#and receive an abomination of your own | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hongjng8 · 1 month

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My Kind Of Heaven.

Pairing: DemonHybrid!san X Mortal!Reader

Feature: DemonHybrid!Seonghwa

Genre: Fantasy, mystery, dark.

Wc: 4k (4065)

Warnings: nsfw(18+)MDNI, CNC, light violence, Blasphemy, blood, knife play, manipulation, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, overstim, restraints, intoxication, possession.

Hongjng8’s notes: Can’t say no to a bit of twisted demon action can we my sweets. ;) I’m also making this to treat a friend of mine !! (@sansangel ) hehe. Make sure to enjoy to your hearts content <3

Tag list (DM to be added): @slvtiny @sugarnspice630 @yuyusolivebranch @taegi1016 @batw00yo @acescavern @yunhoscutie @atzaurora @littlefireball @crimsonbubble @jjoongstar

San Masterlist | main masterlist

“Hff~ I’m so exhausted.”

Your voice emitted a murmur, knowing that you needed to take a peaceful break. Which conveniently your home was a beautiful bungalow placed in the middle of the forest, and of course, you being a spiritual person who was connected with nature, this was a perfect opportunity to go for a stroll — you know, to take your mind away from reality.

You exhaled calmly, sliding into your skirt. Your shirt, whilst comfortable, tucked underneath. Lacing a white corset around your waist, finishing with bunny tying your shoe laces.

“Phew.. okay..”

Rushing outside, grabbing a thick warm blanket in your hurry. You clung to the bag that rested under your arm. Immediately being faced with the calmness of the wild; various flowers, tangling trees, wispy grass, and wind chasing bushes.

The quiet and riveting environment had always intrigued you, and you’d often venture deep into the dream-like land. Completely unaware what tales lie ahead..

“Beautiful..”

You spoke a breathless whisper, eyes fluttering as you spun around to take in the wonders that engulfed you. Yellow and blue butterflies dancing like fairies, pretty love birds singing in the tall trees — It really felt like your very own wonderland.

Eyes twinkling, you found your usual spot. The spot that radiated that homey sense of warmth and comfort. Where you could ponder for days on end. With a tug of strength, and a firm flap, you laid out your blanket; As white as winters snow, and as soft as a rabbits coat.

Perfectly flattened under an oak tree that could have been big enough to hold centuries worth of secrets.

“Perfect.. so warm..”

You delicately placed yourself down, legs nestling into the coziest of fabric. Gentle hands adjusting the hem of your skirt to cover your thighs. You finally relaxed.

There was one small thing about this so called ‘wonderland’, that you wasn’t so familiar with.

The forest you called home, was somewhat magical. Well, that is what you’d say if you were to sugarcoat the reality of it.

Ideally, this forest was a realm — A portal for many different entities to come forth into the land of mortals.

This nature fueled soil was enchanted.

Peaceful. Was how things were going. You hadn’t felt so in touch with nature in such a long time. Your eyes had been closed for a hot second, taking in the sounds and drowsing in the scents around you.

Unknowingly, a faint mist was beginning to display it-self around the environment, decorating the air with twinkles of star dust. An uneasy ambiance dizzying your mind.. assuredly feeling a pair of eyes feasting upon you.

The wind grew a sudden strong, a cold breeze dangerously tugging at your skirt, snatching your attention away from daydreaming.

Sitting up, you scanned the unfamiliar scene in-front of you;

“what the fuck-“

You rubbed your eyes, examining the swirls of twinkly mist, blending perfectly within the air. ‘What a weird abomination.’

Trying to shrug it off, you pulled your phone out to check the time. It was getting later and later in the evening. Eyes rolling back, you let out a frustrated sigh, unappreciative about the journey back home. That was until the sweet scent of tangerine filled your nostrils: One of your favorite smells.

It was addictive, you felt pulled into some kind of bliss. You stared forward as the starry mist formed a trail, eagerly yearning for you to follow. To which you obeyed. — who could resist when the scent you got drunk on, only got stronger each step you took along the path.

The trail led you somewhere quiet and unusually closed off. Anyone else would have been suspicious, but the daze this mist and scent brung you only pushed you forward. You were hooked: Just like a fish being reeled in like mindless prey.

Hands draping to your sides, completely struck by the unrealism of what was unfolding in-front of you.

The foggy mist swarmed like a tornado. The stardust becoming more evident the bigger the mist got. Your jaw was hung, sheepishly stepping back from what began emerging.

A sleek outline.. such a tall figure exposing itself.

“I’m going cra-“

you were cut-off by this strange-being revealing himself; eyes sharp, plump succulent lips forming into a mischievous grin, his silk white hair that drooped infront of his brown, heavy eyes.

“Id hope it’s over me~..”

The strangers voice sent shivers along your soft skin, trembles running down your spine.

Your breath was taken away, stumbling over words that you were struggling to spurt out. To which you almost tripped in response. Only for this mysterious man to catch your fall, his hands soft yet they held a firm grip on you.

“Shh sh sh.. Don’t be afraid of a harmless Demon.”

His words were allusive, voice venom-like. You were spooked for sure, but you couldn’t deny the fact this demon was drop-dead gorgeous.

“Demon..?”

You questioned, your body tense as his hold on you tightened, sharp nails scratching against your clothes, as he cradled your body against his toned build.

“Correct.”

He was confident, straight to the point.

“I haven’t had such an opportunity to visit this side in a while.. what do they call it? Ah! The mortal realm.”

You blinked, examining this man in-front of you. You had always been a spiritual person, but witnessing a demons presence first hand was not on your list.

“Call me Seonghwa, pretty. Think of me as any other guy.”

Seonghwa spoke with pride, his long fingers began caressing your chin, lifting your head just a little to meet his eyes. The type of eyes that sucked in your soul, with intention.

“Consider us.. new acquaintances.”

He hissed with a smirk, fangs peaking as his lips curled, hands moving down to caress the curves of your waist once again.

You attempted to read this man carefully, but he was for sure a tough one to get through.

“What are you here for..? What made you approach me..?”

Your words tried to come across stern, but your voice came out quiet. It was clear as day you were nervous, to which he only got a rush out of.

He inched closer to you, siding you off to where you originally rested under the large oak tree.

“How could I resist such a welcoming treat, all alone.. in the woods..”

His eyes flickered to you, gazing up and down. He sought for the advantage in the situation.

“I’d assume some company wouldn’t be any trouble now, would it my pet.”

You inhaled a sharp breath, though before you could speak, you felt his broad cold hand against your bare thigh, swiftly making his move. He was quick, an unpredictable predator pouncing onto his prey.

“Seonghwa.. wait— no.. sto-“

Your mouth was covered by his spare hand, causing you to whimper, powerless. The demons strength was not unknown either, as he had you pushed against the hard bark of the tree, his body pressed against your back.

“Hush now, little human. You’ll love being my toy. How does it sound? A demons plaything?”

His sleek fingers curled under your skirt, prodding at the fine laced panties that covered your heated cunt.

You squirmed, shaking your head in denial to reject the hell spawn, which clearly didn’t phase him at all. You were only met with a stronger scent of that familiar mandarin orange. However this time, it left you in a deeper dreamlike state, incapable of thinking for yourself. The smell was captivating.. poison.

The demons lips ran over your ear, soon leaving a hopeful kiss against the nape of your neck.

“I’m so sorry.”

The specimen whispered sweet nothings and false apologies, as his fingers continued violating your clothed heat. Your body reacting against your wishes, as your soft panties dampened to his touch.

“I just can’t help myself..”

He growled lightly, tugging the wet lace of your panties aside, exposing your smooth, plump pussy to his digits.

“N-no..”

Your voice was shy to a whisper, unable to fight against his touch. You were dreading what could happen next. Seonghwa, whilst completely unwelcome, was exploring your now, throbbing underneath. Yet why was your body enjoying this feeling? It felt unbelievably filthy.

“Any demon would thrive to have a pet mortal like you. so beautiful.. so needing of such attention..”

His voice flowed smoothly, and you hated the way it gave you goosebumps of excitement.

Your eyes suddenly shot wide open, feeling his fingers scissoring your sensitive folds — gliding around your doused slick.

“How inviting..”

Over the faint murmurs of his words, and the dizziness from the transe you were under, all you could hear was the pathetic, squelching of your unacceptably wet pussy.

Seonghwa chuckled, satisfied with the reaction your body gave him. The sound echoing through your ears as your body sunk against the textured brown wood.

He slipped his hands out from under your skirt— fingers sticky with your unwanted arousal, pulling out a feather, tenderly stroking it along the back of your thigh. At least, to a mortal, it appeared to be a beautiful white feather. But under that enchanted disguise, a sharp steeled blade rested between his finger’s.

“I won’t hurt you.”

His words were anything but promising.

He was ruthless, sadistic. Yet something about him was drawing you in.

Your legs trembled as you felt the tickle of the feather against your skin, though that tremble soon turned into a cold hiccup of realization, the pressure he was applying to your skin was nothing to what a feather could achieve.

“Hold still, sweet thing.”

Body trembling in fear, your nails scratching against the tree bark. You felt the sharp rushing sting of the blade beginning to delve into your skin — eyes shutting tight to brace yourself for that anticipating pain.

That was until Seonghwa suddenly stopped. Unusual.. what’s happening?

The stardust mist that surrounded you both dangerously swept away. Just like wind picking up from a helicopters rotor blades.

Seonghwa’s guard was put down as he examined what was going on, his face full of clear concern. You instantly fell down to your blanket, hugging your knees, snapping out of the daydream this star demon laced you in.

“Fuck..”

Seonghwa growled defensively. You noticed for the first time the anger and irritation that brewed inside of him. ‘Is this what demons were?’

This new aura that dominated the horizon was stronger — even you, a powerless human could feel the intensity that was at steak. Seonghwa turned to you, head tilting as he concealed the fact he was intimidated. He knew what was coming, who was approaching.

“We need to leave, kitty.”

He attempted to bribe you, although you on the other hand: frightened, completely clueless. Your body was frozen, you could barely even hear Seonghwa talking to you. This new, musky Aura was paralyzing.

“You can trust me. You don’t need anyone else.”

Seonghwa himself winced, eyes jolting to the trees that golfed you both in. Vines manipulated themselves, branches cracking as the green stems slithered forward. Seonghwa’s abilities were useless against this hostile entity.

And he knew it.

Your eyes stilled, watching as vines approached the demon in-front of you, lips trembling as you shuffled backward slowly,

“What’s wron-“

Seonghwa’s words were put to a halt with a threatening choke, his neck strangled tightly by the vines. The poised demon groaned, nails grasping at the veiny wires of nature, the stardust that radiated from his body crumbled into Smokey. You on the other hand, were struck, barely able to form a thought.

Another demon, one who was broader with a menacing presence, came closer to you and Seonghwa, who was still restraint by his neck. This new being simply raised a hand, the vines lifting Seonghwa enough to face him.

“San..”

Seonghwa yelped, his breath short. Irritation spread all over his expression. Though he knew his place when against this rival.

“Seonghwa.”

San responded, his eyebrows furrowed with displeasure. You watched carefully as the two had an obvious distaste for one another, your attention drifting to the dangerous man.

‘San.. I see.’ you tried to gather some courage, being sure to collect as much information as you could just from listening to their small talk.

San’s hand reached out to glide two fingers up Seonghwa’s temple, before grasping his hair, tugging his head back with spite.

“You’ve had your fun, pixie. Get lost.”

His words spilled out like venom, letting Seonghwa go with a thud. The starry man grunted, picking himself up and wiping his lips. He was smart enough to know he wouldn’t stand a chance against San— forced to return to the opposite realm with a longing desire for your taste.

Left alone, the silence was eerie. Your tummy twisted, nerves pricking your spine and sending you into shivers. San undoubtedly held something in his manner, something that caught your true attraction.

This was the weirdest day of your life.

“Y/n, hm?”

You froze. ‘how did he know my name?’.

Your legs trembled, laying out as you stared up at the large man. Breath hitching at the sound of the vines crackling closer towards your limbs.

“I know many things, Princess. Like reading your little mind. You’re forgetting what I am.”

You began to notice that these demons seemed to have one similar trait: scents.

San secreted the musky fragrance of sage — god, another one of your favorites. However, this scent had a complete different effect. You wasn’t hypnotized to a stand-still, no. You coughed as the smell filled your lungs, your body willingly relaxed, legs parting. Your mind being filled with sinful, dirty thoughts.

“Tsk, I’ve never met someone who slips into traps so easily. Such a clever girl.”

His praise felt almost like mockery, your eyes clouded with desire as San closed in, hovering over your frame.

“Please..”

‘What am I saying?’ Your thoughts raced. For some strange reason, you craved the touch of the demon that stood in-front of you.

“You pitiful angel. I’d say the lord would be looking down at you with shame. You really want a demon to take care of you?”

Your cheeks heated with humiliation, whining as the demon controlled the vines, wrapping them securely over your ankles, tugging your body forward and forcing you onto your back.

Holy fuck he was enticing.

“You don’t mind if I treat myself, right baby girl?”

His red eyes drank up your kind pupils, and with a click of his fingers, the vines forced your legs apart. Your panties still damp from before, the lace suckled against your folds. You let out a breathy whimper as the cold air reached between your thighs, unfocused as San leant down, knees between your legs.

“I think this little deer needs a helping hand, hm?”

San teased, watching as your hips wiggled, your lips sealed as your heartbeat increased. You could feel his heavy presence inching closer to your warmth.

“Speak up, my little slut. Use that sweet mouth of yours.”

The demon slapped your desperately swollen clit, which was throbbing underneath your panties. Your body was covered in goosebumps, excitement pumping through your bloodstream. You couldn’t believe this was actually turning you on.

“Yes.. yes.. please San, please help me.. I need it.. please..”

He grinned, pleased. Wasting no time as his thick, long fingers slid under the sides of your soggy panties, hurriedly tearing them off of you with ease. He stumbled forward, latching his lips onto your cascaded mound. He groaned, tugging the vines to pressurize you against his face as much as he could. Mouthing you hungrily, licking between your folds, taking his time to explore every crevice. — eager to find your sweet spots.

“S-san!”

Your body shook, Lower back arching from the sensational assault against your gushing cunt. Now that the demon has got the taste of your sweet nectar, he indefinitely can’t stop.

In San’s mind, he grew heated at the idea of having a human like you under his sleeve. His personal little slave — a pretty toy he could mould into his very own property. An uncomfortable tightening shaped in pants at the thoughts, forming a hood at his crotch. He moaned at the fantasy, sending vibrations into you that only added to your pleasure. Your body shivering and trembling under his curse.

He pulled away momentarily, lips detaching from your drowned pussy with a pop. He panted, animal-like. Crazed from the smell of your arousal. He fluttered kisses against your thighs, hands caressing your delicate legs.

You were aching for more.

“Fuck.. you’re so wet. For me? Really?”

San was smug, admiring how your sensitive cunt throbbed and grasped around nothing. He knew exactly what you needed, and he damn well was going to take advantage of it. Without any question, he pumped two of his thick digits into your pretty little pussy. Curling them repeatedly, angling his wrists to explore your gummy walls, soon finding that sweet spot, causing a lucid moan to emit from your mouth.

You reacted perfectly to his touch, exactly how he wanted. He abused your frail, gasping cunt, violating that sweet spot — leaning down once again to suck your clit as he finger fucked you. Your hips jolting as you were edging closer to your release.

“That’s it, let go. Just for me.”

San murmured against your pulsing heat, shaking his head as he lapped you up like a fucking dog. As soon as he felt your walls clamping down and gushing on his fingers, he pulled them out just in time, frantically rubbing your sensitive bud with his hand — forcing an orgasm from you.

“Fuckkk! C-cumming.. mm!”

A high pitch cry poured out of your cords, San growling in response, a deeper moan passing his lips as he watched you squirt all over his hand, slapping your cunt one last time before he savored your high with his tongue, drowning in your pleasure.

“Such a good girl. Giving into a demon.”

The demon had pulled away, leaving you drenched and ready. Gasping for air as your chest raised up and down. San’s eyes stared down at your heaving chest, tongue gliding over his swollen lips to collect your sweetness that stained.

Your gaze met his, cheeks flushed as you watched him remove his clothes. A thick fog caved you both around the blanket. No one could see you like this but him. Your pleasure was for his eyes only.

Whilst removing the clothes that covered his lower half, the vines under his spell swiftly began tearing your clothes away from your skin.

“You’re so pretty like this.”

You gasped, the plants behind San’s strength handling your body with ease, flipping you onto your stomach and tangling around your waist to hang your hips in the air. San’s hand landed a rough slap against your ass, kneading the flesh within his large palms. Your face was pressed against the soft blanket, hands restrained behind your back. The power the demons vines withheld was more than surprising.

Before you knew it, you were on display — ass up face down. Tangled within the curse of nature.

“Delicate little princess. You belong to me. I’ll break you open and mould you into my very own cocksleeve.”

San finally positioned himself behind you, your knees either side of him as he gave his dick a few long, wet strokes — His breathing heavy.

Your legs felt weak, though San had no problem assisting, pulling your hips closer to his. The demon began to rub his length against your sex, making sure to gather and spread all the juices. It was obvious how needy and ready you were; you were leaking, dripping to feel San’s cock deep inside you.

After painfully being teased, he started to push his cock into your begging hole. The stretch was intense, pressure being more than anticipated. He was big, length and girth considered. Your walls hugged around him perfectly, like you were made for this. Both of your moans danced in the air together, his length completely sheathed inside you, the bruised-pink tip kissing your cervix.

“Shit.. you’re such a tight fuck-toy.”

San grasped the vines that tied your hands, pushing down against your middle back to deepen your arch, as he began setting a fastened pace, grinning to himself; you were losing yourself in this demon.

Unable to form a sentence, simply letting out wails of pleasure. Your pussy fluttering from the sensation — San’s cock plunged against the sweet muscle deep inside you. His dizzying sage aroma filled your lungs, becoming more addictive than any drug.

“You’re taking me so fucking well. Have you done this before? My little whore.”

The sadistic spawn spat rhetorically, eyes dark and heavy as he delve into you with such depth and speed, your tummy twisting with a tight knot. You swore you could feel a bulge in your lower belly each time he fucked into you; Babbling pathetic nothings as he ruined your pretty cunt. The high San was giving you, allowed you the energy you so badly needed to take his cock even after already hitting such an orgasm before.

“G-good.. so go-ood”

You managed to drool some words from your lips, tears rolling down your rosy cheeks. He kept you pushed down, giving several long strokes which gained your eyes rolling back, your nails digging into the stemmy ropes.

“You’re loving this aren’t you? Taking demon dick.”

He fastened, letting out a lengthy moan feeling you tighten around him. His balls were slapping against your wet core, the sound echoing through the fog that clouded around you both.

San’s arm snaked around your waist, the vines tightening against your skin, surely leaving a mark. His fingers dipped between your folds, swirling and brushing over your hard clit, all whilst his thrusts grew animalistic — The overwhelming sensitivity had your hips bucking repetitively.

“That’s it. Take it. Take all of me.”

The friction the two bodies created surely had the blanket dirtied underneath by the earth it had been resting on. You began feeling a burning twist forming in your aching tummy, breathing unsteady. The ruthless pounding only sent you deeper into your arousal, your muscles stiffening as your spine bent the furthest it could; bringing you to another orgasm. It hit you hard, your throbbing cunt squeezing and gushing around San’s cock.

“Oh g-god!”

“Scream for the lord. Let him hear you.”

As you release, relishing into a moaning mess. San grabbed a blade that the vines had hauled towards him, his hips still rolling rhythmically as you twitched and flushed against him, milking your high out of you.

Without a word, he carved his singular initial into the back of your thigh — his breath shuddering as he watched your crimson blood tickle down your already shaking leg.

“N-ngh! F-fuck yes y-yes!”

San threw the blade aside as you came over him, cursing as he sharply swatted your ass, sending your body into trembles. Fucking into you feverishly, getting drunk off your squeals and sobs. You loved this feeling of being used; having this deep need to give yourself over to this demon. A success for him.

His groans turned into feral, desperate grunts. Frantically pumping himself in and out of your drowned pussy, sending you into overstimulation. His orgasm peaked, head leaning back dreamily as his moans laced with your cries — his hot seed spewing over your walls, painting your crevices.

“Oh.. oh yes, fuck..”

The last thing you could feel was his pulsating length, only then for it to slide out. Leaving your pitiful hole gasping and leaking with the sinful fluids. The demon caught his breath, slicking his hair back, flocking the vines back to their origin.

“I hope you realize, you belong to me, y/n.”

His words weren’t threatening, but more of an honest, possessive statement. He had great intention in his tone. Your body was weak, limbs lifeless like jelly as you finally rested against the white coated, liquid drowsed blanket. San leant down with you, hands caressing over your tender curves, admiring his newly claimed property.

He fluttered gentle, wet kisses along your shoulder, and then to your neck — Cradling you in his large arms as you rested, completely fucked senseless. Although you had the lasting trace of this demon imprinted in your mind.

“I’ll be sure to visit you often, my angel.” ~

247 notes · View notes

cillivnz · 1 year

Note

Hi 👋 I see you write for Lord Dimitrescu (miss a spot, hit the spot was brilliant and I would devour more) and I saw that you are taking requests, what do you think about monster hunter!reader x Lord Dimitrescu? You can take this in whichever direction you like best, but I do have a prompt idea!

