kingdom of Crete). The Latin inscription suggests the icon was meant for commercial purposes in Western Europe. National Museum, Athens. (Source: https://russianicons.wordpress.com/tag/cretan-school/)

Crucifixion (detail), El Greco (Doménikos Theotokópoulos), ca. 1604 - 1614.

Heptanesian School (17th - 19th century)

The Heptanesian school succeeded the Cretan School as the leading school of Greek post-Byzantine painting after Crete fell to the Ottomans in 1669. Like the Cretan school, it combined Byzantine traditions with an increasing Western European artistic influence and also saw the first significant depiction of secular subjects. The center of Greek art migrated urgently to the Heptanese (Ionian) islands but countless Greek artists were influenced by the school including the ones living throughout the Greek communities in the Ottoman Empire and elsewhere in the world. Greek art was no longer limited to the traditional maniera greca dominant in the Cretan School. Furthermore, the Heptanesian school was the basis for the emergence of new artistic movements such as the Greek Rocco and Greek Neoclassicism. The movement featured a mixture of brilliant artists.

Archangel Michael, Panagiotis Doxaras, 18th century.

Greek Romanticism (19th century)

Modern Greek art, after the establishment of the Greek Kingdom, began to be developed around the time of Romanticism. Greek artists absorbed many elements from their European colleagues, resulting in the culmination of the distinctive style of Greek Romantic art, inspired by revolutionary ideals as well as the country's geography and history.

Vryzakis Theodoros, The Exodus from Missolonghi, 1853. National Gallery, Athens.

The Munich School (19th century Academic Realism)

After centuries of Ottoman rule, few opportunities for an education in the arts existed in the newly independent Greece, so studying abroad was imperative for artists. The most important artistic movement of Greek art in the 19th century was academic realism, often called in Greece "the Munich School" because of the strong influence from the Royal Academy of Fine Arts of Munich where many Greek artists trained. In academic realism the imperative is the ethography, the representation of urban and/or rural life with a special attention in the depiction of architectural elements, the traditional cloth and the various objects. Munich School painters were specialized on portraiture, landscape painting and still life. The Munich school is characterized by a naturalistic style and dark chiaroscuro. Meanwhile, at the time we observe the emergence of Greek neoclassicism and naturalism in sculpture.

Nikolaos Gyzis, Learning by heart, 1883.

Rallis Theodoros, The Booty, before 1906.

20th Century Modern & Contemporary Greek Art

At the beginning of the 20th century the interest of painters turned toward the study of light and color. Gradually the impressionists and other modern schools increased their influence. The interest of Greek painters, artists changes from historical representations to Greek landscapes with an emphasis on light and colours so abundant in Greece. Representatives of this artistic change introduce historical, religious and mythological elements that allow the classification of Greek painting into modern art. The era of the 1930s was a landmark for the Greek painters. The second half of the 20th century has seen a range of acclaimed Greek artists too serving the movements of surrealism, metaphysical art, kinetic art, Arte Povera, abstract excessionism and kinetic sculpture.

Yiannis Moralis, Two friends, 1946.

Art by Giannis Gaitis (1923-1984), famous for his uniformed little men.

By Yorghos Stathopoulos (1944 - )

Art (detail) by Nikos Engonopoulos (1907 - 1985)

Folk, Modern Ecclesiastical and Secular Post-Byzantine Art

Ecclesiastical art, church architecture, holy painting and hymnology follow the order of Greek Byzantine tradition intact. Byzantine influence also remained pivotal in folk and secular art and it currently seems to enjoy a rise in national and international interest about it.

A modern depiction of the legendary hero Digenes Akritas depicted in the style of a Byzantine icon by Greek artist Dimitrios Skourtelis. Credit: Dimitrios Skourtelis / Reddit

Erotokritos and Aretousa by folk artist Theophilos (1870-1934)

Example of Modern Greek Orthodox murals, Church of St. Nicholas.

