#Belle is into it when Beast is a bit feral

[youkaiyume-art]

But first, they feast.

SPICY! (obviously)

In response to this month's patron request for some more (shocking) monsterf*cking.

Full, uncensored view exclusively on Patreon!

[ceruleancattail]

Taken

Nightfall Au

Nightfall Octavinelle x reader

Tw: blood, mentions of death

Normally, you’ll come at the break of dawn to unlock the Lantern. Lift up the metal grate, twist the keys in their respective holes. Before entering the premises to prepare for the day.

You’re the only employee. The only one with the keys, in fact.

So seeing the metal grate lifted up ever so slightly didn’t do much good for your heart. Throbbing wildly, thundering heartbeat blaring in both of your eardrums. Choking down a deep breath, you drew your legs into a squat, fingers tracing over the keyhole carefully.

The edges were jagged, bits of metal rising up like the fangs of some feral beast. They scratched against your fingertips, blades against skin. As if someone took a screwdriver to your door, breaking the lock.

Clutching your keys in between your knuckles, tightening your grip until veins reared their heads. Lines cutting through the back of your palm, zig-zagging like bolts of lightning.

A safety precaution, at least until you reach your counter. There’s a pistol concealed underneath, unknown to even your most loyal patrons. They might have taken it as an insult, and god knows what happens when their honour is slighted.

Why have a weapon so close at hand? They’re just customers at a cafe, it’s not like they’ll just start a brawl right there and then. Besides, you have them, don’t you? No one would dare mess with you, just give the word.

You can’t admit it to them. You can’t reveal the underlying fear that chilled your spine, rattling your very core. The way you tensed up whenever their gaze wandered to you, eyes narrowed like a predators’, staring down their next target.

You hated feeling like the prey in this fucked-up game they play.

Your eyelids flutter shut, before you yank the grate up. Metal cutting into your palm, the entire grey structure creaking in protest. When it clicked in place, you took your first look around.

The door was unlocked. A door chime strewn onto the floor, ribbons and bells spreading out like a corpse. Chairs was thrown around, standing in hazardous angles in the cafe. Tables turned about on their heads, legs hanging aimlessly in the air.

A struggle had certainly taken place on your premises. Pursing your lips, you took a step inside. A clatter accompanied that step. A quick glance down revealed ceramic fragments, sharp jagged shards lining the floor. A cup handle here, the shattered remains of a plate there.

Your grip tightened over your keys, the handle pressing deep into your palm. Deep enough for you to feel the sting, skin burning alight. Another step, navigating your way through the remains of the carnage.

A sharp squeak. Hinges turning with a sharp brisk movement. Tensing your shoulders, you raise your hands defensively. Heart thumping through your chest, throwing itself against the cage of bone and flesh that kept it confided.

A glint of silver. A pair of wire-framed glasses, perched on an artisan nose. Curls of grey flowed down his scalp, gently framing his face. A bemused expression, along with a small, polite smile. The man raised both of his hands in a gesture of surrender, footsteps sharp knocks against your cafe’s floors.

You raised your keys, clasping them like knuckle-dusters. Your only weapon in this scenario. How unfortunate, really.

The male slowed at the sight of your keys. He opted to stand right in front of your counter, shaking his head. A pair of misty eyes met your eyes. It was pale, unbearably so. As if both of his pupils were filled with illusions and smoke, curling seductively within that gaze. They beckoned you closer, pleading with you to look.

Look at him.

Gritting your teeth, you scowl. You’ve seen him enchant others with that gentle gaze of his. Those poor, unfortunate souls, as he called them. He’ll led them in an elaborate little dance, guiding them deeper, and deeper into his world.

Once you’ve realised just how far you’ve gone, it’s too late. There’s no turning back. The water hits you at once, the unbearable weight crushing your back, waves filling every crevice of your body. The ocean rushes into your nostrils, lungs set ablaze.

Oh, he’ll find a use for you, even after you’re gone. Human bodies sell well, if you know the right people. He always said that, before shooting you a sly little wink. As if it was a private joke both of you shared.

It disgusted you then. It’ll disgust you now.

Your voice thundered out from your gut, almost an animalistic growl.

“What are you doing here, Ashengrotto?”

A quick, theatrical clutch at his chest.

“Ah, I thought we were on a first name basis, my dear. It’s rather cold, hearing you call me that.”

You take another step forward.

“Answer the question, Azul.”

Azul’s lips twitched upwards, a crafty little grin. His hands clasped together, silk gloves covering both of his palms.

“I’m simply doing my part as a wonderful citizen of this beautiful city.”

“By breaking and entering?”

A light-hearted chuckle, as artificial as they came. Laced with something sinister. The sound sent chills racing down your spine, a chill spreading through its base.

“By ensuring that nothing happens to your lovely little store.”

The door was flung open once more. Slamming against the wall behind. A lanky figure leapt out of your kitchen, arms outstretched. They reached for you, engulfing you in their embrace.

A putrid metallic scent flooded your nostrils, stinging every last inch of your nose. Something warm clung to your skin, a gooey crimson substance. It leaked onto your clothes, dying them a myriad of scarlet.

Hands grasped at wherever they could reach. Holding on tight, as if you were the only thing in the world. The only thing that mattered, to him.

Mismatched eyes of ember and sepia glanced down at you, the effect of which was awfully jarring. The longer you stared at both, the more unease you felt.

Jabbing a fist into his ribs, you grunt in protest. An attempt to escape his clutches, no matter how futile it might serve to be. His grip only tightened, compressing your rib cage. A squeeze, that left you feeling nothing but his chest, his skin, his breath wafting onto your scalp.

Nothing but him.

A click of a tongue, slightly disgruntled. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Azul shaking his head. Brows creased into a frown. A much more genuine expression from the smile he greeted you with.

Despite yourself, you had to snort.

Guess the asshole had some heart after all.

“Floyd, I believe you’ve squeezed them for long enough.”

“Awww… but I’m so tired, Azul,”

Floyd groaned, yanking you closer to him. His voice trailed off into a petulant whine, stretching out Azul’s name in a plea. A childish tone, which contrasted heavily with the words that came right afterwards.

“The guy wasn’t easy to kill.”

Your blood ran cold. Stifling a cry, you thrusted the keys into his body, not caring where you hit. Floyd released you with a grunt, backing away. His eyes flicker to yours, a spark of maniac glee flaring to life.

“Shrimpy’s got a mean bite!”

Swinging to your left, you make a beeline to your counter. Shoes kicking aside all the debris, the stench of blood clinging onto your arms, your clothes. Stains, lingering wherever Floyd touched you. Marks of crimson that bloomed on your skin.

Ghastly flowers of scarlet, a mark of sin.

Hands slamming against the cool surface, you fumble under it desperately. Fingers tracing every inch of the counter, praying to whatever listened. Hoping to find the sturdy hilt of your pistol, locked and loaded.

Anything to protect yourself from them.

“Oya, oya. Looking for something?”

A deep chuckle, venom dripping with every sllyable. A hiss in your ears, acid dissolving every last trace of hope in that throbbing heart of yours.

A weight settled deep in your gut, plunging it into the darkness of the abyss. Whipping around, you came face to face with your pistol.

Angled directly under your chin. The metal was cold. Ice cold. Pressing into your skin, forcing your head upwards.

Forcing you to look at him. Jade Leech, with that dastardly smirk flickering over his lips. That painfully patronising gaze he gave you. There was pity in his eyes, yet even that was overshadowed by the cruel amusement twinkling within.

Arms snaked around your waist, Floyd taking hold once more. The sound of a single person’s applause, as Azul strolled to your immobilised form. Carefully, his fingers reached for your hand.

Deftly lifting it up, prising your fingers loose from your keys. One, by one. From the silk of his gloves, you could still feel the cut of his nails. Digging into the back of your palm, a warning.

Don’t move.

Don’t resist.

Not like you could, not with Jade pointing your own gun back at you, and Floyd’s arms tight around your waist. You couldn’t even breathe, let alone struggle against Azul’s touch. Horrible, how every graze of his fingers made your skin crawl, goosebumps bursting alive on both your arms respectively.

Eventually, he prises the keys free. Plucking them from your hand, Azul twirls it around his finger. They clatter, a cheerful chime. Before he pockets it, hiding them from your view.

“You don’t need these. Not anymore.”

Tilting his hand to the side, Jade drags the end of the gun up the side of your cheek. The very edge of the barrel tracing the curve of your face. Jade hums when it does this, a soft little melody.

As if it was his palm that was tenderly caressing your cheek, not a pistol. He chuckles, a careless sound, as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“We’ve decided that this neighbourhood is a little too dangerous for you. We would hate if you got hurt, darling.”

The last words were whispered in a sultry purr that made bile rise up your throat. The acidity lapping at your tongue, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Floyd squeezed your form, a little more firmly then what would be considered affectionate. It was more like how an eel would strangle prey, then an action of love. Was there a difference between the two for him? You were starting to doubt so.

His chin rested on your shoulder, as Floyd nuzzled into the crook of neck. His fangs brushing over your neck every so slightly, blades gliding across your skin. Just barely shy of piercing through, drawing blood.

As if you weren’t drenched enough.

“We’re taking you home, Shrimpy!”

Your eyes narrowed, scowl deepening. A headache was starting to form, the pain already gnawing at the very corner of your brain. Home? Certainly not yours.

A snarl tore itself free from your throat, a guttural sound.

“Let me go, you three.”

A sigh from Jade. A moan from Floyd, and a silent tut-tut-tut from Azul. All three of them fixed their eyes on you, a unspoken threat in their gaze.

“Neeeh? I don’t think so, shrimpy.”

Floyd hissed, nails digging deeper into your flesh.

“After all we’ve done for you, love? That’s a little cold.”

Jade crooned.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be safe, with us.”

Azul reassured you, with a sickeningly sweet tone that grated your eardrums.

They were the shadows of this world.

Men who lived in the dark, where the only law was the desire of these twisted individuals. What they wanted, they got with their own two hands.

It’s a pity that they set their sights on you.

[soapels]

HEYYYYY, I saw your requests open and I thought why not trying it. So, could you please please please write something with König and like, they're training or something and the reader or König (dc about who's going to do it) does that move that you take down the other person but you sit on their lap if you're not fast enough. And they're like panting from training.

