#what goes on behind closed palace doors

[ghostinthegallery]

Noticing that the necrontyr NSFW bug has bitten more than one of us around here, feeling like the next few weeks are gonna be fun 😏

#teeheee #good job team #yes ive been bitten too #imotekh/szarekh #what goes on behind closed palace doors #damn that might actually be the title it's not half bad

[yikimiki]

>> bones and ashes

⚔️ sukuna x fem!reader | warnings for: violence, mentions of death, possessiveness (sukuna is as evil as they come so basically every red flag under the sun), non-con that turns into dub-con (Stockholm syndrome), mentions of virginity loss, anatomically impossible size difference (if u know what I mean), blood play, etc | around 5-6k words | also important to note that I absolutely assassinated the canon lore in some points but bare with me

Sukuna doesn’t really have the ability to love. But he thinks he gets close enough when it comes to you. Of course, in his own twisted, macabre way.

Sukuna isn’t familiar to the concept of fondness, let alone anything more profound or meaningful than that. He knows want, desire, possession, curiosity even. But none of those feelings have ever tilted towards the side of affection, nor does he want them to. They’re all narcissistic pulses that keep pushing him forward — towards more power, more control, more of what he can become. He’s not even fond of his own abilities. Arrogant? Perhaps, but not fond. He can’t be fond of something he knows is not at its peak yet, that would just be weakness.

And Sukuna is everything but weak.

He sees you in a cold winter morning and he does what he knows best: he takes. Takes your pride, your virginity, your blood. Takes you like he took the lives of the rest of your village, paints your skin red and watches as the tears wash it away. Sukuna takes and takes until you have nothing left to give, just like he has done countless times before and yet… this time, something switches.

This time, he decides to let you live. Trapped in a dark cell, of course, but alive regardless.

The days move slowly, and you learn to mark their passing by the loud, clanking sound of a metal dish being thrown through a cracked door. The food is mostly raw meet and, after a few days of disgust, you cave in and eat a little of it. Not enough to be satisfied, not even close, but enough to keep you alive for at least a few hours longer.

Sukuna comes by in irregular intervals, and you soon give up on trying to find a pattern in his visits. You know it’s him from the way the door creaks open even further to accommodate his size, and you watch as his large shadow observes your movements for a moment before he kicks the disgusting plate towards you. Most of time time he’s there, you force yourself to eat, afraid of what should come if you turn down his unspoken commands. Once he seems satisfied, he exits without a word.

There is one single advantage in being in a windowless, isolated cell: you can’t hear what goes on up there. You’ve heard enough the day that Sukuna came to your village — the shattering screams, the pleads for mercy, the babies crying, the sound of wood and bone breaking almost too similar to differentiate. You saw creatures beyond your realm and heard awful whispers and threats; held you family as they died and gave up as the snow beneath your hands became as red as the burning sky above. And you know enough about Sukuna’s legend to be aware that it wasn’t an isolated incident.

When evil incarnate arrives, there’s not much you can do but surrender.

Though, when it comes to the legends, you thought that his palace was more of a manner of speak than an actual location. Once again, though, you’ve heard enough legends to know when to stop inquiring about the details.

Sukuna comes in after a week with a plan and a cloud of amusement over his head — frankly, given the state you were in, he thought you would be dead by now. Your stubborn hold on life is as impressive as it is pathetic.

“You looked so small when I first saw you,” his thunderous voice breaks the silence. There’s no food in his hands this time, only the fire cracking behind his form. You’re sitting down on the cold floor, back against the wall, and you don’t even bother looking up at him. “You look even smaller now.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t know what to say. Of course you’re smaller — you’re weak, starving, lacking movement and sunlight. Every muscle in your body aches and the aftertaste of dried blood never leaves your mouth. Smaller is a compliment; you wish you were just bones and ashes by now.

Sukuna takes a heavy step inside the dark chamber. “I killed everyone you’ve ever loved that day,” he says, bluntly. There’s no amusement nor sorrow in his tone — it’s a neutral statement. He lowers himself to your level and, on the corner of your eyes, you see his four arms. He is so wrong, even in a physical sense. Like the scar of something that shouldn’t even exist. “And yet… you live. Do you want to know why?”

You sneer. “I wish you’d just let me die.”

He chuckles, and one hand meets the side of your head. His fingers dig into the dirty, messy strings and pulls on the roots. There are tears on the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let him see them. “That’s exactly why you’re alive,” he says. “I knew you were ready to die when I saw you — all bloodied up, on your knees in the snow. It was quite a sight.” Sukuna’s voice is a malicious whisper as he comes even closer to you — he smells rotten. The tongue that licks up your cheek makes you want to puke. He tastes you the same way as he did on the first day, and you have no idea what he’s searching for. “Tell me, why were you so ready to give yourself to me? Most try to plead at least.”

“Plead for what? Your mercy?” The sarcasm is clear through your tone. The words you mean to say are knotted in the base of your throat and the odor Sukuna reeks is making you dizzy; making you remember everything that came before this. “I— I didn’t have anything else to live for,” you stutter. “You killed… you killed my mother, my father, my baby brother… why would I want to live without them? Why would I humiliate myself asking for mercy from a creature that clearly doesn’t have any to spare?”

Through anger, you look up at him. His eyes are flames bursting through the darkness, and they shine as your words settle on his skin. “Do you only live for love, my little dove?” He asks. “What a purposeless life you have.”

“Do you only live for hate?” You ask back before you can hold your tongue. Somewhere in your mind, you know that he’s capable of unimaginable evil, but you are beyond the point of caution. “What a purposeless legacy you’re leaving behind.”

This angers him. The corners of his mouth twists as he speaks. “You people fear me. Even the strongest of sorcerers doesn’t dare to go against me.”

“I pity you and your ridiculous need for destroying what isn’t yours,” you spit. “And I hate you for keeping me alive. I hate you for everything you’ve done to me and to the people I love. And I hate that you even dare to come here and talk to me like I’m the smaller person for daring to care about something.”

The hands on your hair tighten and he pulls your face against his. Sukuna’s forehead is a furnace against yours, his eyes burn into your soul. “You little insect, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to.”

Your voice shakes but you say it regardless: “Do it, then, what are you waiting for?”

“No,” his answer is more cruel than death could ever be. And he knows that. “And you know why?”

“If you are keeping me alive to have your way with me, so be it, have it,” you say. The tears are obvious now. You wonder if he can smell how fearful you really are. “Violate me like you did before, I don’t care anymore, but just don’t keep me alive just to waste me away.”

His lips are touching yours now, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. Sukuna’s chest is heaving like he’s in the middle of a battle, his voice like a roar in your ears. “Then ask. For. My Mercy.”

“I w-would n-never…”

“Ask!” It’s a loud command that crashes against you like a wave. You sink like there is no adrenaline in your body to keep you afloat; the anger that moved you before is no longer within your reach.

The truth is clear: you’re human. He’s a curse — the king of curses, older than you could ever imagine; probably even more powerful than the legends you’ve heard. His eyes say that there are fates worse than death and you believe them. And maybe, just maybe, if you play by his rules, he’ll grow tired of you and let you wither away.

“P-Please,” you are sobbing now, tears falling down like a cascade. Sukuna licks them and hums in satisfaction, watching as you break apart into a mountain of hiccups and trembling limbs. “Please just… have mercy on me. I’ll do whatever you want just — please, stop torturing me like this.”

“Aw,” he coos. “Was that so hard?”

You want to say that yes, somehow, that took everything still left in you. You want to say that if he wanted to break your spirit, congratulations, he’s done it. But you don’t get the chance.

Sukuna kisses you with the same ferocity you expected, sharp teeth crashing against yours and tongue exploring your mouth with no prior warning. He groans as he tastes you — you, the blood in your food, the salt of your tears — and suddenly it’s all that he will ever crave again. You whimper against his lips as his two lower arms crawl up your thighs and hold onto your hips, pushing you against him as he stands up and presses you against the wall. You feel more caged now than you have felt these past few days.

“Silly little human,” he raps against your lips, then licks your cheek for more of your precious tears. He realizes how much he likes to make you cry. You wince and give out a little sob, which only makes him smile. Finally, his grip on your hair loosens. “What is my name?”

You blink, dumbfounded by the sudden question. “S-Sukuna…?”

He pouts. “Say it like you mean it or I won’t be so nice.”

“Sukuna,” you say more firmly this time.

“There we go, that’s a good girl,” he says. “See how things just work better when you don’t misbehave? Hm?”

You nod. He doesn’t like it. “Y-Yes, I see, I’m sorry.”

“Very good.” The hand that was on your hair moves to hold your face, and it’s so huge that you feel like it would crush your skull with one single movement. As the other two arms hold onto your thighs, the fourth limb squeezes your breast. “Now, this is what’s going to happen, my pretty little human,” Sukuna starts, “I will have my servants take you to my chambers. You will be washed, clothed, and taken care of. They will feed you proper human food this time, whichever it is that your heart desires. How does that sound?”

Sounds like a trap. “And, in return, what do I have to do for you?”

“What do I have to do for you…?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Sukuna,” you complete.

“There’s my perfect little girl,” he says. You hate that something inside you likes the praise. “You will have to wait for me there. Do whatever you prefer, but don’t leave my room. Any attempt at escaping or killing yourself will be futile, and I’ve already warned every single curse that your death will result in a much more dire future for them. So you will be brought back to me. And I promise I won’t be so nice.”

“I understand… Sukuna,” you correct yourself quickly. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

The hand on your breast squeezes tighter, and you bite your lip so you don’t complain. “I knew I was right when I brought you here, something made me spare you. Yet, I don’t know what it is just yet.”

Sukuna is a looming threat above you, his limbs trapping you, and his deep voice is like thunder about to break. You know why so many fear him — you fear him too. And the sooner you act like it, the sooner he’ll grow tired of you. Sooner he’ll realize he was wrong in bringing you into his fortress.

He smirks. “But I believe I’ll discover soon enough.”

- ⚔️ -

Sukuna’s chambers are as spacious and monstrous as himself — corners switching and adjusting like breathing flesh; furniture morphing into different shapes; the weird odor of something old; the feeling for something lurking. The large windows show a world between worlds; a reality that doesn’t seem right no matter how long you stare at it. His palace is in a dimension you can’t reach, and you give up on trying to understand it. If anything, the more you wonder about it, the more you shake under the weight of the sheer power it must take to keep it all existing like solid matter.

Your passage of time is morphed and unreliable, but you would guess that a couple weeks have passed by the time that you come to terms that, perhaps, Sukuna isn’t as easy to bore as you first expected. The fire in his eyes doesn’t seem to diminish as he sees you — if anything, his eagerness to have you all to himself only seems to expand — and the way he takes care of you makes you realize that he isn’t planning on letting you die anytime soon.

Life in his chambers is far more comfortable, you admit, but it’s a prison nonetheless. Still, you can’t say that you are mistreated. In his chambers, you are bathed and clothed, well-fed and pampered. You soon come back to your normal weight and the fatigue leaves your body; there is more space to move, more things to do. The curses that come to check on you seem to be strangely kind and human-like, though you know it’s out of fear and not out of worry, and they keep your mind occupied with several stories and legends as the days move on.

Sukuna is more absent than you would have imagined, conquering and killing as often as he can. When he finally comes to you he is clean, recently bathed, but you can still see he is fresh from a battle, some mindless corruption beyond the horizon that you would rather hear nothing about. There are shallow scars and deep cuts that heal unreasonably quickly; dried blood that hasn’t quite washed away and ashes beneath his fingernails.

You ask whose village he has attacked this time, but he says it doesn’t matter, because there are no survivors.

“I never leave any survivors,” he completes, kissing your forehead, “besides you, my little human.”

You don’t push beyond that information, but the feeling of being special, chosen, starts to blossom like a dangerous rose inside your chest. It stings and stings, but grows regardless, and you see yourself less able to fight against his possessive claims. You start to enjoy them. You start to wonder if life beyond those walls is worth fighting for when you seem to have everything you would ever wish for right here.

You can always tell when Sukuna is about to arrive in this world because the atmosphere switches into something darker, heavier. The air seems thicker and the clouds beyond your windows start to bleed into a deep shade of red. Sukuna returns with the apocalypse on his back, and, when he does, he uses your body as he pleases.

Like the room around you, there is constant change. Sometimes it hurts like hell; sometimes it’s pleasurable. Sometimes you wish it would just end and you end up crying in despair; sometimes you look at him like you might get used to feeling him inside of you. Some days, Sukuna is kinder, more patient, taking time to adjust you to his enormous size and even makes sure that you enjoy it before reaching his end; fucking you full of his cum until you can’t think of one single thing besides him. Other days, you know he is angry just by the way he walks through the door — and, in those days, you are left bleeding and bruised as he uses your body in every single way until he’s close enough to satisfied. That, on itself, can take a long, long time.

You realize that, during those violent days, he could use one of his curses to please himself, but he prefers to use you — because you bleed, you cry, and you suffer. As long as your pain exists, his interest is unwavering.

However, like everything else, you adapt, get used to it. Routine becomes familiar and you learn the tell-tale signs of his rancid mood; learn how to make it a little better and what things to avoid. You stop thinking about getting away — you don’t even have anywhere else to go — and start longing for his presence as he takes more time to come back home. Sukuna is warm, safe; next to him you know you are shielded from any harm. When he appears, no one dares to look or touch you, no one speaks until they are spoken to. Just by being in his gravitational pull, you are protected and no harm will ever come your way again.

Even if it hurts, you start hoping that he won’t get tired of you.

Sukuna, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how he feels about it all.

It’s not love — he has gone over that one a few hundred times already, has marked off every possible scenario and imagined every possible feeling, and he is sure it isn’t love. To be frank, he doesn’t even think he’s capable of it even if he wanted to, he sold his soul too long ago to even remember how normal humans love. But if it’s not love, it’s something similar — a kind of tenderness, fondness. He has a soft spot for you, to put it bluntly. Though not in the typical sense.

Sukuna adores you like a painter adores his favorite canvas; like an exotic bird in a cage — he adores you with possession, obsession, with the knowledge that you can’t ever get away from his grip. He is fond of you in a way that he would murder anyone who would even dare to touch what is his; but would never set you free. He can hurt you, he can tear you into pieces and build you to his liking. Sukuna can kiss you or bite you; hug or break you, but it’s because you’re his little pet and no one else’s.

He is fond of the way you bend for him; the way you look at him with sheer adoration in your eyes even after he has taken everything from you. He is fond of the way that only he could kill you; that your small life is in his hands and you thank him for it. Sukuna is fond of the way your tight little cunt stretches so wide to take his fat cock; lives for the little whimpers you give out and the tears that stain his satin sheets when he finally allows you to cum for him. If he could crawl inside your soul, he would. If he could take it and eat it and have you forever, he would.

He doesn’t know why he craves you so much, but he knows that nothing else gives him the same high anymore.

So he keeps you.

It’s a heavy stormy night when he comes back the next time, and his room is only illuminated by a few candles and the lightening from outside. You’re in his large bed, looking as small as that day in the snow, and there is a touch of worry in your eyes that he doesn’t miss. But he ignores it.

“Undress,” he commands.

You rush to do as he says, throwing the faint fabric over your head. It falls to the ground as Sukuna walks towards the bed, his massive weight making it dip under his knee as he leans closer to you.

“My pretty little doll,” Sukuna muses. “Missed me?”

He always asks that. And your answer is always the same.

“So much, Sukuna.”

It’s more honest every time.

He hums, satisfied, and smirks as he pushes your hair away from your face. “I have something to tell you, and I think you will like it,” Sukuna says. You look at him with wide eyes as he settles over you, his four arms caging your body as you lay down. The mouth on his stomach open and closes, a large tongue coming out before it vanishes again — it always does it when he’s particularly excited. “Would you like to know what it is?”

You know he will tell you regardless. Like all the tales of his battles, he lives for the glimpse of horror in the back of your eyes. “Yes, Sukuna.”

“Seems like you are famous now,” he starts. You furrow your eyebrows. “Sorcerers are trying to save you. The poor little human girl that Sukuna took as a prisoner months ago.” He kisses your neck, then licks the skin. You shiver — months, it has been months then. “Two of them tried to enter my domain today, stupid little insects,” he continues. Another hand lands on your exposed breast, playing with your nipple. “You have no idea how enraged that made me, my little human. To have someone try to take you away from me; to try and to enter my domain and take you from me.”

His voice turns into a growl by the end of the sentence, and you feel the familiar pulse of terror running through your veins. He’s in a bad mood, that’s obvious, but there’s something hiding beneath that as well.

“What did you do to them?” You ask. “Did they get in?”

Sukuna chuckles darkly, and the hand that was on your breast now settles on your clit, massaging it softly. “I took care of them, my sweet thing, of course,” he says. Your breath hitches at the slow pleasure of his movements, and your eyes flutter shut. “No one will ever take you from me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” you say without a thought. In your heart, you feel it’s wrong. But without him, you have nothing. “I’m yours forever, Sukuna.”

“I know you are,” he answers.

Sukuna holds you by the throat as he kisses you — not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you a little dizzy. Your eyes cross mindlessly as his tongue invades your mouth; a deep groan coming from his chest as he tastes your lips. He always kisses you violently, possessively, like he wishes to suck your soul out of your chest. Beneath his size you can only shrink and hold onto his large biceps, the wetness between your legs growing as he takes what is his.

He pulls back, ignoring the string of saliva that connects you two. “Pretty little thing,” he muses, shoving his middle finger inside your mouth. “Suck for me.”

You do as he says and he smirks at the feeling of your pretty lips around his large finger. Soon enough, the same digit is invading your pussy, curling up so quickly that you see starts at your peripheral vision.

“Relax or it’ll hurt again,” he says — not like he cares about it. “I want you to remember tonight.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I’ll make sure that you’ll be mine forever,” he says, a devilish smile on the corners of his lips. “So no one can take you from me. No one would even try.”

Your breath is getting heavier, and you don’t even register what he’s telling you — he could do a billion things to you and you’d still let him. The time spent only in his company made your resolution vanish, and you became exactly what he wanted you to: another possession for him to do as he pleases. Because of him, you have nothing else. Besides him, you have nothing.

“You’re not cumming around my finger tonight,” he says and quickly removes his hand from your cunt. You whine at the sudden emptiness, walls spasming around nothing, but you know better than to protest. “It’s going to be around my cock, you got it?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you say.