Ancient Greek philosophers depicted in iconographic fashion in one of Meteora’s monasteries. Each is holding a quote from his work that seems to foreshadow Christ. Shown from left to right are: Homer, Thucydides, Aristotle, Plato and Plutarch. This is not as weird as it may initially seem: it was a recurrent belief throughout the history of Christian Greek Orthodoxy that the great philosophers of the world heralded Jesus' birth in their writings - it was part of the eras of biggest reconciliation between Greek Byzantinism and Classicism.

Prophet Elijah icon with Chariot of Fire, Handmade Greek Orthodox icon, unknown iconographer. Source

If you see this, thanks very much for reading this post. Hope you enjoyed!

#greece #art #europe #history #culture #greek art #artists #greek culture #history of art #classical art #ancient greek art #byzantine greek art #christian art #orthodox art #modern art #modern greek art #anon #ask

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hornyhermitry · 9 months

Text

Eat Me, Drink Me

Word Count: ca. 5,000 Sukuna x Reader, True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: NSFW, 18+

Warning: dark, explicit, gory, filthy, violence, power dynamics, horror, porn without plot, consensual near death sexperience, monsterfucking, vaginal sex, anal sex, double penetration, blood, blood as lube, sukuna in chains, drinking blood, its a lot of gory fucking but its hot, in case anyone is wondering what it's like to die on his dick - this hopefully comes close // I was invited to a beheading today I thought I was a butterfly next to your flame A rush of panic and the lock has been raped This is only a game, this is only a game I see my horror mirrored in the sundown of your blank stare Eat me, drink me, this is only a game - Marilyn Manson - Eat me, Drink Me // Eat Me, Drink Me - Sukuna x Reader

Sukuna found himself in the middle of a dimly lit space, sitting on an old-fashioned wooden chair, his wrists and ankles chained to the ground. The air was hot and muggy and when he scanned the area, the ancient curse noticed candle-lit walls with all sorts of rusty chains attached and others dangling from the ceiling.

You closed the distance between you and him and put both your hands on his thighs, absentmindedly straightening his loose-fitting robe’s wrinkles with your thumbs. You leaned over him and whispered an “I’m glad you’re here.” into his ear that he met with a confident laugh and forcefully yanked at the chains, expecting them to break free so he could snap your neck in an instant.

The metal pieces rattled and bit into his flesh. Sukuna’s laugh died in his throat and he stared at you - a lowly human turned into his captor - in disbelief.

He pulled at the chains again using more strength, expecting them to rip any second, but nothing happened. The chains withstood his attempts at breaking free. Not even with cursed energy did their links budge.

“How are you...?”

You let go of his thighs. You let your thumb trace along the ink lining his jaw and confidently smiled back at his glowing red eyes.

“This is my domain, King of Curses. You have no power here.” The expression on Sukuna’s face changed into a bored dismissal.

“Isn’t this torture chamber set up a bit outdated? What are you, from the 1100s?”

He rattled his chains again for effect, not expecting much to happen this time but using the distraction to take a closer look at his surroundings and the nature of your domain.

You moved your thumb up from his jawline, carefully tracing his lips, and lingered there while you studied his eyes.

“You need to clear your mind if you want out.”

Sukuna met your gaze and after a long moment of silent contemplation and gauging your intentions, he placidly licked your thumb, the bored expression not leaving his face.

While your eyes were locked as he did so, your hardening nipples did not escape his second pair of eyes. His casual voice matched the lack of a smile on his face.

“Leave or you will die today.”

A tired half-smirk and you pulled away, walked around the chair and stopped behind his back. One hand was now resting on his right shoulder. He could hear the other hand shuffling something. On the back of your hand he could see a gloating demonic face inked into your skin, laughing at him. A snake and hieroglyphics from the book of the dead were winding around the arm out of sight. Mustering it, he mused that it was possibly connected to you curse technique. Or maybe you were just really into death. Something stirred in him.