Lord Dimitrescu and his sons find a trespasser on their land and Dimitrescu takes her in as his guest/prisoner thinking that she is a clueless lost traveler, not knowing that she's a hunter willing to get close to him by any means necessary, even if it means seducing a monster. Gaining access to his infamous library full of books on how to kill every monster known to man is just the first step, what she really wants is to find out the family's weaknesses and get lord Dimitrescu to let his guard down enough for her to kill him and every last member of his twisted family. Or at least that was the plan...

I just love villain gets the girl/ corruption stories and the idea of someone rolling up into that castle with every intention of wiping out the evil that lives there, but getting seduced instead... 😍😍😍

Love your work!!!

façade of seduction [lord dimitrescu]

PAIRING — LORD DIMITRESCU x MONSTER HUNTER!READER

WORD COUNT — 12.6k+ (i’m so sorry, it’s for the plot!)

WARNINGS — SMUT. eighteen+. AFAB!reader, dark arts, necromancy, the supernatural, mentions of murders, beheadings, cannibalism, vampirism, extremely dubious consent, cursing, extreme gore (blood, cuts, stabbing, mass murder, executions, etc.), reader uses seduction as a tactic, death of family, size kink, age-gap, degradation, pet-names, mentions as well as performed oral sex (talk of male!receiving, performed cunnilingus), fingering, female masturbation, mentions of male masturbation, unprotected penetrative sex, weird & unspecific AU, creampie, cum-eating, breast/nipple play, clit stimulation, extreme descriptions (?), kinda sorta brat-taming.

A/N — whoa, baby! she’s done! firstly, let me just shower this anon with kisses for trusting me such an amazing prompt! thank you, you beautiful soul. i had a blast writing this, and i’m sorry i couldn’t finish it sooner :’( you’re a literal genius, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this, and thank you for the kind words! secondly,

i tried incorporating as much lore from the game as i could, majority of the plot is my own fictional work, and the rest [credited to the game] may have been tampered with to suit the plot of this fiction.

Lady Elvira Natalia Stoica is an original character — INCLUSIVE OF ETHNICITY, RACE, COLOUR, BODY TYPE, etc. the only definite characteristic she has is that she is reader’s doppelgänger with an identical appearance, and that her family is of the same origin as The Dimitrescus (Romanian).

Alcina Dimitrescu’s gender-bent version is named Alcides Dimitrescu in my fiction. the credit of his sons’ names goes to @angel-hawthorne ’s comment under this post.

there’s some deliberate references to my other Lord Dimitrescu fiction. read it HERE!

NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations]

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" : You idiots! Is this how you treat our guest?

"Oaspete? Dar ea—" : Guest? But she—

"Scuzați-vă." : Excuse yourselves.

căprița mea mică : my little doe

cameristă : maid

Pentru dumnezeu! : good god/for god’s sake!

𝓗unters.

Your father before you, and his before him. Monsters, demons, deities; anything of supernatural order, possessing paranormal traits needed to be laid down, and your family was bestowed with the responsibility to do so. They told you, you were god-gifted; possessing an astounding memory. It was as if you soaked in every word you read in journals rich in paranormal history, and carved every word into your brain with your own hand.

Those ungodly creatures fumed at the audacity of a mortal family killing the abysmal aristocracies in the name of slaughtering abominations.

How proudly you awarded yourselves the title of Vânători de urâciuni — Hunters of Abominations. Soon enough, though, the leaders of the Four Houses knew a lesson needed be taught, example be set; actions have consequences, and after all, you were mere mortals. Audacious, dangerous mortals.

The last of the Four Houses needed to be hunted down. Your father, your uncle, your brother managed to wipe out the other key members, before it was about time the reaper caught up to them. Weeks, months went by in weeping for them, never letting their caskets dry, but it was about time you stopped mourning. This isn't what you were raised to do — whom you were raised to be. There was no way in hell you'd let the last Family standing think that the danger was over, not when you found out that it was on their cue, their command, that the guillotine that slashed through your family's head held high, became the inevitable demise of the men of Vânători de urâciuni.

'Fuckers even had the audacity to send the heads back, all nice and packaged, and signed. It was then, you realised, the weight of your name's responsibility lies on your shoulders, now. Mother was too deep in the waters of depression, perhaps, vengeance would serve as her lifeguard, and you sought to get it. For her sake, and yours.

Packing the the remnant of your belongings, primarily, lore on whatever mutation resembled that of what you've heard the family to be; barbaric, and vampiric, you set voyage to Castle Dimitrescu, the Lord's stronghold within the vicinity of a titular Eastern European village; Romania, in other geographical terms.

After weeks on foot, travelling from place to place and squeezing in some good o'l slash-and-dash of monsters into your quest, you reached the abysmal castle. The oppressive aura surrounding The Dimitrescus' colossal abode could be felt miles away from its actual foundations, the monotonous venus blue atmosphere, the trees that have been decayed for decades, peering into your periphery, mortifying the sight of Castle Dimitrescu, even more. You shake off a shiver, determined strides leading you forward. An ominous forest welcomed you, seemingly, the flora responded to every step you took on the onyx soil; you were not too far from the gigantic gates of the castle, deciding to take a breather and assess just what you were dragging yourself into, the massive mountainous foliage providing a safe haven, temporarily.

Rummaging through the contents, page after page, you landed on Wendigo. You knew your ancestors categorised mutations in the same category as a Wendigo, it being the severest form of inhumanity; the mutated man would resort to cannibalism, still humanoid — tall and pale with elongated limbs and pale yellow eyes. If the Dimitrescus were anything like a typical mutated Wendigo, you hadn't thought this through. Then, you remembered your brother's journal.

He was vague with words, often scribbling up a précise at the end of a hunt. Too consumed by your tears, you initially forgot about it, until you realised halfway through your voyage that your mother packed his journal for you, and some documentations recorded by your father and your uncle in their youth, though, you highly doubted you'd be coming across an extinct creature.

There it was — the last page of his journal — the twenty-seventh page to be precise, with triple the pages still empty; clean slates like a reminder of his unlived life, the life that was taken away from him.

You smiled fondly at his handwriting, letting your fingertips trace the scribbles, how deeply the quill was engraved into the paper. You remember laughing at his handwriting, growing up, how your mother would ask him to get a doctorate to match his stereotypical physician's handwriting, but this is all he knew — all you knew. Hunting was your profession, your life and lifestyle, and now, inevitably, your demise, too. You began reading, as I said, your older brother, a master at scribbling précise.

You were unsure, however, when he'd got the time to write down about The Dimitrescus, having never come face-to-face with the tyrants. It seemed your brother's first guess, too, was 'Wendigo', which he scratched down, only to pen it down again, bigger and emphasised, once he enlisted 'Cannibalisme'.

Your heart sank at the etchings.

Even for someone like him, these were too cynical, like he were losing his mind at the mere thought of them: 'one LORD — THREE SONS', it read. 'Blood disease??', 'PARASITE??', 'VAMPIRISM'? That would mean— "Oh." You stood corrected when just below the analysis was a remark, "NO WEAKNESS TO SUN OR WEATHER". Sometimes you swore you and him had the same braincells, always jumping to the same conclusions, which only made the desire to avenge him overpowering.

Your eyes traveled to the end of the page, the last of ink spilled on the worn out pages of your brother's journal, 'NEOPAGAN CULT', 'BLACK GOD'. With widened eyes, and a sinister feeling you couldn't yet shake away, your eyes dart to the next, last page.

There was a symbol maniacally delineated, labelled as the same reports on the previous page. 'NEOPAGAN CULT SYMBOL', and at the bottom of the page, the last thing your brother ever did write was, 'THE CULT OF THE BLACK GOD'. You subconsciously traced the diagram, only to see the graphite taint your fingertips. Your mind was racing two hundred miles per hour, trying to put the pieces of a fatally intricate puzzle together. Your brother's journal, the last of the contents were mere observations, unlike the rest of the pages that are filled with methods of executing generations of monsters.

But for The Dimitrescus, the fact that 'most powerful family' was written with emphasis only made you scowl. You searched frantically in your bag for the journals of your father, your uncle; anything that spoke more about this parasite and the said Black God.

Glancing back at the foot of the palace, you had to do a double take when you saw the guards leave the premises, bread and wine in hand. Their chuckles could be sound from the heart of the forest, even though they repeatedly 'shushed' one another, saying "the Lord" would put their "heads on a stick".

You take their departure as your cue and pace quietly towards the castle. You stood face to face with the colossal gates, doing your level best to push them open, just enough to sneak in, but the big dumb fuckers wouldn't budge. Scoffing, as fate would have it in your luck, you began scanning the perimeter for any safe way in, otherwise, you sure as hell knew how to make an entry.

"Ain't no fucking way," you'd pretty much lost all hope, not realising when your brother wrote down, "tall", it included the infrastructure, too. It was then your eyes noticed one particular stone brick placed slightly outward, and the one above it, and then the one above it, outward enough for you to step on, up, and grip the grotesque grill, securing the premises from people exactly like you.

The first step up was easy, the stone steady enough to carry you, or so you thought for when the second you stepped onto the next one, the one below fell to the ground, shattering to bits. You eyed the stone your foot was on currently, leaping when realisation hit you. By the time you rock-climbed your ass up to the top, the whole way up had crumbled down. You gripped the gothic grill, not taking the maker of it to be a sadist, for it sliced the flesh of your palm even through the slightest contact. You winced, looking back at the broken rocks, perhaps, a good omen; no one would suspect you climbed up the wall, now.

Crossing the grill, you jumped down as silently as a human could, looking back at your newfound enemy, the grill, only for it to be leaking with crimson. You groaned at the sight of your blood, thinking you were better than this, letting some metal get the best of you, but the immense pain from the cut made your head a little dizzy. Shaking the odd feel off, you proceeded leftward, walking further in to be greeted by what seemed to be a courtyard.

No servants, chamberlain nor staff was seen out and about, quite contrary to what one would expect from the functioning of a castle this mighty. Though the odds were in your favour, it didn't seem so; it's quiet, too quiet. Nothing other than a raven's screech and the flap of the wings of a murder of crows was heard for miles. Your steps had quickened at the sight of a door, finally leading you inside. As you inspected it, you sensed a magical aura around it; you could use a spell to crack it open, but that would cause bring attention you did not need at the moment. So, you pull a pin from your hair and apply the cheapskate thief method, and lo and behold, you were in.

Fuck yeah.

Closing the bulky door as silently behind you as you could, you were slammed right back into it, while what felt to be a talon instead of a hand wrapped around the back of your throat. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Said an anonymous voice, cuing laughter from two more.

Fuck, no.

The last thing you remember was a pair of hands squeezing your waist, one choking you, while one hand ghosted over your face, causing a wave of unconsciousness to pass over you.

Chained; you groaned, a pounding ache ringing in your head like an alarm, your eyes blinked, close to a hundred times to get accustomed to your dark, unfamiliar surroundings, while your nose burned with the stench of— burning bodies?

You lifted your head to see three tall figures illuminated by the feeble attempts of a torch. "Alas, sleeping beauty wakes." You heard one taunt, a raspy baritone to his voice, "No fun — I prefer them unconscious," said another with a similar tone. "Well, you're no fun if you don't like to watch the fear in their eyes when they beg you for their life," said the third. The conversation flowed more amongst themselves, quite rude to not have included the meat of the matter — you, but what more could you expect from The Dimitrescu Boys? Oh, you were sure it was them. 'One lord — three sons', you remembered, and no odds suggested they were servants or guards. Not with the way expensive jewels embellished their stallion necks not-so-subtly, like an all-time reminder of their aristocratic status. 'Pathetic,' you thought, it seems no matter the day or age, the breed of "daddy's money" remains as obnoxious as ever.

While they bickered amongst themselves, you took the time to take in their appearances: Handsome, irrelevant. Tall, but no more than an average case of gigantism in most villages. Yellow eyes, but not humanoid — no, fully, thoroughly (so it seems) human. Could this be another variety? Hybrids, perhaps, since Vampirism was in the books of possibility. That could explain their immunity to weather conditions. Their facial features became vivid all of a sudden, and you noticed the blood smeared all over their faces. Paying heed to your iniquity, perhaps even irked expression, the boys smirked devilishly; not charming, dangerously, Lucifer-ishly, but satanically. You weren't into the lighter side of magic like your mother, only using it grotesquely, but you knew aura-reading, even envisioning, like the back of your hand, and theirs was sinister: an abysmal shade of black surrounding them, with occultism dancing between their physical forms in the fiery colour of hellish hues.

"Tell us, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" One questioned, "Hm, never seen one so beautiful." "Is she even real — ethereal." "Makes me almost not want to eat her." Your eyes widened at the last remark, "Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely." Their shark-like smiles grew wider, subconsciously causing you to back away from them while they inched closer, ready to pounce on you and relish your beauty. "What do you have there, boys?" Asked the deepest voice you'd ever heard, from the other side of what you now realised was the dungeon. You were taken aback at the intrusion, silently thanking your saviour, even if it were the man himself — Lord Alcides Dimitrescu, head of Familia Dimitrescu.

His sons scattered immediately, letting their father rest his eyes upon you. "Food, father," one spoke eagerly, as if trying to impress his old man. "We saw her trespassing in the courtyard, and then she came inside." Spoke the other. "You could have her," said another, "If you save us a taste." Your face lost its colour when a ice-cold hand wrapped itself around your throat, yanking you up with one lift, and throwing you towards the bars between you and the mammoth Lord. His devilish expression— softened? "Elvira!" He exclaimed softly, reaching for your face, but the second his hand tried to snake past the bar, he winced in contact, the metal bar hissing with effervescence. Weakness?

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" The man was fuming: a flabbergasted expression on the said idiots' faces. "Oaspete? Dar ea—" "She can do as she pleases in my home." The man spat venom like thunder, his hateful expression turned to apologetic and caring in the blink of an eye when he turned to you. "Let her out this very instant." He glared at his sons one last time before turning away and saying, "The longer you wait, the more severe will be the outcomes."

So you were rushed out the dungeon and sent to the guesthouse.

The chamberlain had been waiting for you there at the direct orders of her master. "Lady Stoica, We're truly very sorry for the inconveniences caused to you. The Lord gifts you these gowns as his sincerest apology. He'd love for you to join him for supper once you have freshened up. Step out of your chambers, when you're done, and I'll be happy to take you there." You didn't acknowledge her, only awaited her leave so you could examine the gowns she had motioned towards while babbling courtesies you didn't give a fuck about. It'll definitely take more than four gowns to earn forgiveness for the treatment meted out to you down in the dungeons, but you wanted to give the tyrant lord a little bit of credit, for the gowns were stunning.

As you took in the details of each cloth, you came upon a note, which read: Sweetest Elvira,

Forgive my imbecile progeny, if you think they are worth it, but let us celebrate your presence, still, in my abode. Would you be so kind to accept my invitation for dinner? I have long yearned your company since the last time Lord and Lady Stoica visited.

Hoping to have you with me,

Alcides Dimitrescu.

Your blood boiled at his handwriting. It was the same intricate, royally cursive writing that signed the parcel of your family's heads.

You headed into the bath with murder on your mind; no matter how many times you'd sink into the warm waters, the heat only aggravated your fuming self. It was rosewater, the scent made your mind trail back to days of yore: when your mother would set up baths like this for you, the sweet scent of herbs and nature's warmth filled your hateful mind with nostalgia, then worry. Your mother had the most fight in her, no doubt about that, but that didn't mean she resorted to it easily; always seeing the best in people, giving them countless chances to repent. A generous, godly trait, but fatal in a world dominated by people like the man you were to meet with for dinner— supper, or whatever. You were just glad you weren't being served as the main course.

For now.

As you dried yourself up, your mind replayed the conversations, the characteristics and behaviours of the family. How he called you, 'Elvira'. Yes, Lady Elvira Natalia of Familia Stoica, another noble household your family put an end to. The irony lay in her appearance: the two of you looked alike — no, identical. Perhaps minor attributes set the difference between you two, or the fact that you put a bullet between her eyes — eyes just like yours; it was the reason why the Vânători de urâciuni men hesitated to kill her — sister, daughter, and niece. Not you, never had you hesitated. It's what set you apart in a man's world. If a woman's emotions got the best of her, than lucky for you and unfortunate for the whole world, the only feelings coursing through your mind like the blood in your veins were bloodlust. Blood and Lust, as your mind trailed back to Lord Dimitrescu—

Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu.

He was tall, so tall, he had to crouch to an uncomfortable extent just to get a proper look at your frame through the dungeon bars. His raven locs and beard: neat as a lord, rugged like a pirate; his sharp nose, his thick, furrowed brows, his luscious lips and those eyes. Those fucking amber eyes, captivating, devouring you like a fox after literal meat. Their hue was as fluorescent as a Wendigo's, then how was he not like one? How is he so devilishly handsome?

Stuck in a limbo, half- hypnotised with hazy memories of the Lord, memories you were yet to make with him, you were left enchanted; like he had cast a spell on yo— "Holy fuck." That's it. It's the only logical reason behind such profound emotions. He had cast a spell on you. It could've easily been the waters, you had bathed in them, let the rose waters soak every inch of your skin. Or worse, his eyes? You had definitely not been that out of it to imagine them glowing in the dark, but if he truly practised necromancy at such a profound level that a mere look in your direction left you enamoured, then you had to come up with a plan, and come up with a plan fucking fast.

Despite your certainty that the only way you'd feel something so unlikely for a man who was responsible for the death of family, was via nécromancies, you still had to be sure. So, you performed an indication ritual. In a vessel, you stored the possible method of enchantment — the bath water — along with the blood of the enchanted. You prick your finger deep enough to get ample beads of crimson out, letting them drop into the vessel. Now, if by dawn, the contents of the vessel turn potently black, your suspicions are true, and the tyrant Alcides, indeed, cast a spell on you, but if it were to remain colourless, than the worst of your concerns has arisen, for you'd have willingly let lust overpower the balance of bloodlust in the weigh of your emotions.

Placing the vessel underneath your bed, you begin dressing. The odds were too ironic not to choose the rose coloured gown for the evening, so you wore it, feeling condemned to. Fixing whatever you deemed necessary, you stepped out of your room to find the chamberlain stationed exactly where she said she'd be.

Her breath hitched a little, eyes widening as she saw you turn towards her, "You look beautiful, Miss Stoica," was her way of seeing 'you clean up pretty nice for a dirty mess in the dungeons', but you paid no heed, letting the woman escort you.

The walk to the Lord's dining area was awkward, and fearful for the servant. There was no denying you resembled the heiress of one of the Seven Royal Families, but you hadn't thought your own victim's identity would play as your decoy in your most fatal mission.

You didn't blame them, you were dumbfounded at the striking resemblance, yourself.

The hair, the skin, the features; it was without a doubt you killed your doppelgänger that day, and though you were never one to follow rituals of lore, it says, 'the slaughtering of one's self' — a doppelgänger — 'is the greatest sign of one's power and control', so it was no wonder since then you had long been feared in every corner of Eastern Europe, but you never earned notoriety, nor make a fuss over the death of The Stoicas, which is why everyone in Castle Dimitrescu believes you to be her, for they think she is what you are; alive.

"We've arrived, madam. If you need me, please don't hesitate to call." She gave you a knowing look, one of empathy? Weird. Interestingly weird. You only nodded, before pushing the glass doors open, and letting yourself in.

Alcides sat with the three of his sons, you'd heard him call them Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, not knowing which one is which, but you doubt names matter when their death's are destined by your hands. As if sensing you, something you'd mentally categorise among his vampiric characteristics, his head shot up from his sons and immediately those amber eyes were on you, ripping through your dress, eating you alive. His lifeless skin flushed at the sight of you, wet hair clinging to your frame so perfectly, he could smell the shampoo from here. How tightly the dress hugged your curves, how accentuated the rose colour of the gown made your ethereal body. Your plump, pouty lips were rosy like the gown, an even prettier colour, the sudden blush that dared to creep on your face, your determined brows raised a little at the shameless attention you were receiving, your big, radiant doe eyes widening, pupils dilating, and your long lashes batting at his direction.

"Elvira." He rose from his seats, as did his sons, heads snapping right at you to shamelessly ogle at you. On seeing that the look of disgust on your face was directed towards his sons, he shot them a fuming glare, causing them to nod an apology and immediately be seated again.

"Thank you for joining me." He said, softly, awaiting you. You moved closer, deciding to be seated beside the lord, across from his sons. "How have you been, my dear?" His hand found yours, yours minuscule in his clasp. "I had been fine, until certain miscreants accused me of trespassing."

You shot the three culprits a glare, and rightly so. Alcides eyed his sons, clearing his throat obviously when his sons remained oblivious to his cryptic signs.

"We're, uh," began one, "We're sorry, Madam Stoica," continued the other, "We didn't mean for any of that to happen, we just wanted to scare what appeared to be an uninvited guest at the time." "Had we known it was you... well, let's just say your welcome would've been different. Mostly." Finished the last, and your mind immediately caught on to the insinuation:

"Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely."

You could see the man's blood boil beside you, "Scuzați-vă." He growled, and you caught a glimpse of just how much fear he's instilled into his children, for they immediately excused themselves from the table and left with hurried steps.