“Good girl,” he muses. His lower arms move to undo his pants as his mouth attacks yours once again. His sharp teeth drain blood from your lips and he groans at the metallic taste; drinks the little sob of pain you let out. “You’re all fucking mine. Forever,” he growls, “I’ll make you live forever with me.”

Months ago, that would be torture. But now, “It sounds like heaven, Sukuna,” you say. “I love you.”

Your vision falls to where his hands are working. His cock is massive, bigger than your forearm, balls swinging out of his shorts and falling heavy under his shaft. Your entire body tingles in anticipation as he strokes himself, aligning his cockhead with your opening. “Tiny fucking cunt,” he curses, rubbing it against your soaked folds. “I’ll train you to take my cock even better than now, kitten.” Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in and it hurts — no matter how many times you’ve taken him, it always burns. “Way too fucking tight for my fat cock, you know that?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll do better-“

He chuckles. “I fucking love it.”

In one strong motion, he shoves himself as deep as he can, pressing against your cervix as you whine at his size. It isn’t fair — it’s so thick you can’t even breathe, you can feel him in your stomach, pressing and pulsing until you can’t think of anything but the sheer size of his massive cock inside your poor little hole. Your walls hurt to accommodate his girth, stretching as far as they can, but it never seems like it’s enough.

“It’s t-too big, Sukuna,” you whine. And it is. You know he must be doing something to your body so you can even be alive right now, because it’s not humanly possible to take such a big cock. “I c-can’t…”

His hand lands on your head and pulls at the roots. “You are my special little human, my obedient little girl,” he reminds you. His cock throbs inside you and you whimper, the small movement alone makes you drool. “You will do anything I tell you to do.”

You nod. “Y-Yes.”

“So when I tell you to take it….” He rolls his hips even deeper and you call his name so loud that you’re sure the entire world will hear it. “You’ll fucking take it.”

You don’t even have the ability to answer as he starts to pound deep inside your soaked cunt, hard and violent, as he is. Your vision is blurry with tears as you look down to see his massive cock bullying itself again and again inside your cunt, taking everything you have to give.

“Look at me when I claim you,” Sukuna warns and you do it instantly. Your legs wrap around his hips and he squeezes your ass so hard it will bruise. There’s a malicious glint in his red eyes that never quite goes away, no matter how much he tries, and now it’s deadset on you. “My precious little girl,” he calls, voice strained with pleasure. You can tell from the way his cock throbs that he is close, but it doesn’t matter. He just keeps going. “You told me you love me. Do you only live for love, kitten?”

“I live f-for loving you, S-Sukuna,” you respond automatically. “I live for you.”

Sukuna groans like an animal — he adores what a stupid little fuckdoll he has turned you into. He can never get tired of this; he can never let it get away. “You’ll die for me, kitten?”

You nod so quickly you get dizzy. “Yes, a-anything… I’m yours f-forever.”

He calls your name like he has never done before, a little insane, a little sweet. If the sheer size of Sukuna’s genitals aren’t anything to go by, he cums a lot — it oozes out of your cunt before he’s even halfway through, cock throbbing and leaking again and again until you’re filled to the brim. His huge balls smack against your ass as he continues to bully himself inside you, a little more desperate now, intoxicated by his own pleasure.

There’s no rest, there never is. He only takes and takes.

“I’ll make you mine,” he groans.

“I’m yours, Sukuna, I’m yours…” you repeat like a broken record, half-aware of your own voice through the loud moans and hiccups. You watch in ecstasy as he uses one of his sharp nails to cut the palm of his hand, blood oozing out of it and dropping on your breasts. It’s like you know what he will say even before he says it. “You want me t-to-“

“Drink it.”

Perhaps you should be scared, but you’re not. Your mouth opens without a second thought and he presses his large palm on your lips, muffling your moans and allowing the hot dark liquid to invade your tongue. Sukuna’s blood is thick and it tastes like poison, but you do as he says, liking his flesh and drinking it until he seems satisfied and takes his hand away.

It strikes your body like an arrow, straight through your chest and expanding like deep roots. You feel as his blood burns your insides, changing something in your very existence. It’s hard to think through the sensations — the pleasure building up, the venom running through your veins, the mixture of devotion and fear that dances inside your mind. Your vision is double, black around the edges, and you think you might be cumming but you’re not sure you can even feel your body anymore. Sukuna’s voice echoes muffled in the background, and you can see his mouth moving in slow motion, but you don’t understand his words. You think you are crying. You think you can’t breathe. You think you are dying and being born at the same time and you don’t know why you feel so grateful for it all.

Your lungs are on fire and your throat is dry. You try to speak, but can’t. You have the vague flashback of the time your uncle made you drink alcohol, it burns just the same, but this time, no one is laughing. This time, you’re dying.

“… at me.”

This time, Sukuna’s voice rings sharp and clear. You stare at him, confused, as the flames inside your chest slowly subside.

“Keep looking at me,” he repeats, commanding.

You try to nod, but your head doesn’t move. You can’t see the room around you anymore. “H-Hurts,” you manage to get out.

“I know,” he says, and there’s a touch of softness in his voice you don’t ignore. “Focus on me. I’ll make it feel better.”

And that’s what you try to do, even if your soul seems to be floating miles above your body. You look down at where he is still moving in and out of you, at the white-coated mess that drips from your hole and soaks your inner thighs. It doesn’t seem to hurt as badly now, like your body is changing to accommodate him even better — in fact, it feels like heaven.

You look up at him, dumbfounded. “I t-think I’m going to cum, Sukuna,” the words come easier now, and you feel like you can move again. Though, it still feels like a dream. “It’s so g-good.”

“Cum on my fat cock, then, make me proud,” he coos. You close your eyes and nod, trying to focus on the paradise that blooms between your legs. You feel every ridge and vein of his massive cock; hear the lewd squelching sounds of his cum leaking out of you. It comes to you faster than you would have imagined, washing through your body like a wave as you cry and shake miserably. “That’s my girl, fuck, there we go, that’s my perfect little girl.”

The spasming of your walls manages to milk more cum out of him and he groans loudly as he releases inside you once more. Sukuna cums so much it makes you breathless, filling you again and again until he’s satisfied and the sheets beneath you have no salvation left.

“There we go, take everything,” he says in a strained groan, “every fucking drop inside this tight fucking cunt.”

Sukuna looks absolutely insane above you — fucking his cock so hard into you that it seems like he will never have the chance again; eyes blown wide and his teeth clenched. You cum again, this time a little softer, as you feel his thick cock shoot a specially large amount of cum inside your pussy, and wait until he’s done using your body.

Eventually, he settles, pressing his forehead against yours and looking deep inside your eyes. The redness in them is shining like flames, watching every movement of your face.

“Feels weird,” you say. “I feel dizzy.”

He chuckles and removes himself from you. Another white-hot wave gushes out of your cunt, and he sits back to watch it drip. “There we go, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You swallow, your tongue is still numb inside your mouth. “It was horrible, Sukuna. I felt like I was going to die.”

Sukuna smiles and uses two fingers to push some of his cum back inside you. “I can promise you it was better than when I did,” he says, and you’re confused for a moment. “But now we don’t have anything to worry about anymore, my sweet thing. Those pathetic little sorcerers won’t want you.”

“H-How are you so sure?” You ask.

“Aw, my sweet, stupid little girl.” He pouts, condescending as always. “No one will want to save a curse now.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you…?”

“I told you.” Sukuna licks his own blood at the corner of your mouth. “You are mine forever.”

#sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #ryomen sukuna #smut #jjk smut

[callmerainman]

THE SMITHS | Adam x fem!angel!Reader

SECOND PART

plot. in which Adam, after bumping into you listening to music in the elevator, gives you unsolicited music recommendations.

tags. first meetings, Adam being Adam, flirting, concerts, music, getting to know each other, rockstar Adam (still takes place in canon).

taglist. @call-me-nyxx

a/n. Adam is my muse at this point, he's directing all my creative energy lmao. This came up to me as an idea last night, kinda different from my usual Adam content! Might do a part 2, we'll see about that, enjoy!

«Take me out tonight, where there's music and there's people who are young and alive»

The elevator doors slide close, the few heavenly beings have exited, leaving you alone inside the cubic space. Absentmindedly, your foot starts tapping on the floor. A faint melody can be heard from outside your earbuds, the volume of the music set on max. You bumped music in your ears every chance you got, including when you were on bureaucratic duty for the Seraphim's.

«Driving in your car, I never ever want to go home».

As the elevator stops at the upper floor, the doors slide open and reveal who called it. Immediately, you adjust your pose, clutching your paperwork against your chest with arms crossed. Adam, the First Man, just entered the elevator.

He's loudly sipping what seems to be a sugary beverage from a large cup, positioning himself next to you. You've seen him many times, from a distance. At meetings, where you worked as an assistant, walking around Heaven, on posters advertising his band, in court. But you never interacted, there was no reason to. He was one of the big heads of Heaven, while you just hoped that nobody would yell at you for not adding enough milk to their coffee. Of course, this is what makes you nervous. But when the doors close again, you take a deep breath and let the music envelope you again.

«And if a double decker bus, crashes into us»

You relax, forgetting that Adam is next to you. You just stare at the elevator doors, unbothered. You just let yourself get lost in the sad, indie rock tunes that paradoxically raised your spirits. That's until, with the corner of your eye, you see Adam turning towards you. He's saying something, but music muffles your hearing.

«Ihatethasmiths»

You remove one of your earbuds, and you turn around with a gentle, sweet smile.

«Mh? Sorry?» you ask, the corner of your lips curling upwards.

«I said I fuckin' hate The Smiths!».

Your smile fades out immediately, your eyes go wide and your eyebrows shoot upwards. Adam goes back to look straight in front of him.

«tO dIe By YoUr SIdE iS SucH a HeaVenLy wAY to DiE! Ugh, fuckin' hate 'em » he mocks.

Dumbfounded, you just stare at the First Man in shock. Your mouth is slightly open, and your earbud is still pressed between your thumb and index as you can still hear There Is a Light That Never Goes Out playing. Then, the elevator doors slide open with a ding! and Adam just exits, slurping loudly his drink as if nothing happened. You follow him with your gaze, still in shock. The doors start closing again.

«Holy shit» that's all you can say, before disappearing behind them.

—

Next week, you're still in the elevator, a cup of hot coffee in your hand and your earbuds religiously plugged in your ears. Today you're in a good mood. The Heaven Headquarters offices weren't too packed with work and you were rising to the highest floor of the palace to spend time with your co-workers. That's until the elevator stops and the First Man Adam comes in. Again. You stiffen, your wings twitch and, hoping to not be noticed, you roll your eyes. Now that you think about it, it's the same day and hour you two met last week. When he, not-so-kindly, expressed his disappointment in your music taste. Suddenly, you realize something else. That you're...

«You still listenin' to that crap?» Adam says, pointing a finger towards your earbuds.

You sigh, resigned. You're still listening to The Smiths. This time around you heard Adam loud and clear, but you turn the volume down anyways. And, not caring about being all dignified and reverential in front of him, you roll your eyes in front of him.

«Yeah, I'm still listening to The Smiths. Heaven knows I'm Miserable Now».

Adam, scoffing, symbolically brings two fingers towards his mask and pretends to throw up.

«The Smiths are the bane of rock, I swear! Who wants to listen to a man being all whiny about love, vegetarianism and shit. Rock 'n roll is something else, I tell you»

«I disagree on that»

How did you even end up in this situation? Discussing music in an elevator with the First Man on Earth, one of the most important authorities of Heaven. It's just unreal, so much that going on doesn't bother you that much.

«You're into rock music?» Adam asks, shaking his usual drink in his hand, ice making a crisp sound inside the cup.

«Safe to say yes» you say, a collected but confident smile on your face.

«Okay, okay» Adam smirks, mischievous «and who are you rocking out to?»

«Oasis» you reply.

«Ugh»

«Radiohead»

«Nahh»

«Arctic Monkeys»

«Ew»

«Joy Division»

«For fucks sake woman, are you gonna give me a real rock band or keep naming your emo fest-»

«Guns 'n Roses»

Adam's breath stops for a second. You stare at him with a challenging look. His LED eyes digitally burned on his mask squint.

«Okayy miss...?»

«(Y/N)»

«(Y/N). Name 3 Guns 'n Roses songs»

You raise a finger in front of him, your eyes wide in a sort of prohibitive look.

«Nuh uh, don't you try to pull that move on me, I'm not gonna name anything».

«Tch, as I thought» Adam says, before sipping on his cup of icy soda.

You emit an annoyed groan, before sipping on your coffee yourself. As you're about to press start again on your phone to replay the music and metaphorically cancel Adam's presence from the elevator, he speaks again.

«Listen, girlie, if you wanna listen to some real rock music you should, first of all, give up on that sentimental bullshit that people call rock nowadays. Second, you can start by coming to one of my concerts. I'm-»

«Adam, The First Man. I know who you are» you interrupt.

You move your weight from one leg to the other, as Adam playfully smirks at you.

«Of course you know who I am, you probably heard of me from my band»

«Actually, I work as an assistant for the Seraphims meetings» you say.

«Oh, nah I never noticed you. You sure you don't know me from my band? We're pretty sick»

It's not like you expected him to know you from meetings. You mostly worked behind closed doors, preparing paperwork and only handling it to Seraphims last minute. And Adam wasn't really a necessary presence at meetings. He was important, an authority holding a great power for sure, but you don't really understand of what kind.

«I heard that you got a band but sorry, Christian rock is not my genre» you reply, nonchalantly.

Adam jumps a little in surprise, an appalled sound escaping his lips.

«Oh no sweetie, you got it all wrong. Didn't you listen to me when I said that we're a real rock band? We sing about all things rock» he says, theatrically.

«For example?»

«Sex, drugs and bitches of course».

You let out an ironic chuckle, not thoroughly convinced.

«I heard your venues are like, really crowded. I don't know if I feel like tip-toeing all night long to see anything»

«You can always tell security that you're with me»

His statement surprises you, so much that you turn around with a frowned forehead. The scrunch in your face says it all about your uncertainty. Adam looks chill, confidently leaning on the elevator's mirror and looking at you. How long have you been riding this thing?

«You think they'll believe me? Not even in a 100 years»

«Listen sweet cheeks, I'll meet you at the queue between sound check and the start of the show and I'll directly tell em that you're with me».

«You want me to play groupie?»

«Aren't you already?» Adam grins with a wiggle of his eyebrows. A very shit-eating grin.

You let out a playful and sarcastic chuckle «No, but I accept your offer, Mr. Real Rockstar»

«More of a real rockstar than Morissey»

The elevator doors open, it feels like you've been there for an eternity but not necessarily in a bad way. It's Adam's floor, the one just beneath yours, and he waves at you goodbye with a hand.

«See you Saturday, you'll be my number one fan».

«You wish»

How was that one of the most annoying, yet weirdly entertaining conversations you ever had?

—

You've never been to an Adam's concert, because you never had the chance to get into his music even if he was really known all around Heaven. But it was true that his gigs were packed. The line is infinite, and the venue probably won't even be enough for all these people. Suddenly you start to regret your decision. Damn, you even dressed up for this! You nervously start shifting your weight from one side to the other of your body. Security is already telling some people to just go home because it's likely that tickets just ran out. One titanic of a bodyguard goes up to you, arms crossed.

«I'm sorry miss, but we're out of tickets»

«Oh it's fi-»

You can't finish the phrase, distracted by the feeling of a stranger arm wrapping around your shoulders. You straighten yourself, and turn around alarmed. Adam had appeared from behind a portal, which immediately closed behind him. All the people left in the queue turn around, shocked to see the frontman appear right there.

«Don't worry dude, she's with me» he says, confidently.

How can someone be such a loser and so charismatic at the same time? This is what you ask yourself while wrapped around Adam's arm. The security guard nods, and Adam opens the portal back with a snap of fingers. Soon, you find yourself in the front row. Did he just transport you there? Adam has already let go of your shoulders, standing behind the barrier. Fans in the front row start going crazy at the unexpected sight of the frontman. As they scream incoherent, adoring gibberish to him, Adam stays focused on you.

«I'm happy you're here. Trust me, your ears will thank me for blessing them with some real rock» he says, his playful smirk permanently printed on his mask.

You roll your eyes, but you're betrayed by your own smile «We'll see»

«Trust me, you won't be disappointed» Adam replied.

Then, he winks at you before turning around and heading towards the backstage.

When the concert is over, you can confidently say that no, you aren't disappointed. As much as you hate to admit it, Adam can get it. He knows how to play guitar, he's vocally a beast in every good sense possible, and he's a stage animal. He's an idiot for sure, an arrogant one, but he quite literally fucking rocks. It's the way he plays guitar solos, his finger picking technique flawless and effortless. And how he knew how to talk to the crowd, how to move on stage. And you also saw him for the first time without a mask. You didn't know what to expect, but you have no complaints whatsoever. Brown, messy hair, dark but charming circles under his eyes, a fierce grin on his face. You felt your stomach fluttering when he obviously looked at you during Stick It To The Man. As people are leaving the venue, you're about to do the same. Maybe you and Adam will talk about it on your next random encounter on the elevator. But, before you can turn around, you see a security guard gesturing you to come close. He opens the barrier for you, and, confused, you shuffle your way through it.

«Yeah?» you ask.

«Adam wants to see you» the bodyguard says, moving his head to invite you to follow him.

Your heart skips a beat. This is some groupie shit. But you don't mind. You follow the security guard to the backstage, hugging yourself slightly out of nervousness. Adam, who was talking to the drummer, immediately stops the conversation when he sees you approaching behind the security guard. A wide smile extends on his face.

«So, (Y/N)! Did you change your mind about The Smiths?» he asks, opening his arms.

You place your hands on your hips «No, but...you weren't half-bad»

«Not half-bad?» he says, almost offended.

You decide to give up the tough girl act «Okay, I'll admit it, you know how to rock. You were really good».

«HA! Told you! Ladies love my band and you're no exception. And THIS is real rock»

«I'll still bump the shit out of The Smiths next time we meet on the elevator» you protest with a smirk, crossing your arms on your chest.