After some clattering sounds that could have been from shaking small objects in a container behind him, he felt your breath on his neck.

“As long as you desire, be it my death or something less sinister, you will be chained here.”

There was another sound he couldn’t quite identify and then he heard you sharply inhale. Your body winced, in what he assumed to be sudden pain, behind him. Your attempt to prolong your technique backfiring did not escape his attention.

Relaxing his shoulders into your grip and leaning back into the chair, the King of Curses closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring up for show. “You’re bluffing. Your technique is not tied to desire. I can smell your fear.”

Your left hand grabbed him by his scalp and pulled his head back so you could observe the arch of his muscular neck while your right hand slid around it and pushed down the collar of his robe to reveal his defined collarbone.

“I can smell you’re rotten inside out.”

Sukuna smiled patiently, eyes closed. “I can also... smell your excitement." He leaned his neck back against your arm snaking around him. "Back in the day, women would run from me, terrified. Terrified I'd tear their flesh and bones off and feed on them alive and screaming. What strange times I’ve incarnated in.” He audibly inhaled and after a few seconds scrunched his nose in disgust. “You’re in heat.”

He pulled at his chains again. The constraints did not give in, but he felt you were briefly startled before you tightened your grip on his scalp.

“Stop it. I told you you won’t be able to free yourself.”

Your eyes were relishing the sight of his exposed neck, but when the curse opened all of his four eyes with a wide open-mouthed grin and looked up at you, his captor, he saw a flicker of doubt on your face. You noticed that he noticed and just as he sensed your heart skipping a beat, you landed a hard slap on his face.

A wolfish grin exposing sharp fangs split his face from ear to ear and his eyes widened in malicious anticipation.

“Your name, suicidal fool. I want to know who I’m carving up tonight.”

You forcefully pushed his head away from you and down onto his chest before stepping away from him.

Once again, he could hear something metallic whir in the air and then heard you catch it with your hands. Pain shot through your body when your ankle snapped as your curse technique failed and your breath turned heavy. Your gambling spell had backfired. Your heart rate increased and your growing fear permeated his nostrils. Sukuna had heard your bones crack.

When you came back into his view and stood in front of him, tucking a brazen coin into your pocket, he noticed the change in your posture. You were doing your best to hide it, but your left foot was visibly injured.

“Alright, we’re gonna have to speed this up a bit.” was what you threw at him with a lopsided half-apologetic sneer before ripping his robe open, exposing his marked and well-toned body. Your hands made quick work of your own belt and pants, with the latter awkwardly hanging around the calves as you pushed the knee of the injured leg on the little seating surface between Sukuna’s unabashedly spread legs. He was still held in place by tight chains - but for how much longer would he be? After steadying yourself on one leg by briefly holding on to his shoulders, you pulled your shirt over your head and revealed bold black ink spanning from your sternum to your belly button while your knee gently pressed against his crotch.

A minute ago, Sukuna had wondered how you pathetic mortal could ever so arrogantly assume you would get what you wanted from him, but that perfectly centered ink spread over your torso practically invited him to cut your flesh open right there and pleasure himself with your hot and wet entrails spilling out. He reconsidered your desire. The thought of wrapping your failing organs around his cock as you would watch in horror, bleeding out on him spilling his seed into your dying body, stirred up an irksome need in his groin.

When your flat hand slid along his inner thigh and over his growing dick, the feeling of his smooth, hot skin under your fingers made your breath hitch for a moment. You grabbed his wild pink mane for balance, murmuring your name into his neck.

“It's (Y/N).”

You placed your right hand between your own most sensitive spot and his and started getting to work. With your fingers gently wrapped around the base of his semi-hard on you started stroking him, closed your eyes and reveled in the sensations your strokes sent through both of you.