"Pardon them, I don't know where I went wrong in raising them." He sighed once they were out of sight, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You've never been one to sympathise with an enemy, but maybe sympathy isn't what'll lead to his slaughter; seduction is.

You wordlessly place a hand atop his, earning a soft gasp from him. His eyes searched your face, and when you couldn't help but give him a small smile, he grinned; from ear to ear, letting his pearly fangs rise from their pillowy coverings, his lips, which he soon had to bite to control his giddiness. "Oh, Elvira," his voice was soft, a mere yearn lingering in the warmth of the room. Had it been this hot since you stepped in, or had the flush of your cheeks been indicating otherwise? "You're so beautiful." His other hand tucked the stray strand of hair falling onto your face, behind your ear. You felt a tinge of bitterness brewing in you, whatever relationship was established between Alcides and Elvira, it sure was on the better side of the spectrum.

Were you really feeling jealous of your dead doppelgänger? Well, from the way he looked at you— her — right now, you'd say he wouldn't take to her murder too kindly.

"I swear, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you." You blushed, so he enjoyed the new-and-improved Elvira more. "Yet you stay ever handsome." NO. You didn't mean for it to slip, you didn't mean it, you didn't think it — yet, you said it, and he fucking relished in it.

To save you from your embarrassment, your newfound guardian angels, the chef and other servants, brought in food of all sorts. Albeit the sheer hatred you felt towards them, you couldn't help but ask Alcides about his sons. "Aren't you sweet?" He looked at you with fondness, before answering, "The servants will bring them food to their quarters."

Fair enough.

You proceeded eating without another word or glance in his direction. Upon finishing the scrumptious meal, you waited for Alcides to take the lead.

Men like him relished in power, authority, and since he was born into it with a silver spoon hanging from his mouth, it was the only thing he knew.

He looked at you for several moments, an unreadable expression on his face making you more conscious than repelled, as if you craved the validation of his eyes.

He rose from his seat, one hand lingering in the air, an invitation for you to clasp it, while the other grabbed a hefty cluster of grapes by the stem. "Walk with me, darling."

He had to look painfully low to even see your head, once you rose to your height, it helped, but little aid was provided to the giant standing at 9'6.

You held his hand, the sheer size difference had you squirming in your steps.

Just imagine how beautiful sex would be with him, you wouldn't even be able to fit him— "Fuck," you whined under your breath, making damn sure your voice wasn't audible to Mount Everest beside you.

This was the spell talking — thinking; it's got to be. You withdrew your hand, pretending to fix the blouse of the dress, earning a glance from the Lord in your direction, which only stayed for a moment before the calming silence between the two of you was the only thing you could see, until he halted, pulling your attention back to him. "Fruit, my dear?" He waved the cluster, so you knew which ones he was talking about. Come to think of it, you did feel thirsty, and those grapes looked lusciously juicy.

"I don't see why not," you shrugged, not anticipated him to raise the cluster to his mouth and bite a grape off. You watched, mouth slightly agape as a perfectly fine grape rested between his fangs. Even the slightest subconscious movement could rip through the fruit, yet it stayed perfectly safe in his mouth.

He then crouched, now eye-to-eye with you. His eyebrows raised in your direction, challenging you. Challenging you to pull the fruit out of his mouth, and there was only one way to do it.

You bit your lip, you could have your fun, just until you find a reversal cure to his spell.

So, you grab onto both his wide, muscular shoulders, letting your arms cross around his neck. You smirk at him, bringing one hand forward to trace his features. He was so, so strong, to the point you were more aroused than intimated. Your hand reached his torso, you could see how your teasing placed him in agony. Slowly, you let your hand ghost over his pants, and lo and behold, he was aroused; painfully so, and you felt it immoral to torment a man so much (the fucking irony), so you palmed him through his pants, causing his mouth to hang open and out fell grape— right into your palm.

You bring the fruit up to your mouth, Alcides left mesmerised with the way your plump, perfect lips wrapped around it before ripping through it. A moan escaped your lips as the juice dripped down your tongue. "So good," you left out a sigh, and something in him snapped. Alcides flipped you around, you were now pressed against some wall that practically emerged in support of his... expeditions. He plucked two grapes, placing them in his large palm, before bringing it closer to your face. When your eyes widened in confusion, his other hand wrapped itself around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth, before you realised what he demanded and gave it to him; you licked about the fruit, before accepting them into your mouth. Your tongue still teased his flesh, when he pulled away. Amber eyes mere slits with obvious lust, "Now," he began, "You can say you've eaten out of the Lord's palm." He winked at you before walking away.

You steadied your haggard breathing, before deciding to follow him when a certain room caught your eye. It were as if your name was being chanted like a careful whisper, that only sounded when you were left alone. Following your gut, as a hunter as skilled as you would, you push open the heavy doors and let yourself in.

The first thing catching your eye was an obnoxious leather chair that you couldn't help but run a hand over, "Gator skin," you scowled. Though a hunter, you were against hunting — animals, that is, although you'd be hypocritical to say so when the creatures you send to hell are no less barbaric than a creature tormenting in wilderness. Still, you believed in fighting an equivalent, or even better, an apparent immortal.

On the left of it was an fireplace, charcoaled in exhaustion like it recently gave up it's flame and purpose, and in front, was a library, the source of your calling; not colossal, yet extreme in number. The whispering chant grew to a shout, a yearn for each leather-clad covering of ink spilled on paper to be touched by your feather-light fingertips, and only a fool would turn down a beseech like such.

Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display, and you explored every single one of them. Fighting the temptation to steal every book with valour, despite how useful each would've proved to be to you in the future, you declined every book until you reached what you sought, rather, what sought you tonight. "The Book of The Four Houses", the spine read. You pulled the book out, not anticipating it to be so heavy. "The Book of The Four Houses", you read again, searching for an author, but not met by any name.

You flip through the pages frantically, in hopes to find any continuance of relevance to your brother's observations, and there it was: Familia Dimitrescu, the excerpt was titled.

"Alcides Dimitrescu was born into the noble Dimitrescu family sometime before the Great War, and through this ancestry inherited a hereditary blood disease, possibly porphyria cutanea tarda. Although his family traced their origins to Cesare, one of the four founders of an isolated mountain village in Europe, Alcides himself lived elsewhere, perhaps through a cadet branch. In the aftermath of the Second World War and the abolition of the nobility, Dimitrescu returned to his family's former lands, which had fallen under the control of a neopagan cult worshipping the Black God.

Prior to 1958, at the age of 44, Dimitrescu was lured by the cult leader, Mother Miranda, to a crypt beneath the village cemetery, where he was surgically implanted with a Cadou parasite. The purpose of this experiment was to determine his viability as a candidate who could become host to a parasitic intelligence at a later date. This experiment mutated Alcides' body considerably, granting him regenerative capabilities, retractable claw-like nails, and the ability to transform into a dragon-like monster and back again. Moreover, the parasite halted his aging process, maintaining his appearance perpetually. In spite of these impressive biological changes, the resulting mutation did not nullify his blood disease. As a result, Dimitrescu needed a ready supply of fresh human blood to maintain his health, and was therefore judged by Miranda to be a failure."

"Although Dimitrescu was of no use as a host, his claim to Castle Dimitrescu was recognized by Miranda and he was allowed to take residence in the village as one of the Four Lords, who would maintain order over the native peasantry while aiding Miranda in Cadou research. Upon inhabiting the estate, Dimitrescu took over his family's vineyard and wine-distribution business as a means of supporting himself."

"Relishing in his reclaimed noble status, Dimitrescu developed extreme caste-based views of society, seeing himself as second only to Miranda herself. He openly loathed the other three house Lords, particularly Karl Heisenberg, whom he frequently argued with. He privately bemoaned that he was not Miranda's favorite, instead being treated the same as all the others. Despite this, Dimitrescu's alliance with the other houses allowed him to rule his castle with barbarous cruelty, regularly taking in new staff to replace those who had been taken to his dungeon to be killed and drained of blood for sustenance."

"Dimitrescu's own experiments with Cadou appear to have been limited, as the only confirmed instance was an experiment begun by Miranda and monitored by Dimitrescu. In this experiment, the corpses of three men were implanted with Cadou parasites. Over the course of about a week, the Cadou produced fly-like organisms which then consumed the flesh of all three bodies. Having assimilated the DNA of these men, the flies merged to mimic their human shapes and slowly adapted their likenesses. Dimitrescu immediately formed a bond with these three men, whom he named Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, and came to regard himself as their father. They obeyed Dimitrescu without question, and were similar to him in that they were ageless and reliant on vampirism for sustenance. However, they were incapable of withstanding cold temperatures, thus remaining trapped within the confines of Castle Dimitrescu."

That explains the overwhelming warmth of the Castle that had began to annoy you.

"Over the next seventy years, Dimitrescu and his sons systematically consumed the flesh and blood of local peasants and servants alike. The blood of maids was extracted and combined with grapes to create Sanguis Virginis (Latin for "Maiden's Blood"), a traditional Dimitrescu family wine. The female victims, now infected with Mold, lived on as Moroaicǎ and Samcă, while male victims were consumed and then hollowed out to be turned into scarecrows for the castle vineyard."

"Dimitrescu's reign of terror was not without resistance, however, as one villager is known to have stolen a family heirloom — the Dagger of Death's Flowers — in an attempt to assassinate him with its poisoned blade. The attempt failed and he was buried with the dagger in the Tower of Worship to keep it hidden from any others who might seek to harm him."

You snapped the book shut, mind whirling in an epileptic shock, replaying every single word over and over in your head, then images of Alcides, his "sons", Cadou Parasites, Mother Miranda? By the time you realised it, you were hyperventilating, eyes scattering from corner-to-corner, in search of anything less cryptic, anything less 'Once-upon-a-time-there-was-a-beautiful-boy-named-Alcides', and more 'Weakness-to-duhduhduh-kill-by-gunshot-to-the-duhduhduh'.

You threw your head back in unfamiliar pain that originated from your chest, you can't believe plain ink on paper knocked the air out of you, but then again, so did the signed caskets of your family; by the same man you now found out to be ancient and seemingly indestructible, but talk of this "Dagger of Death's Flowers" gave you hope.

Your thoughts of retrieving it were cut short when the doors burst open. "What are you doing?" roared the thunderous voice of the man of the hour, "Elvira." His voice was laced with an emotion you were too out of your head to begin deciphering. His eyes dropped to the book in your hands while awaiting your answer. "Oh, why didn't you say so?" His expression softened, causing you to raise a brow in perplexity. He walked over, the fondness in his eyes returned, causing your tense posture to relax a bit. He took the book from you, and seemingly landed on a page mentioning Alcides' life before lordship. "You really love this book, don't you? I guess it is fun to read a fan's work." He chuckled, flipping through the pages as if he hadn't seen the book in a long, long time.

Huh.

If 'Elvira', too, had been scavenging through the book of Dimitrescus, possibly for the same reason as you, maybe you're more similar than you thought.

When you looked up to his height, his eyes were already on you. "You look tired, my dear. I would be happy to take you to your quarters." He smiled, and your heartbeat was quick to quicken at that. "I'd like that, my Lord."

My Lord.

The walk to your chambers was a haze, all you could feel was the growing wetness in your panties from the way his eyes bore into you; penetrating every inch of you, consuming your conscience with the darkest desires.

Taking out your brother's journal from your bag, you flipped to a fresh page and began filling in your own conclusions. As you wrote, you began to think— not just as a hunter, but as a long deprived woman who had just encountered the most handsome man ever, who just also happened to have murdered her family.

The way he walks, the way he holds your innocent gaze challengingly, the way he looks at you like you're the most exquisite meal, and he's a man starving. You had long abandoned the trepidation and abhorrence you felt towards his cannibalistic lifestyle, instead, feeling a shameful surge of lust shoot into you. You rubbed your thighs together, laying on the bed, but dutifully still, writing every bit of knowledge you gained today; from the parasite, to relations with the leaders of the other Houses and Seven Royal Families that Vânători de urâciuni had already slaughtered, to Mother Miranda, and even what little you read about the Black God.

By the time you covered every intricate detail of a disaster waiting to happen, the heat between your legs was nuclear; the throb, unbearable, leaving you no choice but to act on your animalistic urges. You straighten up, slowly discarding the beautiful cloth that once accentuated your body, now felt like constricted bondages on it.

Once bare, you sink into the pillowy cushions of your given quarters. Something about the whole room smelled like him, but the strongest scent came from your dress, when you were pressed against him. Even both your arousals could be scented from the innocent rose dress, so you tugged it closer to you, breathing in his smoky musk scent, along with your innocent floral one. "Fuck," you groaned, fingers finally ghosting over the mess dying to be made between your legs.

You decided now was not the time to tease, so you coat your fingers in your wetness and smear circles on your swollen clit. "Fuck."

Your bud throbbed in your grasp, desperate to have a little somebody's fanged mouth on it, your nipples hardened the same, aching to have that mouth graze over them, suckle on them, taint the soft, ample flesh with sinister marks. Hell, if it meant one night of succumbing to carnal pleasures, you'd even let the fucker carve that neo-pagan cult symbol on you.

"Fuck!" You weren't thinking straight — no, you weren't thinking at all. How could you? You were under a spell, 'Yes, that was it,' you thought, more so struggling in convincing yourself than anything. Just the sheer thought of a man possessing vile notoriety, relishing in every crime you've fought against; his size, the abnormality of it all. You fantasised about how inhumanely long his tongue might be, teasing around your clit before plunging into your slit.

Oh, that's it.

You shoved your fingers inside of you, whining at how unfulfilling they were, when compared to the hands of him. You were pretty sure his middle finger was bigger than your face.

The only sound to be heard was the squelching of your pussy and your whimpering. You could only pray you weren't audible, not that you minded, because it was Elvira Stoica who'd get mocked, not Y/N Y/L.

Your pace quickened at the thought of him fucking you as Y/N. Would the thought of fucking the enemy be as tantalisingly erotic to him, too? Or would he just hate fuck you, and then feast on your flesh?

"Fuck me..—" You lost your voice when your breath hitched in your throat. "Ju-just like that, mhhm." You were so close, just a bit more... "Fuck me."

That's it, honey, just let go—

"Oh," you moaned too loud to be safe, "Alcides!"

Your legs were shaking, cunt spasming around your fingers while your chest heaved up and down, in a breathless state.

As you rubbed your high out, realisation dawned in on you.

What have you done?

You woke up disgruntled.

Still unimaginably wet, yet thankful for the release, but you hadn't forgiven yourself. Last night was unacceptable, even for someone enchanted. To make matters worse, this isn't even the first time someone put an infatuation spell on you; at least three men before this, but not to pacify an enemy, but to woo a stoic woman with only murder on her mind.

The victim of such a spell for the fourth time, yet Alcides is different. This was incredible necromancy, not like any you've encountered before. It was then you remembered the vessel underneath your bed. Almost too eagerly you jumped off the bed, still somewhat entangled in the sheets, which you threw off swiftly.

You ducked under the bed, the vessel promisingly in the same spot as you had left it. Reaching for it with closed eyes and crossed fingers, you pull it from underneath and lift it to your height.

As you peeped one eye open, then the other in disbelief, you threw the vessel with one swing of your arm. It banged against the wall, before falling to the ground with a typical, screeching metal noise.

This can't be happening. There was no way you felt what you did for Alcides, willingly. The clear contents of the vessel indicated otherwise, though. There was no mistake in your ritual, either; you added what was needed and waited long enough.

"No, no, no, no, NO!"

This can't be fucking happening. You were ready to bawl your eyes out, when one sophisticated knock erupted you. "Elvira." It was him, you knew, your body and heart knew.

When no response followed, Alcides began, "My sons and I are travelling out of estate," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for telling you on such short notice, but we won't be back until tomorrow." His voiced trailed off, as if waiting for you to reveal yourself, your reaction, anything, but you're too shaken up to give him any satisfaction. "That's quite alright, my lord." You swallow the lump in your throat, not being able to control yourself and adding, "I'll be right here, waiting." You swore you heard a groan, but were stuck in a limbo by the time Alcides left your door.

You decided all things could be said and done after bathing, so you run a bath and let the scented waters soak into you, replacing the stench of your sins with the perfumed power of blaming Alcides; but you couldn't do that anymore, could you? Not when he was never provocative.

Once you finished freshening up, you grabbed another one of the gowns Dimitrescu gave you. It was black, and beautiful; you were left speechless when you put it on. God, did he really have to make you feel beautiful when you were sent to kill his entire bloodline? "Ah, such unfortunate circumstances." You 'tsked' before doing your hair.

By the time you were done with your makeup, you were certain of today's plan: You were going for breakfast, accessing the courtyard, navigating the Tower Of Worship, exhuming the villager with whom the "Dagger of Death's Flowers" is buried; dig it out, lace the blade with gunpowder, stab all fuckers, one by one, get the fuck out, walk miles back home, and hibernate.

Sweet.

You step out of your quarters to find the chamberlain posted there, just like the day before. "If I say so, my lady?" She looked up at you, the tiny thing was adorable for the fear she felt, yet still wanted you to know that, "You look ravishing." She briefly looked you in the eye before the rouge on her cheeks became embarrassingly obvious, to her. You, on the other hand found her just as she was, adorable.

Upon entering the dining area, she silently took her leave, when you grabbed her wrist. "First Alcides, now you, too?" You asked, flirtatiously referring to both of them excusing themselves from you. "The least you could do is give me company." And how could anyone resist the sultry tone of a stunning woman?

So the chamberlain finds herself dining with you.

You insisted she sat besides you, and despite putting the maximum distance between your chairs, she complied. "So...?" You inquired after finishing your meal, referring to her name. "Oh— uh— Pasha, mi lady." You smiled, "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." You saw her rub her thighs together from the corner of your eye. "Well, Pasha," you decided to break the awkward silence that hadn't formed yet, "You think you can take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You sipped on your tea, eyeing her while you swallowed, only to see her with widened eyes and haphazard breathing. "Me-my l-lady—..." she stammered, hesitation painted all over her soft features as if you asked her to murder The Dimitrescus herself, or eat you out, you couldn't decide which was more mortifying for the poor girl. "What is it, Pasha?" You sighed.

"Th-the area is strictly off limits— only the... family can go there." She gulped at your growingly irritable expression. "I am part of the family — the Stoica household, in case you've forgotten, cameristă."

"I- yes, mi lady. I'm so sor—" "I don't want to hear it." You interrupted, raising a hand in the air. "Will you, or will you not take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You stared at her, the impatience visible on your face, before you decided to put on the façade you knew best; the façade of seduction. "Please, Pasha," you placed a hand on her bare thigh, her little skirt leaving little to imagination.

"For me?" Were the magical words that got the job done.

So you walk with the head of the staff of Castle Dimitrescu, into the family's place of worship, to exhume the corpse of the only man with the balls to try and assassinate him.

Pasha dropped you off at the foot of the Tower, more than happy to bolt away once you told her it was okay to leave you alone.

You walk up the stairs, and into the end of Castle Dimitrescu.

For a place of "worship", the place had the most oppressive aura, reeking of the occult and unimaginable. You fought your way inside, barely getting in while the air was knocked out of you; perhaps, a barrier of necromancy, despite it, you were able to get through.

You ran from corner to corner, searched every square centimetre of the place, but no place near-resembled the tomb of an assailant. "Fuck, where is it?" Your hands dipped inside your bag to look for something, before pulling it out and beginning your rummaging.

Indeed, you had stopped by Alcides' study before breakfast, telling the maid you 'forgot something' in there during your "time" last night, before winking at her shamelessly and forcing your entry. Sneaking out 'The Book of The Four Houses' was something you could do with your eyes closed.

Your eyes read past every word until you landed where you were made to stop, when the wave of overwhelm hit you last night. "Hall of the Four", the title read.

"The Hall of the Four, known in Japanese as Between the Four Angels (四天使の間, shi tenshi no aida?), is an area of Castle Dimitrescu." The Hall of the Four leads to the Tower of Worship, but this door cannot be opened until the four masks are placed on the Angel statues."

You groaned a string of profanities.

It's like you were set up for failure, and the worst part is, you could hear him laughing in the back of your mind— Alcides. His new abode has become the back of your mind, for he never leaves there.

Tired, disappointed and on the verge of giving up, you leave the Tower. You were a goner without the masks, and despite being in a rush to at least try and acquire them, you walked in a defeated slumber.

The chamberlain met you somewhere near the courtyard, surprised to see you walking out alive. "Lady Stoica—" "Just take me to my quarters, Pasha." You sighed, earning a swift nod from the confused chamberlain.

You walked lost, still, until you reached your room and opened that damned book again. While you scrolled through the contents, a mere note fell off, barely in your grasp.

The handwriting.

It was your brother's, but— it couldn't be. They never got close enough, which is why you're here now, right? They never got close enough. Three of the most feared, skilled men in the world of hunting never got close to one man and his three experiments for sons.

How in the hell did— Wait.

'Mask of Pleasure: Second Floor of Castle Dimitrescu',

that's where you are right now.

Everything could wait, hell, God could wait on the other line of heaven. You needed answers, yes, but something in your gut tells you it's better unknown. All that matters right now is killing him and every last member of his twisted family.

Or at least that was the plan...

You find yourself walking towards any room, with any possibility of possessing a mask. Hell, you had no idea what it looked like, but if it looks anything like the pleasure you'd be rewarding yourself with once you get the fuck out of this place, the mask won't be too difficult to find.