Adam drags a hand between his messy hair «Instead of meeting in the elevator, me and the rest of the band are going to the after party. It's in a club near the venue. Why don't you come? I still have to recommend you some real music»

Oh this is bad. Adam's teasing smile, the way he got closer to you and is now staring down at you without a shade of awkwardness. And the fact that one of his skilled hands is now placed on your waist, again, without any form of hesitation. Is he hitting on you? You feel your face burning, pressing your lips together. Would accepting make you a groupie? And soon, you realize that you don't care.

«Okay, First Man, I'll come with you. But only if you don't ask me to name 3 songs of a band»

«Deal»

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[mxtantrights]

where you go, I go

a/n: okay so while I'm writing this whole series for azriel just know that I had this other recurring dream about a plot like this. I couldn't really make it a fully fleshed out story with a happy ending so I decided to type it all out and make it a one-shot with angst and not a lot of comfort (this is your warning, this doesn't end happily) anyways with all of that said, if you decide to read this please enjoy and tell me what you think! <333 also happy valentines day <333

azriel x assassin!fem!reader

5.1k words

The day court was home to many things. Vibrant colors, warm waters, ancient books and of course the very ancient and magical day blade. It's your job to know where that this is at all times.

You can't possibly understand why the shadow singer would try to steal it. Try being the operative word here. While you did sense him enter your court and break into the room where the blade was, it wouldn't have mattered.

Seeing as it is your job to protect the blade at all costs, it never leaves your sight. But that didn't mean you couldn't have fun with those who wanted so badly to get it.

In your pocket you feel a piece of paper appearing suddenly. You reach inside and unfold it. It's Helion. He's requesting your presence. You smile to yourself, this would be fun.

You leave your hiding place, the palace had many hidden rooms and hallways, and walk over to Helion's day room. As you approach from the hallway you can hear multiple conversations being had.

The door is closed so you open it slightly.

"There she is! Come in and greet my guests!" he says happily.

You make sure you face is kept neutral. You had an image to upkeep in this court.

The people respect you and fear you in the same breath. You don't go around killing people but you do often get justice in ways that aren't in the parameters of the law. Whether that be stringing up robbers and looters from their pants, or burning down the houses of dirty criminals.

You keep your eyes straight, not looking any of his guests in the eye. You walk until you are standing behind Helion who sits in his usual seat.

"I was just telling Feyre that I enjoy the new company. This is the inner circle." he says to you.

You nod once.

"She doesn't talk?" Nesta asks.

You know all of them. It's your duty to know The Who's who of the courts. The inner circle of the night court. High Lord Rhysand and High Lady Feyre-Curse breaker. Her sisters Elaine and Nesta. Rhysand's brothers Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan, past fiancee of Eris Vanserra. Amren, a mythical creature of serious power.

Helion laughs at Nesta's question. He knows you talk. He knows you very well, seeing as he practically raised you. But that information isn't public knowledge.

"She does, but not when theres something wrong." Helion answers.

You look at all of them now. How the girl closest to the shadow singer, Elaine, looks worried. And it's quick, you almost don't catch it, but you're so good at your job at this point.

"Trouble in the day court?" Rhysand says.

You lean over and whisper into Helion's ear about the blade. How the shadow singer came here to steal it, on a mission from his high lord. How he thinks he got away with it.

The room goes quiet as you pull back and Helion sits back in his chair. He loves the dramatics you pull off every single time someone tries to take the blade. The last person you caught was really delighted to be drowned in glitter, confetti and manure.

"Is there something you're forgetting?" Helion asks.

Rhysand looks at his inner circle with an incredulous smile. Then he looks to you, no doubt trying to read your mind. You can't imagine this will go over well either.

You can't feel it. The daemati powers that certain fae have don't work on you. You're not really sure why. Might have something to do with your unknown lineage. Or your overall hardheadedness-so Helion says.

Rhysand cocks his head to the side at your unmoving posture. He's still looking at you. You however are taking in the shadow singer. He's sitting there, not bothering to look at anyone. He must really think he got the blade.

"What would that be?" Feyre asks this time.

"Well, when you want something that another has you usually ask." Helion says.

At that everyone at the table grows grim. Caught red handed is what it seems like. You still manage to hide you smile though.

"Helion..." Rhysand starts.

"If you were anyone else I would have you locked up already. But lucky for me my security system is top notch." Helion smiles and grabs his glass for another sip of what could only be wine.

At his words the shadow singer now looks at the high lord. Your high lord. His face bares no emotion, like he can't afford to give a way a secret or smile.

You've heard about his reputation. But at this point that's all it is. He couldn't even steal from you correctly. This has to be the most interesting thing that's happened this year. You don't get around to much outsider business, you tend to stay out of it.

"I don't think it is." the shadow singer says.

Helion stifles a laugh. But you can hear it. And you know if you can hear it they all can. The room is big but not big enough that guests at a table can't hear things.

"Care to relieve them of their misery?" he looks up to you and asks.

You didn't really want to. But then again you'd have to play nice with them. Helion seems to like this group. Or most likely, his son is friends with this group and he wants to be friends with his son.

You sigh, "Take out the blade."

You watch in amusement as everyone at the table looks at each other. As if they all don't know what they really came here for. The shadow singer though, he's different. He's looking right at you.

His shadows materialize the blade right on the table for everyone to see. Cassian, gives him a look. But Azriel doesn't seem to see it or care.

"That's not the blade." Helion quips.

You call the blade to you with your powers. Being gifted with the ability to control sun made objects is fun most of the time. Most living things are sun made in a sense. So really you could control all things, to a certain extent.

The blade comes flying into your hand. As soon as it makes contact with your skin it transforms. The metal of the blade turns into a vibrant green stem. And the helm turns into the face of a sunflower.

Azriel seems to go through a range of emotions. First confusion. Then understanding. And then the last one, well you can't actually pin down the last one. You've gotten good at reading people but he's harder than others.

"The blade is safe in the day court, where it will remain until you ask for it." Helion says.

Rhysand lets of a breath, "I am sorry about lying, but we're short on time."

"And I thought our alliance was stronger than that. I am sorry too." Helion replies.

Helion stands from his seat, causing the others to match his actions. The sound of chairs on marble floors reaches your ears. You take a step back and cross your hands behind your back.

"We need the blade for a mission." Feyre speaks.

"It could be a simple mission or the end of the world. The fact that you have no respect to ask me tells me everything I need to know." Helion says casually.

You know that he is hurt by their lying. It's not deep, but it's there. He thought he could trust them. He thought because they had good relations with him before that they were better than the actions they are displaying right now.

Of course you know of the good bond between them. Which is why you don't understand why they didn't just ask. Unless there is a well justified reason. Why not ask the high lord for the blade unless he was implicated somehow.

How could Helion be implicated in a mission from the night court. He doesn't know anything, or he would have offered them the blade himself. No this is something he's not at the center of. But it still concerns him.

Lucien. You look at the guests around the room. He is no where to be found. True he's not part of the inner circle. He's an emissary. But if it was something the inner circle could simply ask Helion for, why not butter him up with his son?

Lucien may or may not know what going on.

"Where's Lucien?" you ask.

At you question all of the heads move to you. Right, you hadn't spoken to them this whole time. Well you weren't going to give them a smile and greet them kindly.

"What business do you have with him?" Nesta asks.

"He's in Spring. Managing relations." Rhysand answers.

You nod your head. Spring. If that answer can even be trusted. Let's say you do trust it for the moment.

The inner circle needs the day blade. They didn't want to ask for it. They didn't let Lucien come.

"Were you planning on returning it?" you ask again.

Nesta, rolls her eyes at your question. You can't help the giddiness you feel of getting under her skin. You hardly did anything to warrant it. But it felt kind of good.

"As soon as we were done." Azriel answers this time.

You don't ignore the stress he puts not he word soon. You also don't ignore the way his eyes seem to never leave yours.

"That blade is our most powerful weapon. We don't just give it out to anyone." Helion chimes in.

He maneuvers around his chair and stands behind you. When he grips both of your shoulders with his hands, you can tell he's smiling even if you can't see him.

"But I will let you use it," Helion continues, "on one condition."

"Go ahead." Rhysand says.

"Wherever the blade goes, she goes." Helion says.

"That won't be necessary." Nesta says.

At the same time Cassian says, "That's odd."

Helion shrugs his shoulders and lets go of you. He leans into your ear to whisper his next words very carefully. When you understand him and what he wants, you nod your head only once.

He grabs the sunflower from your hands as you uncross them from behind you. Helion stands next to you now. You watch as Helion brings the flower up to his nose and gives it a sniff.

"We agree to those terms." Azriel speaks up.

"Woah hold on-" Rhysand tries to cut in.

"Great. I think this will be beneficial to both courts." your high lord agrees.

You turn to face him now, your back towards the guests. Helion was looking at you with a very faint smile. You heard every word he whispered to you. And you understand the reason why: Family.

What you don't get it is why he won't just speak to Lucien himself. Why play nice with a high lord that knows his son when he can just reach out to him? Invite him to the day court or send him a letter.

Everyone in this room knows Lucien is Helion's son, except Lucien. And now your mission is to tell him so that he might finally have a true place to call home.

Helion wouldn't so easily agree to lending out the blade like this if it weren't for Lucien. And the night court wouldn't try to steal it if Lucien did know, because he could just ask on their behalf.

Your shoulders sag at the thought. You had no interactions with Lucien. You only ever heard of him from Helion and he only started referring to him as his son a couple of months ago.

It'll be you. You'll be the one to see him, come eye to eye to him, and tell him the truth.

You can see it in his eyes. The sadness. You'd do anything for him. He's a father figure to you. And you'll see this through, for his sake and Lucien's too.

"Promise me you'll smile a little bit during your trip." Helion says.

"The Sun Wraith doesn't smile." you answer.

"You're the Sun Wraith?" Cassian's voice asks.

You turn around and face the general. It's all over his face. The look of shock. It wasn't hard to become something of a legend in this court and the ones surrounding it.

"Even people in the night court are scared of you." Nesta says.

On her face seems to be another emotion. Not fear. Not shock. Something lighter amongst the surface. Admiration maybe? You aren't too sure.

"I'll grab my things." you say to no one in particular.

"And the blade." Azriel's voice sounds.

"I never go anywhere without it." you say, reaching behind you.

Grabbing the flaps of your yellow vest you flip it over and your hand wraps around the hilt of the blade. You pull it out for all of them to see.

"Best security in all of the courts." Helion jokes.

-

THREE WEEKS LATER

The mission has barely begun and you hate it here. You hate it in the night court. The days are shorter and you feel pale without even looking into a mirror most days. Nothing beats the sun of the day court on your skin.

Amren had told you it would get better. After your first meeting she had taken a liking to you. You were told by several members in the inner court that it was no easy feat. She talked to you the most out of everyone.

Second to her, came Nesta who was just curious about the things you allegedly did or did not do. You held off on telling her anything too juicy. It was funny toying with her with the details. She also likes your fighting style. Morrigan too.

Azriel talks to you. Sometimes. He's friendly to a point. Cassian is more friendlier than him but you're starting to understand it's just in his nature. Feyre and Rhysand are cordial. Elaine is, well you've been told that she's nice but you haven't really seen it. She greets you but that's it.

The inner circle didn't get on your nerves. But you also had your own mission. Deliver the news to Lucien that Beron isn't his father, Helion is.

Which is why though this whirlwind of a mission you're laying down on path of grass outside of the House of Wind. Weird. What was even weirder was the fact that Velaris, a secret city inside of the night court, has existed for so long with no one none the wiser.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Trying to turn your brain off. It wasn't working. The sun wasn't the same, it does't feel the same. You can't call off this mission either.

"Is this what you do in the day court?"

You'd know that voice anywhere. Which is weird to say as you've known the male for a couple of weeks now. But it's true. Azriel's voice was distinguishable from others. A bit low, but still soft. Clear.

"Yes." you answer.

"Is that all the explanation you can give me?"

"Yes."

You think he'll go away. He plays nice because you have the blade. He needs the blade, which means he needs you. Once he no loner needs the blade he won't need you.

When you hear the sound of him getting closer you want so badly to open your eyes. But you don't. You keep them closed. As much as you want to open them and see what he's doing.

The sound of him laying down beside you on the grass is one you weren't expecting. Also the feeling of soft cold tendrils nipping at your arm.

"It feels...nice. A bit cold." he speaks.

Of course he'd complain about he cold. Nesta had told you that Illyrians were whiny babies. You'd seen it personally when Cassian couldn't get a certain dish because there were no more potatoes for the day.

And now here his brother is. Complaining.

You hold up your left hand, the one close to him.

"Give me your hand." you command.

You half expect him to decline. To maybe even get up and leave. Or maybe say that he doesn't mind the cold. The other half of you expects him to just listen you-to see where it goes.

He takes your hand. You focus on letting the additional warmth you normally feel from the sun flow from your hand and into his.

Out of all the things you half expect and do expect, his laugh is something you don't plan for. It's deep. It comes from his core. It's gentle too. Which you wouldn't get just from looking at him.

"It's warm." he says.

"That's how the sun feels in the day court." you answer.

"I think you just spoke more than three words to me."

You scoff, "Don't get used to it."

"That was four words."

"Shut up."

"Two. We're regressing."

"Azriel."

"I'll be quiet now."

This is how you spend your time. If you are not training with Morrigan, Amren and Nesta. Or not eating with Cassian in the kitchen. You are laying out on the grass with Azriel in the sun.

It happens more times than you care to admit as the mission goes on.

-

ONE MONTH LATER

This place, Velaris, was starting to grow on you. You didn't want to admit that out loud, or in your letters to Helion. Or how well you were gettign on with Azriel. The trips into the city, the lingering glances and words with hidden layers.

You letters should only have on subject, Lucien.

He has been back from the spring court for two weeks now. You've taken that time to get to know him. You couldn't fathom unleashing the truth on him as a stranger. You don't need to be his friend. But he needs to at least trust the words coming out of your mouth when you say them.

Family dinner they called it. Even though only three of them were related to each other. But you guess that what makes their family unique. They choose each other, every day.

This meal was special. Seeing as you had finished the mission that Helion sent you on to protect the blade. There was a fae that needed to be tracked down and would only come out of hiding if he could see the sun blade.

Of course you didn't let him, but you did convince him that the fake blade you passed onto him was the real thing. When he found it wasn't after he revealed his intentions with it he got angry.

Angry enough to rain hellfire down on both you and Azriel. If it weren't for your fast thinking and powers you both wouldn't have made it out in one piece.

Now you're sat with the inner circle to celebrate your feat.

Someone clears their throat. This drags your gaze from the redheaded male to the dark haired one. The both of them were sitting in front of you.

How the mother is cruel and precious at the same time. One male is your mission which you planned for. The other male you didn't plan for, and yet...

"Az was asking if you miss home." Morrigan says from your side.

"Dearly. But its not bad here." You speak, not quite realizing what you just did.

You watch as Azriel's smile grows and grows on is lips. It hits you then.

"Wipe that smile off your face before I take it back." you say to him.

"No I don't think I will." he jokes.

You shake your head with a light laugh. You can pick up on his laugh too from across the table.

"Well if it means anything, you fit in well here." Amren speaks up.

Everyone at the table quiets down at that. You look over at her, peering around Morrigan. You nod once at the sentiment.

"You need to tell him." Elaine says suddenly.

You look to her sharply. She's gotten better about speaking to you. More than a greeting but still less than a conversation. It does weird you out some times but you let it go for the most part.

"Oh?" you ask rhetorically.

"Elaine I don't think we should discuss this here." Feyre starts.

"He needs to know." Elaine says again.

It upsets you. She is his mate. She is the one connected to him. She has known this secret longer than you. But you'll be the one to tell him? She doesn't want to get her hands dirty. None of them do.

"What do I need to know?" Lucien asks all of a sudden.

You look to him. Hoping nothin is being given away by your face. When no one answers him he scoffs lightly to himself and looks around at the table.

This is happening now.

"It's obviously about me, none of you can look me in the eye except for her." Lucien continues.

"I can tell you, in private." you offer.

He nods his head and gets up from his seat. You follow his lead and get up too. The two of you walk out of the dining room and onto the balcony. You pull the door close behind you.

"Before you say anything, do they all know about this?" he asks.

He can't be asking about Elaine. She's the whole reason you're having this conversation right now. No, he's talking about Feyre. His friend. Or who he thought was his friend.

What can be left of a friendship after a lie like this?

"Yes." you answer simply.

Lucien shakes his head, "Okay, you can tell me now."

You take him in. The tense shoulders. The bowed head. His hair is perfectly combed behind his back. In this light, he looks like Helion. Not too much, but just enough.

How do you up end someone's life?

"Lucien do you ever think about what it felt like growing up with Beron as your father?" you ask.

Lucien looks at you sharply, "It was unspeakable. I wouldn't wish that life on anyone."

"And it shouldn't have been yours either." you reply.

His brows furrow. Right in the middle like they want to meet so badly. You wonder if he's felt like an outsider before. If he's ever felt it amongst his brothers. The black sheep.

"When my mission is over here, do you think you could come back with me to the day court?" you ask softly.

His face goes from confusion to somewhat understanding. But you haven't told him enough for him to completely get what you're saying, what you're asking of him.

"A couple of times Eris tried to make me visit the day court." Lucien admits.

You nod your head at that. Of course. Ever the perfect actor. You knew him for a little slice of time in your life. A period in which you won't ever forget. He was your first kiss. You were young and kids, trying to figure out your own way in life.

Kissing Eris, the treacherous fox of the autumn court, was every bit exciting at your age. You gossiped, and word got around. But he didn't deny it. For all the lies and manipulation he pulled you thought he might say you were delusional, that you had made it all up. But he backed you claim.

Eris knew Lucien wasn't Beron's son. Eris probably protected him as best he could. In his own, Eris way. Whatever that means.

"You can invite him too." you say.

Lucien looks past you. No doubt at the inner circle lingering inside. If you were in his position you wouldn't even go back in there. You'd never talk to any of them again.

"I'll take my leave now, but thank you. For being honest." he says.

You give him a small smile, "To be clear I was to tell you the news in a gentle manner. What just happened was out of my hands."

"I get it. I'll see you around." he says.

You bid him goodbye. Then he's walking past you. You hear the door open and how voices inside seem to call his name. You don't hear him respond to any of them. You hear the front door slam.