Sukuna’s clenched fists were firmly held in place by the now-dangerously strained chains and he smiled at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. Gaze locked with yours, he exhaled into the motions of your servicing hand, musing that this should soon be your cut open throat as your decapitated head watches in its last moments alive. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as ice.

“I will kill you, (Y/N).”

“Yeah. I know.” You continued in between strokes, working both of you up, heavy breathing onto his cheek. “What I did today was really pretty damn stupid.” You pulled his head back a bit and looked at his four eyes, let go of your grip on his dick and mounted his thighs with your right leg. With a hopelessly crooked smile, you dragged your slippery folds along his whole length and buried your face in the curve of his neck. You were absolutely lost in the foreshadow of the pleasure you were about to draw out of the monster between your burning thighs and slowly rubbed your groin against his. “But, you know. Now that I’m in this mess, I plan to enjoy it before it's lights out.” You hungrily licked up his neck and face, over his smaller right eyeball and pushed your lower body down until his dick filled you up completely. He could feel how your pussy was working extra shifts right now trying to accommodate him in one go. After all, you were rather tiny and he was the King of Curses.

The King of Curses stared at you in disbelief as you breathlessly chuckled—still struggling with moving on his size—that it’s a bit disappointing to see someone with 4 eyes, 4 arms and 2 faces only have one dick.

The up-until-now tightly strained chains rattled loudly towards the ground as Sukuna let his arms relax and dangle at his sides. A wide smile split his face again and he probingly moved his hips, thighs and pelvis up, testing the alleged limits of the domain technique to see if he could shove himself deeper into you, because still, your insides had not yet adjusted to his length. His firm girthy flesh not only stretched the width of your insides but also pushed against the momentarily not so far end of your tunnel and made you groan in pain.

You let go of his shoulders and straightened your back, your hands looking for purchase on his thighs and knees behind you. He watched your face closely as he pulled back an inch and then, agonizingly slow but relentless, pushed his cock against your refusing inner muscles that were screaming at him for more time to relax and adjust. Sukuna wondered whether you were leaning back to have more room to get away from his thrusts or intentionally wanted him to have a better view of how he was penetrating you. The latter was the case, but as he found out when you told him to look at how deep inside your he is, but ultimately he didn’t care.

With your hips pushed forward, your nails digging into his knees and your upper body arched back, it was easy for him to imagine one slice to your abdomen. You rode him slowly and all he wanted was to open you up and watch himself penetrate your insides. The thought made him even harder and you gasped in pain when you felt him press against your most hidden parts, preparing to slowly impale you.

When you had steadied herself and your grip on his thighs, you gradually started meeting his thrusts and glanced down at where your bodies joined, the end of your tattoo pointing down towards his crotch. It was getting easier to glide back and forth, but Sukuna made sure each thrust hit a different spot deep inside you which made you close your eyes to let the individual pangs of pain pass through.

Your breathing was strained and your face was flushed when you looked up into the eyes of the 1000 year old King buried between your legs.

As you spoke up, your tone and your expression gave away that you were equally hurting and starving from need.

“Please fuck me up good.”

Shifting your weight onto your left arm and greedily taking in the sight of his naked body—how the strong black sigils stood out against his hard and rough muscles and guided your gaze down— you started grinding yourself hard against Sukuna. The cruel deity tattooed onto the back of your right hand caught his attention again—he knew this many-armed goddess of death well. She seemingly came to life, her twitching tongue mocking him under quickly flexing tendons when you pleasured yourself with your own fingers eagerly rubbing your clit.

Time was running out and your cursed gamble would end any minute now. You were very aware of it and the urgency of getting off before the murderous demon would snap your neck spurred you on.

Maybe it would even be painless and you’d climax just the moment he’d break free. It made your head spin that you were coming apart on a centuries old omnipotent god’s lap. The thought of maybe being the only human to ever experience this sensation made your pussy clamp down hard on him and you bit your lip.