Soon enough you had pulled the place apart — the whole floor — except one room you hadn't set foot in. Alcides Dimitrescu's chambers.

A colossal door; you couldn't look away from the necromantic symbols etched into the woodwork. Had you not possessed the ability to see through such dark arts, you would've stepped right in and be left to deal with a fatality. You pull two vessels from your bag; the Blood of Christ and Vurxelheim, two of the purest substances on the planet, known to melt away all magic, no matter how ancient or dark, and as your expected, it did just that.

Alright, now all that was needed was to open the door, and even an amateur could do that with a pin.

Upon entering, you took in the details of his abode, almost forgetting to close the door behind you. Everything was brown; that's something you've noticed about the whole castle. Monotonously warm shades of brown, dimly lit with heat radiating over every surface. You only quirked a brow at the abnormalities. It soon came to your knowledge that the foundation of this floor is regarded as the "Hall of Pleasures". Kinky.

You looked around every corner, in every possible direction and space, but to no avail. Sighing, your head fell back, eyes closed it absolute demotivation, but when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was porcelain intricately carved, and hanging from the ceiling; a place where no mortal, but only a 9'6 indestructible titan of a tyrant could reach. It was obnoxious, if anything; placing it in a place so obvious, yet so out of reach — a direct message to show he's better than the rest, quite literally above them.

With no possible way of reaching it, you were still accessing your options when one strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and raised you up, right to where the mask hanged. "If you wanted to swing by my chambers,"

"You could've just asked, mic vânător."

Little Hunter— "Let go of me!" You writhed in his grasp, hand slowly reaching for the mask, still. "If you say so," he shrugged before letting go of you completely, letting you hang from the ceiling like a dreamcatcher. "Son of a bitch! You put me down this instant or I swear to God I'll rip through you and your experiments with my bare hands." "Ah, there's no need to get feisty, Elvira." He said, grabbing you by the waist, and putting you down, despite your kicking and struggling. "I'm only trying to help." He grunted, one hand disappearing behind his trench coat; you were ready to pounce at him, when he pulled, seemingly, the other three masks from behind.

"There you go, sweetheart. Masks of Joy, Sorrow, and Rage." He waved the remaining three keys to The Hall of the Four. You eyed him, and he swore the frowning pout was the cutest sight he's ever seen. "C'mon, they're yours for the taking, darling." He smiled at you.

"What's the catch, Alcides?" You sighed.

It's never that fucking easy, is it?

"One night with me." He simply spoke, taking your deepening scowl as a notion to carry on, "One night to decide what is it that you want, Elvira," "Or should I call you, Y/N Y/L of the Vânători de urâciuni?" Your eyes widened with horror; you hadn't processed him calling you 'little hunter', yet, and now this? This could only mean— "How did you—" "Please. 'You think I wouldn't find out about the mass murder of my fiancé? And imagine the gossip about town that it was a doppelgänger who did it." No, you were careful, he's lying — he's got to be. "Lucky for me, I get the sexier one, now." He chuckled, impressed with his wit.

When you didn't give him the satisfaction of freaking out on him, moreover agreeing to his terms, he rolled his eyes, "Pentru dumnezeu! The first mistake was the rocks you climbed on. They've deliberately been arranged like so, for trespassers like you to easily enter, walk through the courtyard, and into the quarters of my sons for them to feast upon. Then, leaving your blood on the grill? The scent agonised me. It was so difficult to put those three dogs on a leash, having never smelled something so sweet." He 'tsked', "The second mistake was trusting Pasha. It was her hand that twirled in your bath water, mixing the infatuation spell, and it was her, too, that switched the vessel underneath your bed. Very clever, by the way, very thoroughly performed indication ritual."

"But your third— baby, this mistake might as well be a blessing because it's the only fucking thing keeping me away from ripping into you slowly, and feast on your flesh for two whole days; pleasuring yourself, in my fucking castle, fantasising about fucking me."

"Oh, and the guillotine was Heisenberg, I only added the dramatic touch of sending the heads back."

You couldn't bear it.

Bottles full of emotions you've locked away for ages finally hit the concrete of reality; shattering to a million pieces while the man you still find irresistible, had an unimpressed look on his face. "Y/N. I know you want to kill me—" "Oh, honey, you have no idea." You laughed dryly, choking on sobs, but something tells you the impact of your threat didn't go in the direction you wanted because he visibly tensed when you called him, "honey".

"But," he raised both hands in defence, "I wouldn't have gotten you these," he said, waving the masks again, "If I didn't think this deserved a chance— we — deserved a chance." "You think I'll let you anywhere near me after you toyed with me like a plaything? Sent me my father, my uncle, my brother's heads to add a 'dramatic touch'?" "I should've put a more potent spell on you," he cursed under his breath, earning a scoff from you.

You pulled out a dagger from your thigh holster, and lunged at him. Caught off guard, Dimitrescu's eyes widen while you slashed through his alabaster shirt, eager to bleed some crimson into his lifelessly pale skin. "I've had it with you, brat!" He growled, the whack of his palm on your cheek took you back, and you didn't mean to moan.

The cry, it was wanton, and it had Alcides latching on to every ounce of self control he still preserved. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do," he grabbed the dagger from your grasp within a second. "You're gonna take off your clothes, lay down, looking pretty for me like you always do," he walked closer, raising his large hands again in defence. "You following me— okay," he inched closer to you, while you backed away, further into the wall. "I'm gonna feast on this pussy, then I'm gonna finger your tight hole open, and because I'm feeling generous," he grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, "I'm not gonna force my cock into your pretty little throat, you're gonna beg for it." He caressed your face, the way your doe eyes watered while staring at him, like glass he could see his reflection in, your agape lips and soft expression made his pants constrict his cock agonisingly. "And the last thing I'll be doing, even if it's my last ever," his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you to his king-sized bed. Laying you down, and climbing on top like a wolf on a lamb, he says, "Is fucking this pussy till you finally accept that you're made for me."

His mouth latched onto your neck, easily manhandling you at the same time while you writhed in his grasp. "I would rather be dead." You spat out venomously, which only made Alcides smile. "Well, alright. I'd still pound you till you're a mere cum-dump, but I'd surely miss those pretty sounds you made when you fingered yourself thinking about me." He panted against your pulse point, baritone voice hoarse with lust.

He spread your legs, lifting both your hands up by the wrists to his face. "Tiny little things," he kissed the knuckles of each finger, "Unsatisfying, aren't they?" He showered your hands with kisses, "Don't worry, darling, I'm here now." He raised both hands so their size was visible in your periphery, before grabbing your dress and pulling it over your head. "No!" You resisted, causing him to huff, annoyed. "Don't make me tear it off, honey, you look breathtaking in it." He cooed, and your movements haltered enough for him to successfully get it off you. "Good girl— such a good girl f'me."

Immediately his eyes were on your curves, your hips — perfect for bearing the child he was about to fuck into you, your breasts, so ample, all available for his groping and fondling, your pussy almost peering out of the silk panties. "Fuck, Y/N." He groaned, about to rip your underwear off when your pleads interrupted him. "Alci-Alcides please don't." "Hm," his sharp eyes seemed to be calculating his next move. "You say no, but your body," he groaned, pressing the knuckles of two of his fingers against your clothed cunt, "Your body sings otherwise, my love."

Every second passing by was petrifying.

The mortal battle between blood and lust, two things you were the epitome of, qualities comprising your very backbone, now, asked you to break it; bend over backwards and break your back for this man.

The string of pleads you cried fell on deaf ears, which, a part of you was glad for. Maybe if you continued to put the blame on Alcides and his necromancy, you'll actually let yourself live with the fact that your desires to have him ravage in your guts is overpowering, and the carnality lay in the fact that you didn't even care about what happened after. You were serving him your body in a platter, which you had not an ounce of doubt would eventually serve that purpose, quite literally.

"Tell me you want me." He hovered over your breasts. If he wanted to play games, then games you'll play. "I want you..." you whispered, "to go fuck yourself." He would've smacked you again, but again, you would've enjoyed it. What did stop him, however, was the shit-eating grin plastered on your face that showed him you were still on planet Earth, among the living and the abominable.

"Now, why would I do that, when I've got such a pretty girl with her pussy all wet for me?" He mimicked your expression, staring into your soul until you were forced to look away, and your eyes landed right on his clothed erection. "This?" He followed your gaze, "You're going to take care of this in just a minute, but for now," he paused, his large hands turning into talons and ultimately perilous claws. Cutting through the hems of both your garments, he retracted his claws immediately. You flinched when his hands came closer to your hips, "Don't be afraid, mic vânător." His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring. "They can't hurt you, unless I want them to." His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you.

With that, he lowered himself and dove right in.

You slithered about while his anomaly of a tongue kitten-licked your inner thighs. "I'll tie you to the fucking bed, if you don't quit squirming." He spat.

At your pussy.

You moaned in response, hips momentarily halting from the continuous resisting. "Yeah? You like that don't you, slut?" His fingers spread your slit, before spitting right into your tight hole that fluttered about nothing. "There you go, my love." He cooed in response to your whining, smoothly inserting his index finger into the same hole. A tremor ran down your spine at the sudden intrusion; the stone-cold, thick and long thing digit was a cruel thing, reaching that sweet spot the minute it bottomed out till, knuckle-deep in your velvety walls, and even calling the others to join in on the assault on your cunt.

Accommodating, now, three of his fingers, pummelling your cunt, scissoring you open, was more overwhelming than any dick you've ever taken. Maybe the fact that no one else could amount to the size of an ancient 9'6 vampiric cannibal Lord who's put his and the life of his sons in your palm.

Either you take them away, or let him take you to carnality never fathomed before, and the way he sucked on your swollen clit while fucking you with his fingers was a clear indication of your preference.

"Alcides," you moaned, nearing your high. "Yes, my love?" He replied almost instantaneously, as if finally you complied with a poor man's request. "What is it that you need, darling? I'll give it all to you." He lifted up from your pussy, leaving your clit with a wet 'pop' sound, making his way over to your breasts, while his movements inside you never faltered once. His sharp eyes searched yours, fixated on them while his hot tongue snaked out of his mouth to twirl around your hardened bud. Flesh on fire, you leaned into the feel of his mouth on you. "Fuck me, Alcides." You cried in defeat. How the mighty have fallen prey to the vultures of lust, mere carcasses of seduction.

Alas, the façade of seduction had backfired, and you had fucked up royally.

Upon hearing the trumpets of his victory through your pretty mouth, Alcides would've been a fool to refuse you. Eagerly he undoes his pants, letting his throbbing cock spring free. Your eyes damn-near saw your brain at the sight of the thing. "Alci— I can't." Seeing you panic, he began getting off on it. "You can, and you will." He hissed when his calloused thumb rubbed against the slit of his cock.

"Oh, I wanna feel that throat squeezing around me." He pumped faster, fucking his fist to the thought of you like many a night before. "But this pussy will do," "For now." He said, rubbing his length fervently against your slit, lathering your wetness on his leaking tip, enthusing a sweet mix of your cum, much more of which was to come.

"Won't be... able... to..." You spoke in between moans gaps the tip was in. The stretch was abnormal, ungodly, unnatural — exactly what you're deemed to kill. "You'll take it, mic vânător." He began to push more in, knocking the air out of your body. "Stop clenching," he groaned deeply, the sound resonating in your core. Nothing could've prepared you for this intrusion, so agonisingly painful, yet deliciously filling.

"You've... got to s.—stop... clenching." He pushed in the whole length, deadening your movements. You'd think he'd fear breaking you, but no. Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu was thrilled to see you finally submitting, even if your body paralysed in the fear of being ripped open, your back arched, breasts stopped wavering in the air, and your breath caught in your throat.

Only when the loudest, most pornographic moan left your lips did Alcides begin to thrust into you, already drunk off of your pussy, ecstatic in ecstasy.

Despite the slow speed, his thrusts were deep enough for legs to start shaking. To your shock, he lifted your legs and since they couldn't reach his shoulder's that stood almost as stall as the fucking ceiling, they were swinging across his forearms, and at this angle he slammed his hips into you.

You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it. On seeing your closed eyes, Alcides smacked your face, gentler than before, yet enough for your eyes to shoot open, face contorting in pleasure at his gesture that was now among your favourites. "Don't let those pretty eyes waver away." His grip on your hips was threateningly tight. "Look into my eyes, or there," his eyes motioned downwards, and it was then you saw the immense bump in your belly. Your eyes widened in profound horror. He had most certainly torn your insides apart, you were sure.

"See how big it is— how well you still take it?" He babbled while vigourously pushing into your poor cunt. "Pl-lease, go... easy on—me." You managed to plead out, but nothing counts stop the possessed Lord. Finally, he got the chance to feel your insides, and there was no way in hell, he thought, he'd let you off easy. Not when you're the biggest threat to his existence, let you wrap so tightly around his monster cock.

Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure.

Just when you thought your demise would be the sole pleasure you were forced to undergo, two of his fingers rubbed fervent figure-eights on your bundle of nerves that ached with bloodrush.

You babbled incoherences, whimpering, shaking your head repeatedly when he lifted your lifeless body, just the tip of his cock inside, and switched positions with you. Now, he laid, somewhat upright, hands crossed behind his head. Leisurely eyeing you, while you struggled to breath with his entire length upright inside your walls, his tip pressing against your cervix like an enemy threatening to break down your barriers; your walls.

"M-move... please..." you mewled, causing him to 'tsk' with disdain. "Help yourself, căprița mea mică." He raised a brow, mouth curling viciously into a smirk, "Use me as you please." Your shaky hands reached for his broad shoulders, raising then steadying your hovering self over his cock. His eyebrows wiggled in amusement, awaiting your move comically, until the feel of your walls struggling to take in his tip pulled him back into a trance of pleasure.

He let out an animalistic groan that lingered to be what you swore was a whimper, so you did your best to lift your tiring legs and plop down on his cock, upright and pulsating inside you. "I could fuck this pussy every moment for the remnant of my days." He smiled at you, large palms resting on your hot ass, slowly caressing your curves. The gesture, so contradicting to the impaling you were enduring, nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.

"If I'm lucky enough to live," he paused, hands squeezing your ass before sitting upright, pulling you with him. You moaned wantonly when you felt his cock deeper. "Let this be how we wake, how we sleep — in each other's embrace." His eyes widened, as did yours, like deer caught in front of headlights. The feigning look of innocence on his face sent your core spiralling with erotic ache, when his face, not once breaking eye contact, inched forward to stop just in front of your nipple.

You shrieked when he took complete control, earning a whine from you as you just got the hang of dominance, but when you noticed the hellbent gleam of carnality in his eyes, you knew you were in for a ride.

He suckled on your bud while fucking through you. "You're close, aren't you?" He pulled away from your nipple with a pop sound, resting his bearded face on your breast, "I know you are. 'Can feel her tightening around my cock." He chuckled, mouth back on the hardened bud in his presence. You sneaked a hand down and rubbed your bundle of nerves, fervently.

His large fingers, jealous of your own, were quick to replace them in driving you to your high. You were practically spoon-fed the orgasm, that took a toll on your fragile body.

No emotion overwhelmed every hemisphere, every neurone of your brain like ever before. Your mind went spiralling away, like an eternal shore hugging the lunar tide for the first time a night, your shore's dry spell was over, and your body did it's best to fight the feeling and drive a stake through his lustful heart, but your body was worn out; used as any lucky ragdoll would be.

The overstimulation sent you back to Earth at godspeed. His movements were sloppy, but not faltering, and soon enough, he let his seed bathe your walls a pearly shade. "Take it all— carry my seed." He moaned, absentmindedly.

When you plopped onto his shoulders, he lifted you up single-handedly and laid between your legs. You instinctively closed them; despite being too fucked out of it, you still cringed at how both your cum leaked out of you, ruining the sheets and everything between.

"Alcides, no—"

You were a second too late in pleading, for he grabbed you by the legs, placed them on his shoulders, and stood up.

You hung upside down, your pussy a stone's throw away from the man's smirked lips. By now, you knew what was about to unfold, yet the first lick to your cum-coated lips sent shockwaves down your spine (rather up?).

He moaned against your clit, the vibrations causing you to writhe in his grasp. His tongue licked your pussy clean, the circular motions on your clit, to the long licks from your clit to slit.

It's crazy how an anomaly like him became your exception — the hunter's favourite prey. With a tongue so skilled, you weren't to be blamed for succumbing to your current situation; not like you could do much in the grasp of a monster like him.

You're lucky his cock didn't fuck a new hole into you.

When his large palms let go of your hips, you wrapped your legs around his neck instinctively. You could've used his vulnerability to your advantage, had your mind not clouded in the ecstasy of overstimulation. It seemed like Alcides thought the same, for he smirked devilishly to himself, letting his talons ghost about your flesh, before slightly retracting to pinch and squeeze your nipples. He placed open mouthed kisses on your clit that not once stopped throbbing.

You shook in agony, his mouth worked tantalisingly slow on your burning hot cunt. Deciding to show mercy, an unlikely thing for the tyrant Lord, he smiled at your frame hanging tightly from his; your breasts heaving under his touch, obstructing his view of your pleasure-stricken face.

Lord Dimitrescu plunged his tongue inside you, placing one hand on your hip to push and grind you against his tongue, and you swore every atom in your body was swollen with pleasure.

"No... n-no more..." Your beseech was deemed adorable by the man tongue-fucking you. He pulled out, slithery wet tongue, coated in your juices, leaving you breathless. He lapped at your wetness, growing per minute as he so desperately coaxed more out of you.

Dumbfounded, pussy-drunk, utterly engrossed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless devouring of your pussy at the hands of your sworn enemy.

One of his hands snaked to your clit, the ever fervent pace of his movements drove you to madness. Your body stilled, eyes rolled back, breath hitched, and it was when his tongue flicked inside of you that you realised that you were doomed.

After drinking your juices clean, Alcides placed you gently on his bed, and by the time he laid next to you, you had already wandered off in dreams.

Your mother awaited your letters.

Perhaps, she'll be rejoiced to hear you alive and well, or maybe she'll be mortified that you're alive and well, and The Dimitrescus live and breath, still. Either way, she and the rest of the world better get used to you signing every final letter as 'Lady Dimitrescu'.

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eymie · 8 months

Text

COME HERE, DRESSED IN BLACK NOW !

masterlist

pairing: politian!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: smut, degradation, dirty talk, oral (m. receiving and f. receiving), overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, tummy bulge, cream pie, choking

summary: coriolanus keeps you on a tight leash but when you act out he needs to put you in your place.

a/n: this is literally the first thing i ever wrote on this account but never finished. when i take my time to actually write well😧😧😧😧 it’s so mf long sorry it just got lore (like 4000 words)

Coriolanus had chosen you. You were the one with the ring on your finger. The one with his initials around your neck. You were his.

That didn’t prevent him from being cold and distant. Locked up in his office during the and into the night occasionally. Breakfast and dinner he sat across from you with his eyes scanning the newspaper.

You weren’t his fiancée, you were his pawn. Someone for him to show off, someone to carry his heirs.

In public, he’d wrap his arm around your waist, tugging you tight to his side. You didn’t know if it was to show you were a happy couple or territorial.

Maybe he didn’t love you, or even like you. But, nonetheless, you belonged to him. The abomination it would be to his reputation to have his fiancée acting out. For you to act like a whore in public. So he kept you on a tight leash.

Most the time.

Tonight was your engagement party. He let you plan an extravagant gala, whatever you wanted he got you. You chose the theme, the music, the food. Of course, he chose the people. Running for president and such requires the right people at your events.

And tonight, you got to choose your own gown. It was black and tight, to go along with your theme. You chose black and silver, knowing you had the perfect heels.

Coriolanus doesn’t share a bedroom with you, he claims it’s inappropriate considering you two aren’t married yet. But that didn’t stop him from slipping his hand under your skirt two weeks ago. You and Coriolanus haven’t gone the full way in weeks, that was your goal for tonight.

When Coriolanus decided he wanted to fuck you, it was to release his frustrations not yours. He fucked you because he needed it. You never really came, it was your problem not his. Your fingers never helped.

He said once before that it doesn't count if he isn't making love to you, and he wasn't.

Living with him for two months, you’ve picked up a few things. You know what makes him itch, what makes him needy. You know damn well that he would’ve stand for a brat as fiancée, but you knew he wouldn’t leave you.

You just wanted his attention, for him to really need you. Not a stress fuck, not a pity kiss. You wanted him to crave you. You knew he was possessive, he never hid that side of him. You knew he was a jealous man, that one he wouldn't willingly admit. You knew exactly what strings to pull to have him trail right after you.

He had technically paid for this dress, it was tight and hugged your body in all the places you needed. Long enough to be considered modern, neckline low enough to be considered slutty. The necklace with his initial "C" hanging around your neck, just above your cleavage. You wore sheer black shawl around your arms to cover up if needed be.

You heard heavy footsteps down the hall, an assertive knock on the door to your bedroom. You tug down your neckline slightly, padding over to the door. You turned the knob, pulling open the door to see Coriolanus. His blond curls now slicked neatly, instead of a red suit he wore plain black.

Coriolanus leaned against the doorframe, his expression unreadable as he observed you getting ready. The engagement part loomed, and in his stoic demeanor, there was a hint of the complexities that lay beneath.