With a breath you turn around and head back inside too. When you do everyone is looking right at you. It unnerves you. You hate it.

"I've done your dirty work now. I think I'll call it a night." you speak.

"He didn't deserve to find out like that." Feyre says.

"You're right, he deserved honesty from his friends." you retort.

"You were sent here to tell him the truth. Am I wrong?" Rhysand asks.

You turn to face him clearly. You can't believe he just said that. You cannot believe he formed the words with his mouth to say that to you.

Without saying another word you walk right out of the dinning room. You ignore Nesta and Amren calling out to you. And you ignore the shadow that walks with you right out of the room and into he hallway.

As soon as you get inside of your guest room the shadow disappears.

SUNRISE, THE NEXT DAY

You're skip training and packing for home instead. You wish you could pack faster but that isn’t possible. You don’t want to be here for another second. Not in this court, not among the inner circle.

When you throw in your last few shirts into the luggage a knock raps on the door. You don’t know who it is, but if it is Rhysand or Elaine you won’t open the door.

“Who is it?” You ask.

“It's me, can you open up?”

You go over to the door and open it. Standing there on the threshold is Azriel.

“I’ll be leaving soon.” You say.

His eyes seem to widen at that. You watch as he peers over you and takes in the bareness of the room, and the packed luggage. He straightens himself out.

“Why so soon? It feels like you just got here.” He replies. 

Based on his words alone he doesn’t want you to leave. You can feel it too. How it’s only been a month or so but the two of you are comfortable around each other. 

You sigh, “The mission is over.”

“And we’re back to this? Four word sentences?” He asks.

“Azriel.”

He looks down both sides of the hallway. His head turning left then right. Then he’s turning back to you. He looks nervous. Antsy. He doesn’t normally look that way. He’s usually so composed. 

He takes you by surprise. He side steps into the room and closes the door behind him. At that you know your eyes go wide. He holds up his hands in defense.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for that but I just—are you mad at me?” He asks.

You scoff, “Yes I am.”

“Okay I knew that, but I was also confused because on that mission you saved my life.”

“Hardly.” You answer simply.

He groans at your one word answer, “You made sure those arrows didn’t plant themselves in my wings. You made sure I was safe.”

“It was nothing.” 

“No it was something.” 

You’re catching on now to how tense he is. Tense or nervous you can’t tell. His eyes are frantic. His breathing is also uneven. And his shadows are fully out on display now.

You do the one thing you can think of. You reach out for his hand. He doesn’t even seem to notice it. When you make contact he looks you in the eye. “Please calm down.” You whisper.

He bows his head, his hair covering his face now. All of a sudden he sinks to his knees. The action catches you completely off guard. 

“I’m sorry.” He says again.

You focus on sending him warmth from your hand. In a second you can see his shoulders begin to shake. From this angle you can’t tell just yet if it’s what you think it is. 

So you bring your free hand to the side of his face. You feel it. In the palm of your hand you feel his wet cheek. He’s crying. Azriel the shadow singer is crying, on his knees in front of you.

“I could have died and for the first time in a very long time I felt this deep regret in the bottom of my belly.” He chokes out.

What would he have to regret? 

Slowly you drag you hand down his cheek. You place your pointer finger under his chin. Titling his head up, you meet his eyes. From this close you hadn’t realize how many shades of brown they hold.

“Azriel, you’re okay. I promise you you’re okay.” You whisper.

He shuts his eyes, more tears flowing down his face now. 

“I don’t think I will be.” He admits.

“Why?” You ask.

He opens his eyes again. 

“Because you hate us now, you’ll never come back here.” He answers.

In a sense he was right. Not totally. You didn’t hate the inner circle. You just couldn’t stand what they did last night. How they acted, how none of them would fess up. Even though some of them had known Lucien for a long time.

But you didn’t hate them. You didn’t hate him.

“I don’t hate you.” You reply.

“I could see it on your face last night. And now, you’re leaving so quickly. You want nothing to do with us.” He adds on.

There’s silence between the two of you. The emotions Azriel is feeling right now feel heavy. Way too heavy for someone he’s only spent about two months with. 

You had heard many rumors about him. But him being like this, wearing his heart on his sleeve like this? You don’t think you could have ever imagined it.

Remembering that he’s waiting for you to answer, you remember to speak.

“Yes I’m upset and I want to go home. But that doesn’t mean I never want to see you again. Azriel I really enjoyed my time with you.” You speak.

You don’t realize it but your hand is stroking his now. 

He gives you a look you can’t figure out, “Why does it feel like that time is over already? Like I’ll never see you again?” 

He reaches up and places your hand on his cheek again. You don’t emit the warmth from there but he nuzzles into your hand like you are. His thumb rubs back and forth on the back of your hand there.

“You talk like everything is set in stone. Like there is only one path.” You say.

“I can just, sense it.” He explains barely.

You shake you head, “Azriel I was always going to leave.”

“Not like this. Last night changed everything.” He says, but it comes out more like a whisper.

“Get up.” 

He looks at you, a bit of shock. You watch as he follows your command and gets back on his feet. He keeps your hand pressed to his face the whole time. Your other hand falls to your side.

“You can come visit me.” You say.

He’s silent. Silent but he nods his head at your words. You’re not sure if he believes you fully. But it’s enough. He wipes the tears from his face. His wings perk up, off the floor now.

You wrap your arms around his body before you can think against it. Instantly you feel his arms around you. Pulling you closer. He rests his head on top of yours. It feels right. It feels natural. No, it feels like something else too.

It feels the exact same way the sunlight in the day court feels on your skin. Like it is meant to be.

part two here!

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel fic #azriel one shot #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fic #acotar one shot

[yzashaven]

can i req needy dom scara..

Like like like like ... he goes away on a mission for wayyy too long.. and the moment he slips inside he starts mumbling and groaning about how much he needed this and how much he missed it..

there isn't an emoji for how blushy and giggly this man makes me holy shit explodes

FEATURING ! scaramouche x fem!reader

CONTENTS ! needy scara ngh, bit of fluff at the start (i tried), some praise(?), reader gets called love, baby, and good girl, creampie, nipple play like once, desperate fucking

NOTE ! WAHHHH I LOVE THAT SO MUCH ANONNN SOOOO i really hope i did your ask proper justice despite being finished late 🙏 not rly proofread

being away from your lover is definitely excruciating, especially if it's for a long time. your boyfriend, scaramouche, is making you feel that pain right as we speak. but you still do your best to understand that he can't just abandon his duties, even if it meant consequences like thisㅡbeing away from you for roughly 3 months now. archons, you just hope that he's doing alright and nothing bad happened to him. when you visited him at his base at the zapolyarny palace, a few subordinates were guarding around the area. it was easy for you to make your way inside since scaramouche made sure that everyone knew of you and your relationship. a few soldiers greeted you but you ignored them and kept walking pretty quickly, eager to just see him again already. once outside of his office, you turn the handle only to find out that it's locked. reaching into your purse and grabbing a spare key he gave you before unlocking the said door. once you opened it, there he is.

scaramouche was standing at the front of his desk laying down a bunch of paperwork about his recent investigations seeming busy like always. upon hearing the door suddenly open, he sighs deeply as his voice was laced with the usual aggressive and rudeness. "ever heard of knocking? what do you want?" he practically yelled which caught you off guard but stood your ground, you were used to this, closing the door behind and locking it once again. he rubs his temples before turning around with an angry look on his face, "i said what do youㅡah..." his gaze softens, "...my love." you rush to embrace him tightly, fingers combing through your hair as he plants a kiss on the top of your head, "i missed you." you whisper out, leaning into his chest to listen to his heartbeat. "i missed you too, love. but i'm back now so..."

ㅡ♡

"fuck, you feel so good..." scaramouche whimpers out as he slowly pushes himself inside you, one inch at a time. once it was all was situated deep inside you, he let out a groan followed by a few experimental gentle thrusts of his hips. "i-i missed this feeling so much-ah..." he says, slowly pulling back until only the tip is inside your wet hole only to gently push back all the way inside, "i needed this, i really did. i needed you so bad." his hands slip under your thighs to hold them apart, allowing him to reach deeper places that made you mewl out in utter pleasure, moaning his name. leaning down to plant kisses along your neck all the while he begins to move his hips at a slow pace that gradually accelerated as the feeling of desperation fills his body. movements sharp and fast yet his words were what seemed of submission, want and need, lost in the addictive feeling.

"s-so good, so fucking good." he says as a raspy whisper directly in your ear, sending shivers to your body. one of his hands make their way up your body to grope one of your bouncing breasts, teasing your sensitive nipple by flicking it gently and pinching at it. faster and harder, he goes. driving you ever so closely to the edge. "i want you to cum on my cock." scaramouche locks his eyes with yours, gaze soft yet stern in a way. "can you do that for me like the good girl you are?" now, his voice is a bit shaky as he feels himself growing closer as well, wanting to reach that release together as if in perfect harmony. you nod frantically, legs shaking as your orgasm feels so so sooo close. "c-cumming...scara!" you cry out as you writhe underneath him. and to add to that, his hand that was previously on your breast is suddenly now at your clit, rubbing it lovingly.

"cum for me, please. i'm so fucking close-nghh..." it seems as if he's the one begging you this time. "cum for me... cum with me. please, baby, i need to feel you orgasm around me." his tone becomes even more needy and desperate than it already was. along with his thrusts, speed increasing in attempts to reach deeper into you and get both of you to let go of that knot at the same time. his breathing uneven as whimpers and groans are all that left his agape lips. soon enough, you cum undone right then and there and even feel a certain warmness fill up your pussy, and reaching the womb it seems. after calming down, he looks at your panting figure below him before smirking mischievously.

"i don't wish to tire you, but please... i need more of you, i missed you too much."

#☾★ written » #☾★ kuni » #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #genshin smut #genshin imagines #genshin x reader

[peterparkouryo]

dream palace. | p.p imagine

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️

prompt: Movie night with your boyfriend turns into something more.

warnings: fluff, making out, no smut because i suck at writing it (mentions of it)

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i am extremely sorry for not uploading anything last week, really busy with captivated habits two and rebound three. enjoy this lil fic i made this weekend

Every Friday was movie night. It was a traditional thing you and your boyfriend, Peter did, even before the two of you started dating.

Sometimes on a rare occasion, your two other friends would join you, but since MJ and Ned weren't a couple, it almost felt like they were third wheeling whenever the two of you would drift your focus away from the movie playing and onto each other.

You were almost glad that on most Friday nights, it was just you and Peter. It gave you the opportunity to focus less on the movie and more on each other, which in a logical sense, defeats the entire purpose of a "movie night".

Today, rather it be fortunate or unfortunate, wasn't one of those days, and the moment you opened the door of your apartment to Peter's grinning face, and laptop in hand (since you didn't own one and you enjoyed watching it on his rather than the TV in your room), you were ecstatic of his presence. 

He had such a giddy effect on you, it was no wonder with every alone time you two would get, you could never keep yours hands off him.

"So, what movie are we watching?" You questioned the boy, plopping down on your bed as he trailed behind you, the door coming to a close as he did.

"Return of the Jedi, although not my favourite, I figured it's best we get this one out the way." Peter tells you, setting his laptop at the bottom of your bed. You let out a groan of protest, which didn't go unnoticed by him.

You adored Peter's dorkiness, it was one of the many reasons you were dating him, but sometimes it smothered you whenever it was Star Wars related, and you both knew you couldn't really get into the franchise itself no matter if you pretended to or not.

"What?" He asks quite frantically, a small pout forming on his lips.

"This is the fourth Star Wars movie we seen during our movie nights." You pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but the last one didn't really count because we were fu-"

"Okay! But that's different, and that only happened 'cause I didn't want to watch another Star Wars movie." You cut Peter's words off rather quickly as he lets out a laugh.

"No, really?" His voice comes out sarcastic and you roll your eyes.

"Can we just please watching something else?" You pleaded, your first and maybe last attempt at the puppy dog eyes you were giving him.

Peter eyes you for a moment, fighting a debate in his head rather to give in or just see where the night takes him if he insists you have to watch Return of the Jedi, and god knows you and your charm will have him doing the exact opposite as last time.

"Fine." He gives in after another heartbeat of silence, holding back an eye roll at your squeal of happiness.

"What movie did you have in mind?" He grumbles out, opening his laptop to a streaming service.

You think on his words for a minute, not really having a movie that you wanted to watch specifically. In all honesty, anything but a Star Wars movie would do perfectly fine. You say the first movie that comes to your head.

"Clueless." 

"And you say Star Wars is bad." Peter groans and you send the boy a glare.

"Nothing is wrong with Clueless, it's a perfectly good movie with decent comedy." You argue and Peter says nothing as he goes to search for the movie anyhow.

"Yeah, for someone who enjoys cheesy rom coms about rich people." He states back, successfully finding the movie, clicking play.

Thirty or so minutes passes by, the two of you cuddled close together as the laptop settles on Peter's lap, and you don't miss the yawn he lets out as he tries his best to not seem bored of the movie.

You would almost feel bad, but the past few movie nights has been his pickings and rather the two of you would pay attention or not, it was your turn, rightfully.

You feel Peter's figure shift, his hand wrapped around your arm, cuddling you closer as he lets out a bored sigh. You give him a side eye, a very annoyed one before you decide to just ignore his bored state and focus on the movie.

Peter then gives your shoulder a light kiss, running his fingers up and down your arm slowly and it certainly didn't take a rocket scientist to know exactly what he was trying to do.

"Peter." You warned, shrugging his close figure away from you and he smiles at your protests.

"Sorry." The boy apologies sheepishly, and you know all too well that he really wasn't.

After the interaction, a few more minutes pass by and you focus on the movie, or at least you tried to.

"What do you think you're doing?" You feel Peter's hand retreat from underneath your shirt, his hand taking home to your arm where it should had respectfully been anyway.

"I'm not doing anything?" Peter tells you, his voice confused, pretending to be watching the movie.

You roll your eyes at his words, smiling at the thought of Peter being so miserably bored, he'd do anything to distract you from the movie as well.

"Didn't seem that way." You point out, giving him a glance, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

"I know better than to have sex with you during our movie nights." Peter informs and you can tell his words are a clear mocking of the exact thing you do whenever it was a movie of his you didn't want to watch.

You shoot him a glare.

"First of all, I don't do it every time it's a movie you pick, and second of all, Clueless is a lot more entertaining than people in space." You argue, folding your arms over your chest, like a child would.

"I never said you did and this movie is way more boring and has no action." Peter bites back and you chuckle at the adorable pout on his face.

"Would you rather do something else? Like maybe, braid each other's hair, or put on face masks?" You suggest jokingly.

Peter finds no humour in your joke, and continues his pouting, watching the laptop screen, but not actually paying any attention to it.

"Or we could just make out." You joked some more, chuckling to yourself, because even if Peter didn't find anything you were saying funny, you knew you were on some level the funniest person to be known.

"Okay." You hear him say, and you stop yourself from your laughter, raising a quizzical eyebrow, your gaze reaching Peter's eager one.

"I was joking." You point out, and the boy shrugs, unaffected at your words.

"Well I wasn't and if sleeping with you won't drag your attention away from this boring movie, maybe making out with me will." The boy shows you an ear to ear grin and you tilt your head in disbelief.

"How about we finish this movie, then we'll see?" You say slowly, and Peter doesn't give that option into consideration.

"Or, we can see now." Peter pushes the laptop off his lap, turning to you rather quickly, attacking your lips before you could say or do anything.

The first time you and Peter ever kissed was well, awkward. It being your first relationship and vice versa, you never knew exactly how a kiss should be and obviously, neither did Peter. 

Though yes, it was really awkward, given the fact the two of were in the middle of having ice cream, and it was a very sticky, messy kiss, it still was somehow perfect. Some might say it wasn't, but oddly enough, it just made sense.

And ever since your first kiss, Peter made it his life's mission to prove just how progressively good he was at "sucking your face" (as MJ likes to call it).

With the movie now long forgotten, you swiftly fall under the spell that is Peter and his lips, the boy pulling you onto his lap.

The kiss had a mutual understand of the ache burning in your bodies, but you knew better than to act on it. Only because Peter had this annoying habit of leaving very noticeable blemishing on your skin and it took a lot of hours of makeup and strategic thinking to hide them, not only from your friends, but parents too.

Peter's hands were (very) eager, to grip pretty much any part of your body, settling for clasping his ungodly hold on your waist, which was a prominent touch you felt even through your shirt.

Your hands rested on his shoulder, sliding their way to the back of his neck, playing with the soft curls as they did so.

A keen noise escapes Peter's lips and you smile, continuing with the kiss.

There were moments like this were you were content with Peter's captivating presence. It was hard to put in words, but anytime you were in a proximity of him, you felt safe. Not only that, but the boy gave you every reason in the world to trust him with your life.

Hopefully Peter trusted you just as much as you trust him. You surely didn't doubt it, with how he was practically moaning in your mouth at the moment.

You two eventually have to pull away to catch your breath, and you. catch glimpse of Peter's dazed state, biting your bottom lip to stop the grin forming on your face.

"What?" Peter wonders, his flustered gaze staring at your curiously.

"Nothing, just love looking at your post make out face." You admit, running a hand through his head full of curls.

Peter says nothing, closing his eyes as he lets out a sigh of content at your gesture you've done plenty times before.

If it were up to you, you'd stay like this forever. Watching your boyfriend enjoy your delicate touch, his breathing at an even pace, letting you know he was comfortable and genuinely happy in any moment spent with you.

"We should get back to the movie." You suggest, attempting to remove yourself from his lap but unfortunately the spider boy had a stronger advantage.

You raise an eyebrow at him and his pout of protest.

"I'd rather you stay here and keep me warm." He suggests, sliding his hands behind your back for a hug.

You smile at his words, giving him a hug back, melting into his touch.

"If you know what I mean." You hear him say, smirking in your neck.

Your eyes roll at his suggestive option, pushing him away from you.

"Gross." You groan, successfully removing yourself from his lap, reaching for his laptop and unpausing the movie.

"It's not like you haven't done that before." 

"Peter!"

"Right, sorry."

#peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin: Chapter 8 || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

//

Section Warnings: injury and blood, angst wc: 4.8k

When you’d studied casting - in the framework of counter-curses, never much else - you’d learned like a human. You’d learned the methodology of pulling magic from the air around you, like one might pull water from a cloud. You never knew there was magic inside you, rising up to meet the rest. You never knew that you might possess something of your own, stronger and more readily available than what the world around you could offer.