Sukuna’s wide grin faded out and changed into a more subdued and cold smirk. He had stopped thrusting into you and instead watched you work your naked self into a state of ecstasy on his dick. Your grinding turned into slamming as you audibly grew wetter and strained groans turned into desperate moans.

A whisper fell between the two of you. "If only you knew how wet your cunt will be once I have it drenched in your own blood." Your clenching paired with a needy whimper fed the hunger in Sukuna’s groin and made him involuntarily twitch deep inside of you. You were a mortal woman purposely flirting with death and if death is what you wanted, he would give it to you. No one knew how to snuff out a human like him. He didn’t even have to wait until he was free of his chains.

A sharp pain pierced your insides and you cried out. Eyes wide in shock, you searched his disdainful face for an explanation, but found none. Instead, a new bolt of pain shot through you and it was so caustic, so uncomfortably deep inside, that it made tears well up in your eyes. The icy sneer on Sukuna’s face sent shivers down your spine and a sharp wave of pain momentarily paralyzed you when you realized Sukuna’s other mouth had wandered to his dick and sunk his fangs into your cervix. You bit your lip in horror as you felt it push its tongue into it. In a knee-jerk reaction, you tried to pull away from Sukuna’s lap and ripped at your own insides in the process. You gasped in breathless pain from the feeling of his teeth tearing at your cervix and leaned against Sukuna’s chest in an attempt to calm yourself with slow, deep breaths and force down the tears. When you peeked past his shoulder you saw the chains on the walls flicker. Time was up. Suddenly you felt nauseous. The temperature dropped. The hair on your skin stood up. A moldy taste filled your mouth. Your insides tightened, driving the teeth further into them and your toes curled up. You felt a hot breath next to your right ear and fear spread in your chest. With an ill feeling of nauseating needle pricks flooding the inside of your mouth, you turned your head. Sukuna’s face was right there and you flinched at the manic expression. Half of his face was bare teeth in a distorted grin, the other half was wide open eyes, with contracted fiery red pupils fixated on you.

“Let’s have some fun, stupid.”

Sukuna’s eyes widened even further in glee as the chains fell off his wrists and ankles and he was free. Time to play with his prey.

Your ears rang with the sound of metal crashing onto stone. The noise was disorienting and you couldn’t focus your eyes. Sukuna’s hands grabbed your thighs. Sukuna’s hands grabbed your neck. Sukuna’s hands violently pulled at your hair, jerking your head to the side. The pain inside you stopped but the relief was short-lived and immediately washed away by sickness dancing in your stomach. The room spun around you and you felt dizzy. Was he lifting you up? Tossing you? The next thing you felt was blunt pain when your back crashed into something solid. Pressing your thumb and index finger against the side of your nose to bring the focus back, you looked up and wished you hadn’t.

Towering over you stood Ryomen Sukuna in his full form, the open robe hanging down his sides and four arms framing his tall, bulky stature. With one left hand he combed his hair back. One right hand was lazily tugging at his blood-dripping erection, and the other two hands were generously flexing their fingers to get rid of the tingly feeling the chains had left. His face was split into two and with all four eyes he voraciously observed the volatile jujutsu aura surrounding you in front of him. With his burning eyes locked onto you, he had you trapped between his body and the wall behind you, naked and bleeding, at his mercy. The short-lived domain, your injuries and that aura around you blazing like a brushfire one second and nearly dying away the other - it all fell into place for him.

“I see what you are, foolish sorceress. You can gamble with curse energy to shape reality and your technique to contain me in a fake domain somehow pulled through. Were you trying to imprison me? Lock me away? Kill me?”

With each question the pitch of his voice went lower until the final question came out as an amused growl.

You stared up at him, your chest rising and falling a few times before you replied.

“You turn me on.”

There it was again. That spark of unexpected excitement chased through Sukuna’s chest and made him snicker through his fangs.

“Your spirit intrigues me,” he said, his voice permeated by a gleeful giggle. “In that case, let’s find out how lucky you and your jujutsu are today.”