I have more things in mind, so I'll be here for a while 😁

grim reaper

könig x female reader

content: slight suggestive themes, sfw, konig is down bad for reader but also a bit cheeky lol

hii nonnie! hehe i didnt know if u wanted sfw or otherwise, so i ended up somewhere right in the middle- or teasing at the latter, at least 😳 lol but i hope u enjoy!! i really love this idea so much! i wanna do this eventually with alejandro too ♡ good day! c:

all hearts, comments & reblogs are very appreciated!

König’s a tough guy.

Big, solid, more of a fucking mountain than a living breathing man, to be entirely honest- and it certainly don’t help when you put a gun in his hand- or worse, when his eyes are set on you.

Those shimmering blues are pretty, you can’t help but think even as he slowly rounds the mat with you. So pretty that they might succeed at distracting some poor bastard behind enemy lines, make them believe it’s an angel come to save ‘em from war rather than a ravenous, feral beast responding to the dinner bell.

There’s a reason he wears a hood.

All grim reapers do.

The air is somewhat thick between the two of you. Growingly tired. A healthy amount of sweat beading below your lighter fatigues.

You’re both a panting mess of missed punches and a few exchanged, light jabs. You managed to score a low kick at the back of his calf- perhaps your hardest hit yet- and it’s probably why he’s limping now. Just slightly.

It must still sting a bit, though. Because his delayed dodging time is enough for you to swoop in and pull the rug right out from beneath him, immediately pouncing on him as he falls.

Eager, you’re overwhelmingly eager to finish sparring, because while it’s fun being pitted up against Konig (he’s your favorite partner for these sessions), you’ve been at it for closer to an hour and supper will be served soon.

Straddling his waist, you pin his brawny arms back over his head, your smaller fingers struggling to wrap around his thick wrists.

He’s so much bigger, so much stronger, such a pain in the ass to immobilize.

And still, pinning him down on the mat, your hips anchored firmly over his- you know with one mindless buck, jerk, or thrash on his end, you’d go flying.

So it’s a mercy, really, hair hanging over your head and almost touching the tip of his nose, that instead of that- perpetuating the session and perhaps stinging your pride- Konig merely lies there beneath you.

Accepts it and you.

Lets out a little, breathy sort of giggle.

“Ah, you got me.” He surrenders, yet your hands must be completely deaf to his words because they don’t loosen at all.

His broad chest shakes with every heaving breath he takes, jostling you both, but it’s only when you feel him make an uncomfortable shift beneath you that you truly realize just how exhausted he is.

Blues eyes glinting tiredly through the holes of his hood, holding an odd little twinkle to them as he runs them over you— nervous, but curious, too.

So, so curious.

As if common sense hits you, you let a playful grin finally carve into your cheeks. “Did I?” You ask softly, and his head tilts some at you. “I’ve got the feeling you could switch our positions easily, if you really wanted to.”

He’s vaguely jittery, your sparring buddy, but when you make that mindless comment, for reasons beyond you, König visibly flusters, jerking his chin the other way.

His cheek rubs against the mat through his mask, mumbling a polite rebuttal.

“Y-You underestimate yourself, Y/n… You knocked me right off my feet! Isn’t that good?” His gaze does find yours again, then- quietly, “…I think you are good…”

It’s your turn to giggle.

The sound is pleasant, the sort of sound that he’d play on repeat if he could. But… those are feelings that the brute of a man is vaguely aware are offhanded, and certainly not the kind you divulge to your comrade.

So he nibbles on his lips, though you don’t see, and keeps quiet on it.

“Well, thank you, König,” your cheeks are a bit warm, either from tussling with him or just the fact that it’s him and not anyone else, you’re not so sure.

“I think you are good, too.”

Oh.

Oh.

That feels nice to hear… And your mouth looks so pretty when you say it, too.

You are beautiful, the man steadily comes to terms with- in one staggering, full gust of wind beneath you- you are so beautiful and you are straddling his hips and you said with your own tongue that he is good in your eyes.

You don’t know just what possesses him when he turns to you after, letting a nervous, yet deft hand rake the entirety of his hood over his head. But the truth is that he also doesn’t know why- or anything, to be fair, in that brilliant, awing moment- just that you are the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and he loves sparring with you and he can’t fully stop himself in time from saying—

“Yes,” he admits. “For you.”

And you are so startled by his sudden spur of confidence, and also the hint of a cheeky grin curling at his lips, that you are silent for a moment.

Stunned, perhaps.

An addicting, bubbly sort of feeling rises between you.

…S-Something else does, too, but lower— poking persistently at the start of your tummy.

You blink owlishly at the belated realization. So does he, all blue and hopeful yet also, apparently, growingly excited.

You clear your throat, slowly sliding off of his lap, praying to God your buddy doesn’t see the evident stirrings of something smitten on your face.

“H-How nice,” you murmur. And you mean it.

The both of you stand up, inconspicuously brushing off the fronts of your thighs, trading off see you in a bit’s and good spar’s, the male following shortly after you- sort of like a lost puppy- towards the shower block.

Washing off sounds nice- even better, settling down at the cafeteria and digging into his meaty portion of dinner- but to be entirely honest, he’s still basking in the sweet afterglow of his small (yet no less revolutionary) victory.

…Maybe he ought to let you win more often.

[masterqwertster]

It's actually kind of funny that Bells Hells is planning to infiltrate a moon full of psychics.

After all, their party includes:

The one Exaltant Ruidusborn who doesn't want to open the moon prison

THE Necromantic Bitch renting my brain's broom closet

Were-beast in a feral old man

Chaos fey

Robit personality split by stress

A normal Exandrian (with a boatload of grief)

And the piece de resistance

"It's very dangerous in there" half-beacon galaxy brain

Bells Hells "Stealth"ing their way through the moon is going to be Very Interesting when everyone can read their minds a bit.

[cyrojelly]

Snv! Lu Bu x Seductive! Reader

For the record, this is purely self-indulgent for me as I love that feral man!

- First and foremost, you two are gonna get side eyes and looks! Nobody has no clue how you two are together, with him being all feral and brutish while you are siren eyes and sparkles!

- Lu bu was initially attracted to your demeanor how you demand attention with your presence and how you take nothing from nobody but he fell in love with your sweet nature and how you're always so confident in him!

- You have no problems telling everyone you're together, and you're often seen hanging off his arm and will defend him to the ends of the heavens!

- Lu Bu will take you out to watch him train and / or train you to defend yourself when he's not around, though he's stoic and can get intense it's a fun time since he knows your not as strong as he is and is more gentle with you!

- In turn, you take him shopping with you he will hold all of your shopping bags without complaint and likes showing off his strength! Modeling clothing for him is a must, and he will greatly appreciate it! Man will practically throw money at anything you look at you want it, it's yours as I believe he'd have a lot of money as a war general!

- You get real touchy with him, always caressing him and telling him how gorgeous he is to you. He adores your praise! You once gushed to your friends about him over the phone, and he could almost swore he heard wedding bells!

- Other people and gods claim to have no clue what you see in him since their impression of him is a feral beast of a man that is always two seconds away from a rampage. Their not completely wrong but you like that feral side to him it makes for a very fun time (especially at night~).

- But you know there's more to him than that, and you will fight anyone who dares to talk down to your man! He will also bash anyone who talks down to you either. Yall are wild, but you're wild together and wouldn't trade each other for the world!

- He's not the most romantic guy out there and not really the best with his words, so he often shows you through action, either holding you close or gently biting you (you can't tell me he doesn't love bite during intimate moments) not to hurt but to mark you as his and since he knows you love it when he gets a bit playful!

- Your top supporters are Chen and lu bu's army they adore having you around since you make Lu Bu happy and because you're very sweet and help them convey things to lu bu that they're a bit too nervous to!

- Cuddling in bed is a must no matter how busy he is, he will always take time to hold you close and show you how much you mean to him!

- Since you are pretty seductive, a lot of people tend to take it the wrong way and believe your flirting even though you were just being nice and may attempt to pursue you further so yeah you've had a few stalkers in your life but lucky for you lu bu is now in the picture so all you have to do is say the word and your man is taking care of the issue!

- Overall, it's a very loving relationship despite what anyone thinks, and you'll go to the ends of the earth for each other! He's yours and your his!

_________________________________________

Thanks for reading, and let me know if you all want more, Lu bu! Have a great day! -Neo☆

[dateamonster]

I’m working on a my interpretation of beauty and and the beast and for now the things are:

-The setting is more goth like

-Miriam aka “belle” is an artist than a reader and wears glasses while drawing,she has a passion for fantasy scenarios and pretty dark for that period,she’ll start with very long hair but later they’ll get cut very short (Mary Shelly but artist)

-Beast is a basically a horror elk,a chimera of elk,jaguar/linx,lion,wolf and snake with bones bursting out of the body and jewelry adorning his antlers,earring,piercings,necklaces,brackets and chains on arms and tail and he’s covered with scars.Personality is more cold than angry and when he’s feral he’s a horror scenario (this dude mauls animals and maybe people)

-The servants are entities (every age,nationality and even animals “puppets-ghosts” burning from the inside,wearing their servants clothes and a mask that if you take out there’s a hole instead of a face but one that looks it came from analog horrors

-The curse was a deal the prince made with a particular enchantress aka Lilith wanting to rule the reign (be careful what you wish for) and it lasted for 100 years.In those years it spread out a legend of a castle inhabited by the devil itself if you get lost in the woods and see a white elk guiding you there

-The figure of Gaston is two royals that fight to marry “belle” one is more physical the other more manipulative and won’t lose opportunities to physically fondle her

-Miriam’s family follows the original story,father was a merchant in ruin and after the accident him,belle and her younger sister moved town to town.There’s more interaction and bonding between Beauty and her sister who’s a nun

-Religious horror

-Bit more of blood and spicy elements

-Nobody here is actually straight

-Mentions of mental illness and s****de

ive had this in my inbox for a minute (sorry!) and i decided im just gonna post as is with minimal commentary because i dont really know how to respond or if ur looking for feedback or what but i do think its cool how much youve thought about this and that it should get seen. best of luck with the writing!