Now, as you stand in your tiny bedroom in the palace practicing the same deflective spell over and over again, you wonder how you could possibly have been so oblivious. The magic that races through your system nearly makes you high.

You know that you should stop and sleep; you know that you need to rest, to recover. But every time you consider putting the book away, turning off the lamp, and laying in the dark, your heart begins to race again.

And then, instead of doing any of those things, you run the spell again. You imagine the Infracti who’d attacked you, and you push back with all your might.

You run the spell so many times that it becomes muscle memory - your tongue repeating mindless syllables, your hands pushing and pulling magic like you’re conducting the ocean tide. You’re barely thinking about what you’re doing. Your mind goes blank, a low buzzing like static settling at the base of your skull.

Say the words, do the motion. Knock down anything that comes close. Say the words, push the magic. Say the words, push the magic. Get them away, keep them away, get them away away away -

Your wardrobe explodes noisily, wooden splinters flying through the room followed by your shirts and slacks. You scream and drop to the floor, covering your head, just as one of your shoes crosses the room and takes out your lamp, leaving you in the darkness you’d been avoiding. You shake on the floor, still covering your head even though the danger has passed.

You hear Namjoon shout your name before he throws your door open, flooding your room with light from the corridor.

“What happened?” he asks, trying and failing to turn the light on with the switch on the wall. The lamp lies on the ground, shattered. You can see it because you’re still at eye-level with the floor.

Namjoon must spot you, cowering, and makes his way towards you.

“Careful,” you warn him, finally uncovering your head and trying to sit up. Your arms both sting, and you bet you have chunks of wardrobe in them, like giant splinters. Lovely. You don’t even want to look. “There’s pieces everywhere.” You’re not sure if you mean the wooden splinters or the shattered lamp. You feel delirious.

Namjoon freezes midstep, one foot raised in the air.

Satuel appears behind him and seems to understand what happened. She waves her hand and you watch as the wooden pieces of the wardrobe and the ceramic pieces of the lamp slide along the floor to a common spot, making a nice, neat little pile of debris.

“Come,” she says. “Out here where I can see you.”

Out in the common room, she looks you over, tutting when she looks at your arms. Your heart begins to slam in your chest as she examines you; you’re very aware, suddenly, that you must be bleeding.

Namjoon and Satuel look at each other, having a silent conversation that you are very much not a part of.

“Go back to bed,” she tells Namjoon, who is hovering a few feet away, unsure how to help. “I’ll take care of her.”

He does as he’s told, a bit robotically, and you’re sure he was half-asleep for the whole encounter. He might wake up in the morning and think he dreamed it.

Satuel procures a pair of tweezers - from where, you aren’t sure - and guides you to sit at the small table where you eat. She gingerly takes one of your arms and bends it so she can see better as she starts to work.

“Care to tell me what happened?” she asks evenly, her focused gaze only on what her hands are doing.

“Was practicing a defense spell,” you mutter. Your eyes suddenly feel heavy. “Must have messed up. My wardrobe exploded. It broke the lamp.”

“You should have been sleeping,” she remarks, putting down the arm she was working on and motioning for you to hand her the other.

You don’t answer this. You don’t want to admit that you were too scared. You don’t want to look weak and frightened. You don’t want to offend her by admitting you’re afraid of her kind. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing her kind can frighten you. These feelings contradict each other, yet somehow both manage to be true.

She seems to know anyway. She finishes working on your second arm and places it on the table, sitting back and looking at you with wet, black eyes. Your stomach turns, and the hairs on your arms raise.

You hide them under the table.

“Prince Taehyung can heal those when he… wakes,” she says. It occurs to you, as she stumbles over this wording, that at this moment Prince Taehyung is simply a monster. If you needed him, now, he would be no help at all. In fact, in his current state - wherever they have him tucked away - he’s the most dangerous one here.

Everyone else would need to use discretion if they fucked with you. Under the curse, Prince Taehyung would have no such qualms.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”

She continues to watch you, then cocks her head slightly. “There is a tea I could bring,” she says. “It would calm your nerves. It would likely help you sleep. I’ll bring some.”

You want to object; you don’t know what it’s made of, what the effect will be. You want to stay clear-headed. You want to stay awake. You never want to close your eyes again.

But this is the first kindness Satuel has shown you. This is the most she has spoken to you at length. You don’t want to reject her, lest she never try again.

“Thank you,” you nod. “I’ll try it.”

Still, when she brings you a steaming mug, you sit on the couch in the main room and hold it between your hands. You inhale the steam deeply, noting what you can recognize: chamomile, definitely. Perhaps lavender. Something else that you can’t name.

You look up at her, nervous. “Will I be able to wake when Prince Taehyung is ready for the ritual?” you ask. “Or will I be -?”

Drugged, is what you want to say. You don’t.

She smiles, and it almost looks warm. “You’ll feel normal,” she assures you. “It won’t make you groggy.”

You nod in thanks and sip at it. When you’ve finished, you set the mug on the low table, and you bring the heaviest blanket from your bed back to the couch. You curl up in a ball, the blanket over your head, and breathe slowly, waiting for sleep.

You leave every light in the room on.

—

It is not Satuel who wakes you, but Namjoon, gently shaking your shoulder and pulling the blanket just enough that your eyes peek out. You squint up at him, the light almost painful in the wake of your dark little blanket cave.

“Sorry,” he says, grimacing. “I wanted to let you sleep more, but the prince has asked for us.”

You groan, closing your eyes again. You feel awful - your body aches, your head is pounding, and your arms throb in the places where Satuel had removed wooden splinters sometime early this morning.

Still, after a moment of wallowing, you push yourself to rise. “Do I have time to shower?” you ask, the blanket over your shoulders like a thick, winter cape.

Namjoon glances at the clock. “Maybe, like… a fast one?”

You do your best to hurry, though the water stings the open cuts you sport, which makes it tricky as you hop in and out of the water, hissing and wincing. When you’re ready, both Dansoo and Satuel lead you and Namjoon through the palace, up the steps to Prince Taehyung’s wing.

You’re greeted in the front room not by the beautiful, dark haired Infracti, but by a breakfast spread.

“Prince Taehyung will be with you in a moment,” one of his staff tells you. “Please help yourselves to breakfast.”

“God, coffee,” you manage, making a beeline for the table. Namjoon follows, and when Prince Taehyung comes through the door he finds the two of you sitting on opposite ends of the couch, each clutching a mug of dark liquid like they tether you to life.

He nods in greeting as he passes Namjoon, but slows his stride to pause by you. You look at him guiltily, already knowing where this is going.

“I heard there was an incident,” he says, voice low.

You shake your head as Namjoon nods. Traitor.

“Hardly,” you say. “I was practicing magic. I made a mistake. There was… uh, a problem.”

“An incident,” he repeats. Then, he sighs like he just doesn’t know what to do with you. “Can I heal you?”

You lower your gaze and hold up your arms.

He sighs again as he surveys the damage. Then, gently, he takes one arm and begins to run his spare hand over the cuts, and you feel the tingling sensation that lets you know the healing is working.

You swallow down how nice it feels to have his hands on you. It’s not productive, you remind yourself. Not only unprofessional, but unrealistic, too. Doubly foolish.

He’s dangerous, too. He’s one of them, too.

Triply foolish.

“I’d like you to stay out of trouble for maybe a day,” he scolds under his breath, barely audible.

“I’m finding that harder here than I ever did in the real - I mean, back home,” you joke.

The real world, you’d almost said. Like this one isn’t real, but truly just a dream you can’t seem to wake from.

It does feel that way.

If Prince Taehyung notices, he has the grace to ignore it.

He hovers as you work uneasily on your coffee, and then asks, “So, are we trying the ritual today?”

“That’s the plan,” you answer, and Namjoon shoots you a look like you aren’t being polite enough. But you feel like you and the prince have gotten, maybe, a little friendly on your visits to the stable, enough to give you the leeway to speak casually.

At any rate, he doesn’t object to your tone, instead leaning his arms on the back of the couch and asking, “Do you need anything for it?”

“Actually, yes,” you say, sitting up straighter. Now that the caffeine’s hit your system, you’re feeling more human - but definitely still sore from top to bottom. “Could you get us a metronome?”

“A metronome?” he parrots, brows furrowing.

“You know,” you say, flapping a hand. “The thing for music that keeps the beat for you? I saw your piano room, I’m sure you have one here somewhere.”

A smile grows on his face. “You saw my piano room?”

You don’t answer this, feeling your face flush; you’d found the piano room on the night you’d gone wandering, when Prince Taehyung had literally saved your life the first time.

Namjoon watches this exchange with raised brows, but says nothing. You try to ignore the look on his face.

Prince Taehyung’s smile grows, and he shakes his head a little. He looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it. He controls himself, mouth twitching back into something more neutral, and then he says, “Yes, I’ll send for it. Anything else?”

You consider this. “Somewhere quiet to work? We need a bit of space, and your staff can’t come too close or their energy will mix into the reading.”

He nods absently, already moving to ask one of his staff to fetch the metronome. “Don’t worry about that,” he says over his shoulder. “I’ve already thought of the perfect place. Come on, I’ll show you.”

—

Taehyung picked his greenhouse for the ritual. It’s spacious, far from his main quarters, quiet… and soothing, with several water features that bubble quietly. He thinks, though it’s just projecture, that this will be good for rituals or magic.

It’s calm and safe, and Taehyung thinks that’s important.

The other curse-breaker, the man, stays by the door, making sure none of Taehyung’s staff accidentally enter, and keeping a safe distance himself.

You sit cross-legged on the ground, facing each other. Taehyung watches you carefully, listens - from his place opposite you - to your pulse beat through your body, quickened with nerves and excitement. He feels your magical signature like a caress, and it astounds him that you can’t feel it, can’t feel the magic brimming at your fingertips, ready to be directed. 

“This is supposed to be different than before,” you remind him. “I’m only going in with the intention to look.”

He nods. He hears what you’re telling him - it shouldn’t hurt this time, shouldn’t drain him, shouldn’t feel like his insides are being funneled backwards through his body.

Before the curse had tried to kick you out - before the pain had started - having your magic toy around with his… well, it hadn’t been unpleasant at all. It had felt good, if he was being honest. Like something was clicking into place, as it was meant to.

“You’re going to feel me poking around, just like before,” you repeat his earlier words. “You’ll also likely feel things that… belong to me.”

He feels his brow furrow. “What does that mean?”

You twist your mouth and eye the ceiling. Taehyung waits, lets you decide how to explain it. 

“It’s like…” you say slowly, still thinking as you talk, “we both open up and let our magic through. So the same as I can steer my magic to take a look at the curse, you could steer yours to investigate mine. It’s… available.

“If that happens,” you continue explaining, clearly intending to do a better job looping him into the whole process this time, “you might, without meaning to, interact with it. You might feel emotions that belong to me - that’s most likely.”

“You’ve done this before?” Taehyung asks, though he knows the answer. 

“Once,” you nod. “A long time ago, though.”

“What happened that time?” He leans back on flattened palms, putting a little more space between you.

“It went well,” you say, something energized coming over you. Like you perk up when you talk about your work, your successes. “I was breaking the curse for this woman - she was like, so old -”

“Older than me?” Taehyung asks, failing to hold back a teasing smile.

You laugh. Taehyung likes the sound of it. “Old for a human, okay? Anyway, we did the ritual and I was looking around at her curse and I could feel her magic kind of… pressing back? Not in a bad way, though, just… presence. And when we finished and ended it, she told me something…” You break off the story, letting out a laugh that’s maybe a bit bitter - Taehyung can’t tell. “She told me some things about myself, about what I was feeling, things I had gone through recently at that time - like while she was in there she just got a little film of my life, or something.”

“That sounds invasive,” Taehyung murmurs. 

You shrug. “I knew what I was agreeing to. It was sweet, and kind of funny. And I cracked her curse.” The pride in your voice is evident. 

“So,” Taehyung asks, back to playful, “what film am I scheduled to see today?”

You laugh again, and his smile widens. “Books, probably,” you tell him. “Hours and hours and hours of books.”

Taehyung waits patiently as you get ready. He places his hands palm-up on his knees, and you place yours palm-up on top of his, resting lightly. They’re small, he notices for the first time, fitting neatly inside his own. 

You lift one hand and reach to set the metronome at a slow pace. It’s so slow, in fact, that Taehyung thinks for a moment that it must be broken.

“This is to pace our breathing,” you tell him. “Inhale and exhale between the beats. We’re going to do that first - just breathe in time, together.”

“I don’t need to do anything else?” he clarifies. He wants this to go well, he wants this to work. 

He wants it to be done and over so you can look at him and tell him, I know exactly what’s missing, we’ll have the curse ended before midnight tonight. He wants you to tell him, it’s over - the curse is gone.

“I’ll tell you,” you assure him, your voice becoming almost melodic as you step into your role as a magic-wielder. “For now, breathe. We’re inhaling - ready?”

He does as he’s told - inhales until he hears the device’s click, then begins a slow exhale. Click. Inhale - click. Exhale - your own breath mingling with the gurgling body of water behind you is the only other sound in the room. Click. Inhale.

“Good,” you say on the exhale. “You keep that rhythm - that’s your most important job.”

He nods, concentrating on the rhythm, the clicks, his breath in and out. 

“Next job,” you murmur. “Keep your eyes on my eyes. Don’t look away.”

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and you hold him there, steady, as you breathe together in time. Your eyes dance as they take his in, and he thinks he can feel you already - your magic starting to touch its fingers to his, tentative. He’s not sure he’s ready for when your magic opens for him, when he’ll be able to press against it and feel what you’re feeling, not just see it reflected in your eyes.

“Good,” you say finally, lips barely moving. “Don’t do anything but what you’re doing right now. I’m going to start the incantations.”

You do, quietly, your voice calm and even. The chanting is musical, almost like you’re singing to him. Taehyung can feel everything as it happens - so strongly that it almost startles him out of his breathing, almost makes him lose focus and tear his gaze away from your eyes. 

As if you can sense him faltering, you press the backs of your hands more firmly into his palms, silently reminding him of his only tasks. 

He focuses, but he can still feel it - your magic rising up, strengthening, beginning to expand. He can feel it when it touches his, cautiously, like letting a dog sniff your hand before you stroke its head. It’s somewhere between a tingle and a warmth, your magic, and it slips seamlessly into his, filling up every empty space. Like water, like air, like every element he needs to keep existing. 

It feels good - just as it had last time your magics had mingled, and this on its own is distracting. 

Focus. Inhale. Click. Exhale. Click. 

Your magic begins to explore - he can feel that, too. He can feel it as it lifts and examines, feel it as it prods and dives within him. He could lose himself in this - in the way the controlled breathing lulls him into calm, into the warm and pleasant sensation of having his magic matched and complemented, into the cool press of your hands into his. 

He could - but he doesn’t want to. You’d said that he could - “without meaning to” - explore your side. You were forgetting: he may not have done this ritual before, but he is Taehyung of Rune. No one has better magical control than his family. It’s in his blood, just like yours, and he can steer his magic just as well.

He presses in, watching your face for any indication that you recognize the feeling. There’s none; your eyes are unfocused, muscles slack except for your mouth, which repeats the incantation hollowly, over and over. Emboldened, he presses further. 

The memories come without context in quick-moving bursts; they’re hard to follow. Some are still images, some play like a video clip on fast-forward, others are just dark but sound rings through Taehyung’s head, foreign and jolting. Each comes with a feeling - or more than one - that Taehyung feels so deeply they must be his own.

The faces of humans who might be your family, and the feelings of both love and disappointment. 

Books, as promised, and feelings of comfort, of pride.

Cities, waterways, more faces, more books, an old man, books again, another city, another pile of books -

Loneliness. Loneliness stitched into all of them. 

Images begin to ping in Taehyung’s mind as familiar -

Namjoon’s sharp eyes, and the feeling of gratitude. 

The throne room of the palace, his parents, the image of Infracti eyes - fear, fear so engulfing that Taehyung’s fingers flex against yours instinctively, and he fights to keep exhaling until he hears the click somewhere in the back of his mind. 

His own face, his own form approaching from the end of a hallway. Taehyung is swept with surprise to feel excitement attached to his image, something tinged with affection, and danger, and thrill, and something that Taehyung can’t - or won’t - put a name to.

Guilty, he pulls back, letting his magic simply simmer along with yours instead of steering it into your consciousness.  

He listens to the clicks, focuses on his breathing. Feels a stupid little smile sneak across his face, feels relief that your eyes are too unfocused to clock it. Feels a swell of affection for you, the human - no, witch - sent here to fix him. Feels a twin swell of protectiveness as his mind replays your fear. 

He’ll do better, he promises himself. He’ll do better at staying with you, at keeping everyone else away. 

He becomes aware that he no longer hears you chanting and watches your eyes carefully for the moment you come out of the trance.

You come back to yourself with a gasp, and Taehyung is startled to find you gaping at him, wide-eyed, struggling to get a word out.

“What?” he asks, stomach sinking. “What?”

You look around frantically like you’re trying to place yourself. “Maiesti,” you finally whisper, horrified, wild eyes coming back to find his. “I think someone tried to kill you.”

—

Prince Taehyung leads you - at a fast clip - to a small room that reminds you of a meeting room that an office building might have.

As you walk, you fill in Namjoon, talking almost faster than you can think.

“One of the threads,” you say breathlessly, “was definitely, absolutely intended for ending life.”

Namjoon stops walking; Prince Taehyung does not, carrying forward, causing you and Namjoon to scurry to catch him.

“You’re sure?” Namjoon asks.

You look at him evenly. “Entirely.”

“So, I was right,” he says quietly. “Remember? When I said I thought death magic might be involved?”

“I remember.”

He shakes his head. “I think my grandfather knew, or at least suspected.”

You look at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“That’s why he called me. I’ve been wondering. He had to suspect there would be an element of death magic - that’s my area of study. He knew you’d need me for that.”

You huff. “If he thought this was a murder attempt, that would have been nice to know ahead of time.”

Prince Taehyung acts like he hears none of this, simply leads you into the meeting room and asks a guard to fetch his parents.