He brought his unoccupied hands into position and pressed his fingers together—two eyes open, two eyes cruelly winking at his victim. “Domain Expansion. Malevolent Shrine”. Your surroundings sped away as he uttered the words. A sinister temple gate rose up behind him and then you were surrounded by darkness.

Comfortably seated on a giant pile of skulls stacked up in front of the temple gate, Sukuna was observing how you looked around in the dark, disoriented, and leaned back into a generous backrest made from a giant shoulder blade. His insides were tingling in anticipation of what was to come.

On the one hand, you deserved to suffer before he would kill you for the insolence of attempting to trap him. On the other hand, his lower body also craved to explore your desire for his violence. The thought of abusing you on the bones of your mortal predecessors before he would make your one more skull cementing his throne brought him joy. It had been a while since he last took his time to spill his seed into a human. Above all, a willing one and not one sacrificed to him. A small mouth appeared in the palm of his hand and licked some of the drying blood off the softening flesh between his legs. Humans could only taste the metallic note of blood, but Sukuna could taste the actual person contained in the blood. He hummed to himself and relished the taste. Guilt. Willfulness. Hunger. A disdain for life which he couldn’t quite pin down. An intoxicating flavor profile that made his blood rise. He wanted more and it was audible in his deep, sensual voice.

“If you make it to me in time, I will consume your body just the way your filthy soul craves, (Y/N).”

When his words cut through the darkness, torches lit up left and right to his throne of mortal remains and allowed you to see.

There was a notable distance between you and he was looking down on you in a way truly befitting for a King. You felt infinitely small under his smug red eyes, but also elevated and fueled by his challenge.

Just as you took a step and were about to ask about the time, you were stopped in your tracks by another wave of dizziness that hit you. Your balance was completely off and the words didn’t come. Then you felt it. Something warm was coming down your throat and your eyes widened in horror as the realization settled in. Grasping at your neck and stumbling forward with wide, painful gasps for breath, you looked up at Sukuna who licked his lips and rested his head on his right arm. “Tick, tock.”

The blood you gurgled ran down your soft breasts and he took his time enjoying the view while your eyes were racing around the room, probably in sync with your thoughts.

You were able to figure this out, you told yourself. 'Stop panicking. You have 30 safe seconds to fix this. Walk. Slowly. Ignore the dizziness. Don’t look down. Think. Your heart is beating too fast. Calm down.' You couldn't help your thoughts running wild in panick and excitement. 'He looks delicious in this light. Will he really fuck me. I want to die on him. I want his cock so deep in me I’ll throw up from it. Stop. Focus. Calm down. Just a few more steps and then climb up the skulls. Hold tight. Yes, that. Hold. Tight.'

With both hands you firmly applied pressure to your throat to slow down the blood loss. Sukuna watched as you limped forward, chest rising and falling slower than before. The blood pouring out of your slit throat trickled down your body, over your thighs and dripped into the pool of blood you were wading through. With your bloody thumb, you flipped the coin hoping to at least stop the bleeding. The horror on your face disappeared and was replaced by determination and relief. Heads. You weren't powerful enough to fully heal yourself with a reverse technique, but you successfully gambled to redirect and seal the flow of your curse energy so you could control your blood pressure just enough to avoid losing more.

The voice Sukuna spoke with was deep and evocative, resonating with a need between your legs that made your knees weak. The terrifying wave of power that hit you in the aftermath was like a bat smashing your face and knees and you collapsed onto the ground.

“Crawl on your knees, like the vermin you are.”

The impact made you splutter blood from your mouth and neck despite the protective spell and you felt lightheaded. Everything seemed a bit distanced, as if you were Sukuna watching yourself creeping towards him. For both of you it was hard to say how long it took - five seconds or 5 minutes - you were mesmerized by the unfolding events, but between subdued fits of blood coughing, you made it through the lake of blood ready to swallow you up. As you reached the edge of the piled up skulls, you proceeded to pull yourself up by the skull horns, leaving a bloody trail where you dragged yourself across the bones.