[annaofthenorthernlights]

Well I’m working on a my interpretation of beauty and and the beast and for now the things are:

The setting is more goth like

Miriam aka “belle” is an artist than a reader and wears glasses while drawing,she has a passion for fantasy scenarios and pretty dark for that period,she’ll start with very long hair but later they’ll get cut very short

Beast is a basically a horror elk,a chimera of elk,linx/jaguar,wolf and snake with bones bursting out of the body and jewelry adorning his antlers,earring,piercings,necklaces,brackets and chains on arms and tail and he’s covered with scars.Personality is more cold than angry and when he’s feral he’s a horror scenario (this dude mauls animals and maybe people)

The servants are entities (every age,nationality and even animals) “puppets-ghosts” wearing their servants clothes and a mask that if you take out there’s a hole instead of a face but one that looks it came from analog horrors

The curse was a deal the prince made with a particular enchantress aka Lilith wanting to rule the reign (be careful what you wish for) and it lasted for 100 and legends spread about a castle being the devil’s house

The figure of Gaston is two royals that fight to marry “belle” one is more physical the other more manipulative and won’t lose opportunities to physically fondle her

Miriam’s family follows the original story,father was a merchant in ruin and after the accident him,belle and her younger sister moved town to town

Religious horror

Bit more of blood and spicy elements

Nobody here is actually straight

Mentions of mental illness and s****de

Hey there! I can tell your creative mind has been working "wildly", and I can see the art of yours unfolding!

Have fun bringing your headcanon to live!

[katyspersonal]

Brador 1, 2, 25, 7 <3

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

I like Brador a lot!! I love his design, for starters: both the very concept of a normal dude in normal suit putting a cleric beast scalp over himself and just his face underneath! Also a really mysterious character. A kind of misanthropic, likely nihilist philosopher that has a lot to say on life, human nature and society! I am a huge sucker for such characters.. even if within Soulsborne, this kind of deep insight (HA) on the world is usually misery and despair. What always draws me in is "a character worth talking to"!

He feels for me like someone that defends the (morally questionable) fundament of the Healing Church because he is blackpilled on how exposing the truth and changing the system will be just another pointless turn of the vicious cycle. Like... bro, you telling me you don't realize that Church's ways are doomed after witnessing Laurence (or another cleric) become a beast too? You might be a dumb bitch but you are not stupid! It strikes me more as him wanting the institution to run its natural course into dying, without extra panic or god forbid, a more corrupt person taking the mantle after Laurence's authority is crashed. But interpretation of him just being a very devout, lovestruck madman that stands with his (not yet) cancelled boss is fun and is good too! He is very depressing yet engaging character in either way!

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Weird, but I love how he secluded himself in the cell and haven't had anyone visit it in... decades, maybe? His real body is old! And only attacked via astral projection. I get this is just more efficient and safe seeing how the bells and curses work in Bloodborne setting, but why not ring the bell from the comfort of his bedroom or something? He either didn't even trust himself to keep his mouth shut, or it was the price he was willing to pay to never part with the beast hyde of the person he valued (because someone might connect the dots for all you know), or both!

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

I feel deja vu, I swear I said that somewhere already.. My first exposure to him was a portrait of him and some other hunters on a shared canvas, and he was depicted without the beast scalp! Seeing his (very flattering xd) portrait and title 'Brador the Church assassin' gave me an impression of a very serious, collected, handsome guy that'd just stalk the enemies and quietly kill them...

Well, turned out that he was a bit more feral than them, not to mention using not a poisoned dagger but an ass huge mace with the spikes made out of his own blood! 🤣 Not that I started to perceive him as, how kids call it, "skrungly scrimblo", but apparently some passion and madness got added to my initial much chill impression x) I like both the reality and the first impression, though! Guess you can't go wrong with the concept of an assassin in any way.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

Wait, fandom does things for this character?? WHERE????? /lh

Okay, I jest, Brador is just unfairly underrated xd But I fucking love the theory about him killing Laurence, it makes sense and it is the most heartbreaking one! ...until someone writes a very engaging and deep story between him and a cleric OC friend, I guess... I also enjoy when him and Maria interact! They are functionally doing the same thing, and share this "Fools do not become smart when they are given knowledge, they just become more dangerous fools" attitude.

Thank you for the ask! <:3

[tending-the-hearth]

enough with the "If I Can't Love Her" vs "Evermore" discourse, they're both the perfect songs for Adam at the times that they are sung!!! "Evermore" would never work after Belle runs off, and "If I Can't Love Her" would never work after she leaves to find Maurice!!!

before i do my lil song analysis, y'all better believe i adore both these songs equally!!! "Evermore" was the best song of the 2017 movie, and while the stage musical and Terrence Mann will both always always always have my heart, the first time i watched the "Evermore" scene i cried like a baby

if I can’t love her:

this song focuses on Adam's personally issues, his demons and his acknowledgement that what he did was wrong, but also calling out the Enchantress for maybe pushing things a bit too far

the point of the song is that Adam wants to learn to love but he's terrified (because he's never really experienced romantic love, due to the fact that he was ELEVEN when the curse was cast)

Adam is desperate, he knows the rose is wilting faster

He can fully see himself falling in love with Belle, hell, he's already half way there "when he says "act like a gentle man"???? my fucking heart)

he wants to love Belle, but he knows that it may fail, which is why he's scared

however, in his eyes, he knows that Belle will never love him back

he also realizes that he was wrong to lose his temper (he immediately apologizes to Belle after scaring her) and regrets his actions over the course of the first act

it's Adam's soliloquy, helping the audience to see him as human, not just some feral beast

evermore:

the MOST bittersweet song

it honestly starts of similarly to "If I Can't Love Her", with Adam acknowledging his faults, and knowing that he should have done better (which i absolutely love, bc Adam learning his lesson!!!! and growing as a person!!!!)

Adam's almost angry at himself for not realizing he loved Belle sooner, and he's angry that he let her in just to let her go before he knows if she loves him back

At this song, Adam realizes that he can love, but there's so much pain that he's almost blinded

the KEY CHANGE (theater bitches love a key change) from the song being anguished and melancholy to being bittersweet and hopeful???

Now, Adam's proud of himself! He did the thing no one believed he could do, fall in love, and he grew!!!

the line going from "she will still torment me" to "she will still inspire me", showing that Adam knows he's lucky to have been able to love Belle, even if it was for a brief moment!!

in conclusion, both these songs absolutely wreck my entire soul, and i just think that Adam's solos in the musical and live action movie deserve more attention <3

[missmeikakuna]

No One Loves Like Gaston Ch 7- Gaston/Beast fanfic

Rated: K+ (The plus is due to canon-compliant beer and violence. Other than that, I made it as family-friendly as I could.)

Fandom: Beauty and the Beast

Pairing Type: M/M

Pairings: Gaston/The Beast, Lumiere/Cogsworth

Potential content warnings: References to beer and light references to homophobia.

Description: Ah yes, a man falling for a male furry creature, a tale as old as time. Wait, what? In an alternate timeline, Gaston spots Maurice's horse before Belle does and decides to save Maurice to earn Belle's affection. He is so excited to do this that he forgets to bring weapons and, unable to win a fight against the Beast, he takes Maurice's place as the castle's prisoner.

The last thing he expected was for the Beast to have a kind and gentle side. After all, how could someone ever learn to love a beast, especially a man as intent on shielding his genuine emotions as Gaston?

Lumiere and Cogsworth bicker over the possibility of a relationship between Gaston and the Beast, becoming closer in the process. However, Lumiere keeps flirting with the feather duster, and Cogsworth is adamant that no relationship between two men could work.

Chapter 7: And they'll tell you whose team they prefer to be on

Out of all the things one could expect upon reentering the castle, the last thing Gaston anticipated was a horde of chattering household goods sweeping him off his feet and taking him to his room. On the way, brushes went through his hair and he coughed when perfume was sprayed into his mouth. He almost kicked some of the servants away but calmed himself when ideas of what the Beast would look like entered his mind.

Madame de la Grande Bouche put Gaston in a cream-collared golden coat nearly reaching his knees, embroidered by equally golden leaves. The vest underneath was also cream in hue. His coat, vest and white breeches and shirt fit him perfectly. 

He grunted when his hair was pulled back in a tight low ponytail with a golden bow. ‘Hey! Woudya mind-’

‘Care for a spot of tea, Sir?’ Mrs Potts offered. Chip leapt into Gaston’s hand, tiny in his thick fingers. Gaston was more of a beer man but he took a sip. Anything to calm his nerves. Which he certainly didn’t have.

He looked at himself in the mirror and licked his teeth to ensure they were clean. He beamed at himself. Perfect. As always.

Once he stood up, his head began spinning. He leaned on his hand, which was placed on his seat. He made a grave mistake: committing the great crime of thinking. Paintings of him and Belle, living in a cottage with several dogs and six or seven strapping boys, slowly burned to a crisp in his mind. The servants surrounded him, supporting him with whatever could pass as limbs. Gaston shook his head.

‘I’m fine,’ he said, flashing a grin at the servants. Remember, he was feeling no nerves. Zero. Zilch.

His head cleared a bit once the mental paintings were extinguished. He straightened his back, wrapped his hands around each coat lapel, and strode to the ballroom door. The Beast was waiting for him, wearing a similar outfit but in different colours. A cobalt jacket with a gold collar, a golden vest and black breeches. 

Unlike Gaston with his white stockings and brown shoes, the Beast wore nothing on his feet, showing his hind paws as per usual. The contrast between the put-together suit and the feral shoelessness caused a tiny skip in Gaston’s heartbeat. He almost chuckled at the sight, but then the Beast smiled at him like he was looking at a precious memento. That caused a few more skips in Gaston’s heartbeat.

The Beast held out his arm. Gaston hesitated but wrapped his arm around it, inviting the Beast to lead him to the dining room outside the ballroom. Red velvet curtains flanked a portrait depicting various statues that ran from just above the fireplace to the roof. Atop the mantle were two candelabras that did not appear to be living. 

Next to the fireplace was a long table covered with a smorgasbord of dishes. The scent of freshly cooked meat wafted through the air, the steam from the dishes collaborating with the candles to create a warm atmosphere. 