The three of you wait in tense silence. You don’t know about the men, but your mind is racing with possibilities - the who, the why.

The Queen looks alarmed when she enters, and while the King doesn’t look as frantic, there’s definitely an air of concern.

“Thank you for coming,” you say, greeting them respectfully. “We wanted to speak to you right away. The Prince and I completed a ritual this morning -”

“You what?” The Queen asks sharply, but she seems to be directing this at her son, who ignores her with the polish of someone who has ignored their mother for over five hundred years. He motions for you to continue. 

You continue again, a little shakily. “We completed a ritual whose purpose was to feel out more of the curse, identify some threads of intention that we missed before.”

“Was it successful?” the King asks.

“It was,” you say carefully, “but I felt you should know about a major thread that I uncovered.”

Everyone looks at you, waiting - those who already know what you found, and those who are about to hear for the first time.

You take a breath and lay your palms flat on the table. “I found a thread whose intention was death.”

“How sure are you?” the Queen demands, standing up straighter, her brows furrowed.

“There’s no doubt,” you say calmly. “That’s what it was. Whoever cast this curse… they included the intention to kill Prince Taehyung.”

The King shouts someone’s name and an Infracti hurries into the room, leaning down to listen to the King’s request. He leaves again, and the King addresses the table.

“My cabinet members are being summoned,” he says. “We’ll address this at once.”

“Why would they bother with all the other threads,” the Queen asks, her eyes on you, “if they just wanted to kill him?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit. “It doesn’t make sense to me, either - but the intention was there.”

“I can speak to that,” Namjoon says calmly. The Queen snaps her attention to him. “Death magic is my specialty. A curse like that - just to end a life - it can’t be done. Magic… as I’m sure you know, magic is life. Magic wants life. It will not end a life unless it is twisted just right. It’s likely that whoever cast this curse had to… add padding to sneak this piece in. Perhaps they hoped that if they failed - which clearly, they did - then at least the prince would suffer.”

“Which he is,” you add, unhelpfully. 

“The Scores must be behind this,” the Queen says.

“There’s nothing that particularly indicates them,” the King points out.

“Except seven thousand years of war,” she shoots back. “Who else? Who else would benefit from killing our son?”

The King rubs at his temples. “I want to know where their little venefici was the night the curse began,” he muses. At that word, you feel blood rush to your face. You expect Namjoon to pat your arm, but it’s the prince who meets your gaze across the table, his face open and apologetic.

“Father,” he murmurs reproachfully, the first time he’s spoken since you all gathered.

You wonder what he thinks about all this.

You wonder if he’s frightened.

The King follows his gaze and frowns. “No disrespect intended,” he says, though his tone indicates that he’s displeased at being corrected. “We appreciate your skill here. But I need to find who cast on my son, and bring them to justice.”

“And cure him,” you say. This time, Namjoon does knock into your arm, trying to shut you up.

The King narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t address your insolence.

“And what about you?” The Queen asks, directing her attention at you and Namjoon. You try not to squirm. “What does this discovery mean for the counter-curse?”

You exchange a look with Namjoon, and you give him a nod. Death magic is his forte, not yours. 

“I’m afraid it’s a bit of a good-news-bad-news situation,” he says, inclining his head respectfully. “The good news is we identified that element of the curse so we are able to begin finding how to counter it. The bad news… well… the thread of intention called for loss of life. In countering that… only life can pay for life.”

Prince Taehyung’s head snaps up. “Will someone have to die?” he asks, horrified, eye wide. 

“Not necessarily,” you hurry to soothe him. “It may take Namjoon and I some time, but I’m confident we can find a way that isn’t so… drastic.”

“You’re dismissed, then,” the Queen says, her voice still even and cold. “I don’t want you wasting a single minute until you have something worth trying.”

You nod in understanding and move to leave. Satuel and Dansoo are waiting in the corridor, ready to walk you and Namjoon back to your quarters. You glance over your shoulder as you go, trying to get one last look at Prince Taehyung.

To your surprise, you find him standing still, watching you walk away. From this distance, he looks more like you expected him to look the first time you’d met him - somehow both haunting and haunted.

<;- Prev || Next ->

thank you for reading! chapter 9 coming next friday!

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts supernatural au #bts royal au #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #kim taehyung fic #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung angst #supernatural au #royal au #s2l #magic au #fic: of ruin

[sparkbeast20]

Private Treasure

Valefor was getting worried for his king.

For the past year, Mammon has been traveling all across hell. Collecting all sort of treasures. And returning to his private treasure room.

It was been a year since you went missing.

All of hell went to a frenzy. Leviathan stayed in his palace as he sent his best men to look for you.

Satan went on a long search party with his nobles. Same goes to Beelzebub and his nobles.

You might think, aren't the kings worried about the angel attacks?

For some reason, there were barely any attacks from the three Seraphim. And only the lower class of angels were attacking each region, which even some of the most common citizens can handle them.

Valefor would be happy about this change, but at what cause. The war was close to being over, and yet. You were gone.

As he was in deep thought, the sound of the large door of the palace open, alerting Valefor. He stood up and head to the palace door. when he got there.

He stopped when he saw his Majesty Mammon enter the palace with a small treasure in his hand.

He didn't notice Valefor, and kept on walking to his private treasure room.

Valefor, quietly followed behind him.

Once Mammon reach the door to the Treasure Room. Valefor quietly hid to the corner and peeked. He notice that the Ai pad was broke, and from was he saw it seem to be smashed... And he knew who did it.

Mammon calmly pushed the large doors open and went inside the room.

Valefor followed behind, making sure there is distant between him and Mammon.

Valefor entered the room and saw all of the treasure that his Majesty has been collecting for the past year. And all seem to remind him of you.

"Was his Majesty collecting this to remind himself of you... MC?"

He thought, but was pulled out of it when he hear Mammon's voice from a far.

He start walking again, going deeper into the room, and saw in the farthest side of the room was a shrine, lit with two large torches on either side.

As he got closer, he saw Mammon kneeling and bowing.

Valefor stopped dead on his track when he saw what was his Majesty was bowing to...

It was you, laying a bed as if it was your death bed-

"I was in Paradise Lost today..." Valefor got startled by Mammon's voice. "And... I saw this and it reminded me of you... I hope you like it, MC" He brought out the treasure and place it next to your bed.

Valefor could believe what he's seeing.

You were missing for a year, and yet. His Majesty had you all this time.

"I wish that you could wake up, and greet me with that adorable smile of yours again, my master..." Mammon stare lovely at your sleeping face with a small smile.

But it slowly drops and he hung his head, in shame...

He stayed silence for who knows how long.

Then he spoke again.

"If I knew that this was the price for choosing me as the "Final Temptation"..." He pause for a moment.

"I would have never asked you to pick me..." A single tear slip from the corner of his eye as he continue. "I know now that... the treasure I needed was you... So please" He stood and walked up to your bed and pulled you into his arms, embracing you tight. "Wake up... Please."

Note: I wanted to make a fic about MC picking one of the devils as the Final temptation but there was a price.

And this was a loving attack at a friend ^3^

Cause their fav is Mammon.

#what in “hell” is bad? #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad? #what in hell is bad #whb mammon #whb valefor #whb mc #whb mammon x mc #whb mammon x reader #whb fanfic

[mandos-mind-trick]

Kinktober Day 24 - Oviposition

Summary: It’s mating season. Boba has a special request for you this year. 

Pairing: Boba x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, monster AU, Naga!Boba, snake anatomy (Boba has two dicks), masturbation, mating, oviposition, lots of talk of pregnancy (cause that’s kind of the point), stomach bulge, lots of fluids, magic

A/N: I don't have much to say about this one but what do I have to do to get Naga!Boba to lay his eggs in me?

MASTERLIST

A gentle breeze brushes your skin as you lean against the balcony overlooking the red sands below. It’s still hot despite the setting suns, the warm breeze offering little respite to the burning heat radiating off the sand far below. You fiddle with the rings on your fingers, your entire body adorned in gold and jewels. Your thin, green dress rustles in the breeze, the fabric as fine as silk but thin enough to keep you cool in the hot desert. 

You step back inside, your room still heavily fragranced by the scented oils you had bathed with. Nerves flutter in your stomach as the twin suns drop lower and lower in the sky, painting your room in deep oranges and reds. It’s a beautiful sight, one you usually enjoy, but tonight you’re too anxious to bask in the sunset. 

You stop in front of the mirror, adjusting the gold, bejeweled crown atop your head. It was made specially for you, as was most of your jewelry. He likes it when you’re bedecked in signs of his riches, his power. That is what you’re here for. To show off, to be stared at. Another prized possession for him to keep in his palace. 

Well, that’s not all you’re here for. 

There’s a short knock on the door before it slides open, Fennec stepping in. A smirk flashes across her face as she looks you over. You’ve taken comfort in Fennec, the only other human in the castle, many times before. Boba only has so many uses for you, and you spend most of your time alone. 

Though, if all goes well, that will change tonight. 

“He’s ready for you.” Fennec says, holding the door open. 

You take a steadying breath before walking out the door, letting her lead you down to the sublevel where Boba resides. It’s cooler down here, the lower levels protected from the heat of the day.

Fennec pauses outside the giant doors to his chamber, giving you a steadying look before she knocks. The deep, gruff voice inside calls to enter and she opens the door for you. You take a breath, steadying your nerves before you step into the dimly lit chambers. The door closes behind you, latching shut. You know Fennec will stand guard, but the thought of being locked inside has the nerves twisting your stomach violently. 

You’re not afraid of Boba. You’ve long gotten over that fear. He would never hurt you, and has even gone so far as to defend you from others that got too close, others that thought they could touch. 

No, your nerves are swirling for a different reason. 

It’s mating season. 

Twice a year Boba goes through mating season. He’s more aggressive, quicker to anger, and always more possessive of his things, including you. He usually spent the height of it alone in his chambers, having lavish gifts sent to you and vast meals laid out. It’s always a strange time, but you’ve grown used to it. 

This time, he had a request for you. It took you by surprise when Fennec delivered the message, and you took a long time to think it over. 

“Thank you for agreeing to this.” Boba says, uncoiling himself from where he had been sitting in the corner. 

He’s thick and broad, from his head to the tip of his tail. His top half is human enough to not seem strange, with the exception of his pointed ears, slitted eyes, and the thin, sharp fangs you know reside in his mouth. You’ve seen them more than once, bared as a threat to anyone who angers him. Rarely does he use them, striking out only when necessary. Those who receive his bite never live to tell the tale. 

His skin is tanned on the top half, bearing many scars from his days as a warrior. The tanned skin changes into scales at his elbows and his waist. His scales are dark, the base black with green, red, and yellow spots coloring the expanse. His hands are big and his fingers end in claws, dangerous claws capable of taking skin off as easily as a knife cuts into soft butter. His tail is strong, flexible, and long, so long he could likely touch each end of his vast chambers if he stretched it out straight. You’ve felt its power before, had it coiled around your body, watched it coil around others and snap their bones like its nothing. 

He’d never hurt you. That he promised. 

He slithers up to you, towering over your form. You stare up at him, swallowing your nerves. 

“I wish to serve you in any way that I can.” You say, fiddling with the gold belt around your waist. “Of course, I didn’t know this was possible before.” 

Boba wants you to carry his clutch. 

The words Fennec had said to you, the message she had delivered just days ago when mating season began. You didn’t know much about his species or their mating before, and you weren’t entirely sure it was possible for you to carry his eggs. 

“They need a safe, warm place to incubate.” He says, slithering closer to you, closing the distance between you. He lowers himself down so you’re closer to the same height, a clawed hand coming to rest on your stomach. “And what better place than inside my most prized possession.” 

Your stomach clenches and not from nerves. You know he cares about you, but you had always assumed his most prized possession would be his vast treasure or his weapons. Not...you. 

“There are not many,” He says, his hand dragging across your stomach to hold your hip. “And there will be some discomfort with placing them, but I will do my best to make it as painless as possible. Do you have any questions?” 

You stare up into his eyes, his tail slowly coiling around you. You hadn’t even noticed it was moving, too captivated by him. “How will they...come out when they’re ready?” You ask. 

He smiles. “Your body will know when it is time to lay them. That will be the most uncomfortable part. Not all of them will make it, but no harm will come to you in the process.” 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.” 

He picks you up in his arms, slithering over to the lowered part of the floor where he sleeps. It’s full of sand, and you wonder if he buries himself in it when he sleeps. You know normal snakes like to burrow, and the image of him burrowing in the sand brings a smile to your lips. 

Boba coils his tail in the sand, covering a large area. He lowers you down so you’re resting against his tail, your body splayed out across him. His tail is warm, the scales smooth against your skin. It’s not the first time you’ve rested on his tail. You sit amongst the coils often when he’s holding court, draped across him in your finery. 

This is different though. 

His hands tug at the stays of your dress, removing it from your body easily. He keeps the jewels and the crown in place, trailing his hand over the pendant that falls right above your breasts. 

“You are very beautiful.” He says, staring down at you. It’s also not the first time he’s complimented you. 

It still never quite fails to bring warmth to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You say, slightly breathless. 

His hands trail down your sides, claws gently scratching across your skin. “I want this to be as pleasurable for you as possible.” His hands stop at your hips, his tail shifting to lift them slightly. “Touch yourself for me.” 

Heat blossoms beneath your skin as you stare up at him, nerves beginning to chew away at your stomach again. You hadn’t expected this to be part of it. You had expected...well, you’re not entirely sure what you had expected. Something so intimate...that certainly wasn’t it. 

You slip a hand down your body, fingers trailing over your skin. You keep your gaze locked with his as you reach your slit. You part your legs further, trailing your fingers over your clit. You’re sensitive, sex not something you partake in often, and you’re usually alone when you do. 

Your lips part in a gasp as you continue to tease your clit, the cool air brushing against your dampening slit. Boba’s eyes trail down your body to where your hand is circling your bud, his nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply. His senses are different than yours, more sensitive, he told you once. He can hear and smell and see better than you can. You can only imagine what this is like for him. 

You continue to rub your clit, your eyes drawn down his body to his waist. Not far below where the skin changes to scales, there’s a slit opening. Your eyes widen as something begins to poke out. Not one something, but two somethings. Side by side, two cocks spring forth from the slit in his stomach. It’s not far off from where it would be if he were a human man. One is slightly larger than the other, with a wider hole at the top. 

Your ministrations stop as you stare at them. You have little experience with human men, but you know this is very different. “Are you...going to put both...” 

Boba chuckles, leaning forward to cup your face. “No, little one.” He wraps his other hand around the smaller one. “This one will prepare you first.” He moves his hand to the larger one. “This one will deliver the eggs into your womb.” 

Your lips part as you stare at them, nodding slowly. “Uh huh.” 

He chuckles again, pulling back so he’s hovering between your legs. He smooths his hands over your thighs, putting your slick folds on display. “This may feel strange. I promise it will not hurt for long.”

You gulp as he lines the smaller cock up with your pussy, dragging the head through your folds. It’s strangely slick, coated in some sort of lubrication. It doesn’t hurt much as he presses into you, the lubrication helping him slide right in. You moan at the stretch, watching the appendage slip deeper and deeper into you. He braces himself over you, rocking his hips as he works into you. 

You relax back against his tail, toes curling as he stretches you open, reaching deeper and deeper inside of you. Your pussy begins to tingle, the strange lubrication coating your walls. The pain of the stretch is gone, the strange tingling sensation taking over. 

“I-It’s strange...” You gasp as he presses further into you, bumping up against your cervix. It doesn’t hurt much, but your pussy continues to tingle, all pain disappearing, only the pressure of his cock inside you left. 

“It’s numbing you.” He grunts, continuing to push his cock up against your cervix. “It will make it easier for you to take my clutch.” 

“Oh!” You gasp, pleasure beginning to bubble under your skin as he fucks you. 

Despite the numbing you can still feel him, the pressure along your walls, the push of him against a spot inside you that has you almost seeing stars. 

You almost whine as he withdraws his cock, your tingling walls feeling empty despite the numbness. His hands wrap around your thighs, pushing them up and towards your chest. He tells you to hold them there, splaying yourself open further for him. Your face warms as he stares down at you. A twist of anticipation and slight fear burns through you as he wraps his hand around the other, larger cock. You expect it to hurt, especially as he lines it up. 

The pressure is intense, but there’s no pain as he presses his cock into you. Your body stretches around him, your lower stomach bulging a bit as he eases himself into your walls. You’re breathing heavily, fingers digging into your skin as you watch him move inside you, sinking deeper and deeper, spreading you open and pushing against that spot inside you. 

“Relax.” He says, hovering over you. His hands rest on his tail by your head, his cock sinking deeper and deeper until he’s pressed against your cervix. “This may be a bit uncomfortable at first.” He warns. 

You let out a quiet sound as a cramping feeling begins in your stomach and back, his hips sinking closer to yours. You wince at the pain, clamping around him. One of his hands cups your face, your knuckles nearly white as you cling to the backs of your knees. 

It doesn’t take long for the pain to dissipate, the numbing setting in. It’s a strange feeling as he pushes into your cervix, his body settling against yours. He lets out a groan as his cock begins twitching, a sudden gush of fluid filling you. You whimper at the strange feeling, his cock pushing harder and harder against that spot as he pulses inside you. 

His eyes are screwed closed, a deep groan falling from his lips as something pushes against your entrance. Your eyes drop down to where your bodies are connected, his cock bulging against your entrance. Your eyes widen as it begins to push into you, spreading you open even more. You let out a sound as you watch it push its way through your canal and your cervix. 

Something heavy and warm drops into your uterus, your entire body clenching at the strange sensation. Boba lets out another groan as his cock begins to swell and bulge against your entrance. 

He’s laying his eggs inside you. 

The second one pushes into you, stretching you open again. You’re expecting it this time, relaxing your body as the egg drops into your uterus. It’s still strange, but the thought of having his eggs inside you, and the push of the eggs against your walls has pleasure bubbling in your stomach once more. 

“Doing so good.” Boba praises you as another presses against your entrance. “Taking my clutch so well.” 

You practically preen under his praise, your stomach starting to bulge a bit as the third drops into you. They feel heavy, the sensation strange as your body works to adapt to the change quickly. 

You can’t help but moan as the fourth makes its way to your uterus, your hands releasing your legs so they can wrap around his waist. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you as he continues to fill you with his eggs. 