Just as your right hand grabbed the skull next to Sukuna’s right foot, a wave of disproportional euphoria washed over you and he witnessed a very strange sound emerge from your open throat. He leaned forward with a raised eyebrow, the smug smile nearly reaching from ear to ear. “Was that miserable sound a laugh?”

As a response, you looked up at him and nodded while repeating the gurgling sound, this time louder and with a wide open mouth, the happy grin tainted by the blood covering your teeth. That combination sent his arousal on a roller-coaster ride from his tattooed chest down to his naked groin and did an extra loop at his lower stomach. In a swift motion, he impatiently pulled you up and onto his lap. Two of his arms kept you from falling off of him. Your body was sweating profusely and shaking erratically. You tilted your head and looked at him, your face still a euphoric grimace. The heat between your blood-drenched thighs was waiting for him and as your body was caught in another brief shaking fit from the blood loss that made your nipples delightfully hard, he felt how you needily pressed your groin against his. A few strands of hair had fallen over your face and hung in the bloody spit at the corner of your mouth. He pushed them back to get a good view of your piercing eyes and reciprocated your borderline lunatic anticipation. Rubbing his returning hard on against the puffy lips between your legs, he was pleased to feel that your insides were bleeding enough to skip the foreplay.

“I will satisfy your cravings, mortal. But I won’t tell you to not be frightened. You will also satisfy mine.”

Eagerly he pushed into you and grabbed you by your open neck with one giant hand, at both sides of your ass with another two and pushed your lips apart with a long sharp fingernail of the last one. Holding your body firmly in place, he moved you up and down on his dick a few times, relishing the wet and warm sensation of your spasming and bleeding muscles, until he had you in the right position to comfortably slam against that special spot inside of you. Under his hard thrusts and his unsympathetic grin, your eyes widened in shock - at how good he made your feel. The slow but rough way he hit that hard spongy tissue inside of you again and again turned your body and your desire into a windup toy wrapping tighter and tighter around his cock. Each time he slammed into you, you jerked on his lap and firmly pressed your open neck against his strong hand, nestling into his chokehold on you. He could feel you twitching around him—how you were approaching the high you chased—but he was hungry for more of your taste. Sukuna wanted to push you towards your breaking point, but also to consume you. His little additional mouth appeared on his crotch and between excruciatingly slowed down thrusts that stretched your hole to its limit, he started to suck violently on your clit. The sensations made you practically jump on his dick and you started whimpering under his actions. You were losing control of yourself, unable to focus on reliably keeping up the technique to stop the bleeding in the pleasure Sukuna forced on you, and he willingly drank from the blood pouring out of your neck again.

Some of it ran down your body, trickling down your sides and back and you couldn’t tell anymore what was sweat and what was blood running down your spine.

Unable to talk, stuck in limbo between life and death and going mad with pleasure, you were putty in Sukuna’s hands. So this was what it felt like to have your entire being broken apart by the King of Curses. It was wilder than what you had hoped for and the thrill of it was burning up your soul. Your mind couldn’t comprehend what you had done to deserve this, but then again the fatality of it was exactly what you deserved after all that you had done in your life. Your body was falling apart and yet you had never felt higher or more complete.

Sukuna enjoyed tasting these thoughts in your blood. It fueled him to feel how you drank up his unique mixture of death with such lust that set your core on fire, but you still weren’t broken enough for his liking. And he still had a misconception to fix.