Catching his eye as you adjusted her gown. "Yes?" You questioned, sensing the tension in his demeanor. The one-word exchange hung in the air.

"Guests will be arriving soon, we'll need to be greeting them together." He stated matter-of-factly, his voice was cold, emotionless. He was so perfect, in the sense of his posture and the way he carried himself. His eyes bore into yours, avoiding looking at your body.

A quiet "Mhm" escaping your lips, acknowledging him.

Coriolanus eyes flickered down to the swell of your breasts over your neckline. His initial decorating your chest on a pendant. His fingers pulling at your straps, adjusting your dress.

"You have a reputation; don't taint it." He murmured, then pulling his hand away from your gown. You look up at him with furrowed brows. He bit back any more remarks before dismissing himself. The weight of those words lingered, a stern reminder to uphold the image he deemed crucial in their shared world.

You close the door as he leaves, locking it. You walk back over the the mirror, confused with your emotions. Did he even want you? You looked in the mirror, a large diamond decorating your finger, his necklace hanging from your neck.

You fix up your hair, touch up your makeup and slid on your heels. They certainly gave you a few inches, something Coriolanus secretly enjoyed. He was still taller than you, enough for you to look up at him even in heels.

Your heels clicked against the marble floors as you made your way down the stairs. Coriolanus was making sure everything was properly set up as you'd like. Your hand slid down the railing, careful to keep your balance. You looked into the large opulent room, decorated just like how you had imagined. You felt a cool hand on your waist, spinning to see Coriolanus.

"Coryo," You slightly pull away. You watched as his eyes traveling down your body, admiring you.

"Coriolanus tonight, I don't want any of those silly nicknames in front of my peers." He explains, you nodding along feeling slightly embarrassed. Knowing you were barely an exception to use his nickname.

As the first guests began to arrive, a hum of anticipation filled the air. Coriolanus was at his peak of campaigning for presidency. This was the night to socialize with colleagues, his fellow peers. To win presidency.

Your friends were here, other wives of other politicians. Tigris was invited by you, despite Coriolanus' concerns. Which you never understood and he'd never tell you why.

Coriolanus hadn't paid attention to you since the first guest arrived, chatting with other wealthy men. You sat at a table engaging in mindless banter with the other housewives. You watch Coriolanus from across the room, he smiled and nodded, laughing along with jokes you knew he didn't care for.

This was supposed to be your night, and he was viewing this as a business opportunity?

You stood up from your chair, your heels clicking as you walked across the large room in attempt to find a server with champagne. You felt an hand grasp your shoulder, you turn around expecting the face of your dear fiancé. Instead a man that you knew worked alongside him, fairly handsome but not like Coriolanus.

"Mrs. Snow?" He smiles, greeting you with a hug. You looked behind him, Coriolanus still engaging in business matters. You look back at the man, somewhat eye level.

"Not quite yet," You giggle, showing your engagement ring. You weren't going to be his wife for a few more months at least. Not until he won his votes.

"I see, he better lock you in before another man comes by to steal you. Beautiful woman you are." The man laughs, you fake a smile in return. Muttering a thank you, giggling at the things he said. You acted wine drunk knowing you'd yet to consume any alcohol. "Coriolanus is a lucky man."

"That he is," You nod, fingers rubbing at the initial around your neck. The man softly grabbed your hand, pulling it away to see the necklace that hung over your chest. His eyes slightly skimming your breasts.

"A gift I assume?" He raises a brow, letting go of the necklace. His eyes skimmed your body, eyes that you wish belonged to Coriolanus. Yet, another man was in front of you instead.

"Yes, it is." You tell the man, nodding along to whatever he spewed out of his mouth. You laughed at his jokes knowing they weren't remotely funny. He snuck in comments about your appearance and how Coriolanus isn't deserving of your beauty. You simply laughed or nodded, looking back every now or then to see if Coriolanus had noticed.

You were too busy engaging in borderline inappropriate conversations with a random man too notice the jealous eye of your fiancé. His glare burning into your skin from ten feet away.

Engaged in a brief exchange, the man and you exchanged a playful banter and subtle glances, an unexpected flirtation unfolding amidst the lively atmosphere of the engagement party.

Excusing yourself from the flirtatious encounter, you gracefully departed to fix up your makeup. The brief interlude offered a moment of solitude to gather thoughts and make subtle adjustments. You adjusted the necklace that bore his initial. Fingers traced the letter delicately.

Emerging from the bathroom, Coriolanus swiftly found you in the midst of the lively engagement party. Without a word, he decisively grabbed your wrist, his touch conveying a complex blend of urgency and emotion.

Unable to contain his rising frustration, Coriolanus discreetly pulled you away from the buzzing crowd, finding a quieter corridor outside the opulent ballroom.

"Cory-- Coriolanus, you're hurting me." You tried pulling your arm from his grip, his grip unrelenting. If any thing he grabbed your arm harder. "Please."

The tension was palpable as he confronted you, "What was that back there? Flaunting your charms with my business partners? This is not the image we need."

You met his gaze defiantly, "I was playing the game, Coriolanus. Networking is about connections, you know it as much as I do."

His grip tightened subtly, "There's a line between networking and crossing boundaries. You risk our reputation and my patience with such antics."

Their hushed argument unfolded in the dimly lit corridor, a class of personal wills against a backdrop of Capitol politics.

"Who do you think you are?" He spat, his cold gaze that bore into yours. Yours that pleaded for an ounce of his attention that you silently begged for and craved. His eyes ablaze with frustration and distain.

"What--" The retort caught you off guard, and you stammered.

"Flirting with other men, men I work with at that." His voice got louder, echoing in the halls.

Your response was immediate but defensive. "I didn--"

He cut you off sharply, "Don't talk. I have a reputation to upkeep and you walked around like a dog in heat. Look at you. Your breasts practically spilling right out of that dress, thinking I wouldn't notice? How do you expect me to marry you when all you are is a unworthy slut?"

"How else am I supposed to get your attention?" You demanded, frustration evident in your voice. "You ignore me all the time."

He scoffed, "When do I ignore you?"

"Breakfast, dinner, we sleep in separate beds." You retorted. your words laden a mix of hurt and exasperation.

Coriolanus remained indifferent, "Don't expect me to see you as anything other than a business proposition." The coldness in his tone reflected the harsh reality of being in love with Coriolanus Snow.

You scoffed, a laugh laced in your voice. "Then why are you jealous?"

Coriolanus' demeanor remained composed, but a flicker of irritation cross his face. "Jealous of what? You?"

You gestured towards yourself, the fabric of your gown catching the ambient light. "Look at you."

His response was a calculated blend of dismissal and condescension. "Your lucky I don't teach you your place."

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking up at him. "My place?"

"Under me." His proximity increased, a subtle threat in his hushed tone. A pregnant paused lingered, the air charged with unsaid sentiments, before he sought clarity. You were turning on your heel back to the party. "Where are you going?"

"My party." You said with unwavering authority.

His challenge echoed, "My room, as soon as your party is over. Don't think to defy it." He asserted, the words resonating in the rich tapestry of Capitol politics. "And fix your lipstick." He added, his demand punctuating the intricacies of control and appearance in their tumultuous engagement.

You quickly ran back off into the bathroom. The soft glow of vanity lights highlighted the subtle imperfections on your face. With a deep breath, you delicately traced the edge of your lips with a tissue attempting to salvage the remnants of your carefully applied lipstick. Embarrassed enough that you had just fought with your fiancé with smeared lipstick.

As the night wore on, the opulent party unfolded in a crescendo of laughter, music and discreet conversations within the grandeur dining hall. Time seemed to stretch, each moment etching its own narrative against the backdrop of celebration. You got antsy by the second, assertive glances between you and Coriolanus throughout the rest of the night.

As the night progressed, the energy in the room began to shift. Guests gradually bid their farewells, and the once lively dance floor saw fewer couples swaying to the music. The atmosphere transformed, signaling the inevitable conclusion of the extravagant affair.

After the last guest bid their farewell, the once bustling corridors of the Capitol estate fell into a hushed stillness. In the wake of the elaborate celebration, you moved through the halls with a determined grace, your footsteps echoing in the quiet.

The dimly lit corridor leading to Coriolanus' bedroom felt like a clandestine pathway into a realm of secrecy. The rich tapestries and plush carpets absorbed the sound, adding an air of intimacy to the silence that enveloped the grand estate.

Your heartbeat quickened as you approached the closed door, the polished wood bearing silent witness to the unspoken tensions of the night.

With a hesitant hand, you reached for the doorknob, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of you skin. As the door creaked open, revealing the private sanctum of Coriolanus, the complexities of their relations in the air of the night.

"Coriolanus--" You whispered into the dim room. You listened to the patter of water against a shower floor. Light emitting from the crack from under the polished door to his private bathroom.

You stood there momentarily, a mix of nerves and yet a feel of need. The soft hum of the shower created a subtle backdrop, underscoring the clandestine nature of their relationship. You sat on the edge of his, your heels falling to the ground at the end of the bed.

As Coriolanus stepped out of the shower, the air was heavy with lingering warmth and the faint scent of soap and the cologne that had been trapped in the room just hours prior. Your lips parted as droplets of water glistened on his skin as he emerged. His gaze met yours, a silence settling between them.

Even though Coriolanus had summoned you, his demeanor remained unchanged as he emerged from the bathroom, his gaze piercing through yours. "I asked you here, didn't I?"

"I wanted to apologiz--" You said, the vulnerability in her words hanging in the air. Coriolanus' gaze, still edged with a hint of distain, bore into her.

Coriolanus' lips curled into a sneer as he delivered a cutting blow. "Apologizing won't erase the fact that you behaved like a slut at our engagement party," He spat, the harshness of his words echoing in the ornate bedroom.

"M'not a slut," Your words held a determined edge, refusal to admit the way his words made your thighs clench.

Despite the verbal exchange, a surprising surge of arousal pulsed through you. Your eyes, previously aflame with defiance, now carried a subtle glint of desire.

With a cruel glint in his eyes, Coriolanus seized the opportunity to assert dominance.

"You're nothing more than a pawn in this game, a desperate attempt at securing my status," He sneered, his words dripping with degradation. Your facade of defiance faltered, replaced by a momentary vulnerability. The plush surroundings seemed to close in as he continued, "You thought you could manipulate me with your feeble attempts at seduction? Pathetic."

As Coriolanus closed the distance, his proximity became suffocating, his presence an imposing force. His gaze bore into yours.

The air thickened with tension. In a surprising turn, Coriolanus abruptly seized you by the chin, his actions a mixture of dominance and an unexpected shift in dynamics. His lips crashed onto yours, a forceful kiss that bordered on the line between punishment and desire.

As your lips met, the kiss became a collision of conflicting desires. Coriolanus's grip on your chin tightened, asserting dominance even in this intimate act. His teeth clashing again yours, kissing you with passion and hunger.

The kiss deepened, the hunger for control and passion intertwining in a complex dance. Coriolanus's grip on your chin loosened slightly, his fingers threading into your hair as if staking a claim. His other hand going to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek. The intensity of the kiss became a ravenous exchange, each probing movement a manifestation of unspoken desires.

Breaking the kiss with a gleam in his eyes, Coriolanus's voice resonated a lingering sense of control. "You wanted my attention; you have it,"

His words hung in the air. As he spoke, Coriolanus maintained a calculating gaze, savoring the vulnerability beneath her desire for attention.

Their intimate connection, a collision of hunger and control, lingered in the room, leaving the boundaries between dominance and submission increasingly blurred. The air seemed to crackle with the unspoken, a potent mix of power and desire entwined in the complex web they wove together.

Your defiant gaze met his, and with a surprising admission, he declared, "You think I don't notice you? I'm obsessed with you."

The revelation hung in the air, a subtle shift in the power dynamics of their engagement. The lines between dominance and surrender blurred further.

"You are?" You questioned, a mix of surprise and uncertainty lacing your tone. How could he be obsessed with you? He couldn't even look at you during dinner.

As the revelation settled between them, you took a step back, your gaze wary yet intrigued. In response, Coriolanus, with a predatory confidence, closed the distance by stepping forward, his presence magnetic. "You're the one with my ring, our possession goes both ways, and don't think I don't know that."

You furrowed your brows, looking into his once cold expressionless eyes. Now filled with need and passion. Your lips parted, water droplets decorating his skin.

"What do you mean?" You asked, a mix of curiosity and confusion. Needing answers for this mind trip he was taking you on.

Coriolanus, standing his ground, met her gaze with a cryptic smile. "Our possession of each other isn't one-sided. Your ring on my finger is as much a symbol of my claim as it is yours. Don't underestimate the reciprocity in our entanglement," He explained, his words carrying a blend of assertion and intrigue.

The bedroom, now a silent witness, seemed to echo the breathing between them. A wry smile played on Coriolanus's lips as he acknowledged, "You'd have my head if I so much as looked at another woman."

The acknowledgment hung in the air, a testament to the fragile balance of power and possessiveness in their engagement.

Your response held a mix of conviction and playfulness, "I would."

The air in the room seemed to thicken with the unspoken consequences, a tacit understanding that their engagement carried a weight of possessiveness and potential retribution. Coriolanus, with a hunger fueled by possession and desire, closed the remaining distance. Your lips met in a hungry kiss, a collision of fervor and dominance.

The lines between power, obsession, and desire blurred further. His wet bare skin rubbing into the fabric of your dress. His hand at the back of your head pulling you into the kiss further. His tongue pushing past your lips, dominating the kiss.

"I feel bad," You admitted, pulling away from the kiss.

"Then apologize," Coriolanus responded, his tone demanding. His jaw was clenched, staring back down into your eyes. He tilted your head up to looking down at you, his obsession and possessiveness bleeding from his stare.

His lips parted as you kneeled down in front of him. A pool of arousal coating your panties. Staring back up at him as your delicately pull off the towel around his waist. You awed at the way his hardness slapped against his stomach.

"Go on, apologize." He ordered, voice laced with need. You felt his gaze burning against you as you nodded. You slowly traced his cock with your finger, a breathy moan leaving his soft lips. Wrapping your fingers around his cock, slowly stroking him.

His jealousy and possession relieving his body, you were the one on your knees for him. No other man could take that from him.

He tilted his head back as your hot tongue slid across the tip of his cock. Experimentally licking off the precum before running it under the tip. Your hand still stroking his length, looking up at him for a reaction. The way his lips parted encouraging you to run your tongue along his length, "More."

You took his length into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you took his cock deeper into your mouth. You slid your free hand under your dress, between your legs.

Coriolanus' voice laced with mockery. "Not a slut, huh? Look at your taking my cock in your mouth."

He thrusted his hips, cock bullying the back of your throat. You gagged as he slammed into the back of his throat. Saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth.

"Mouth so full you can't even speak." He mocked, pulling the hair out of your face. A sense of accomplishment bubbling in him as he watched your eyes roll back, bubbles of spit spilling down your chin. "I think I like you better this way."

Your nails scratched at his thighs, taking the cock that he pounded into your throat. Tears staining your cheeks, his thumbing coming to wipe them away. Smearing them down your flushed cheeks.

"Fuck-- That's it." A moan rippling from his throat, echoing into the room. His hand pushed your face flush against his pelvic bone.

The way your hot tongue slid under the protruding vein under his cock making him gasp. His cock slid in and out of your warm mouth with ease, abusing your throat.

He bit back his moans, narrowing his eyes down at your. Your eyes were clenched shut avoiding his gaze. His fingers threaded into your hair, tugging you off his cock.

"Get on the bed." He ordered, an ache in his voice. You gasped for air, voice raspy from the abuse. You nodded, climbing your way onto the bed. His hands pinned you onto the mattress, tugging at the straps of your dress. "Take off this fucking dress."

His demand made your thighs clench, an ache between your legs you needed him to cure. You helped pull down the straps, his large hands tugging the dress off your body. Your breasts spilled from the dress, bouncing as he freed them.

Coriolanus' breath hitches, his eyes glued to the sight of your bare body. His fingers run lightly over your nipples before cupping one in his palm. He leans down to capture your nipple between his teeth. His free slowly sliding you panties down your legs revealing your slick cunt.

"This all for me?" He teases, looking up at you from your breasts. His fingers sliding through your wet folds. You nodded, chest rising and falling in desperation and anticipation.

"Yes-- yes, all yours." You nodded eagerly, silently begging for him to touch you where you needed it. He leaned down, pressing wet kissed into your collarbone, teeth graving the pendent that hung from your neck. His thumb sliding to your clit, gasping slightly at the sensation.

He looked up at you, a teasing glint in his eyes. His thumb rubbing your clit in frustratingly slow circles. "Look at you, wet enough for me to take you now."

"Please--"

He cut you off immediately, "No, I'm taking my time with you."

You gasp as his middle finger slipped in. A soft moan leaving your lips as he slowly slid his finger out and back in. You rolled your hips, begging for more. His fingers curling to brush your g-spot.

"Oh god--" Coriolanus cuts you off with a searing kiss, hungry and passionate. Kissing you with his whole body, tongue sliding against yours.

He slipped another finger inside your drooling entrance, his palm rubbing against his clit. The sound of your lips colliding and fingers invading your slick filling the room. He kissed along your jaw, down your neck. His lips dragging down your body, slowly dragging closer to where you needed him most.

Your eyes widen, watching him crawl between yours legs. His tongue replacing his fingers. "Coriolanus--"

He moaned into your gushing cunt, sliding his cunt along your drooling entrance. His lips wrapped around your clit, teeth crazing it. He pulled your thighs apart were his strong arms as you writhed under his body.

"Ohh-- Coryo." His mouth sucking and exploring your slick folds as you whined out for him. Your body writhing under his firm grip. Tongue exploring your wet cunt. "I'm gonna cum-- please."

He pulled from in between your thighs, his fingers pushing back inside you again. Your slick covered his mouth, reflecting in the light. "Cum for me."

His fingers curl inside you, thrusting back inside you with force. Your voice cracks as you moan his name, hips struggling against his grip as you reach your peak. Your cum coating his long thick fingers. His fingers pull you through your orgasm, your voice begging him to wait.

Coriolanus' mouth is relentless, his tongue flicking and lapping at your clit as his fingers continue to thrust in and out of you. You gasp, your body trembling with the force of the pleasure building within you again.

Your fingers thread in his hair, attempting to pull him off of your aching cunt. His mouth closes over your sensitive nub once more as his fingers begin to move faster inside of you. His hand gripping your thigh as he takes what he wants.

His fingers curl into a 'C' shape, begging you to cum around them just once more time. You writhe under him in overstimulation, hips trying to drag themselves away from him.

You cry out as your juices coat his fingers once again, tears streaming down your cheeks in overstimulation but Coriolanus didn't care.

"N-need your cock..." You breathe out as he pulls himself from between your thighs. You push his hair out of his face, your slick coating the bottom half of his face. His lips were swollen and wet, breathing heavy as he crawled back up your body.

His cock presses against your entrance as Coriolanus leans back down to brush his lips against yours. His lips interlocking with yours, juices smearing against your lips. His tongue intrudes your mouth, your taste invading your mouth. You moan into the kiss, nails digging into his shoulders.

“I want you.”

“You have me.” Coriolanus mumbled against your lips, teeth grazing your jaw line. He pulled your thighs around his waist, cock pressing against your entrance. “You gonna take me?”

You nodded, eagerly.

He pressed his lips against yours to swallow any of your moans as his tip stretched past your entrance. Your nails clawing at his skin, trying your hardest to adjust to the stretch.

Inch by inch, his power took over you. He possessed your body and soul. His cock breached the sacred part of you that only he had access to.

Your nails left crescent shaped indents into his soft pale skin, earning a groan from in return. The stretch burned, no matter how aggressively he had taken you before, the stretch was always there.

“Coriolanus—“ You gasp as he bottoms out, trying to move your hips for friction.

“You can say it, it’s just us.” He mumbles into your flushed skin, his hands digging into your hips. His breathing was heavy and sharp, begging for you to ask him to move.

You were quick to correct yourself, “Coryo.”

You felt a weird sense of care, him nuzzling into your neck, patiently waiting. Coriolanus was an aggressive, impatient, frustrated man. He pulled away from your neck, he pinned you with his gaze. Looking down at you with vulnerability and need.

You whisper, barely loud enough. “Coryo, move please.”

You felt him pull out slightly, pushing back in, a moan escaping your lips. He felt himself falter, a gentleness slipping through. In response he thrusted back in harder, punishing.

His hands pushing your knees to your chest, bending you in half. Your eyes rolled back at the new position, his cock reaching deeper inside of you. You looked down to watch as his cock slid in and out of you, slamming back in with force.

“Too—“ You moan, unable to get your words out. You close your eyes, hearing a laugh above you.

“Too much?” He questioned, you nod in response. In return he speeds up his thrusts, bullying your insides. “Better?”

You gasp, moaning out incoherent sentences. Your nails scratch deep red marks into his snow white skin. Decorating his usual pure appearance.

His voice demanding as he seizes your chin, tilting you to look into his eyes. “Look at me.”

Your jaw falls open, silent moans all that comes out. The loud slapping of skin filling the opulent room. Your body engulfed in his plush bedding.

“Look away and I stop.”

Your eyes widen, wrapping your legs around his torso. Pleas leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

“D-don’t— Coryo, don’t stop.” You beg, your cunt practically sucking him back in. You scratch at his skin, pulling him closer to you. The wire inside you slowly pulling tighter.