The fifth one is the biggest, nearly catching on your entrance as Boba pushes it through with a deep groan. You can only imagine what it feels like for him, your walls fluttering around him. 

“One more.” He groans, sharp fangs dragging along your neck. “Doing so good for me, princess.” 

You cum as the sixth egg pushes its way into you, the pressure against that spot inside you too much. Your back arches, pressing you closer to him as you cum around him. He groans, releasing more fluid into you before he eases out of your cervix, drawing his cock from your walls. 

You’re still coming down from your high as his cocks disappear back into his slit. You stare down at your bulging stomach, pressing your hand against the bump. You make a sound as you feel the eggs move within you. You wonder if they’ll get bigger, or heavier. They already feel heavy, firm and solid within you. 

Boba puts his hand next to yours, claws tickling your skin as he feels his clutch inside you. He leans back over you, kissing you softly. “Thank you.” He murmurs against your lips. “Thank you for doing this for me.” 

All you can do is nod, feeling exhausted from the effort of taking his clutch, even if you didn’t do anything but lay still. 

“You should rest.” Boba says, laying himself next to you on his tail. “It is late.” 

You feel your eyes fluttering closed even as you try to fight it, exhaustion and sleep taking over as you drift off to sleep on his coiled tail. 

Ragu List:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @sinfulsalutations @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @ghostperson69 @jediknightjana @jedi-hawkins @dalu-grantkylo @cw80831

#star wars #star wars fic #the book of boba fett #book of boba fett fic #bobf fic #boba x reader #boba fett x reader #x reader #kinktober 2023

[jazeswhbhaven]

He Never Misses! (Leraye Limited Event React I)

Okay so, here's the damn thing about this event.

I loved the amount of peeking into each noble's dynamic with each other so much and I love the fact that this is pretty much a slice-of-life approach to how a "normal" day in Gehenna was and is.

In an overall sense we get a good dose of Sitri, interesting pop-ins from Astaroth and Paimon, and a little surprise visit that had me squealing later.

This, my lovelies is 6 part reaction because I took that many damn screenshots and I honestly wish there was a better way to upload them all on one or two posts without a photo limit. BUT alas...

Make sure to grab a snacky snack, and let's dive in...to the life of long-haired Leraye~ ┬─┬(◕‿◕♡)

So we enter with Astraoth just minding his business and cruising around the palace and Sitri just comes up and starts getting onto him about not being at the palace lol

Turns out he was gone for a while because he was tending to his hobbies which is corrupting...

You hear that everyone? He corrupts anyone so keep your windows open (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

I'm really crying right now, so basically he's telling why it took particularly long this time around because he was dealing with someone who hated their dead-end job. (sounds fucking familiar right?)

nah now think about it, imagine wildly that someone at pb put that in the event as a joke when in reality somebody either once quit before or secretly a current employee can't stand work and low key just slid that idea in....buttt let's get back to the event lmao

Sitri hit 'em with the "Sorry I'll you finish but-" treatment. Though it's for good reason..

Awhhhh Roro...(yes my nickname for him leave me be) LET HIM FINISH

So basically what happened is that Sitri lost his favorite pen (rly?) it's the color of Solomon's hair and he put some of this man's hair in the ink and now he's lost it and he can't find it.

It's funny because Astaroth said the same thing as me "Why would you do that?" but he understood the sentiment behind it and was willing to give Sitri some insight on who to ask to find something like that.

LERAYE!

So our boy has crazy good eyesight. Like dangerously good to the point where I want to swap my eyes out with his because good lord I'd love a reason to not spend money on glasses with these expensive ass lenses.

So fun side note here that everyone leaves their door open except for Sitri, who most likely just likes his privacy or is used to having his door closed because perhaps the room he stayed in during Hades always had the door closed? Something along those lines I would like to think.

So now here are some nice Leraye and Paimon dynamics <3 our poor fave femboy lost his piercing recently and was asking Leraye to help find it. So it appears that either the piercing is shaped like Ppyong like the barette on his hair, or it's as big as he is, which last time I checked isn't Ppyong technically the largest red lump? (idk everyone else is pretty tiny when compared to him in the red lump family)

Okay nvm my previous thing it's shaped like Ppyong (LMAO) and this sounds cute actually, beside the fact that it becomes a fucking bomb all of the sudden (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

like imagine the TSA having a field day finding one of those...

I love how Paimon is like "Someone might die but most importantly my piercing is going to be destroyed :("

Amazing priorities bby, I support you.

Also, Astaroth is interested in how the piercing works and its explosive properties so he wants to tag along (he's so weird i love him) And Leraye with his cheery self is happy to help. So he goes to the window to start his search with those amazing eyeballs of his and his hair is blowing in the wind (imagine bouncy music in the background, his hair flowing and him humming while trying to find it)

Paimon is over here thirsting over watching him and it really fuels my "Paimon probably flirts with the nobles from time to time but he's never serious about it"

So within moments, he says he has a lead but hasn't really found it yet so the three go out looking around and well, so far not so good. This is pretty much the third time Leraye had moved positions and and updated on the status of finding the piercing and Paimon is getting a bit impatient.

You see that little pouty angry face? This event isn't voiced but I can hear him now getting all upset. But tbh I get upset too when I'm trying to find something and it's always "almost, maybe the next place it will be there"

Thanks Astaroth, really helping out here lmao

So it appears that even though he was circliing around alot he finally appears to have a lock in on the piercing's whereabouts which excites Paimon. Astraoth starts being poetic about Leraye's rooftop running and Paimon is just like-

You heard him! Stfu and get your ass movin' Roro!!! (I love how Paimon is super agitated easily when it comes to something he cares about lol)

I threw this scene in here because I was like "ah yes the devil with the good eyes I wish that were me lmao"

okay so pitt stop...because even though he's not known for his endurance he surely wasn't having a problem during his h-scene so....( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴

So when he's catching his breath Paimon and Astaroth catch up whose pretty much questioning how Leraye can even see this far ahead and it sounds like they traveled pretty damn far. (remember it's a flashback so Astaroth didn't know about his abilities yet)

And then out of fucking nowhere Leraye just goes to this random hole in the alleyway and throws something at Astaroth while Paimon is like omfg watch out???!!!

So we find out that it was Astaroth's snake that was in that hole just hiding out. So i noticed his name is Apophis and the described him as white but he's clearly black .-. ANYWAY.

(don't worry everyone he was just coming back from filming his role in Meg the Stallion's music video /j lol) So apparently Apophis was lost and Roro was looking for him but weren't they looking for Paimon's piercing?

Lol Apophis bites Leraye and possibly others when Astaroth isn't around and that's cute. Ofc he'd only trust his owner.

And ofc we find out that the snake has swallowed Paimon's piercing...and I'm just like. Oh yikes...so how are we getting this out? lol

So for this little scene Leraye explains plainly that he can see the shape of the piercing inside Apophis' stomach and yet the other two can't and that Leraye just assumes they can because he's naive in his thinking just like most devils, a childlike wonder and view.

And while Astaroth is reflecting on that Paimon asks for him to get the earring out which again I'm like how is he even going to do that???

┬┴┬┴┤•ᴥ•ʔ├┬┴┬┴ oh.....

he can make his voice deeper?

Me too Apophis...me too. I'm shaking, crying and throwing up.

Because think about that shit...Astaroth coming into your room to just randomly corrupt and fuck with you and even if you are corrupt he has a thing for making it even worse...and then he pulls this poetic, deep-voiced nsfw audio shit on you and now you're committing crimes you never even knew you could because of it.

BUT that stops for now with part 1, phew...only 5 more to go...! (i'm really sleepy rn so I'm going to get a couple hours of sleep and then get up and start back up again lol)

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb leraye #whb astaroth #whb paimon #whb gehenna bois❤️ #whb event #whb spoilers #whb screencaps #let's goooooo noble event!

[thelov3lybookworm]

You Think I Wanted This? (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: The wedding day has arrived.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: Ehehe im so excited for yall to read this aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh

anyways, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

If there was one word that could describe the situation around the palace, it would be chaos. But ten times worse.

The time was flying by, and it was getting incredibly hard to keep herself from screaming in frustration. The anxiety building up in her, the worries... it was hard to focus on anything.

The wedding would take place today in the great hall in just a few hours, and Y/n could not stop the tremor in her hands.

The only thing that comforted Y/n was the fact that Cam was now present with her, in the Palace, having returned from Basgiath during the leave granted before his second year.

Due to being the son of the king, he had been granted some leniency so he could attend Y/n's wedding.

That, and the books Y/n was forced to read, being a healer.

All alone in her room now, all she could do was read through the boring texts again, because that was the only way she could stop thinking about the inevitable ruining of her life.

A knock startled Y/n, and she glanced at the small clock she kept on her desk, frowning when she realised there was still, at the very least, an hour until the maids came to get her ready.

Standing, she called out. "Yes?"

"May I come in?" The voice was unmistakably female, with the confidence of someone far older an experienced than the owner of the voice should have been.

Y/n walked over, opening the door a crack to find Violet Sorrengail waiting, her hair in a messy braid hanging over one shoulder.

Y/n blinked, then opened the door wider, letting her in.

"Sorrengail, what brings you here?"

Violet took a deep breath, letting the door fall shut behind her before speaking.

"Did you ask to be married to Xaden?"

Y/n blinked, taken aback. "Xaden? Why would I want to be married to him?"

Violet sighed, frustration evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the tension in her shoulders. Now that Y/n looked closely, she looked like she had not showered or had a meal in years.

"I- you were staring at him that day like- like you wanted him, and then right after the king announced your marriage and..." Violet took a deep breath, looking like she would have a panic attack any moment. And despite the fact that this girl was involved with Y/n's soon to be husband, that they had something going on, maybe even feelings involved, all Y/n felt was pity for her.

Y/n sympathised with the girl, but there was nothing Y/n could do to comfort her than give false words of hope.

"Look, Sorrengail, there is nothing I can do. I am sorry, I truly am, but I can't put a stop to this wedding, if that is what you are here for."

"But you didn't even try!"

Y/n crossed her arms, rubbing between her brows, realising Violet had been trying to hold in her emotions all along and she was not here for a friendly chat over tea.

"I know the consequences I would have had to bear for objecting, and the wedding would still have happened because no one goes against the king's words."

"You are his daughter! He would have-"

"And you are a grown woman, who, I hope, understands what consequences are. So I am not going to sit here and explain to you what would have happened if I'd done what I wanted to two hours before the betrothal takes place." Y/n glanced at the clock to make sure she had the right timing before turning towards the door, reaching out to clutch the handle.

"You didn't even try." All anger had dissipated from the rider's voice, and the tears in her eyes made her look like she was ready to fall to her knees and beg for Xaden to be freed.

Y/n clenched her eyes shut, knowing if she watched Violet cry, she would do end up doing something very stupid, and that something was definitely going to get her killed.

"I am sorry Violet, but there is nothing I can do other than to tell you to return, go to someplace that brings you peace, and stay away from the palace for atleast two days."

The fire of rage again lit up in Violet's eyes, and she stomped forward just as Y/n opened the door for her to leave.

"Fuck you." Violet cursed, and Y/n did not bat an eye at the words as she clicked the door shut behind her.

With a sigh, Y/n returned to her desk.

Not long after, someone again knocked on the doors, though this time it was the servants arriving to get Y/n dressed up all pretty for the ceremony.

Y/n let go of her textbook and let the attendants fuss over her, the mannerisms of a princess that had been drilled into her since she was born keeping her from complaining everytime they pulled her hair too harshly.

Kept her quiet even when the corset was too tight.

Kept her quiet even when all she wanted to do was cry and ask what the purpose of all this was.

•○🌑○•

Violet's pov.

The crowd was silent, watching the bride walk down the aisle who only had eyes for the groom. Some of the held appreciation for what the girl had managed to achieve, some held scorn in their hearts for her getting married to the son of a coward and betraying the kingdom.

Her eyes remained unwavering, her long hair running down her straight back, hands clutching at the small bouquet of flowers.

She was beautiful, Violet had to admit.

The groom too stared at the bride, his hands folded neatly behind his back, and though his expression remained neutral, his eyes spoke volumes about his happiness regarding this marriage.

At least the two of them knew nothing could come out of this marriage, and no one would be disappointed after the outcome turned out to be hatred.

The moment the bride took her position at the podium, the priest started speaking.

After long minutes of droning, the bald priest finally asked the question that the groom, bride and Violet all dreaded.

"Do you, Xaden Riorson, take Y/n Tauri, to be your wife?"

Violet's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the tense Lieutenant, who, if possible, tensed even more as he answered.

"I do."

"Do you, Xaden Riorson, swear to be loyal throughout this marriage to your wife?"

At that, Xaden jerked, his head turning a little towards where Violet was standing, but then he stopped himself and stared again at his to be wife.

"I do."

The princess blinked in confusion, and her eyes slowly swept the crowd as she searched for something.

Violet moved, trying to conceal herself behind the pillar she was standing next to.

Of course, the two girls met eyes before Violet could be successful.

Violet watched as exasperation and pity filled Y/n's eyes, and Violet lifted her chin in confidence she didn't feel.

"Do you, Y/n Tauri, take Xaden Riorson, to be your husband?"

Violet watched as the princess swallowed and spoke, no other sign of hesitation or anxiousness in sight. "I do."

"Do you, Y/n Tauri, swear to be loyal throughout this marriage to your husband?"

"I do."

The lack of hesitation almost made Violet feel bad, because the certainty that dripped from the princess's voice told Violet that even if Xaden continued to pursue Violet behind close doors, the princess would stay loyal to him.

Almost.

"I now pronounce you two married. You may kiss the bride."

Violet held Y/n's stare until Xaden was right in her face, and then she closed her eyes, and let him kiss her.

Violet turned away, walking out of the huge doors and making her way to the flight field near the palace.

She knew she should have heeded the princess's advice, but she couldn't stop herself from seeing him get married by her own eyes.

Even if the bride was not who Violet wished.

•○🌑○•

@artists-ally @riddlesb1tch

Xaden Taglist: @sidrapotter @anniiittttaa @pirana10 @harrystylesfan2686

#xaden x reader #xaden riorson #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #rebecca yarros #fourth wing headcanons #xaden headcanon #fourth wing fanfic

[lanitalay]

Cowboy like me

a/n: besties be warned this is my first time writing smut

azriel x reader one shot inspired by the Taylor Swift song

word count: 1.3k

warnings: smut!

Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon.

Azriel looked at her like he was looking in a mirror. He remembered how she laid on his bed, curled up on her side, snuggling with the thick covers. It had been lifetimes, centuries since they had seen each other. Last he heard she was in the Continent, living as a courtesan. She must have a fortune. With her devastating beauty, quick wits and disarming charm it was never difficult to discover interesting, compromising and incriminating information. That’s why she was one of his most trusted spies. 

He never thought he’d run into her in Adriata. She stood on the main balcony of the Summer Court palace, looking at the ocean. He admired how she could adapt to any environment. In Night Court black she was intimidating. In Summer blue she was dazzling. The wind made the flowy fabric of her dress hug her curves. Her hair was shorter now. Back when they knew each other it came down to her waist. Now, it did not touch her shoulders. He could recognize her anywhere, with any hair, any dress. He could recognize her in the dark, blindfolded.

He knew every inch of her skin. Every scar. Every freckle. 

His wings tighten as he makes his way over to her. She must be expecting him. There is no way she did not know he would be visiting on official business. “Summer suits you” his words reach her before he does. He takes the next few steps slowly as he comes to stand next to her.  “Must be the sun and salt air” he knows she won’t look at him yet. “Night also suits you” his hands are placed behind his back. “Maybe, in another life” she brings her hands to the railing of the balcony. Azriel can’t help but notice there is no ring or any marker that indicates she is in a relationship. It did not surprise him, they were similar in that way. Whatever intimate relationship they once shared had been strictly nocturnal and he was perfectly fine with that. It was only when she had given him her letter of resignation that he yearned for more time with her. The nights suddenly not enough. 

“Are you residing here permanently?” Her lips quirked up at that “permanent is not a word I would use to describe anything about me”. He could use that word to describe how she had a perpetual place in the back of his mind and, if he was being honest, his heart. 

“How long are you here for?” The question brings him out of his head “until tomorrow”. She hums. “You never told me why” he had been wondering ever since she had gone. “It was time for something new” now she turns her head to meet his gaze. “Was it something I did?” She looks away again “no”. “Then what was it?” She breathes, her chest rising from the action. “You know what it was”. He goes to ask again but before he can formulate the question she says “I have a meeting, see you around”. She walks away and into the palace, disappearing through a hallway. 

A knock wakes him up. He goes to open the door, already knowing who’s on the other side. “Sorry to wake you” she says and steps into the room. “It’s alright” she’s in a nightgown “why are you here?” He had never seen her look nervous “you know me better than anyone Az” she said gently and he had a feeling that was the voice she used to get men of power to fall to their knees “and…” she closes the space between them “I’ve missed you”. 

He forgoes the mask of indifference and grabs her face, meeting her lips in a searing kiss. Gods, he missed her. His whole body ached at the thought of her. A surprised sound escaped her as he bit her lower lip and slipped his tongue in her mouth. Her hands instinctively went to his hair, like they had done for years. She pulled him away from her and he could  have moaned at how her pupil had blown out and her lips had gone puffy “what?” His voice was desperate and she smiled “I just have a feeling that this is gonna be one of those things” and kissed him again. He wasted no time in lifting her hips up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he walked back to the bed. 

She fell back on the mattress and he swore he had never seen anything more beautiful. He crawled on top of her kissing and biting his way to her lips. He wanted to take his time with her, savor every inch of her skin, every moan and every movement. She had other plans and made it so she was now on top of him. His hardened cock smothered beneath her dripping heat. She removed her robe and nightgown in one motion. Her nipples peaked with arousal. Azriel growled and sat up to bring her right breast to his mouth, sucking and biting with his other hand he pinched and pulled at her left breast. Her head fell back, loving the sensations flooding her but needing more. She pulled him away and took her panties off and threw them at his face. Azriel caught it and breathed in the concentrated scent of her arousal. She got up from his lap and made to undress him. “Az I need you now” he flipped her so she was on her back and at his mercy. 