With the huge middle and index finger of the hand on your lips, he sliced your tongue open and pushed deep down into your throat to make you gag until his fingers were sufficiently coated with your saliva and blood. His lips brushed your earlobe and his slicked up fingers wandered down your back and caressed your spread cheeks. Then he pushed his lubed fingers into the one place he hadn’t assaulted yet and more pain mixed into the pleasure his unnaturally big cock and his second mouth were already giving you. The sudden change of sensations made you gag on the blood in your throat even more. His thick, long fingers not only worked your defiant muscles but also ripped flesh open in the process. Quivering with anticipation, an unstable giggle was mixed into his words when he pulled his fingers back out and briefly lifted you up. “You’re gonna like this one.”

Before you had time to fully catch up, thoughts racing through a maze of pleasure, cursed energy and pain, Sukuna pushed both his dicks into your orifices and bottomed out at an erratic pace.

Now his giant hand wrapped tight around your neck and choked you with an iron grip so draining, it also served to hold you in place to take his deep thrusts without a way out. The two hands holding your thighs clawed at your skin to pull your violated holes even further apart. Your limp body was shaking from exertion and pleasure and your head was spinning out of control. Your thoughts were falling through a burning vertigo with no end.

A high-pitched wheezing came out of your windpipe and you grabbed onto Sukuna’s hair to ground yourself in a physical reality beyond the sensations he made your capitulate to. You tried to look into his eyes but were unable to keep yours open under his domineering movements. He started sucking and licking at your yearning clit again, while his two cocks pitilessly fucked into your overstimulated and hurting openings. He worked your aching body into madness. A sharp fingernail traced down your neck and playfully ripped at the flap of open skin on your neck. Sukuna savored how you winced at the sensation and your overstretched holes tightened around both his cocks while he drank more of your blood.

Pleased with your taste full of willful guilt and pleasure, he let his hand slide down to your right breast and gently scratched across the tender skin. You couldn’t make any proper sounds anymore other than animalistic grunts and gurgles and your muscles were contracting faster and more violently around him, but you reacted to his touch and arched your back to put your lusciously blood-covered breasts on better display for him.

Sukuna took note of both your responsiveness and your oncoming climax and hummed into your ear.

“Now we get to the frightening part. Shame you can’t scream anymore.”

With that, he started aggressively pounding into your and a searing pain shot through your chest. His sharp fingernails had pushed deep into your rib cage and his fingers were closing around your heart. The preservation technique was completely futile against this. Your life had been hanging on a very thin thread those past few minutes and relied on the blood you still had left. Sukuna's strong fingers squeezed your heart so violently with each of his deep and greedy thrusts into your cavities that blood squirted out of your mouth and covered both of your bodies in a crimson stream that started pooling between your legs. Hideous gasps for air echoed through the domain and grew louder with every impossible breath. Your body went into overdrive. You were burning up. He was draining you. Draining your sanity, draining your blood and draining your life. Sweat started coming out of every pore. The lightheadedness was getting worse, the nausea was back and yet your whole world was spinning in pleasure and pain so intense, something in your head snapped. Terror and pleasure. Death throes or an infinite climax. Your heart fought against his merciless fingers and lost. Pleasure washed over you as reality sped away. Your body spasmed violently on his and it took only a few more thrusts for Sukuna to shoot his seed into your dying body. All your muscles from neck to stomach to legs contracted around him in a wretched last act of rebellion against the inevitable and milked his lust to the last drop.

Your strengthless fingers let go of his hair and your arms fell to your sides. Sukuna watched exhausted as you slumped into his arms.

Muttering to himself, he pushed you off his lap and stood up to stretch his legs and tie his open robe back up. Your body slid down the pile of skulls and came to a halt midway. The curse energy surrounding your body cast a weak, subsiding light onto the bones around you. Stepping down from his throne, Sukuna produced a brazen coin from his pocket. After a few seconds of contemplation, he squatted down next to your motionless body, slapped your face and put the coin in your hand. For a brief moment, your curse energy flickered with a ghostly shimmer.

“Flip it. If you‘re fortunate you‘ll get to live for another round.” - written by Jisatsu777 // HornyHermitry, April 2021 Also on AO3

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