“Then look me in the eyes while I fuck you.” He orders, his cock bullying your inside. You nod, mouth open to let out your needy moans.

His hand wrapped around throat, slightly adding enough pressure to make your cunt squeeze around him. A groan leaving his lips as you arch your back, cunt squeezing him tight.

“You like that?” He whispers, pressing harder against your throat. The way his long fingers squeezed around your neck, your mouth opening to let out a sultry moan. “Such a slut you’d let me choke you.”

”For you,” You squeaked out, a moan following just after. He panted, holding back his own moans not willing to submit. His hand slowly releasing you, in return you gasp for air. He pushes your legs further into your chest, finger tips bruising your skin.

He disobeyed his own demand, closing his eyes breaking your eye contact. His thrusts were unfaltering, balls slapping against your ass.

A low moan escaping his parted lips, squeezing your legs trying to hold back his own pleasure. He lets go, hand travelling down to your clit. His thumb rubbed your sensitive nub causing you to cry out his name.

His other hand pushed down on the bulge that protruded from your stomach. You gasp in return, a throaty moan following just after it. You cry out as you cum around his relentless cock unannounced, something you were sure he’d punish you for later.

He squinted, stilling rubbing your clit as he continuously fucked you through your orgasm. Your body writhed under his as your sensitivity increased.

“You want my cum?” He asked, fucking into you deeper than before. You opened your mouth but no words came out, only your moans. “What? Have I fucked you silent?”

You nodded, taking his cock further. Your back arched off the bed, sweaty chest pressing into his. His hands travelled up to your nipples, pinching them in between his fingers.

“Look at you, all cock drunk practically begging for more.” He taunts, ignoring his own impending orgasm. He wanted you claimed, full of his seed.

Your cunt clenched around him, relishing in the deep moan he let out in response. An unexpected whimper following at he tried to hide with a groan.

His hot breath fanned against your neck, hiding his face as the wire inside of him snapped. His seed filling your needy cunt. He panted into your neck, still grinding his cock against you.

“Coryo—“ Your voice was raspy, he hummed against your skin. His hands rubbed your sweat coated skin, soothing you from your overwhelming sensitivity.

“Yes?”

“Do you love me?”

"Why do you think I stay away from you, ignore you?" Coriolanus questioned, his words carrying a weight of contemplation.

Your response carried a mixture of frustration and vulnerability, "I don't know, Coriolanus. You keep me at arm's length, and I can't decipher whether it's indifference, strategy, or something else entirely."

You were still short of breath, legs wrapped around his torso keeping him skin to skin with yours.

Coriolanus, breaking the tense silence, confessed, "I'm obsessed with you."

#Spotify #coryo #coryo x reader #coryolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #the hunger games #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coryo smut #coryo x you #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid #william h bonney x you #william h bonney smut #william h bonney x reader

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feyascorner · 9 months

Text

3 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You hate him, you think. You want to hate him, at the very least.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke."

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, large chunks of italicized texts are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. redemption arc is coming i swear :) this is a whopping 4.7k i got kinda carried away but oh well,, Thank you so much for your comments on these they make my day and i appreciate each one<3

Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

“And what might our dear bard be working so passionately on?”

You look up from your notebook, ceasing the messy scribbling of lyrics into its tattered pages. Astarion perches himself beside you, the flames of the campfire flickering in the reflection of his eyes as you stop humming and raise a cautious brow. A vampire spawn. You’d never seen one in person–-only had you heard of them in your childhood tales of the spawn that would sweep away naughty children if they didn’t finish their vegetables. Up close, you can almost see his fangs protruding from the grin he's constantly wearing.

You wonder if it’s a genuine one.

“That bard at the grove today,” you recall. “Alfira? I’m trying to finish the lyrics and write them out for her.”

“Is that so? Surely you’re receiving some sort of payment for these gracious services?”

You train your eyes back onto the pages, shaking your head. “I’m doing this for fun. Her song is beautiful. It just needs—” you squint. “--adjustment.”

He laughs, and you can see the fangs clearly now. They’re sharper than you expected them to be. “I believe that’s a drastic understatement, my dear. My heart felt for those poor squirrels. I’m quite willing to bet that they have an aversion to bards now.”

“And you’re suddenly a musician yourself?”

“It doesn’t take a musician to recognize poor singing, darling Tav,” he returns. “And considering I’ve spent the past few days listening to your music, I’m sure you’ll understand why I considered it such an abomination.”

You narrow your eyes. “I thought you didn’t like me–or my music.”

“You? I'm still deciding,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes. “But I must say that I’m growing rather fond of that lyre of yours. Have you had it for long?”

You give him a sidelong glance before answering slowly. “I’ve had it for ages. Practically when I just started.”

“Explains itself then, I suppose.”

“And you?” you watch as he leans back on his palms. “Do you have any other talents to offer to our companions, or is it just your teeth?”

“Now, don’t be so cruel, dear,” he smiles wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re rather fond of them as well. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring all the time.”

“I’m on guard,” you clarify.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re not sure if you can sleep with one eye open, much less both of them closed. You’re not sure if you trust him at all, either, but as he stares up at the starry sky, simply listening to the crackling of the campfire, you decide you’d rather save yourself the energy for what awaits tomorrow.

“Why did you do that earlier?” you find yourself asking, and he replies by glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Do what?”

“Save Wyll from that goblin arrow,” you mumble. “I thought you didn't care about any of us.”

“And what gives you that impression?”

You deadpan, staring at him with lidded eyes and he laughs out loud. It sounds more genuine than anything else he’s offered so far. It's nice.

“It’s a simple transaction, dear. One where I receive protection in turn for the occasional aid I can give with my own blade.”

You squint at him, but you see no signs of deception. So instead, you simply nod and resume scribbling into your notebook, softly humming to yourself alongside the lyrics. And when you halt, stuck on a particular lyric that you can’t seem to remember, you hear him shift, standing himself back up to retreat to his tent.

“Something about faith and care comes next if my memory serves,” is all he says before striding away. While you watch him in confusion, you click your tongue and try to focus again. And when you look down at your page, you remember the rest of the words.

Somehow, you feel the corners of your lips lift.

“As much as I’d love for this to be a charming, long-awaited reunion, one of the parties imposes a danger to the other.”

You wince at the sarcasm dripping from Gale’s voice. Duke Ravengard’s expression remains solemn, unmoving like a stone, while your companion pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We can’t harbor a vampire spawn in our home. We’re supposed to be finding them, not keeping them!”

You hate the irony of the statement because the camp you’d spent so many months in with an uninvited guest in your head, had also been your home. One where you spent your nights in a vampire spawn’s tent. It’s not so different, you keep telling yourself. But you’re painfully aware that the Duke only knows a sugar-coated version of the falling out between you and said vampire. He doesn’t know how his son had to tear Astarion away from you and how your voice had been sore for weeks afterward.

“As much as I have my own opinions with allying with a vampire spawn,” the Duke stares at Astarion warningly. “Wyll did say this spawn saved his life while your party ventured together. For that, I'm willing to see reason if he’s cooperative, rather than restrain him with the Fists.”

You never thought much of it until now. With how many life threatening experiences you and your companions had come across, it felt natural to save one another. At first, it had been out of necessity—fear that one person would turn into an illithid. Yet, with time, you'd all grown fond of each other, one way or another.

You think back to when Astarion had saved Wyll and wonder if that part of him is still in there. Maybe it was never there at all. Maybe it had been another one of his manipulation tactics that you're so prone to falling for.

Gods, you're hopeless.

The wizard standing beside you sighs irritably. “But that was before he tried to squeeze the life out of-”

“How long do we need to keep him?”

Gale balks at your words. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“Just until we’re able to locate the rest of the spawns spread throughout the city, which you kindly decided not to mention in our last conversation.”

You shoot Gale a glare, silently questioning if he’d been the one to confess the existence of the spawns underground, but he’s too busy scanning over Astarion, who’s mindlessly fidgeting with his knife. The said spawn seems to feel your gaze, because he glances at you, then grins.

The bastard is smiling.

“The man you killed this morning is a spawn himself, yes?” the Duke clarifies. “There have been numerous reports the past few days about strange figures with fangs throughout the city—I’d known they’d existed, but to the numbers that are being reported…”

“You couldn’t have possibly believed myself to be the only spawn around?” Astarion laughs bitterly. “I do not wish to go hungry, Duke, but I don’t need nearly as many bodies that’s been showing up—assuming that I did drink from anyone, of course.”

Ravengard ignores him, speaking as if he’s not there. “I could still have him detained if that is what you wish. We can continue as we have and search for the spawn without his help.”

You know it’s a fruitless effort if last night has told you anything.

“You don’t even have evidence that I drank from a single person in this entire bloody city!” Astarion spits back, rolling his neck in exasperation.

“No,” you purse your lips, finally looking up. “I’ll be responsible for him.”

Gale clears his throat alarmingly. “Now, dear leader, let’s have a private conversation before we make any hasty decisions, yes? Surely, we don’t have to decide right this moment.”

And while you open your mouth to respond that no, you won’t have Astarion rot away in some gross cell, the Duke nods. “Very well.”

Gale pushes you to the corner of the room, with his face clearly paling in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking. You want someone who nearly strangled you to death sleeping in the room next to yours?”

“Ravengard wants us to find out where the other spawn are hiding, and the only lead we have is sitting right there,” you defend yourself. “Throwing Astarion into a dirty cell won’t do anything to convince him to help us.”

“The Duke doesn’t know what he did to you!”

“He doesn’t need to. Astarion’s made it very clear he’s not going to spill any information if the Duke is the one asking, and we need a lead. I nearly died last night, Gale. I want to avoid that if I can.”

His eyes soften just a bit, but it’s enough. With a loud sigh, he scrunches his nose. “And you’re sure you’re not doing this for more personal reasons?”

At this, you pause. Your eyes waver, and the look Gale gives you is almost soul-crushing if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you’ve already hit rock bottom. You know this is not a good idea. You know that being so close to him again after so many months is not a good idea, especially when you’ve just finally begun your journey to forget him.

You curse the gods above for your luck.

The silence prompts Gale to speak. “I’ll tell the Duke we can’t involve ourselves in this.”

“Gale,” your voice almost cracks. “Please.”

He doesn’t want to agree, you can tell. Any sane person wouldn’t invite a bloodthirsty vampire spawn who’s willing to use his own hands to kill his so-called lover into their home. You want to think that you’re void of bias, but you know it’s a pathetic attempt to reassure yourself. Still, the expression on your face must be quite the sight because Gale takes one look, glances at Astarion, then slumps his shoulders. You’ve won.

You hadn’t even realized the door had been swung open, where your other companions had been standing, taking one look at Astarion then to you. While Gale wallows in his own defeat, you turn to the others, eyes glimmering with a kind of hope that they haven’t seen in months.

“Your judgment’s gotten us this far,” Shadowheart sighs. “We’d be fools not to trust it now.”

Lae’zel clicks her tongue. “My blade is ready to slit his throat if need be. Just command me, and I shall.”

“We aren’t going to try to kill him," you retort.

“It’s only right to return the favor."

Dinner is awkward. You’re finally getting to try Gale’s stew, but it’s hard to focus on the taste when all you can feel is the searing stare of the person sitting across from you. He only has a goblet of crimson liquid in the same shade as his eyes in front of him, and it remains untouched as he takes in the rest of the house.

“So,” Gale offers. “What have you been up to?”

It’s not much, but it’s better than sitting in complete silence.

“Wandering the streets at night, mostly. Oh, and murdering half the city, apparently,” Astarion lets out his usual high-pitched laugh at the end, and your fingers tighten around your spoon. Shadowheart glares at him through her lashes, and you think she may lunge at him any second. You want to think you wouldn't stop her.

You feel for her, really. Being the group’s cleric comes with its advantages but also with the unspoken burden of watching your companions in pain. She’d been the one to ensure Astarion hadn’t left long-lasting damage to your throat. She’d been the one to soothe your headaches and cast a sleeping spell on you in hopes it’ll allow you to rest longer than just a few hours. She’d also seen you nearly bleed out multiple times, one of which occurred mere hours ago.

The sudden scrape of Lae’zel’s chair being pushed back catches your attention. She stands, lifting her bowl with her. “The air here is suffocating. Sort out your differences before I sort them out for you.”

The rest of you collectively nod. She doesn’t say anything else before leaving the room.

“The room at the end of the hallway upstairs is yours,” Shadowheart says finally. “Don’t bother me if you need anything else.”

She stands up as well, leaving her bowl in the sink before pacing up the stairs to her own quarters.

Somehow, the atmosphere is even worse now. You don’t dare lift your eyes from your stew, and you honestly hope it explodes before you have to sit here and drink all of it in this silence. Gale, thankfully, does not leave. Instead, he sets down his utensil.

“I suggest we have a set of rules in place–for the sake of everyone occupying this home,” he clears his throat. You shoot him a questioning look, which he dusts off.

“Fine,” Astarion leans back in his chair, now swirling the goblet of blood in his hand. “What do you have in mind?”

“No drinking. From anyone here.”

You blink a few times, then hear Astarion hum in acknowledgment. “Shame. Though your blood was vile anyway.”

“And don’t cause any trouble. One of us will go with you when you need to drink, so you can hunt for whatever animal you prefer these days. Otherwise, unless we say so, you’ll remain here.”

“Why, this sounds almost identical to a prison. Looking for a job as a warden, Gale? A midlife crisis, perhaps. Does wizard life not suit you anymore?”

“It suits me plenty, thanks,” Gale snorts. “We’ll be out during the day to rebuild the city, so you’ll have to entertain yourself in your own room. Don’t touch anything—especially my stuff.”

Astarion grins. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The wizard then turns to you. “And you? Do you have any other rules you’d like to add?”

You finally lift your head from the stew, looking back and forth between the two before shaking your head while pushing your chair back. For someone who’d imagined aimlessly for months about seeing your former lover again, you can’t seem to look him in the eye for fear of what you might feel. “I’m going out.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Wordlessly, you pace toward the door, refusing to look back to suppress the urge to sprint back into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking just a few hours ago, but this was not going to end well. If you couldn’t manage a simple dinner sitting across from him, what could you manage?

You’re in such a rush that you forget to bring anything besides your wallet.

By the time you’re on your way back to the house hours later, you have a backpack shoved full of fabrics with nails and a hammer to go along with it. As you pass by the taverns, you hear music playing from inside, alongside a few cheers and what you can only assume to be a crash of chairs as people applaud.

You can’t help but peer through the window as you walk past, where a bard merrily plays on his drum, lightening the mood of the entire tavern—even the bartender smiles along as he plays tunes you’ve heard a million times before. And while your hands itch for a lyre—to feel the string snap against your fingertips—you know no good will come of it. You’ll only sit before the instrument, your hands unable to find the emotions to exert in the form of notes.

As you stare at the bard, you remind yourself you’ve long given up on that kind of life.

So instead, you continue your way to the Highberry’s home. When you knock on the door, a very weary Cora Highberry greets you with bags under her eyes, but a calm smile still stretching on her lips nonetheless. She steps out of the way, inviting you in, and you do so.

“You didn’t have to, dear,” she says as she takes a bag of the city’s finest fruits from your hands. “The neighbors have been oh so gracious to us. They’re helping the children so much, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“I was just passing by, that’s all,” you offer. “I wanted to check on you since I left a bit abruptly last time.”

“Oh, dear, you know how to make a woman feel special. It’s been terrible, really. I haven’t gone so long with my husband in ages…” she laughs, wiping at her swollen eyes. “But we were an old couple anyways…I had some time to prepare my emotions. I just didn’t think he’d go like that.”

You nod as she hands you a mug of hot tea. “But never mind that. I’ve spent the past two weeks talking about nothing but myself, so I’m quite tired. What about you, dear?”

“Me?”

“You look like death themselves,” she frowns. “I’ve lived for quite long…I recognize that heartbroken face anywhere. Has something happened?”

The way she’s staring at you—it’s different than pity. You can’t quite identify it, but she smiles again. It’s not the kind of smile most people give you—not one of anticpation, not one of gratefulness, but just a regular, old smile. And it makes your shoulders untense just the slightest before they tense again. You take a swig of the tea, nearly burning your throat in the process as you set the mug down, splitting a pathetic smile. “No, I’m okay. Just--tired.”

Very, very tired. Not physically, no, but tired of the indecisiveness that is your heart.

Her face falls softly. “How troubling it must be to have the weight of the city on your shoulders."

Before you can answer, there’s a loud thud upstairs. She notices your alarm and shakes her head. “Ah, must be Berry. She’s one of the younger children, and she’s been taking my husband’s death quite hard. Please excuse me, dear. I need to go put her back to sleep.”

And with that, you’re left alone on the first floor of the building again. You contemplate staying to say your farewells but the cries from upstairs convince you otherwise. Taking one last swig from the mug, you gather your things and leave.

When you get back home, it’s well into the night, an hour or two after midnight, you’d think. None of the lights are on, so the first thing you do is light a candle when you step through the door, dropping your backpack onto the dining room table. Dunking all your materials out, you take the hammer and start your work.

There’s something soothing about the darkness outside, with the way nothing seems to exist besides you and your own thoughts in a city that overflows with a sense of community. You try not to think about the man most likely reading in his room just a floor above you and focus on hanging the fabrics in front of all of the windows. The cloths are mismatched in color, and your hammer work is nothing more than sufficient, but it’ll do for now. At least until you can get actual curtains installed.

You worry that some of the fabrics aren’t thick enough to absorb all the sunlight, so you layer another fabric on top of it until you’re sure that even your candlelight cannot be seen from outside. Why you’re going so far for him, you do not know. You prefer to assure yourself that you need him to help stop the spawn from devouring the entire city, but even in your own thoughts, it sounds like a lie.

You wonder if he cares nearly as much as you do. He probably doesn’t.

You hate him, you think for the millionth time today. You want to, at the very least.

You flinch when a splinter in the wooden wall splits your skin open, forming a drop of blood on your index finger. Curse the heavens above, nothing was going right today. You quickly reach for a towel but nearly jump when you hear his voice from the stairs.

“You really need to stop with that habit of yours.”

You spin around, and he’s already at the foot of the stairs, reaching to grab a towel from the kitchen. But you’re faster, snatching it away and pressing it over your hand while he raises both his own, imitating a surrender of getting any closer. You can’t look at him in the eye—you don’t want to either. “What habit?”

“You’re speaking to me now?” he raises a brow, and you turn away again after shooting him a glare. “I’d thought you’d avoid me forever—scurrying off like a squirrel whenever I step into the room.”

You should avoid him forever. But the words don’t reach your tongue, and you choose to ignore him.

He doesn’t budge. “I meant bleeding around me.”

“What?”

“Every time I see you, you always seem to be bleeding.”

You frown at him. “Maybe you just prefer being around me when I’m bleeding.”

“You might be right." You think maybe he’s done with this painfully awkward conversation until you see him staring at the windows covered with random pieces of fabric, and suddenly, you feel embarrassment creep up your skin. You realize how bizarre your actions must appear in someone else’s eyes, staying up to the break of dawn so that he’ll be able to traverse someplace outside the confines of his own room…

It might make him think you care, and the worst part is that a part of you does.

“I hope you don’t expect me to thank you, darling.”

The nickname feels like a stab to your heart, haunting, even, but you do your best to brush it off.

“For what?” you manage to force out through clenched teeth.

“The cell they would’ve thrown me into is nothing different from trapping me in that room, I’m afraid,” he laughs bitterly, and you want to crawl into a hole from how cold his voice sounds. Distant. Like how he’d sounded the day you found him next to his nautiloid pod. “But I suppose I should be grateful for having a bed instead of having to spend my days rotting away on the dirty floor?”

You bite your bottom lip, brows furrowing. “I don't expect anything from you.”

But you do. Not quite an expectation, but a lingering wish that maybe you can heal. It's pathetic, even in your own eyes and surely everyone else's, but you can't be bothered to care.

It pisses you off a bit. How he seems perfectly unfazed while you continue to drown in your own feelings.

“Are you just here to taunt me, or is there a reason for this conversation?” you snap. This is not quite how you wanted your reunion to go.

He raises a brow. “Taunt you? I'm only answering questions you're afraid to ask.”

“I don't need to know anything about you,” you grit through your teeth. “You left my mind the second you abandoned us.”

What a poor, wishful lie.

“Ha!” It doesn't really sound like a laugh—more a scoff of disbelief. It's like he knows what you're thinking, and for a split second, it feels like there's a tadpole in your head again. “Of course you think I'm the villain of your precious heroic tale! Honestly darling, the irony just writes itself.”

You fight the urge to scowl, but you're not sure if you're successful. You find yourself gripping onto the towel harder, teeth clenched as your chest tightens just hearing his words. You truly hate that he seems to care less than you—it’s like he's not even taking you seriously.

And that damned nickname.

It feels like talking to the Astarion you first met—one who’s only intentions were to use you—but this time, you don't think it’s a mask. He doesn't want anything more from you. Only your own suffering from taking the power that would have made him untouchable.

“So tell me, dear, do you wish for me to grovel at your feet?”

Your eyes widen, and the term of endearment that once made your cheeks flush only makes you feel sick. “What?”