He pulled out his cock and gave it a few rough strokes. She was aching for him, her cunt fluttering around nothing. He took her in, legs bent and spread wide just for him. He ran a hand up her leg until it reached the apex of her thighs and without warning pushed in two thick fingers. He brought them to his mouth and tasted just how needy she was. “You wanna taste?” She nodded desperately and she moaned as he pumped his fingers a few times before bringing them to her mouth. She sucked and slurped up the liquid. When he took his fingers out she begged “Az, please” he loved seeing her plead for him. “You want my cock?” She nods “say it”. “I want your cock” he thinks he can see tears welling up in her eyes. 

Her pussy is throbbing, he brings his cock to her cunt and slides the tip from her sopping hole to her soaking clit, teasing. Her tears spill “Az, please fuck me”. With one slow, frustratingly slow stroke he sheathes himself inside her. She grabs his face and kisses him, she can taste herself on his tongue. His thrusts turn into pounding. The pace brutal. She moans when he bites her neck and thumbs at her clit. With trembling hands she runs her finger along the lines of his wings, like she knew would drive him crazy. He hisses and bites down harder. Her pussy is throbbing, her climax near. “Cum for me, baby. Be good for me” she has no control as a wave of pleasure crashes into her. She moans his name until it's just incoherent mumbles “where do you want me to finish?” She’s still spinning as she wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him deeper “fill me up” he thrusts into her until he reaches his high, his cum coating her walls. Her legs are still wrapped around him as he bends down to meet her lips. 

“Stay with me” he says, arm draped around her waist keeping her back flush against his chest. She thinks for a moment. “I can stay with you if you promise me forever”. They don’t speak the rest of the night. They drift to sleep in each other's warmth and he knows that by morning she’ll be gone.

#acomaf #acotar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acowar #jurian acotar #lucien vanserra #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #acosf #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel smut #smut #acotar smut #acotar x reader #acotar fic

[drinix]

A Vow for Eternity

01 - Before it all began

Pairing: General Kirigan X Female Reader

Part 02

Warnings: None at all. This series encompass mainly romance, fluff, angst.

Summary: A Princess embroiled in an arranged betrothal to the most feared General Aleksander Kirigan, the leader of the Second Army in Ravka. Would this be a mere political alliance or something more than it meets the eye?

Bonus: I couldn’t stop listening to the soundtrack while writing this chapter.

General Kirigan stood skimming the map of Ravka which was laid down on an enormous table that ran almost half of the space in the room, immersed in his thoughts. The sound of firewood crackling is the only thing that could be heard in his dark-lit war room. The room was cramped with cabinets loaded with maps, artifacts, paintings, books and whatnot. Beside him was his untouched Kvas, in front of him, on the wall was a black banner showcasing his coat of arms, embellished with glittering intricate silver details, which depicted the Sun in Eclipse but not a single star was there to adorn it.

He had found his Sun Summoner whom he had been looking for centuries after making many endeavors. He had made sure to keep an eye on her every step of the way because he wanted to make sure nothing goes awry so that everything could be executed according to his whims and fancies.

His eyes rested upon the banner of his symbol for a while. “It feels empty and lonely, just as my soul”, He thought to himself. He was too adamant to admit that he was lonely in this world after spending centuries on his own.

General Kirigan’s train of thoughts was interrupted by subdued knock on the door.

“What is it, Ivan?”, the General asked in his husky voice.

“The King’s brother, Prince Richard is here for an audience with you, General”, Ivan replied. He was one of the General’s Oprichniki and most trusted soldiers.

General Kirigan knew why the Prince requested an audience with him that evening. Few weeks ago, the King himself communicated to him about his betrothal to the Princess Y/N, which was indeed considered as an emblematic union that benefited both parties by the King and his advisers with the intention of bolstering the alliance between the Grisha and the people of Ravka. Even though, the General didn’t have a speck of an hope to get married, it was not his position to defy the King. Whether he wanted or not, he was deprived of any choice but to concede.

“Ah yes. I was informed about this meeting. Don’t keep him waiting, Ivan.” said the General while fixing up his kefta.

Ivan opened the door for the Prince to enter.

“Moi tsarevich, it’s an honor to have you in my chambers.” The General bowed to the Prince.

“It’s pleasure meeting you, General. I wanted to meet you myself here because of the gravity of the matter I intend to discuss with you.” The Prince said glancing at Ivan.

“Ivan, you may wait outside” Ivan bowed to the General and the Prince and took his leave, closing the doors behind him.

“A glass of Kvas for you, moi tsarevich. Let me send a word to the kitchen to bring some refreshments for you” The General offered a glass of Kvas to the Prince.

“Thank you, General. No need for other refreshments. Let me cut to the chase.” The Prince uttered with a grave expression on his face. “ I hope you’re aware that my daughter will return to the Grand Palace on the day of the Winter Fete.”

“Yes. The King informed me about her arrival few days before” The General nodded in agreement.

“There’s something about her that others are not aware of, specially the Royal Family which puts her safety at peril” The Prince muttered, turning towards the General.

The General furrowed his brows. “ What is it, moi tsarevich? If it concerns her safety, it must be a grave matter.” Anything that would put his prospective bride’s life in harm’s way, would affect him as well, at least remotely.

The Prince stared at the fireside for a while, swirling the glass of Kvas. “This is a secret that should be kept between us, General. Otherwise, the Princess’s life will be at an immense stake”

“I give you my word, moi tsarevich. You have always been an ally and a pillar of support of Grisha.” General bobbed his head respectfully.

Your father had been supportive of Grisha in many respects for many years. He always believed that they should live in harmony without being downtrodden or marginalized. As a matter fact, he had played a integral role in holding discussions with the Fjeardan government on behalf of the royal family of Ravka regarding the Grisha held in custody at the Ice Court of Fjearda and even gone out of his way to help them escape from the Fjeardans. Therefore, your father was a well-respected royal by Grisha. You, his only child, well, there’s a saying that an Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“ I trust you, General and you’re her fiancé. It is the reason for me to have this conversation with you” The Prince stepped closer to the General. “My daughter, Y/N is capable of wielding the powers of Small Science”

The General was astounded by what the Prince just said. He found himself dumbstruck for a moment as a pin-drop silence loomed over the room for a minute or two. He couldn’t believe his own ears for moment. A Grisha in the Royal family was such a rare occurrence. It had never been known for Grisha to have a Royal descent; A Grisha Princess.

“You mean, she is a Grisha, moi tsarevich?” General Kirigan broke the silence. There was a scintilla of uncertainty in his voice. “Was she tested when she was little?” The members of the royal family were hardly tested by Grisha examiners as the chances of a Royal being a Grisha was minimal. Until this moment, it was reckoned null.

“No. We got to know it few years ago, before she was sent to Ketterdam” The Prince added. “Now that she will be here, I want to ensure that her life is not at stake. I have heard many rumors about attempts to kidnap the Sun Summoner.” He paused for a while before uttering what he really wanted to say. “You will not, by any means, use her as one of your Grisha soldiers, General.” It sounded more as if the Prince was commanding the General, rather than engaging in a typical conversation between soon-to-be father in law and his son in law. “It will only transpire more chaos than what our family already has”

“You have my word, moi tsarevich. I’ll personally see to her safety concerns. She’ll be safer here than being at her home. Don’t worry” The General’s assuring words appeased the Prince’s doubts about your safety to some extent. “As far as this alliance goes, I don’t intend to make her one of the soldiers.” Besides, his focus was mainly centered on Alina Starkov in that period of time.

“It’s a relief to hear those words from you” The Prince placed his hand on the General’s shoulder. “Thank you, General Kirigan. From the day of Winter Fete onwards, she will be one of your prioritized responsibilities, in addition to, leading the Second Army of course” The Prince chuckled, looking at the war table which denoted the current positions of the army encampments.

“It’s my honor and duty to you” The General said reassuringly.

“Then I must take my leave, General Kirigan” The Prince walked toward the door with the General to his left side.

“ Looking forward to meeting the Princess, moi tsarevich” General Kirigan paused for a while. “Before you leave, do you know what order she belongs to ?”

The Prince turned back to face the General.

“An etherealki, technically.”

General Kirigan’s eyes gleamed as a smile settled on his lips.

The General sat on the edge of his war table after the Prince left. A prickle of excitement went through his skin, engulfed with impatience to meet the Princess. He was never fond of this alliance, until he heard the word that you were a Grisha, just like him which piqued his enthusiasm to see you and get to know you. The crowning glory was he was the first to know and nobody else in the Royal family knew about it. At least, he knew he didn’t despise the idea of being introduced to you.

There’s not any dull moment nor rest where youth and pleasure meet.

#general kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #darkling x reader #grishaverse #general kirigan #aleksander morozova #the darkling

[harry-sussex]

The media has branded Harry and Meghan a “flop” - there’s no coming back from that reputation.

That WSJ article just made my stomach drop. I have no idea how it’s possible that things have gotten this bad. The worst part is that there’s no way up from here - only further down. Rock bottom is a challenge at this point, and it feels like they’re shooting for it every single day.

This is what they wanted? This is better? They’re happy? No fucking way, man. No fucking way. If I know anything about Harry at all - and at this point, we all know Harry a bit too well - he must be outright miserable. There’s no way this whole thing has been worth it. None whatsoever. To someone like me, this is nauseating. I hate it. I hate this. I have always hated this, I always knew that they weren’t going to live the life they thought they would after they left, I’ve been saying for three years until I’m blue in the face - and the reception I’ve gotten from Sussex fans around the world has been horrific (you guys should see some of the shit that’s come through my inbox courtesy of the squad - so much for mental health, Harry and Meghan would be ashamed of them, but I digress).

If you give even a sliver of a shit about Harry, you’ll be able to get your head out of the sand and recognize that leaving was the absolute worst thing he could have done for himself. Look at him! Directionless! Lost! Misguided! Unproductive! Not to mention paranoid, tired, isolated, and he fact that he always looks miserable.

I will say it again and again and again - it. did. not. have. to. be. this. way. 3 years in - what do they have to show for it?:

A successful commercial venture? Nope - almost nothing has come out of Archetypes or anything else, as in the article. Bill Simmons called them “fucking grifters!” If he’s willing to say it loud and proud for the media to pounce on, how many are saying it behind closed doors?

More money? Their income hinges upon content they haven’t created yet. Clearly, these companies have no trouble pulling the plug on their deals and therefore cutting off the income. (Not for nothing - the more this happens, the less money they’ll be able to say they grossed by leaving the royal family. Since this looks like a trend, at what point do they stop and say ‘I probably would have more money at my disposal if I just stuck with the Duchy of Cornwall?’)

More exposure? Yeah, I guess, but look how shitty it is all the time. This is not the kind of exposure they were looking for.

More privacy? Totally goes against everything above, but they’ve never been more vulnerable to intrusive speculation. They invite it! Encourage it! Hand their personal lives over to the media and the public on a silver platter! The only thing keeping them ‘private’ is living in a gated community - imagine how private their personal life would be if they were in a palace instead?

Better treatment from the press? The American media are vultures too. The world media has made a fortune off of their bullshit. Even the gently critical ones that tell the hard truth - like the WSJ - show that the media does not care who you are if you deserve the criticism or if your bullshit is so completely out of this world that the story writes itself. Nothing is sacred, and it’s even worse now that there’s nothing standing in between them and the press.

The opportunity to provide universal service? What the hell have they done? One single Invictus Games? The occasional event? The occasional donation? They spend more time accepting awards for doing something rather than actually doing something!

Being happier? Bullshit, man. Look at Prince Harry. He hasn’t had a genuine smile on his face in public since 2021. I could go down a rabbit hole here, but you’re blinded by adoration if you can’t recognize he’s outright miserable and a complete shell of the person he used to be. That spark is completely gone.

I could go on, but these articles are starting to pop up in legitimate news sources. We’re not talking about the National Enquirer here - this is the Wall Street Journal. A legitimate news source is reporting on the way they’re failing to meet their own standards and the standards of those who control the purse strings - and how they’re nothing without their titles. If the money is the bottom line, then they need the star power behind their HRHs to make it. They don’t have anything else worth marketing. That star power is dwindling more and more as they get closer and closer to rock bottom and as they continue to bite the hand that has always fed them. Look at this from Vanity Fair:

So much for “service is universal.” They don’t get traction for any of their charity work because they spend so much time BITCHING. The world can’t focus on their service and help support those causes because they spend so much FUCKING TIME milking their only cash cow that nobody has any idea what kinds of causes they support! In fact - I’d bet that the only causes recognized by the general public are those they SUPPORTED BY WORKING FOR THE FAMILY. This isn’t about service - it’s about clout, star power, mystique, and the aura associated with the blurred lines between royal and celebrity. The service hasn’t been part of it for a long time. They’ve wronged their ship and there’s no way to right it anymore. That ship, for lack of better term, has sailed. The world doesn’t see them as charitable - the way they were seen when they were working for the family. The world sees them as washed up crybabies who don’t have anything to offer. It’s not just a “hater” thing anymore. They’ve lost their allure and that was the only thing they had going for them. Without that allure, they’re nothing compared to the Hollywood lights.

They’ve completely fucked up. I know it, you know it, Hollywood knows it, the Royal Family knows it. Harry and Meghan are the only people on earth who haven’t figured it out. They haven’t done a single thing they planned since leaving. They’re not happier, they don’t live a more private life, they don’t have more bandwidth to do charity work, they’re not making money hand over fist, they’re not successful in their new endeavors… they’ve completely fucked up.

Harry, in particular, has completely fucked up. He gave up a life of structure, service, wealth, luxury, success, protection, guidance, family, friendship for… this? And he’s pretending that it was the best decision he ever made? Please. He fucked up, and it will continue to come back to bite him day in and day out until he learns to sit down, shut up, get some help, and hire some competent people to make shit happen for him, because clearly he cannot direct the ship on his own.

This is not how it was supposed to be - not for us as fans, nor for them after leaving. It did not have to be this way. I’d bet anything that the part of Harry who wanted this is dwindling more and more each day. Someday, he’s going to regret the whole thing. The more I see him and hear him, the more I think he’s already there. He fucked up, and I think he’s finally on his way to realizing that they have to do something to make the world interested in them beyond their association with the family. That will diminish, and then they’ll really be shit out of luck.

What a complete and utter disaster, Henry. What a mess. With all due respect, Your Royal Highness - you fucked up.

#prince Harry #Duke of sussex #Meghan Markle #Duchess of sussex #British royal family #Harry and Meghan #my post #oh I’m going to get so much shit for this lolol

[petrichorium]

the news comes to you by messenger.

it doesn’t come to you, exactly. it comes to the academy you’d been sent to, a week away from the royal palace but only a day’s ride to your family’s manor in the south. it’s announced suddenly at midday: the king is dead, and the crown prince assassinated.

your fellow students mourn, as is appropriate. more than a few had been potential matches—their visions of marriage and queenhood dashed in a moment, you find it difficult to relate. you mourn a person, you mourn your first love, you mourn your best friend; they find you pretentious, and conceited, and they make snide comments from the other side of your closed door, behind which you spend a week in your bed reading through the letters you never sent him, staining them with tears.

when you finally emerge it’s with a silver pendant around your neck, hidden beneath your gown. a token of affection from many summers ago, a miniature portrait depicting the vibrant, unmistakable eye of the spoiled prince who’d gifted it to you. it remains hanging upon your breast long after you return to the palace, older and wiser and more determined.

it remains there even when invaders storm the walls, even when that towering figure appears and those regal eyes fall upon you.

gojo wakes up in a strange estate located, as he comes to learn, just outside the border in a neighboring kingdom. his injuries are numerous. he’s in such pain he can hardly sit up for the first month. you are all he thinks about because you are all he has left; his parents gone, his crown and country stolen, yet you remain, waiting for his return though you don’t know it. the thought of you is what keeps him going—it’s the tether to his sanity when his rage threatens to consume him, the reminder that there is still something to live for, to fight for.

throughout the years he keeps up with your status, informed in more and more depth as time goes on and his gossamer thin web within the palace grows thick and sturdy. he knows when you return, knows when the queen first notices you, knows how you claw your way up to become her close friend and most trusted confidant. he’d give you help where he could, but you hardly need it, and his faith in your abilities is unending.

he grows dahlias in the gardens of the hidden manor, and he tends to them meticulously. each one, he imagines, must be perfect; he knows they won’t be the ones he uses to propose but he refuses to let even one wilt before it’s time.

they’re for you, after all, even if you’ll never see them.

usurper!gojo masterlist

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #mine.🌧 #char.🌧 gojo #usurper!gojo

[randoimago]

can i ask for akechi hcs with a childhood friend s/o?

Fandom: Persona 5

Character(s): Akechi

Note(s): I feel like I've already done something like this for Akechi but I could be wrong (and if I did then it's been a while). But I'm happy to write these! Threw some fake dating in for you too!

Akechi

You were his rock when he lost his mom and ended up in the awful orphanage system. He tried to hide his tears from others, but he couldn't from you (not that he didn't try though).

Anytime he sees Shido's name in the paper or on the news, he gets so angry and he goes to you to rant and talk about how mad he is. You're first to know how badly he wants revenge.

And then he starts to grow distant. Yes, he still treasures you, but once he's unlocked his power and realized what he can do, well he doesn't want to involve you for your safety.

He becomes known as a detective prince. He's fawned over and friendly to everyone. You can tell he's faking it and it annoys him if you bring it up, but he shrugs it off and keeps that fake smile plastered on his face.

Akechi started dating you to hopefully get people to stop talking about his bachelor status. It helps that he's been friends with you for so long and so you have his trust. And he likes being able to just sigh and let his mask fall when he's alone with you.

He's seen with you in public for the publicity. Reporters are sold on the "childhood friends to lovers" story even if the dating is fake. Until it isn't. He can't help an unamused laugh when he realizes that he has actual feelings for you. Just more of his plans going askew.

You get to hear all of his complaining about the Phantom Thieves behind closed doors though (with his realizing his true feelings and fake dating you, he ended up opening up more). He still keeps the knowledge of palaces from you.

Akechi tries to keep you far away from Joker if he can. He doesn't trust the guy or like how he can't help the respect he has for him. Not to mention, he doesn't want Joker flirting with you.

Taglist:

@reo-the-leo @abellaheart-blog

#Anonymous #persona 5 x reader #akechi x reader #goro akechi x reader