The Beast stood by the chair at one end, waiting for his brain to decide. Was he supposed to pull out a chair for a man? Was this in the code of chivalry his parents had tried to instil in him years ago?

Before he could even decide, Gaston sat in the seat and dropped his shoulders as he got comfortable. The Beast shuffled with his head hanging low towards the other side of the table.

He and Gaston, at first, tried to use their manners and daintily enjoy the delicacies before them with the appropriate cutlery. After a minute or so of awkward silence, they stared at each other, slowly smiling as the same idea popped into their heads.

They grabbed the food on their plate with their hands, stuffing it into their mouths. They tore food apart like children opening presents on Christmas morning. They couldn’t help but laugh at each other, even with their mouths full.

Watching the scene from behind the ajar doors, Cogsworth placed a hand over his open mouth, ticking several times a second.

Lumiere patted him on the shoulder from behind him. ‘Relax, it’s working.’ As if to prove himself right, he leaned forward to get a better look. He and Cogsworth were standing cheek-to-cheek.

The ticking somehow sped up even more. Lumiere backed away in worry. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m perfectly fine,’ Cogsworth spat, crossing his arms and breathing heavily until his ticking slowed.

‘Mon chéri,’ Lumiere began while caressing the number 9 on Cogsworth’s cheek. ‘You owe it to yourself to be a bit more honest.’

Cogsworth did not divulge any truths, but he did melt into Lumiere’s candle hand despite it not being lit. They stayed like that for so long that they forgot to return their attention to the messy eaters they were spying on.

That was until the Beast and Gaston stood and headed to the door. Lumiere and Cogsworth scuttled away.

The Beast opened the door to exit the dining room but Gaston insisted with his eyes that he open the doors to the ballroom.

Inside the vast marble room, a glittering golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, which was adorned with a painting of cherubs and birds.

A team of servants stood behind one of the pillars that held up the round balcony above everyone. They played an assortment of instruments, from violins to woodwinds to a miniature piano. Together they created a lush but gentle musical landscape for the two men to dance in.

The Beast and Gaston bowed before the Beast wrapped his arm around the other man’s waist and grabbed his hand.

Gaston opened his mouth to protest his role in the dance but the Beast swung him around and stepped forward to the rhythm of the piano. Gaston closed his mouth and smiled softly, placing his hand on his shoulder. As the Beast spun around with Gaston, he held his neck out and grinned at the servants as if to ask if they could see what was happening.

He got distracted by his own silent attempt at communication, something Gaston used to his advantage. He took the Beast’s arm and pulled it from its position behind his back, pulling it up onto his shoulder. Gaston then put his own arm behind the Beast’s waist and pushed him closer. The Beast was taken aback by these actions, but the proud, mischievous glint in Gaston’s eye convinced him to go along with it.

The violins swelled as the two continued dancing. The Beast’s hand was soft and snug. He must have bathed before that evening, judging by both the cushiony feeling of his fur and the fresh scent of thyme coming from him. The pair looked into each other’s eyes and forgot that anyone else was there.

The song ended and the dance partners bowed again. The Beast headed towards the glass door to the outside balcony and Gaston followed him as the blue-coated man opened it.

[masterqwertster]

Bells Howls AU

Based on the comment from 4-Sided Dive episode 12 about Bells Hells all being werewolves, with name at Aabria's wonderful suggestion.

Also, I'm a bit torn between making this an "Everyone had lycanthropy from the beginning" AU or a "Everyone decided to try Chetney's thing" AU.

Ashton does not get fuzzy when transformed. They instead get textured to mimic the appearance of fur, as is done with statues, because they're still made of stone and crystal and glass and gold

Laudna has/gets specialized ear cuffs so that they form ear points in her hybrid form as well. Which is ironic because while the clipped ears makes them look pointed as a human when uncovered, it takes the point off in hybrid form

Imogen is the most likely to go feral because if her mental barriers break, it's not just all the other voices getting in, it's the beast getting out too

Orym's senses are just ridiculously sharp, so he gets sensory overload at times. The group probably gifted him earmuffs and an accessory/piece of jewelry to pinch his nose shut to help

Fearne still has her horns in hybrid form and her mischief tail-wagging is a lot more obvious like that as well

Chetney gets old dog privileges, so if he's snappy enough the others will generally back off. Or they're going to pounce on him to play fight all the time when he's just trying to have a moment of peace

FCG is the only non-lycanthrope in the group. Partially because I don't think what is essentially a blood curse will take in someone without blood. Plus the logistics of transformation with unicycle locomotion. Plus FCG already having violent self-control issues. Partially because it would mean when everyone is transformed, he's the shortest by seven inches (+1ft of height when transformed brings Orym to 4'3" vs FCG at 3'8"), and this little bot is the one making sure Leash Laws are obeyed 😝

[jackrrabbit]

Canine /// Sesshomaru x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: Upon learning of his father’s affair, Sesshomaru lays waste to a human bordello as revenge…that is, until he discovers a better outlet for his frustrations.

Request: hi!!!!! i just finished your koga fic and i adored it omfggg 🤤🤤🤤 i was just wondering if i could request any 18+ content for sesshomaru with a fem!human reader? if not though no worries at all 💕💕

A/N: This request is almost 2 years old but I hope you’re still around <3 Takes place right after Sesshomaru finds out that the Inu no Taisho left his mother for a human woman, which Sesshomaru is not happy about lmao

imo this is the only good filth I’ve written in a while, hope you guys like it!! If you don’t I will cry lol

Tags/Warnings: dubcon/noncon, predator/prey dynamic, borderline yandere, geisha (sex worker) reader, degradation (anti-human), threats!!, fearplay!!, marking (bites, scratches, bruises) ft. a little bit of blood, dog demon/animalistic/feral stuff, possessiveness, breeding kink (mentioned but no follow-through), implied violence (not toward reader), historical inaccuracies, “girl”, in my brain all of the demons are at least 6’3 so jot that down

Quiet.

There’s a smell like burning, but only half of it is smoke. You can imagine it when you close your eyes. Candles, incense, hearth fire consuming everything it touches. But the other half—the other half is sharp and bitter and acidic. It stings down your throat when you inhale.

Quiet.

You can’t move. The dressing assistant added pins to your complex updo: long golden ornaments hung with strings of shining bells. It was beautiful. You’ve always admired the older girls who wear these, the way the angelic ringing announces their footsteps when they walk. It’s an honor to be wearing the same bells. But now you can’t move.

Quiet.

You hold your breath until you can’t anymore, and then let it out slowly. Shallowly. So carefully that it barely stirs the air. You can’t even hear yourself breathing, but maybe…maybe he can hear it anyway.

Or maybe it doesn’t matter.

Maybe he can smell you.

There are footsteps outside the thin paper wall that separates the room you’re hiding in from the hallway. They’re slow, light, measured. He’s not running—it’s the rest of you who are desperate, scattering like roaches in daylight to avoid him. And you’re the same, cowering in the corner of this empty room, drowning in the heavy silk of your kimono. Trying to convince yourself that the sour acid smell is so strong that you can’t make out the blood.

The footsteps halt just a few feet from where you’re hiding and your heart seizes when you hear them stop, wait. Listening. Listening for you. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating as loud as you can. Why did he stop?

He can hear you, you know he can hear you.

It’s too late. Your hands are shaking as you do it but you force yourself to sink into a bow, kneeling, facing the floor, even as you hear the scrape of wood sliding against wood. The door of the room opening. You’re not really sure why bowing feels right, but it does—half because some animal sense is telling you that this is no ordinary demon, and half because you’re too afraid to face your death directly, if that’s what he is. Your forehead almost meets the tatami mats and the bells in your hair chime lightly and his footsteps pad across the floor to stop in front of you. The burning smell thickens.

“Look at me, human.”

You don’t want to—you don’t want to look, but his voice is a command and there is no will in your body strong enough to deny it. You lift your head from the floor, still kneeling, and force yourself to meet his eyes.

A demon…?

You’re not sure. In the stories, demons are ugly. You’ve only ever seen them in scroll paintings: horrible slavering monsters, grotesque distortions of mundane beasts. Repulsive things. Less than human. But the demon in front of you (if he is a demon) is something else. He’s not human—you’d know that by the color of his eyes, if nothing else—but he’s beautiful. Colder and more beautiful than pure winter snow. As soon as your eyes meet his, you’re held captive; you couldn’t look away if you tried…

But that doesn’t mean you can’t smell the dark splatters of blood slashed in arcs over his clothing. Or the hissing miasma of poison issuing off his clawed nails.

“Girl…will you not attempt to run? Or do you believe I will grant you mercy if you beg for it?” His inhuman gaze travels down your body and you press your palms into the floor to make your shaking less obvious. “Are you not afraid? Answer me.”

“Yes,” you whisper. You’re terrified, paralyzed by fear and the overwhelming knowledge that you have never in your short life been closer to death than you are now. Even if you thought you could escape by running, you don’t think you could compel your muscles to move.

His eyes narrow. “You knelt before I entered the room.”

“I…yes…it was…” Your breath is coming quickly now, as if your lungs can’t get enough oxygen. Why is he talking to you? Isn’t he going to kill you? Will he tear you apart with his claws, or will he simply snap your neck?

“Speak clearly.”

You try, but your throat is seizing up with terror and your mind is going blank. The poison will probably hurt more…you picture him reaching toward you and digging the claws into your skin, letting the acid eat through your flesh… “I knelt…out of—out of respect…”

“Hm?” A flicker of an expression passes his face, but you can’t name it. “So here is a human who knows her place, at the feet of her superior. Your kind is usually so arrogant.”

If you were in your right mind you’d take offense at this demon having the nerve to call you arrogant, but you’re not foolish enough to anger a creature whose bare hands could tear you to pieces without a single thought. “Sir—sir, please—“

“Not ‘sir’. Lord. You speak to the inu daiyokai Sesshomaru, son of the Inu no Taisho, Lord of the Western Lands.”

Lord of the Western Lands? You’ve never heard of any such title, but you know not to question him. “My lord—” you gasp, and you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment because the heat behind your eyelids cannot be allowed to break. “My lord, please, is there anything I can do to serve you?”