“Do you expect me to drop to my knees, begging for your forgiveness?” he says again, eerily composed while you struggle to come up with words. “Perhaps I would have if we were still staying in that camp. Put on a show, even."

You frown, setting your hammer down on the counter. “I’ve never made you grovel. I’ve never made you do anything.”

“Maybe not directly, no, you’re too kind of a soul to do so,” there’s venom lacing the words that feel nothing short of a lie. Somehow, he’s still smiling. “Instead, you made me beg for your help. You accepted—made it feel like I had a choice. Then tore it away just the same, in the cruelest way possible. Impressive, really. I didn't expect such dramatic sins from you.”

The way he looks at you, words dripping with sarcasm, makes you want to melt into the floor, ceasing to exist as a whole. But alas, you continue standing like a deer in headlights, unsure of how to respond. You look down to see the towel stained with your blood and inhale deeply, watching the dark sky lighten with daybreak through the window. “The sun’s rising.”

His smile drops, something foreign flickering in his eyes. He suddenly steps toward you, and as soon as he gets within two feet, you find yourself stepping backward, your fingers tightening around the hammer. You have no idea if you'd even be able to use it, but it's better than digging your nails into your palms.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

You don't want to think he'd truly kill you. Not really, but your mind flashes back to the look in his eyes when he had his hands wrapped around your lifeline, and you grip the hammer tighter, heartbeat pounding impossibly fast.

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke,” you mutter.

His lip twitches, and he steps back bitterly. You feel like you can breathe again.“Ah, yes, that.”

You swear your stomach drops to your feet at the mere suggestion he’d forgotten what haunts your nightmares every night, forcing you to lurch from your rest in a cold sweat, hands shaking, and having nobody to turn to for comfort. He couldn't be that cruel…could he? You want to scream at him, punch him, kick him, tell him he’s not being fair. You want to defend yourself, say that all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be safe, but even that feels like too much when he’s giving you so little.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he grins again. You realize your time is running out, the sun beginning to peer out from the horizon. “Why did you assume responsibility for me? I can’t imagine why you’d want such a terrible foe in your life living right next door of your own sanctuary.”

For the city, you tell yourself. For Cora's husband and the poor victims drained off their life, all alone in the darkest corners of Baldur's Gate. “...I didn’t do it for you.”

He searches your face for something, his eyes narrowing. He's waiting for you to continue, but there's no more fuel in the tank, and now you just want to sleep for a very long time. You assume he comes up empty when the corners of his lips fall, and he turns to climb up the stairs. Sunlight hits your back as your eyes trail him in his steps, and it does nothing to warm how cold it feels in the room.

“That much I’m aware,” he stops his steps for a brief moment. You barely catch it, but it's there. “Terribly aware.”

And when he finally leaves, you bury your face into your hands.

"I'm nervous."

"What for?"

"What if the ascension goes wrong? Are you sure we should really be doing this, Astarion?"

He brushes your hair out of your face, cupping both your cheeks in his hands. "We'll be okay, my love. I will still be here, and so will you. I'll just finally have enough power to protect what I care about."

He sees the hesitance in your eyes and leans his forehead against yours. You melt into his touch, placing your hands atop his.

"So please, stand beside me for this," he pleads.

And despite the way your intuition screams at you otherwise, despite the way your very being begs you to pull away, you nod, sealing your fate.

"I'll be right here."

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#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3 #angst with a happy ending #angst #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart

621 notes · View notes

moodymisty · 1 month

Note

Would you consider to write of Morty x Pregnant reader?? It's ok if ignore this btw you're stories are wonderful💕

Author’s Note: beep boop here's a snippet

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Tokophobia/pregnancy

It’s been months, and yet the news still feels unreal. If he thinks about it for too long, he almost feels like he’s split between a reality and an unreality; You belonging to the ladder.

'I, I’m pregnant, Mortarion.'

He had refused to believe at first. The Primarchs were sterile, surely. They were abominations created in a lab. Beings that spit in the face of humanity yet supposedly beyond them.

But sure enough, you gave him- verbatim - a speech received from the medicae; Pregnant, was once again the conclusion.

He continued to deny it at first, in his own head, and continued to act like nothing had changed.

But then your belly started to grow, and something in him changed. He remembers the exact moment, when your turned to speak to someone and the swell of your belly was recognizable, and Mortarion could no longer deny his reality. The reality.

You were pregnant. You were going to have a child, and he was their father.

Mortarion had left many things unfinished in his life- but he wanted to make good on this one. To be the father he had been denied.

“Go back and rest.”

Mortarion is blunt as you watch him write moments after walking in. You’ve been sick, sicker than most pregnant women, and he can only imagine the toll his accursed genes are doing to your body.

More than what he already does to you; the Barbaus made poisons that stir in him, pouring from his lungs in ragged breaths. Sometimes he wonders how you can tolerate him, let him touch you do this to you- and seem not the least bit disgusted by him.

“I love you, but I will go crazy if I’m locked up in there anymore.”

The look he gives you is less than approving.

"Can I at least have a few minutes here before I go back?" A refusal is on his lips, but he swallows it. You seem to take that as welcome enough and make yourself at home.

As much as he did want to send you back, it's been awhile since he's seen you up and about. Or in general. He's busy, and you're always in the quarters he rarely uses.

You walk past him to look out a large viewport, at the nothingness beyond it. Mortarion notices that your belly has gotten even larger. Resting, and you’ve taken to drawing in that time.

He wonders how the other primarchs will react when they find out. They don't even know you exist, let alone that you're about to have his child. In an odd, prideful, selfish way, he's excited to see their reactions; That he has something they don't.

"They starting moving, by the way." Mortarion looks at you, eyebrows raised. "A few nights ago they started wiggling. You were with your captains so I couldn't tell you right away."

Stepping closer you look at him, rubbing what he presumes is sleep from your eye.

"Do you want to feel?"

Of course he does. He would want nothing more, but he can't find the tongue to say those words. Not without tripping over himself. Instead he rises from his chair and kneels in front of you, reaching a hand out. Once it rests on your belly you put one over his own.

It takes a moment, before he feels them shifting. Something in him almost becomes, frightened. In the same way when he saw how big your belly was getting, this is another moment where he realizes that he isn't in an unreality- this is it.

"Come sit with me."

Mortarion moves to sit back at his desk and bring you to rest on his lap, where you lean comfortably into his chest.

You hum with the satisfaction of winning, and he rests a hand on your belly, before continuing his work.

#mortarion x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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ddejavvu · 1 year

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Hi daisy (i hope im right on your name) this has been on my mind for a while jake seresin and you going to take a shower and him joining you the water being to hot and you can tell hes not enjoying it "change the water to what you like " and it being fucking cold as hell and maybe he has a 3 in 1 and you forcing him to use your stuff"i dont want to smell like vanilla coconuts" "thats too damn bad you putting that shit on your hair is gonna make your hairline received by the time you're 45" and him allowing you too

You'd envisioned something sexier showering with Jake for the first time. Maybe something to do with being pressed against the tile wall. Well, you are pressed against the tile wall, but it's because Jake has dropped his shampoo (that's also his conditioner and his bodywash), and he has to bend over in the middle of the stall to retrieve it.

"Okay," You grimace as his feet shift backwards, and he smashes you even further against the wall, "This shower is not big enough for two people."

"We can make it work," Jake insists, but when he finally straightens up, moving back into the water's line of spray, he hisses in pain.

"Jesus," He gripes, clutching at his chest, "Do you think the water could be a bit hotter, darlin'? Don't think it quite fried my nipples this time."

"It's not that hot!" You insist, standing comfortably in the stream, "But if it really bothers you, Jake, just turn it to whatever temperature you want. I don't care."

You do care, it turns out. You'd been expecting him to squeak the 'cold' knob further to the right, but when he cranks the 'hot' off and swivels the 'cold' all the way on, you gasp.

"Ah- Jake!" You squeal, chills erupting over your flesh as the water runs ice cold, "Are you fucking insane? If I wanted to take the polar plunge I'd dive into the arctic ocean!"

"It's not that cold," He scoffs, squirting some of his 3-in-1 abomination into his hands, "Besides, 'thought you didn't care."

"I care," You gush, reaching for the knobs and adjusting them to be equal hot and cold. It's a bland, unfeeling temperature, but it's better than frosting over.

Your final straw is when Jake drags the same handful of soap from his armpit to his scalp. You watch in horror as he lathers in bubbles that he'd just smeared under his arms, reaching behind you for your own shampoo like it's a cross that can repel whatever evil spirits reside in Jake's bottle.

"Rinse that out now," You order, and he looks up at you bewildered.

"What?"

"Rinse that out," You insist, and when he's still frozen, you huff and do it for him. You spray him with the shower head at point blank range, successfully ridding his hair of the lackluster shampoo. He splutters and scoffs at the water in his eyes but he manages to wrestle the sprayer away from you, blinking his wet lashes open to glare at you.

"What was that about?"

"I'm washing your hair," You decide, smearing your hands together and spreading shampoo onto each palm, "That stuff doesn't work, you know that, right? Shampoo and conditioner work in opposite ways, so combining them makes them both ineffective. And would you use conditioner to wash your body?"

"No," He grumbles, and you press a kiss to his soaking wet cheek as a reward.

"Good," You hum, reaching for his scalp and lathering in your shampoo.

"Oh," He laments, "Now I'm gonna smell like lavender."

You let out a teasing giggle, scratching just right at his scalp so that his frown drops and his eyes flutter momentarily shut, "You'll be the prettiest flower in your field."

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heavenlyhischier · 11 months

Text

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 | 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐫

word count: 2.8k

summary: nico’s your best friend and roommate, but what happens when he comes home after a guy leaves you unsatisfied?

warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ CONTENT, hair pulling, unprotected sex (pls guys use protection), choking, oral (fem receiving), fingering

note: thank u maddy for being the best and reassuring me that this wasnt total garbage i love u ◡̈

Living with Nico was relatively easy. He never made too much noise when he knew you were sleeping, he would make enough dinner for the both of you, and he was clean for a guy. He was caring in the sense that he knew you liked rocky road ice cream, so he always kept it in the freezer despite thinking it was an abomination. However, living with him was also hard because he was undeniably hot.

When you had agreed to move in with him after struggling to find an apartment when your previous lease was over, you didn’t take into account how often you would see him shirtless. Or the amount of times you would see him freshly woken up, messy hair in his sleepy eyes as he sulked into the kitchen. Or the way your heart would swell and your stomach would twist in knots if you let your eyes linger on him for too long.

You, unfortunately, were not naive enough to be blind to what that meant for you, but you were smart enough to keep it to yourself. Nico was your friend and roommate, and having feelings for him was a textbook recipe for disaster. Nothing like that ever ended well, and ruining your friendship with the hockey player was the last thing you wanted.

“I’m going to the gym, but I’ll be back by eleven,” Nico called behind his shoulder as he opened the fridge.

“Okay,” You drawled, doing your best to not stare at the way his back muscles rippled underneath his compression shirt.

“Just saying, in case you wanted to come with,” He teased, turning around to give you a mischievous grin.

He watched as you rolled your eyes, a playful smile gracing your soft features as you left your half-eaten breakfast discarded in front of you. Your hair was still messy from just waking up and your cheeks slightly flushed from what he presumes to be the heat of their apartment. Nico let his mind be clouded by thoughts of how beautiful you looked, but it was when they turned into thoughts of how you’d look underneath him that he pushed them away.

“After the shit you made me do last time, never again,” You groaned as you remembered the awful workout he put you through last time you went with him, “I was bedridden for days, Nico. Days!”

“You’re dramatic,” He laughed, his eyes twinkling as they met your own, “But no, I won’t make you do that again. It will be easier. Maybe.”

“I can’t today anyways. I have um- I have someone coming over,” You meekly admitted, avoiding eye contact with him.

You could feel the air shift around you as your words registered with Nico, and you wanted nothing more than to sink further into your seat. Nico’s silence was unnerving and the thick tension that enveloped you was unlike anything you’d felt with him before. It felt as if the waiting was blindly wrapping its hands around your neck, slowly suffocating you until he opened his mouth.

“Have fun,” He finally responded, his voice clipped and flat, “I’ll see you later.”

Your eyes snapped up and watched as he left the apartment, the door aggressively shutting behind him. You slowly blinked in confusion as you tried to piece together what just happened. He seemed angry that you were having someone over, but you’re not able to understand why. You knew Nico was typically gone during this time, so you planned the meeting accordingly. You weren’t interfering with his time at all, and that left you even more confused, but you didn’t have time to think about it before that someone would be here.

“I had fun,” Noah spoke as he slipped his clothes back on, “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

Not likely, you thought as you tossed him your best fake smile, just wanting to get him out of the apartment. You grabbed the first shirt you could find and slipped it over your head so you could walk him out of your apartment. Passing by your mirror, you nearly tripped over your own feet when you realized that the shirt you had on was Nico’s. It had the devils logo slapped on the front with his number decorating the sleeves, and memories of how you got the shirt began to flood your mind. Shaking your head to rid the thoughts of your roommate, you followed after Noah.

However, as soon as you stepped out into the hallway it was as if time had frozen. Nico was standing at the kitchen island with his back turned towards the two of you, but you knew he’d heard you. His back was straight, the muscles pulled tight as he pretended to focus on whatever was in front of him. While it didn’t seem to phase your hookup, it had you feeling like you couldn’t breathe. You prayed that Noah would keep his mouth shut and not say anything ridiculous to you before he left, but what he did was much worse.

“Hey man,” Noah greeted Nico who had turned his head when he heard someone behind him.

“I’ll let you out.”

God, you wanted the floor to swallow you whole as you watched them interact. It was awkward, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed at the thought that Nico had heard you fake your orgasm only minutes ago. Nico was short and dismissive to the smaller man in front of him as he walked him to the door, and you avoided Noah’s stare as he waited to see if you were going to bid him a goodbye. He scoffed when you stayed planted in your spot.

“Did he make you feel good,” Nico baited as soon as the door was shut behind him, his dark eyes boring into your own.

“Wh-What,” You stuttered, shocked that he would ask you any sort of question like that.

“I said,” Nico began, taking a few steps towards you so that your chests were nearly touching, “Did he make you feel good?”

You swallowed thickly, heart slamming into your rib cage as your head became clouded with thoughts of the man in front of you. He was drenched in sweat from the gym, his shirt sticking to his skin and displaying each dip and curve of the muscle underneath it. His hair looked as if he had been relentlessly running his fingers through it, and all you could think about was the way it would look stuck to his forehead as he buried himself deep inside of you.

“No,” You breathed out, “No, he didn’t.”

“Then let me.”

Nico drags his fingers up your arm, goosebumps rising in a trail behind them. Your pupils are blown wide as you stare up at him, the ability to think, the ability to breathe long forgotten as he looked at you like he wanted to devour you. Your mouth grew dry as you tried to force yourself to speak, but Nico’s touch rendered you speechless until his palm was ghosting over the expanse of your neck.

“Nico, I- We can’t,” You rush out, but you make no point to move away from him as he takes your chin in between his thumb and finger.

“Why not, schätzi,” He tilts his head to the side, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip, “I hear you moaning my name when you think i’m asleep.”

If you thought your heart was racing before, it was certainly about to beat out of your chest now. Embarrassment crawled up your neck at the thought of being caught in the act by the person you had been fantasizing about, but another part of you, the twisted part of you, had hoped he did.

“We’re friends. Roommates,” You haphazardly explained, “This could ruin everything.”

“It doesn’t have to ruin anything,” He tried, his voice low as his eyes darted to your lips, “But I heard you earlier. I know that’s not what you sound like. I know you faked it, so let me help you.”

Fuck it. You close the small gap between the two of you, crashing your lips on his own in a searing kiss. Nico’s hand drops from your chin, snaking around to the back of your neck to tangle in your hair as he pulls you into his chest. You’re grasping at his biceps, trying to keep yourself steady as he deepens the kiss and slides his tongue into your mouth. A broken moan slips through your mouth when Nico tugs on your hair, and he’s pulling away with a smirk on his face.

“You like that,” He teased with red, swollen lips and hooded eyes, the grip on your hair slightly tightening, “You let him pull your hair too?��

The way his voice deepened and his eyes hardened at the mention of Noah had the wetness in between your legs growing. Every nerve in your body was aching for him to touch you, to get you to the release your body so desperately craved. You stared up at Nico, words suddenly fleeting from your mind as he carefully backed you up against the kitchen table. With one hand still tangled in your hair, he gripped the back of your thighs and lifted you into the table.

“Did you let him touch you,” He taunted as he ran a finger up the inside of your thigh, sending shivers through your body.

“No, we jus- We just had sex,” You admitted sheepishly, eyes dropping to his chest.

With his grip still on your hair, he yanked your head back up so your eyes were on his face as he spoke, “Good.”

He quickly dropped to his knees, placing both hands on your thighs and spreading them so he could slot himself in between you. Eyes wide and full of anticipation, you watched as he began to pepper soft, gentle kisses along the sensitive skin. You throw your head back in bliss when his breath hits your center, and your breathing becomes shaky and desperate.

“You know,” His voice rumbled against you, “When I saw you wearing nothing but my shirt after he left you unsatisfied, I was ready to bend you over the counter and show him how to properly fuck you.”

Nico’s words caught you by surprise, but he didn’t give you any time to respond before he was latching his mouth onto your clit. Whatever you were going to say was broken into moans as your hands gripped the edge of the table for support. He grabs your leg and hooks it over his shoulder as he licks and sucks at your core like this was his only purpose. His name falls from your lips in cries, and they only encourage him to plunge two fingers inside of you without warning.

“Oh my god,” You pant as your fingers grasp at his hair, pulling him closer into you.

Your body is writhing as Nico’s fingers curl inside of you, causing him to snake his other arm around you and hold you in place. He’s humming against you and it nearly sends you over the edge, but he’s retracting his mouth and quickly standing before interrupting your pleas and slamming his lips against yours. You taste yourself on his lips as he relentlessly fucks you with his fingers, and you feel the coil in your stomach begin to break.

“Let go, schätzi,” He mumbles against your lips, recognizing the sounds coming from your mouth from the many times he’s heard you touching yourself to the thought of him.

Your legs shake and your eyes screw shut as you release yourself over his fingers. Nico pulls his fingers out of you, leaving your walls clenching at the empty feeling, and he’s bringing his fingers to your mouth. You meet his eyes as he quirks his brow, silently urging you to part your lips, which you do while maintaining his gaze. He lets out a guttural groan as your lips swirl around his fingers, his cock twitching in his shorts.

“Nico,” You gasp, trying to catch your breath once he pulls his fingers from your mouth, “Please.”

“Please what,” He feigns confusion, the ghost of a playful smile on his lips.

“Need you inside of me,” You begged, “Please.”

“Think you deserve that after letting someone else fuck you less than twenty minutes ago,” He darkly laughed as he slipped out of his shirt.

“I don’t- I just wanted something other than my fingers,” You shamefully revealed, fingers toying at the waistband of his shorts.

“How’d that work out for you,” He hummed, “Just wasted your time being a slut when you could’ve just asked me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of how to respond because you couldn’t have just asked him. It wasn’t that simple to you. You thought he would reject you, laugh at you, kick you out. Never in a million years did you think he would want you the same way you wanted him, but here he was. Stepping out of his shorts and bearing all of himself to you.

Pulling you into another kiss, he slides his length through the slickness between your legs, teasing at your entrance as you let out a whine. He carefully pushes himself into you, stopping when your head falls away from him in pleasure. Nico’s hand splays across the expanse of your neck, gently squeezing at the sides as he brings your head back up. Your eyes snap open as you groan and your hips shift towards him, desperate for him to go deeper.

“Want you to look at me,” He instructs, “Need you to.”

Your eyes brim with tears as he bottoms out in you, stilling as he lets you adjust to his size. He lets out a string of curse words in his native language before he slowly begins to rock against you until you’re ready for more. Despite the pressure on your neck, your eyes screw shut as you feel him sliding in and out of you. No fantasy you’ve had could ever amount to what you were feeling, and now that you’ve had the real thing, you never wanted to go back.

“Faster,” You plead, eyes opening to a slit to watch his face twist in pleasure as you clenched around him.

Nico’s quick to pull himself nearly all the way out before snapping his hips against your own and slamming into you. The moans you let out are pornagraphic as you cling to him to keep yourself upright. Your mind is hazy, full of only the man burying himself inside of you and hitting just the right spot.

He drops his head to your neck and begins to suck on the sensitive skin. You know he’s going to leave a mark, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as he was mercilessly fucking into you. One hand gripping the edge of the table and the other tugging at his hair, you could feel yourself reaching your breaking point yet again, and Nico knew that too.

He slowed his pace, but began thrusting deeper into you at a more controlled speed so that he could tease you to the edge. His quiet groans were ringing in your ears as your hips met his, your walls tensing around him. Nico hissed at the feeling, the grip he had on your throat slightly tightening just enough for your arousal to be heightened even more. It wasn’t long after that you were reaching your second orgasm of the night, and the sound you let out was what sent him into his own.

Nico’s hips stuttered against you as he continued thrusting into you until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He was pulling out of you and carefully pushing you back and lifting your shirt to release himself onto your stomach. Your vision was blurry as you came down from your high, but you could still see him as he planted his hands on either side of you. The both of you were panting, trying to catch your breath as the silence enveloped you.