“How could you serve me? What use could you possibly have?” Sesshomaru’s face remains impassive, but out of the corner of your eye you can tell that his hands are no longer glowing green with poison.

You don’t know what ridiculous idea you’ve latched onto in your desperation, but he doesn’t seem to be killing you yet, so you have no choice but to keep at it. “Th-this place is a teahouse! It would be an—an honor to entertain such an esteemed guest.”

“A teahouse,” he repeats.

You swallow and attempt to suppress the sense that you’re digging your own grave every time you speak. “Yes, my lord… I-I could perform a tea ceremony? Or if you would prefer to drink, I could pour for you. Or I could—I could play—“

You’re cut off by the sudden movement of Sesshomaru in front of you as he crouches to your level—you’d pull back, but as soon as the thought crosses your mind you feel his hand wrapping around your chin, tilting your face up. “The tea ceremony and shamisen…surely these are not your only talents, girl.”

Don’t move. Keep still. The sides of Sesshomaru’s long nails press lightly on the tender skin under your chin. You stare straight forward and don’t speak.

“I do not think I am mistaken.” His other hand comes up and you close your eyes, only to feel the pad pressing into your lower lip and then tracing the red makeup on your eyelids. “This is a whorehouse.” Sesshomaru’s voice is low, pensive, as if he’s talking to himself. His hand ghosts over your head and before you can register that he’s touched you, the pins and combs from your updo are ringing down against the floor and your hair is springing loose.

“…It is, my lord,” you answer after a beat, as it occurs to you for the first time that there may be something this demon is more interested in taking than your life.

“Stand,” Sesshomaru says, and when you’re too stunned to obey immediately, he grips you by the collar of your kimono and pulls you upright. Your knees almost buckle and he folds his arm behind your back, propping you up against him. “Calm yourself.”

The spikes on his breastplate push into your chest. You try to feel out for something reassuring—a crease in his brow, a flush in his cheeks, body heat, something human—but there is no trace of a flaw in his perfect composure. His hands are cool where they touch your skin. You have to…he wants…

But does he even want you? You tip your head up from his shoulder to face him and his lip curls like he’s about to snarl. There’s no heat in his gaze. His eyes are so cold that you feel gooseflesh stand up on your arms, as if a spirit is dragging its icy fingers down your spine. There’s no way he’s attracted to you—how could he be, when the expression on his face is nothing less than consummate disgust?

Sesshomaru does not want you. You’ve misinterpreted something. Because every sense in your body is telling you that when you look at him, you are looking into the face of someone who hates you. You are going to die, like the customers in the rooms next door, like the other girls who had the misfortune of coming across him before you did and trying to run. You are going to be killed.

You try to flinch back, put some space between the two of you, but his arm is rigid behind you and you aren’t given an inch. He eyes narrow a fraction and his grip tightens, thumb pressing into your spine through the many layers of your kimono. “Such a cowardly species. Even a geisha is so skittish.”

And then he grips your jaw and presses his mouth into yours.

Your pulse stutters and trips. The kiss is light, but Sesshomaru’s hold on your body isn’t. He pulls away and you suck in a dazed breath. “L-Lord Sesshomaru…”

“Undress me,” he orders.

///

Warm, Sesshomaru thinks. You’re warm.

Your heat pushes into him through your hands ghosting over his body as you fumble with the straps of his armor and then unfold the robe from your own narrow shoulders. When he had you pinned against his chest, he’d felt the warmth of your body even through every layer of fabric and metal that separated you from him. And when he kissed you, he’d felt that same sultry wet spread inside your mouth.

Perhaps this is why his father has come to prefer mortal women.

He stops you before you take off the last layer of his kimono. When you finally slip the last piece of clothing from your shoulders, Sesshomaru wastes no time in pulling your naked body into his, holding you by your shoulders when you try to stumble back from him. Your skin is fever-warm to his touch—you’re so pliant, so malleable—but you’re no less terrified than you were when he walked into this room and found you kneeling in front of the bedroll with your forehead pressed to the ground. You’ve been obedient, which is good. Your obedience is the only reason you’re alive. But your fear is wrapping around your body so thick he can smell it, and it’s making his blood rise.

His cock twitches where it’s pressed against your stomach through his clothing, and you suppress a gasp, but when he scratches the blunt edges of his fingernails over your skin you can’t hold back the squeak of surprise. Like a frightened rabbit, he thinks with—pleasure? Which is odd, and yet…

Seeing this human girl submitting, delicate and vulnerable and so obviously aware that she is beneath him, is a pleasure.

“Tell me, girl. Why do you fear me?”

You’re acutely aware of your own nakedness, not to mention his, especially when his cock is pressing insistently into your abdomen. Why is he asking you—? Of course you’re afraid. How many corpses did he leave on his path here? “You—you killed—“

“Not just that. You know to fear me. Your body knows. If I came upon you in the dark, if you were blind and deaf, you would still know to fear me.”

When he speaks, you can see flashes of his canines, sharper than any human’s. He’s right. You would know. “You’re a demon,” you murmur.

“And you are a human. A very weak one.” A claw traces your cheek and you shudder. “Your kind is prey to mine. Prey to be killed…and eaten.”

Are you going to be eaten?

“This is unnatural,” he muses under his breath, lowering his mouth to your throat. “Obscene.” You feel the brush of his lips on the artery in your neck and wonder if he can sense the pump of your blood, responding to his touch. “Sick.”

And then Sesshomaru—he nips that spot on your neck. The bite isn’t near hard enough to hurt, but it shocks you because you’ve never felt teeth so sharp against your skin. You whimper, and even to your own ears, it doesn’t sound like a whimper of pain.

“Despite every danger I pose to you, you seek pleasure. Humans are such base creatures.”

It’s not fair—it’s not even true, is it? You’re going along with this to appease him. You shake your head lightly, but you don’t resist when he pushes you down into the bedroll. Do you even want to resist?

Submit, your body is telling you. Submit. Submit.

You couldn’t resist. It would be impossible even if you tried. You barely have time to register him tipping his head to the side and and acknowledging your silence before the pressure on your arms increases and air whips through your hair and then the back of your head hits the mattress. Sesshomaru kneels on top of you, knees framing your hips, his loose kimono draping open to reveal a sliver of his pale chest.

“Do you mean to disagree with me?” The lack of inflection in his voice betrays nothing, but you scramble to deny it.

“No! No, my—my lord, please of course I—I’ll do whatever you want—ah!” You cut yourself off with a yelp as he reaches down and wraps his fingers around one of your thighs, unceremoniously dragging your leg up to wrap around his hip.

“But this is what you want.” Sesshomaru reaches down to your cunt and slides two fingers up against your slit, slow and careful so that his nails don’t touch you.

This part is warm too. Warm and wet and sticky, coating his fingers in clear liquid. You must be able to feel how wet you are—and you do, judging by the way your body is squirming and wriggling every time his touch passes over your clit.

Ah…you should stop squirming. For your own good. The feeble little movements of your body underneath his just make him want to pin you harder, force you to be still, force you to surrender.

You buck your hips up against the movement of his hand, wary of his nails but unable to keep yourself from pushing your clit against his fingers. It doesn’t make sense. You’re still scared of him—every time your gaze crosses his, you’re reminded that the man between your legs isn’t even really a man. He’s a demon.

A demon, a demon…

A demon’s fingers are caressing the length of your slit. A demon is crouching over you, covering your chest with his while you rock yourself into him. A demon is lowering his face into your shoulder, breathing in and lapping at your skin like he can smell you. Like he can taste you. Which, you think belatedly (because most of your attention is focused on the things Sesshomaru is doing between your legs), he probably can.

“What…what are you doing,” you gasp halfheartedly as he licks again at the side of your neck. Maybe you shouldn’t ask, but you still haven’t ruled out the possibility that he’s going to eat you, and you’d at least like to know if that’s what he’s preparing for.

To your surprise, he looks…taken aback? It’s hard to tell when his expression changes so little, but he pulls back from you and takes his hand away from your cunt, leaving you feeling needy and anxious. “Humans lack marking customs? How vulgar.”

“Marking…?” you ask. Sesshomaru sits up away from you and you quickly prop yourself up on your hands and draw your legs back toward yourself so you’re sitting in front of him. He sounded displeased. You can’t—you have to give him what he wants. “We do, my lord! Humans—we can leave marks, if, if you would like—“

“Show me.”

You wait a moment and he doesn’t move, so you hesitantly crawl toward him, dragging out each step and letting your knees sink into the cushions because you have no idea if you’re doing the right thing or signing your own death warrant. You reach out, but your hand stills before you can touch him. ‘Marking’ is juvenile, isn’t it? Kiss marks are usually forbidden for customers; they’re considered unprofessional in your line of work. But that’s human ettiquette. Perhaps for demons, it’s something entirely different. Sesshomaru did call himself inu daiyokai—a dog demon, then.

Gathering up the measly courage you still possess, you pick up the collar of Sesshomaru’s kimono and pull it to the side, exposing a patch of the pristine skin where his neck meets his shoulder. He doesn’t move to assist you, so you have to climb into his lap to get close enough. You brush away a few strands of his hair—so long!—and set your mouth against his skin.

How hard should you…? Well, he’s a demon lord, so you doubt you’re capable of harming him. Still, you bite and suck carefully, only increasing the pressure when you feel no sign of resistance from Sesshomaru. When you’re satisfied, you pull back and assess the small bloom of purple-red standing out in stark contrast to his pale skin. Half bite mark, half bruise—you haven’t done this in years, but this is what he wanted, isn’t it?

“This is a human mark?” Sesshomaru’s face is inscrutable as he pets the place where you left the hickey.

You nod slowly. “Is it—is it not good enough?”

“It is faint. But I cannot expect more from a mortal.” His hand moves to your chin, forcing your jaw open so he can push a few clawed fingers between your lips and run them over your canines. “Your teeth are blunt. Useless.”

He pushes his fingers deeper over your teeth and you feel saliva gathering on your tongue, an involuntary response to your efforts to keep your mouth open and still. You can taste yourself…the juices from your cunt on his fingers. “L-Lord—Lord Sesshomaru,” you stutter when he finally pulls them out.

You’re so warm, so soft. Like sinking into bathwater. Sesshomaru wants to be inside you.

“Lie down,” he commands, and when you tentatively lower yourself onto your back he releases a barely-audible sigh of annoyance. “On your stomach, girl.”

You must take a second too long to comply with the command, because in the next moment you feel Sesshomaru above you, flipping you over as easily as if you were made out of paper. You squeak in surprise—the smooth cold of his touch, the edges of his inhumanly long nails grazing over your skin—but that doesn’t stop him from effortlessly pulling your body into alignment with his: him above you and you lying on your belly with your back arched so that your hips can meet his. You squirm your hands under your torso and try to lift yourself off the bedroll, but he pushes you back down without mercy. “Do not test me.”

“No—n-never, never, my lord,” you gasp out as his hand curls around your hip, just as you feel the hard length of him press against your backside and then—slowly, slowly, slide into your cunt. Fuck—this is happening, it’s really—happening, this demon is fucking you. You’re terrified, but you can also feel the slickness of your pussy stretching around him, your body subconsciously giving in to the unwavering dominance of the demon—the man—on top of you.

“Are you still frightened…? And yet you respond so easily,” he says, stroking up the length of your side again and feeling you shiver.

“Yes, I...yes?” You squeeze your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation and trying to drive out everything else. He’s big—pushing you to your limits trying to fit his cock inside and you don’t even sense his hips against you yet. And the feeling—cool, uncomfortably cool in a way that sets every nerve on edge, overly sensitive to every deep place where your body meets his.

It’s like—you can’t even describe it, you know you have to be quiet and obedient for him but your instincts are pulling you in every direction at once—you want to run you want to hide you want to rock your hips back and feel him bottom out, make him fuck you like an animal—and this thought combined with the friction of his cock over that patch inside your drooling walls forces a whine out of your mouth. Apparently he likes it—two fingers pet over your clit and the muscles of your cunt twitch desperately, begging to be filled.

With his body curled over yours like this, you must be able to feel the rumble of his breath as he growls in pleasure. You were—you are better than perfect, your kind, your race—or maybe it’s just you. Your body, the warm wet softness of it. Taking him in, dripping around him as he starts to pump in and out of you, pushing his cock a little deeper with each thrust. Your breath is laced with the high-pitched whimpers and moans you’re not able to suppress, and it’s strange—earlier the sound of your voice (so pathetic, so human) disgusted him, but now?

“Such a weak little thing,” Sesshomaru says, voice low and intoned with something like approval. “I know it hurts…”

You bite your lip roughly and shudder as the head of his thick cock kisses against your womb. It does hurt—you’re no innocent maiden, and it isn’t as if you’re not used to clients being much rougher with you than this, but you’ve never felt so helpless… You can’t even adjust to him, can’t even pull away from him on the plush bedroll because he’s holding you in place, positioning you as his tame little toy with his nails scraping threateningly against the top layer of your skin every time you try to move…

“…but you take me very well. Like your body was made for this—to be bred like this.”

The pace of his thrusts is picking up, knocking your breath into sync every time the weight of his body slaps against yours. His own breath is getting heavier too—you start at the feeling of him folding his torso lower against you, locks of hair spilling over your side in a silver curtain. Once again you want to pull yourself up off the futon, but he isn’t going to let you—a pale hand layers over yours, tendons flexing as he laces his fingers into the spaces between yours. And your nerves are wound so tight with what you’re feeling—the pleasure, the fear, all of it pulling you tight like a harp string—that you aren’t paying quite enough attention to what you’re hearing, until you realize—

Like your body was made to be bred like this.

If you had the strength to actually pull yourself away from the punishing force of him fucking you, you would now; as it stands, you’re too weak to do more than pull uselessly at his grip and shake your head. “No—m-my lord, please—I can’t, my lord, p-please don’t—“

A cold laugh, one that sounds like anger, and Sesshomaru presses the flat of his hand to your stomach, feeling out the path of his cock pushing into your tight, plush body. “Insolent girl. You demand me that I mate for pleasure alone, like—a human…? Your species…your arrogance knows no bounds…”

“Please,” you moan softly. The weight of him—on top of you, inside you, everywhere you can feel—is driving you out of your mind. He’s going to—mate, like he said, he’s going to spend himself deep in your cunt and breed you. “Please—please, I can’t, I can’t—“

The distress in your voice is almost unsettling to Sesshomaru, and this reaction catches him off guard—it’s the intimacy of this action, of fucking you like a legitimate mate (you! a girl, a human, so powerless that resisting him has barely occurred to you!) that’s forcing him to be aware of your fragile emotional state. But demons—dog demons especially—are more attuned to their instincts than humans, the physical responses of their bodies and their partners’, and everything in your body is screaming out acquiescence, submission, fertility.

“Liar…” Sesshomaru murmurs, petting again over your womb and rolling his hips into yours. You’re so wet that he can hear the sounds of your coupling echoing over the walls, the slap of flesh against flesh from where your cunt has dripped slick down your trembling thighs. The sweet, dizzying scent of your arousal (and his) is so thick in the air that he can barely smell the rancid smoke and blood outside—every time he inhales, he feels almost intoxicated by it. You’re not quite in your heat but there’s an edge of it in your natural scent, something rich and heavy underneath all the layers of perfume and oils decorating your skin.

He didn’t come here, to the mortal world, with the intent to mate with a human. Certainly not with the intent to breed her, but…

Sesshomaru takes a deep sigh again and swirls a fingertip over the little bud of nerves at the top of your slit and everything in you convulses, squeezing down on his cock so tight that for a second he can barely move. At this point, there isn’t much that could stop him from finishing inside you, even if he wanted to.

“—please, please—”

…Well, there isn’t much, but the incessant reminder of his instinct to treat the soft, vulnerable body underneath him as a proper mate doesn’t seem to be letting up. The obvious pleasure you’re feeling from having your cunt filled up like this hasn’t stopped you from continuing to whimper and shake your head in denial of what your body is telling you. Your distress seems to be bordering on helplessness now—he can smell it on you—a bitterness folded into that irresistible sweet, and even though he wants to ignore it…

For your part—it doesn’t feel right, none of this—it’s like what he was saying earlier, how this is obscene and you know deep in your core that he’s right. A demon, a dog demon, fucking you like he owns you, ruining your pussy and digging shallow scratches into you to hold you in place—breeding you—you should be afraid, and you are. You should want to cry, and you do. But you shouldn’t like it like this at the same time—you shouldn’t feel your cunt fluttering around him, shouldn’t feel your juices slipping over your body and his, you shouldn’t be wishing he would let you move just a little so you could move your hips back, fuck yourself on his cock like you’re supposed to—how can you want this, both of these things, stop and don’t stop, pull out and cum inside so deep you’re marked with it—

Your head is spinning. You’re too dizzy to think but you hold onto this knowledge, the only certainty you have left: it’s wrong. You can’t you can’t. There’s nothing you can do to stop him but you can’t keep yourself from pleading senselessly with what little breath you’re able to articulate— “please—please—my lord—Sesshomaru—please don’t…”

—and just when you don’t think you can take it any longer, it turns out that he’s at his limit too. The demon growls and brushes your hair away from the side of your neck so he can nuzzle into your pulse point, lap at the thin layer of sweat collecting there. “Quiet,” he hisses, voice labored. “I will not—I have no intention of…fathering…a bastard.”

“Oh—ohhh…” you whine, letting some of the panic drain out of you. You’re not—he won’t—thank god, thank god… The broad muscle of his tongue runs stripes across the side of your throat in a manner that you almost understand is supposed to be comforting, and he keeps rubbing at your clit, coaxing something out of you that you don’t think you should be allowed to give. You want to ask why—why is he stopping himself? why is he touching you? why does he care?—but you know better.

Sesshomaru’s teeth are too close to your neck like this. He should pull back, shouldn’t tempt himself…he knows this, and yet. The smell of you, your relief, your pleasure, the climax that he can feel creeping up on you through the tension in your muscles. It would be unnatural not to do it. The faint little bruise you left on him when he asked about human marking customs is probably already healed, but there’s a phantom ache on his throat reminding him of it—proof that you have no idea what a true mark is supposed to look like.

If he marked you, it would probably take weeks to heal…months. He knows humans are such fragile creatures—it would leave a permanent scar, wouldn’t it? A reminder etched into your skin with his teeth, his claim, his subjugation of you. A demon lord’s power over a human woman. As it should be…why would you be permitted to forget?

He drags the length of his cock out and pushes back in slowly, feeling your insides stretch around him and paying special attention to the way your legs quiver like a newborn foal’s when his cockhead presses against that gummy patch in your inner walls. You’re close to finishing—the fluttering of your cunt and the needy twitch of your hips is proof enough of that. The marking will hurt, but you’ll have to take it well enough when you’re creaming yourself around him.

The fingertips massaging your clit speed up, and you choke out a moan. “Oh—it feels—my lord, please, I—I’m going to—“

Without a hitch in his relentless pace, Sesshomaru pulls back from where he’s been laving over your neck so he can speak lowly into your ear. “This will be painful…”

…What? you think, too focused on the way he’s touching you, fucking you, building up your orgasm to really care what he’s saying. Just like that—just a second more and I’ll—

“Endure it,” Sesshomaru commands, and just as you feel yourself tip over the edge and lose yourself in pleasure, there’s a surge of something behind you, on top of you—some energy, something that makes every hair on your body stand on end because of how inhuman it is, and then—

—ah, it hurts, it hurts…

he’s biting you, teeth puncturing the skin of your shoulder and holding you down in this position of undeniable surrender. The pain is overwhelmed by your sopping cunt clenching around him, all of the sensation rolled together and crashing over you like a wave—and you feel it, feel yourself go under for a second—your vision winking to black as you open your mouth and wordlessly keen like an animal. Tears prick your eyes (from the pain in your shoulder or the force of your climax—you can’t even tell the difference at this point) and you try to pull back and wipe your face but you’re too weak for it. Sesshomaru’s arm is flexed, still holding your hand down and locking you in position. He pulls back from your neck and you can hear his own breath falling out of rhythm, the uncontrolled jerks of his hips into you as your pussy seizes up on his cock.

It takes a moment—a long moment, maybe even longer than that—before you’re able to muster up the strength to speak, but he’s lapping at the mark on your neck and every time his tongue passes over it, the sharp ache of the wound lessens by a fraction. “Did you—was that a demon mark? You marked me?”

Sesshomaru’s chest moves slowly as he pulls out of you and forces his breath to calm—he hasn’t done this in a long time, hasn’t had reason to—and the sight of the claiming mark is waking up something predatory in his blood. He feels—closer to his true form than he should in this appearance; the demon blood is racing through him, youki prickling over his skin and drawing him into you, into the place where his teeth were sunk in your neck—(he did try, he tried to hold back) but even so it’s more pronounced on you than it would be on a demon: a ring of shallow red welts punctuated with the harsher points where his canines drew blood, the flesh puffed and bruised darker than the surrounding skin. Such things are meant to be temporary and periodically renewed between mates, but yours will be permanent.

And still. Still. He wants to do it again. Leave proof of his ownership on every patch of untouched skin on you. Ruin you for anyone else who sees you like this—better, better yet, make sure he is the last, the only one who will ever see you like this, have you like this, ever again.

You asked something. She asked something. Your heart is beating like you’re afraid. You asked if he marked you. He can taste your blood in the air. Sesshomaru’s mouth moves and it wants to speak in the voice of an animal, of a demon, but you won’t understand. “…Yes.”

Oh…he wants to look at you, wants to see the evidence of what he’s done to you in your face. Humans have so little control over what they let themselves feel. “Look at me,” he says, and despite the tremors still passing over you, you tentatively raise yourself up on an arm and twist to look back at him.

The second you reluctantly meet his gaze, your meek expression shifts into horror. “L-Lord—Sesshomaru? Your eyes…”

And it’s then that Sesshomaru realizes what he’s done, what he’s doing. He’s sustained the partial transformation he took in order to mark you, and you’re seeing it now—the scarlet eyes, the exaggerated markings, the sharp canines, each feature a shade closer to his genuine youkai form. You flip onto your back and then edge back on the bedroll, but he feels you—trying to get away, she can’t—and pushes you back down to hover above. “Did you forget…what I am, girl?”

Human speech feels like a labor—his mouth should be touching you, tasting—marking you. Again. He should be inside you, feeling your soft, sticky cunt bathing him in warmth. Here, listen, you’re a human but it doesn’t matter now. You can take it because you will, you have to. You came so quickly—it must be easier, faster for humans than demons—and Sesshomaru wonders idly how many times you’ll cum before he does, whether you’ll be able to hold yourself together or—

No—no. A stubborn drop of blood wells up in one of the welts on your shoulder and then smears down, leaving a trail of rich red on your skin until Sesshomaru lowers himself down to lick it clean, letting the smell, the taste of you spread over his mouth. He won’t let you. He won’t let you fall apart. You don’t have a choice.

And—whether he realizes it or not—neither does he.

[introloves]

can't stop thinking about bo fucking the reader in a press and they (completely fucked out of their minds off dick) utter the phrase 'gonna make u a daddy' and bo loses his shit xx

soft dom! bokuto + HEAVY BREEDING + creampie + overstimulation + messy sex + f! reader

it always makes him freeze up- even when your body keeps pushing back againts the hold he’s put you in, body seizing in the orgasm hes fucking from your poor overstimulated body. he heard it like a bell, even through the heavy and thick lust his mind is tainted in- but still looks at you with a raised eyebrow, panting out a choked and strained version of your name.

“s-say it again.” bokuto mumbles, having to clear his throat from the rough and gravely tone his voice comes out in.

“wh- what?” you squeal out, still reeling from the orgasm, unable to properly think in how fucked out you are, a heavy and thick wetness trailing inbetween the seam of your ass as you squirm, looking up at his face- watching the excited and near feral look adorning it.

he cant help but be a little disappointed, thinks you just need to be put back into the state of mind you said it in, so with a hitched breath he grabs your limp legs once again, adjusting the slipping hold he had on you and perches your ankles on his shoulders.

the first pump inside is wet- squelching, heated throbbing eagerly bringing his fat cock back into your fluttering walls.

his tongue is heavy with lust, unable to communicate anything to you- leaving you to figure it out yourself, its not until you’re once again trembling that you remember. miraculously breathing out a shaky breath, carrying your words- the same ones that had his heart thump wildly in his chest, tummy tugging in pure arousal when he hears it again, cock twitching over and over, not cumming /yet/ but so desperately wanting to.

“‘m gunna make you a daddy.” you whisper once more, bringing your hands to his biceps, fingernails pinching into his bicep, spurring him on through the pain.

the second time he hears it, truly hears it- he all but cums, pulling out with a shaky and high pitched groan before swinging his hips back down onto your trembling body.

maybe hes sorry, watching your eyes roll back, tongue lull out of your mouth when he does- but the pleasure coursing through his veins doenst let him stop. hes got you anyways, limbs gone limp while he fucks into you, the mess of orgasms painting his pubes, thighs and balls- all accompanying the sharp sound of wetness as he plows over and over.

you wouldn’t know, however- because even as youre squealing that its too much, using the last bit of strength you had to let him know, he simply coos out a,

“i-its okay- youre okay sweet girl... you said you’d make me a daddy... i’m gunna- i’m gunna cum, and then it’ll be okay.”

while his words strain against his throat, he does exactly that. throbbing dick finally sinking in for a final time- thinking theres nothing better than this, watching your creamy cunt struggle to fit all the cum inside, only further making a mess by pumping his overstimulated cock back in, tutting at the internal struggle playing within him. he wanted to keep it all inside you, but the wet squelch is too good to give up, wanting to give his baby the best and messiest orgasm.

it takes another second for him to come down, sturdy hands slipping your legs from his shoulder- thumbs rubbing the fat of your legs, cooing at the way they fall limp onto the bed.

he apologizes with kisses, bending his body down to kiss your sweaty forehead- soothing back any of your hair, watching with pinched consetration as you take in lungful after lungful of air, blinking away tears to watch him dote over your near unresponsive body.

“its okay... ‘m okay.” your response finally has him relax too, a large beaming smile overtaking his features, truly happy at how wonderful you are- taking him so well, fully knowing he fucks like a beast. but you’re his baby, he knows deep down you can take him, body made for no one else but him.

[black-dragon1998]

Life at castle Dimitrescu (prologue)

Summary: Story of how (Y/N) ended up in castle Dimitrescu and in to the Lady’s good grace.

Warnings: slight discription of mutulation.

also read Life at Castle Dimitrescu

You pull the thin coat tighter around your shoulders as the harsh wind around you picks up. The desolated land covered in snow and ice did nothing to shield you from the weather. Your only salvation is a small town in the far distance with a huge castle looming over it. That was if you made it that far before you crumbled to the ground.

As the storm picks up, you try to speedily get to the village before you completely collapse and the cold winter takes your life. Usually, you would have crossed the distance in an instant, but your fight with the wolfman from earlier had left you drained. Add to that that you were running on the bare minimum in energy when you came to this country you didn't know how much more you could take? In this state, you were barely stronger than a mere human. With your injury, blood loss and haven't fed in more than a week. You feared becoming feral, and who knew what would happen then. Probably the slaughter of the whole village to sate your thirst.

Roaming through the desolated streets of the village, you could hear rustling in the bushes around you. The closer you got to the castle, the fewer houses there, more forest took over, and the louder the growling around you became. Suddenly a huge bulky figure launched itself at you from the dark woods and tried to restart your inner flame from which you drew power to manifest your demon form. You attack the beast head-on and rack tour claws over its face using your last bit of energy. He cries out in pain before he hits you with his massive hammer, knocking you several feet into the air and making you come skitting down on the cold ground.

Laying on the snow-covered ground, you can't do anything but look at the starless sky with a blurry vision. The snow around you is getting soaked with your blood, but you are too tired to care. The scratch you left on the beasts face must have scared it away. It seems like you were dying a slow, painful death in this godforsaken land. Not how you would have imagined returning to hell. You had many close encounters in your time on the mortal plane, but this was far out the most pathetic way of dying and only because you refused to feed. Maybe your time around humans had made you soft, and for what. To get stabbed in the back by those maggots the moment they learn what you were.

No! if you survived this, you wouldn't sympathise with them anymore. That did implicate you had to survive this.

Suddenly a dark shadow loomed over you. From what you could tell, they were taller than the average human, much taller.

"my, my, look at you. It seems like my brother's toys have done a number on you." A feminine voice sang in your ear when she picked you up and slung you over her shoulder.

"I hope you survive, little one. My daughters haven't had a plaything in ages, and a lost maiden might be just what they need." A million alarm bells were going off in your head, Who was this woman, and what would her daughters do with you. One thing was sure they weren't human, and staying alive might be more challenging than you thought.

  You woke up to a stale taste in your mouth and an annoying dripping in your ears. Where were you? You jump into an upright position when your tastebuds recognise the blood in your mouth, not just any kind of blood, human blood. From the way your internal flame had rekindled, you had been laying under it for a while. It had been so long since you had human blood you almost forgot what it tasted like. Whipping your thump over your lips, you take a whiff of the blood and say it came from a young man in his early twenties. It wasn't the best, and it also wasn't the worst you had ever had.

"We have a strange on our hand's sisters. She didn't scream like I hoped she would." A female voice pierced the shadows surrounding you, making you take in your surroundings more. You were in a tiny cell. Suddenly three bodies emerged out of a swarm of bugs, and you moved your body into a crouching position to dodge more easily. The blood had almost fully recovered you, and if they wanted a fight, you would give them one.

Trying to sniff the air to determine what kind of creatures they are, the only scent filling your nostrils is moult mixed with blood and rotting flesh. Not one to shy away from human flesh from time to time, even you draw the line at rotting meat.

You eye the three girls in front of you with weary eyes. They are all dressed in the same manner, black dress with a hood over their heads. The blond looked the most composed of all three, the redhead looked excited, and the brunette just looked crazy. You had a distorted vision when you tried to see in their souls, and that had never happened before. It was like bugs surrounded them. What was all of this, first you had a giantess and now these crazy girls?

"She looks a little confused, sisters." The redhead said while taking a step closer to you. This made the other two snicker like it was an inside joke you weren't in on. When you saw they stayed a few feet away, you relaxed a bit. They hadn't done anything malicious besides trying to scare you. They even fed you blood to recover, although that was probably unintentional.

"Why am I brought here?" your question seems to spark their amusement even more, and they started cackling.

"mother brought you to us. She found you in the snow bleeding to death. Yet your wounds seem to have health, so little mouse wanna tell us what you are?" the blond asked, instead of answering though you just stared at them. They had to come with some more convincing words if they wanted you to spill the bean,

"I have had enough of this. Let's just carve them up and watch them bleed." The brunette says while launching at you with a sicle. Jup definitely the crazy one. Before her sicle could reach you, your body disappeared in a cloud of black mist and rematerialised a couple of feet away. You were still too weak to conjure some of your significant powers, so for now, you can only dodge.

The three sisters looked at you in a split second of confusion before all three at you at the same time. Just like before, you disappeared in black mist and dodged them. After a couple of moments, it started to feel like a game of tag. The girls would chase, and just at the last moment, you would disappear. Your little game had brought you out of the cellars and through a kitchen into a grand hall, and it seems you ended up in some castle. Very Bram Stockerery.

Where the cellars were damp and mouldy, the castle itself was warm and, may you say, cosy. Every nacks, and crony looked expensive. Whoever lived here was rich, even under rich standards.

"I have to hand it to you three. You are fast. Not a lot of creatures can keep up with me, and I haven't had this much fun in ages." You say while lounging in one of the armchairs in the hall. The three sisters looked at you with frustrated snarls. In your little run-around, you had observed the three of them, and you don't think they are all that scary. Especially the redhead, she was kind of cute.

Your fun, however, seemed to be cut short as the house's matriarch appeared at the top of the stairs. She was the tall figure that had carried you here.

"daughters, what is all this commotion? I thought you were downstairs with our new guest I brought home." The very tall woman spoke in a voice that demanded respect. When you looked at her, she had this 1920's air around her. The dress she was wearing seemed to be glued to her massive figure. Only a handful of who could demand respect from you, and this Lady was one of them.

"We were mother, but it seems she has some teleportation power, and all her wounds have healed." The blond explained. This did seem to catch the giantess's attention. Golden eyes bored into your ruby red ones. You couldn't help but give her a small smile that showed just a little too many teeth. The brunette chooses that moment to launch herself at you again.

This time you rematerialised on the railing close the Lady of the house. If she was surprised, she didn't show it and looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"you are the one who brought me here?" you put a little more power in your words, but that didn't seem to impress the lady one bit. You might have been acting like an annoying little imp, and that probably had something to do with it. She only gives you a slight nod in acknowledgement.

"why?" nobody had ever saved you from any predicament, so you are a bit sceptic.

"you were bleeding out in my garden. I figured if you died, my daughters could consume your flesh, and if you lived, they could have their fun with you." You couldn't help but laugh, and the explanation was far more acceptable than her doing it from the kindness of her heart.

"I think she is as crazy as Cass." You heard the redhead whisper to the blond, and the brunette, probably Cass, scoffed. Yes, these four women were family.

"even though one of those options sounds like a lot of fun, I am afraid I will have to take my leave. Thanks for the blood, and it kickstarted my body. Now, I'll have to find the reached beast from before and give him my regards for leaving me like that." You explain to the Lady while standing on the railing and give her a polite bow, which she seems to accept. That or she figured out she wouldn't be able to stop you even if she tried. Maybe after you dealt with the problem at hand, you would return and get to know them better. A game of tag was always fun.

"What is your name ?" the Lady asked.

"my name is (Y/N) (L/N), my Lady, if I may be as bold to ask yours." At your show of manners, the Lady of the house raised an eyebrow and just when you thought she wouldn't give you an answer, she spoke again.

"my name is Lady Alcina Dimitrescu, but you call me Lady Dimitrescu, and these are my three daughters." She said, pointing at each one.

"Bella, my oldest." The blond.

"Cassandra, my middle one." The brunette.

"and Daniela, my youngest." The beautiful redhead. At their mother's introduction, they each gave you a polite bow. After that, you left the castle without any problems.

 You were searching for the beast, Lycan, you had learned around the village. It was somewhere in the late afternoon, and the sun was starting to set when you heard a commotion coming from the road leading to the castle—causing you to halt your hunt. Curiosity got the best of you, and went to take a look. Your blood was boiling at what you saw.

Heavily armoured humans were storming the castle. The logo on their clothing told you they were of an organisation that dealt with the supernatural. You had dealt with them on multiple occasions. They were a shoot first ask question later kind of people.

The moment they breached the castle door, the sound of gunfire echoed into the cold evening. You didn't move until the screaming started, and you knew they needed help.

Calling on your inner hellfire, you let your body be engulfed in fire and start making your way through the humans and toward the castle. Once they noticed they were being attacked, some opened fire on you, but their bullets melted before they could even reach you. Unless they had rocksalt, nothing could harm in this state.

Inside the castle, it was a massacre. Bodies of maids and hunters lay all around you, but you weren't focused on them. The place was darker and colder than a couple of hours ago—every possible window on the lower flours was smashed, causing the frigid night air to seep in.

You rushed to the grand hall, where you saw Bella, Casandra, and Daniela huddled together behind a very angry looking Lady Dimitrescu. Who was slicing through hunters left and right.

"you vile manthings, how dare you all to come here and hurt my daughters. I will hunt you down, and I will kill all of you." Alcina screamed as she impaled another hunter on her long claws. In the meantime, the rest of the hunters were firing their weapons at her. But they didn't seem to have any effect. The three girls, however, didn't seem to fare so well. Something had weakened them, and you don't know what caused it. What you did know was that it pissed you off.

You quickly snuck up behind the hunters and set them either aflame or ripped their hearts out. Before they knew what hit them, all were nothing more than mangled pieces of flesh and bones. Not giving them a second glance, you turn to Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters. What you saw broke your heart. Lady Dimitrescu had her daughters cradled in her arms, desperately trying to keep them awake. Quietly you tried not to startle them and get impaled by her claws.

"My Lady, what is happening? Are they injured? Is there anything I can do?" your questions seemed to make your presence known, and the Lady looked up at you with a defeated expression.

"They can't stand the cold. They will die if they stay here, but it can't carry all of them at the same time." The words spoken with a woman's voice scared of losing her children. Thinking quickly, you surround them with your eternal flame. Not close enough to burn but close enough to warm them up quickly, stepping through the flame. The Lady instinctively pulls her daughters closer to her.

"I'm not here to hurt the four of you, and I just want to help," you say while raising your hand in surrender. You stop your advancing to show your goodwill.

After five painstakingly long minutes, one of the daughters starts to move.

"mother, it's so cold." Daniela's voice sounded weak and strained, and that lit a rage in you for some reason. One you hadn't felled in centuries. You wanted to raise every one of them back from the dead just to kill them again.

Instead of doing that, you made better use of your extended energy to repair all the windows. After that, you sat on, starting every fireplace you could find. Next came collecting bodies., the non burned ones you transported to the cellar, and the rest you burned to a crisp outside. You also collected three large pieces of meat for the girls to eat right now.

When you returned to the four Dimitrescu's ladies, the grand hall had warmed on considerably and was high enough that you could drop your flame wall around them. When all four women looked at you, you looked like some avenging angel ready to strike down anybody who crossed your path.

"are they alright?" you ask the Lady, tuning down your immense aura. Alcina looked down at her daughters and saw they started moving a little more.

"they are going to be alright eventually, and it will take a while for the cold to have completely left their body." The Lady answered. You nodded in understanding before looking her in the eyes.

"And you, my Lady, how are you?"

"I will be fine when my daughters are fully recovered," Alcina answered.

"I have collected some meat to help them recover faster." You lay the meat in front of them and took a couple of steps back, and it wasn't long before the meat was completely devoured, and the girls started moving around more. Daniela was the first to approach you, looming over you while sitting on the floor.

"Why did you help us?" she asked while poking your cheek. The question made you look away. If you were able to blush, you would have done it now. What were you to say, 'I saw you cry, and I can't stand pretty girls crying?'

"nobody should be persecuted for simply being what they are. Humans think they can do whatever they want, and I won't stand for that." You say.

"what are you?" Casandra asked, stepping next to her sister looking down on you. Another tricky question to answer.

"I am what you may call an archdemon, and I have been walking this earth for many centuries. My journey has led me to this castle, and I, for one, don't believe in coincidence." Cassandra looked at you a bit sceptical, but Daniela looked utterly fascinated. After answering all their questions, you looked to the Lady. who had been a way to check the castle for any more intruders

"thank you for boarding up all the windows until they can be repaired." She says, a grateful look in her eyes.

"you are most welcome, my Lady." You answer, giving a slight bow of your head.                

"where will you be going now?" Bella asked, who had been quiet until now. You pushed yourself off the floor and looked at the three girls.

"not sure. Most creatures aren't too happy to know they have a demon in their midst. So I probably will be travelling around again." You answer honestly.

"why don't you stay with us?" Daniela proposed, a way too excited. Instead of waiting for your answer, she turns to her mother.

"right, mother, she can stay with us, right." Lady Dimitrescu looks from her youngest to you and back.

"you may stay in the castle for as long as you like, as long as you plead loyalty to me, can't have a rough running around," Alcina says, trying to sound indifferent.

Your face lit up at hearing that. Nobody had ever offered you to stay with them. You kneel before the Lady without a second thought.

"Lady Alcina Dimitrescun, I (Y/N) (L/N) archdemon of the first rank hereby pledge my alliance to house Dimitrescu and promise to defend you and your daughters with my life." With those words, you stand up and smile at the Lady.

 Going from the cellars to one of the most lavished rooms in the castle next to the three Dimitrescu's daughters. Girls, you now play tag games instead of running for your life. The girls have wormed their way into a special place in your cold heart, Daniela especially.

In your time at the castle, you had dens of numerous attacks from hunters, villagers, and even a couple of Heisenburgs attack dogs and held your promise every time. Causse this was home now.