The air was sticky with an unknown tension, and it made you nervous. You didn’t know where to go from here, and you didn’t know where he wanted to go from here. Of course you wanted something more than a friends with benefits situation with him, but honestly, you’d settle with that if it’s what he wanted. You only let the silence last for a couple of minutes before you decided to speak.

“I should go get cleaned up,” You quietly spoke, avoiding eye contact with him despite just having him inside of you.

“Shower. I'm not done with you yet.”

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier smut #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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reputationgf · 1 year

Text

summer went away, still the yearning stays.

kaz brekker x grisha.

genre - slight angst, fluff.

summary - Three years ago you were taken away from Kaz to Ravka to train as a Grisha, now you found your way back to him and he was your again, Kaz Rietveld was yours again.

word count - 2.3k

a/n : hi wow writing after a long time !! also the summary of this sucks lowkey but we roll <33 please reblog/comment it makes my day <33

leave reqs here !! (no promises tho)

The little palace never felt like home. Something about being considered superior and the ongoing talks about how being a grisha was a gift by the saints, one meant to be cherished made you irritated. Being a grisha was what took your real life away, took you away from a person you cared for the most, Kaz brekker.

Kaz brekker was known by many names be it the bastard of the barrel or dirtyhands but you never knew him as those, to you he simply was Kaz Rietveld, to you he would always be the boy who was caring and smart and broken. Life hadn't been kind to him and it probably still wasn't.

When you both were fourteen and were roaming around the streets of Ketterdam without a care in the world on your part, some grisha came and took both of you to be tested, Kaz wasn't one but you turned out to be, and then without a choice you were taken away from him to the little palace. You wished you had put up more of a fight, maybe even tried using whatever powers you had to free yourself, maybe then you'd still be in Ketterdam with the one you wanted.

But deep down you knew however hard you would've tried you wouldn't have been to run away. You missed everything about your old life even if it wasn't the most safe and comfortable, even if you weren't guaranteed a meal everyday, even if it meant living on the edge everyday cause it meant you could be with him.

You were now seventeen and you felt like you knew nothing except the fact that you missed him. And now you were amidst a war for a country you weren't sure you cared for but you still helped of course, you battled for Genya to receive her justice, you battled for the people who lost their lives due to General Kirigan being an abomination to the society and using people as pawns in his own twisted game.

"Zoya let me come with you to Shu Han." You spoke with eagerness in your voice.

Ever since knowing about the plan to hire the crows to retrieve the Neshyenyer from Shu Han you've been on your toes. This could be the one chance to see him before you possibly died. You weren't going to give up on that.

"Tolya is coming with me I've already told you this once before." Zoya said, Her voice was dripping with sternness, she didn't want any further arguments, "besides why do you even want to come with me?"

You glared at the woman in front of you, it felt as if the fire that normally blazed through your fingers was now in your eyes, "you know why." You said, your voice cold, your jaw clenched.

Zoya studied you, she saw the way your hands were in a tight fist and how your lips were in a thin line. She noticed the slight hitch in your breath and the way your eyebrows were scrunched, then she met your eyes. Your eyes were filled with a fire she had only seen once before when you had found out General Kirigan's reality.

"Fine. You can come with me," She said tilting her head slightly, "don't make me regret this." A smirk rested on Zoya's face.

"I won't. Thank you." You said and gave her a nod, going away to get ready for your travels to Ketterdam and then Shu Han.

Ketterdam. You had so many feelings about Ketterdam that it overwhelmed you. Was Ketterdam your home? Maybe it was cause he was there. Or was it your enemy, the place which broke and bruised you, which made you feel as if someone took a dagger and slowly ran it through your body, just enough to sting forever. Was it a place that placed an irreplaceable hurt in you or was it a place you longed to be in cause he was there. Sometimes you found yourself missing Ketterdam, or maybe you just missed Kaz. After all, it's always the people who make a place feel like home, a safe haven.

The whole ride to Ketterdam to you was completely utterly anxious. Your fingernails dug deep into your fist, your bottom lip so chewed out that you could now taste blood in your mouth. You had to remind yourself to breathe and your heart to beat. One of your hands reached the necklace that laid against your chest, your fingers softly gripping its pendant— a heart, engraved with flowers around the corners and a capital R in the middle. You had remembered the day Kaz had given it to you, it was your fourteenth birthday. He had nicked it from a pawn shop and hoped you'd like it. You remembered it as clear as day how he gave it to you, it was a memory that brought you peace, taught your heart how to beat again. You closed your eyes, releasing the tight grip of your fist and freeing your lips from your teeth. Taking a deep breath you lost yourself in the memory.

"hey," Kaz called out to you, your name leaving his lips, "come in"

You followed Kaz into his room and sat on the chair of his study, he opened his cupboard and removed a small circular velvet box. Your eyes curiously followed the box and him as he sat on the bed opposite to your chair, his hand still holding the box. You looked at him and slightly raised your eyebrows.

"happy birthday" he said, holding out the box for you to take. His voice seemed almost emotionless, like always, but this time you could hear the slightest quiver in it. Was Kaz Brekker nervous?

Your face adorned a smile, "is this for me?" You asked him, your voice slightly teasing.

"yes." He spoke, motioning you to take the box.

You took the box from him gingerly, a small thank you leaving your lips as you gave him a big smile, your finger ran along the edges of the box feeling the soft velvet and then you opened it. A soft gasp of surprise leaving your mouth as you removed the necklace out of the box, "Kaz! This is so precious" you said, an even wider smile now covered your face, the one where he could see your teeth, "thank you so much." You spoke earnestly.

"I'm glad you like it." Kaz spoke, the tiniest of smiles on his face.

You studied the pendant, your finger dragging along the pink flowers carved along the heart's edges, you smiled at the 'R' in the middle of the heart, "There's a 'R' in the centre of the heart" you said, your eyes meeting his, your eyebrows raised slightly as if questioning him.

Kaz remained silent, you felt as if you said something wrong, maybe you shouldn't have pointed it out, maybe it was accidental. But then Kaz said, "This way, there's always a piece of the real me with you." of course it wasn't accidental, kaz brekker is a mastermind, everything he does will always have a meaning.

"Thank you," you said, putting the necklace on, "I love it"

He merely gave you a nod and you left his room.

"Let me do the talking." Zoya said, her eyes on your face as you stepped into the crow club, you hummed a noise of approval your eyes desperately searching the dim lit room which reeked of alcohol, a smoky haze covered the room. Someone approached Zoya, you didn't know who he was nor you cared cause it wasn't him.

You soon got lost in your thoughts again, kaz often had that effect on you. You couldn't stop thinking about how he would react to seeing you, would he even acknowledge you? Would he show the slightest reaction? You weren't sure. Soon, Zoya grabbed your arm and tugged on it, "Let's go? I've been calling your name." Her voice had its usual sternness.

"Yeah, right, sorry." You spoke softly, your face held a look of melancholy, Zoya noticed it and her eyes softened, she placed her hands on yours gingerly and gave it a gentle squeeze, "it'll be okay" she said softly, offering you a small smile. You gave her a warm smile and a nod as you both walked towards a hall led by someone.

"Boss will meet you here", the man said as he opened the door to a room which looked like a study, you walked in and Zoya took a seat on the wooden chair kept opposite the table. You walked along the room, your eyes taking in every single corner of the room. You saw the painting hung up on the wall, scrolls of paper neatly placed on the side table, a black wool coat hung on the coat rack. Your breath hitched slightly, "was it his?," You thought, your hand reaching out to touch it, your hand grazed along the soft wool and then you heard the door open. You turned around and your eyes widened a little, your mouth slightly open, a breath left your mouth and your eyes met his striking blue ones. You felt as if time had stopped, you could feel your heart beating fast, so fast that you could feel it in your throat. "Kaz" you said, your voice barely a whisper.

Kaz's eyes widened a little, you could see his grip tighten on his cane, you gave him a little smile, he had to remember you. How could he not?

Zoya's sharp voice suddenly cut the thick tension that settled in the air, "Kaz Brekker, Ravka seeks your help." Her hand holding a letter out to him. A scowl covered Kaz's face, he snatched the letter off Zoya's hand, "We aren't patriots," he said grimly, his eyes meeting Zoya's.

"The money isn't the matter, the king will give you your price" She said with certainty.

Kaz hummed in response, his eyes reading the letter and then it met yours again. Oh those eyes, how you had longed to see them, Kaz's brown eyes were something you'd never forget. You couldn't even if you had tried. His eyes were the shade of brown you saw everyday in your morning coffee, you saw his eyes in the dark leather bound books, you saw his eyes in pieces of dark chocolate. For you he was everywhere- he was in the game of cards you saw younger Grisha playing, he was in the snarky remarks passed around, but more importantly, he was always in your heart.

"Leave." he said now looking at Zoya, "we will discuss about this in a moment." His voice sounded bitter.

Zoya hesitated, her eyes followed yours and she gave you a nod, "Fine, but just a moment", she uttered, leaving and slamming the door shut.

"Kaz," You called out, this time louder. Your voice held desperation in it, it was soft yet tense- you wanted to hold him, you wanted to touch him and try to make up the lost time, you took a step closer to him, "i missed you" you said, your hand fiddling with your necklace.

Kaz's eyes followed your hand, he was surprised to find out you still had the necklace with you, "Three years." he spoke, his voice softer now, "it's been three fucking years." you could see his walls slowly breaking down, his eyes becoming softer, the grip on his cane becoming weaker. "I wondered if you had died", his voice quivered slightly, his eyes glossier.

Another step forward, "How could i die without seeing you?", you said, humor in your voice, "Kaz, are you okay? is everything okay?" you asked, your face held a look of melancholy, your lips pursed.

"You look different," Kaz said, ignoring your question, "you look beautiful." he said slowly, a small smile playing on his lips.

you could feel the tears in your eyes, you smiled at him, a soft giggle left your lips, "Thank you, but that still doesn't answer my question, are you okay?"

"I missed your laugh" he said, "i missed you." This time Kaz took a step towards you, his gloved hands tensed a little. "You still have the necklace." he remarked.

You nodded, "how could i not carry a piece of the real you with me always?"

Kaz looked down, his hand tracing patterns on his cane, "I hated being away from you" he admitted, "i-" he took a breath, his eyes meeting yours, the look on his face made you want to cry, you could feel your eyes filling up with tears again, "I needed you" he said, your name leaving his lips, another breath in, "I wanted you".

You tilted your head slightly, your hands wiping the few tears on your cheek, "I am sorry,"

"It wasn't your fault." he said quickly.

"You have me now, if you still want me." you said, your voice slow, "after this, this war is over I'll stay here in Ketterdam, if you want me too"

Kaz's face looked like that of a young boy again, he was changed in the way he was now, he was dirtyhands, the bastard of the barrel, he was someone people feared- but right now, in this moment, he was Kaz Rietveld again.

"I will always want you." He said slowly, his hand reached out for yours, it tensed a little.

"Kaz you don't have too-"

"I want you to stay." He said, his hand relaxing in yours, "i want you." He gently squeezed your hand.

"Then you'll have me" you said smiling, "you will have me Kaz Rietveld."

#kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader fluff #kaz brekker x reader angst #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you

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kana-daydreams · 4 months

Text

𝐦𝐫𝐬. 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧

summary: a day in which you get mistaken for the general's wife.

𝐏𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Omg!! What a cute couple?!

I’ll tap that.

Is that their kid?

Goals.

Your left eye twitches and your face contorts into an embarrassed scowl as your ears are subjected to listen to the irking, hushed comments of strangers being hurled—left, right and centre— in your direction.

Were those people visually impaired?

Why in the world did they think you and this...this abomination were a coup—

“Ooo, ice cream! Can we, can we?!” A bubbly voice chirps from beside you and you glance down at the young child, a boy no older than seven, whose hands grip both yours and Warumono's in a tight grasp as the three of you amble along a sidewalk, like a cute happy family — a reality very, very far from the truth.

The only reason you were a part of this 'family' was due to the boy. And only the boy. A poor soul you'd happened to chance upon during your usual patrol, cuddled in the arms of the abomination, lost, and refusing to part ways with him. And his stubbornness, in turn, leading you to tag along, concerned about leaving his welfare in the hands of evil.

Your gaze follows the boy's across at the ice cream truck stationed to your right.

“Don’t you think you've had enough sugar for the day, sweetie?” You plaster on a soft smile, referring to all the treats both you and Warumono indulged him in on your way to the police station, as a way to cheer him up for getting separated from his parents.

“Yeah, but I want ice cream." His chubby cheeks puff from a pout.

You give him a look of uncertainty. “I don’t know…we really should be getting you back to your parents. They must be very worried about you.”

The boy looks at you, a sheepish look shadowing his features, before casting a longing look in the direction of the truck and at the faces of other children lighting up in excitement when they each receive an ice cream cone. And his own face takes on a crestfallen look. “I know…”

His disappointed tone and sad pout ache your heart. It reminds you of your Mugi and Sora back at home any time they didn't get their way. Instantly withdrawing your word, helpless against their puppy-dog eyes.

And therefore with your weak resolve against pouting, adorable baby faces, you begin to have second thoughts about your suggestion. But before you can make an offer, another voice annoyingly beats you to it.

“If we get you ice cream, will you quietly let us take you to the police station?”

The boy perks up at Warumono’s question, brown eyes seeming to sparkle in his direction. “Mhm!” And with his newfound glee, the boy tugs both you and Warumono by the hand in the direction of the ice cream truck’s concession.

Momentarily, you find yourself giving a waffle cone that towers three scoops of ice cream tall to the boy. “Be careful, now.” You say as he retrieves the cone from your hands. Advice immediately gone down the drain when the cone miraculously slips from his grasp, after he manages to take a single lick, and plops to the ground.

The boy's face scrunches. His brows pull into a sad frown and his lips quiver before he releases a surge of sobs, snot and tears.

His crying draws the attention of the others around you along with Warumono's, still in line waiting to retrieve his own order. He watches as you crouch down to the boy’s level, wiping a handkerchief at his tears and snotty nose, frantically attempting to calm him down.

“Poor thing.” Warumono directs his attention at the middle-aged man behind the open window of the ice-cream truck. And watches as he then disappears further into the truck, reappearing after a few minutes with two cones of ice cream similar to the one he'd ordered earlier for the little boy, together with his own.

“Here, take this. On the house.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, son. Y'er a loyal customer." He smiles a toothy smile. "I don’t mind givin’ freebies to ya, and y'er pretty wife and kid you've gotcha over there."

A beat of quiet settles between Warumono and the older man.

Wife? He arches a brow and spares a glance to his left in your direction.

He wasn't sure how to perceive the man's words. As a compliment or an insult?

Warumono returns his attention to the man, retrieving the ice creams from his hands.

"She's not my—"

"Next!"

Interrupted from clearing up the man's misunderstanding of the relationship between you and him along with the child, Warumono makes his way over to you and the boy you'd escorted over to a nearby bench, still sniffling and hiccuping from his misfortune.

“Here.”

You peer up at the ice creams in his hands and arch a brow in question, considering you didn’t order any.

"It's for you and the kid." Warumono supplies. “The old man gave it to me for free.”

“Really?” You take an ice cream from him, giving it to the child, his crying instantly subsiding, before taking the other for yourself.

“Yeah."

"Wait, did you threaten him?" Your eyes narrow in suspicion.

Warumono looks both unsurprised and unbothered by your bold assumption.

"No." He wipes away a dot of ice cream on the child's nose who giggles in response. "It's because I've got a pretty wife and kid."

“Well, that’s nice of him." You smile. "I love free...wait, w-wife?” Heat courses up your neck, and flares on your face when your brain registers his words. “What do you mean wife?!”

#𓇻 kana's misc ddrms #warumono san x reader #warumono x reader #kyuujitsu no warumono san #mr villain x reader #mr villain's day off

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valeriianz · 8 months

Text

Here’s another half-formed dreamling fic with them stuck in a snow storm while flurries currently whistle past my windows (and cover my screens in white).

Dream, sitting on the floor of his kitchen, surrounded by candles because the power is out, and sipping a glass of red wine. He’s bundled in a blanket and desperately failing to conserve battery on his phone, by texting Hob, who’s also lost power.

Dream slouches back against his oven, of which the burners are on to give off some blessed heat (thank God his oven is gas), while he reads the latest message from Hob, lamenting how bleeding cold it is in his own apartment, a newly renovated chrome building on the edge of the city, where everything, including the heat, was electric.

Dream mourns for him, even though Hob makes light of the situation with his witty texts and flirtatious hints of how Dream could warm him up.

They’d only been on a handful of dates, not yet fallen into bed together… Dream awkwardly explaining to Hob that it took a while, if at all, for sexual attraction to form within a new relationship. Hob had, surprisingly, taken it in stride. Becoming patient and thoughtful, always communicating, and never pushing Dream’s limits.

It was refreshing, and– to Dream’s complete surprise– he’d found himself falling hard for the other man. Who knew a simple acknowledgment to boundaries would get him so wound up? His pulse quickened with every smile Hob gave him, his stomach tying itself in knots whenever Hob would take his hand, and his brain completely shutting off when Hob would kiss him. Chaste things that had progressively turned more and more heated with every encounter. Promising something more and more each time they met.

Currently, the sounds of his windows rattling from the flurries outside fill his dark apartment, along with the flutter of the open flames on his stove, and the quiet drip, drip, drip of the kitchen tap (to prevent frozen pipes, Dream had learned that lesson the hard way last winter).

After about an hour of texting Hob, Dream nearly halfway done with the bottle of wine, he receives a text that makes his heart jump.

So, what if i told you im actually outside your building?

Dream stood up so suddenly the candles around him nearly snuffed themselves out.

He yanked on his boots and pulled on his oversized winter coat, stumbling to his front door and marching down the stairs of the apartment complex he resided in, the age of which you could smell in its walls, see in the cracks and warps in the wooden floors. He made it down to the entrance and pulled open the door, the ice cold wind smacking Dream in the face immediately.

But then he saw a smudge of brown in the whiteness approaching. Dream kicked down the snow that had piled up at the door and waded forward in knee deep snow to meet Hob halfway and help him past the threshold.

Once the door slammed shut behind them, Dream took a proper look at Hob.

“You look like the abominable snowman.”

Hob laughed. He was absolutely covered in snow, piled high on his shoulders, his boots, even on his eyelashes.

“I feel like one.” Hob said, his voice cracked and breathless.

Once they’re back inside Dream’s apartment, and Hob’s outer layers have been stripped off and hung in the shower to drip dry, Dream sets off to boil water on the stove top for tea.

They sit on Dream’s couch, sharing a blanket and sipping tea while Dream admonishes Hob for coming out in the middle of a storm. What was he thinking?? To which Hob just shrugs and curls his nearly numb fingers around the hot mug, snuggling even further into Dream’s side and sighing.

“Worth it, to see you.”

“You’re insane,” Dream says, but smiles through it.

Hob’s skin glows with the orange and yellow flickering of the candles, his features softening and barely noticeable in the limited light. But Dream knows them by now. Knows the curve of Hob’s thick, dark eyebrows, down to the scruff of his jaw, and back up to the prominent shape of his nose. He’s always handsome, but right now, shadowed in soft light and his cheeks still pink from the cold, he’s lovely. And Dream can’t help but set his mug down, taking Hob’s as well, and kissing him.

His lips arm warm from the tea, and he tastes of lavender and honey, and it makes Dream want. Want to climb onto Hob’s lap and crawl inside him. Make a nest for himself– warm and safe and cared for under Hob’s breast bone. There he could listen to the rhythmic beat of his heart, how it thunders now, under Dream’s hand as he caresses down Hob’s sweater and gets teasing fingers under the hem, touching the soft flesh of his hips and stomach.

Hob moans into his mouth, making Dream’s skull vibrate and he nearly gives in, something dark and unknown swirling in his lower belly that drives his fingers to press harder, feel the texture of Hob’s skin, the smattering of hairs at his stomach, but he forces himself to slow down, to take it easy, to enjoy and luxuriate in what they have now.

Hob, miraculously, follows along. His own hands cupping each side of Dream’s head and only getting his fingers in his hair, matching Dream’s pace, kissing back with no intention of more unless Dream initiated. Moving his mouth at Dream’s pace, breaking apart and nudging his nose and lips under his jaw and nuzzling behind Dream’s ear and making him shudder pleasantly.

“Dream, Dream…” Hob mumbles, seemingly content in just kissing, just holding one another. “I could do this for hours.”

Dream grips the hem of Hob’s sweater, holding tightly as to prevent himself from ripping it off Hob. Another time, very soon, he knows. Dream has every intention to give into the temptation that is Hob Gadling, but the waiting is so much more fun. The anticipation, the slow understanding of his own feelings brimming up to the surface, will be that much more satisfying when he’s certain Hob will reciprocate them.

Hob just might love him back, right now. But Dream waits. Though, he does allow himself a confession:

“I could do this forever.”

#and then they roasted marshmallows on the stove #and snuggled in bed and it was perfect #dreamling #hob x dream #ace/demisexual Dream #it's cold as balls here and oh how i wish for a Hob Gadling of my own #my writing

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madzlang · 1 year

Text

okay, this is finally part 2 for ‘Bread, Croissants, and a Date’

thank you all for your amazing comments about parts 1 ♥️♥️ love you all so much

Bread, Croissants, and a Date

Part 2

simon riley x fem!reader smut

summary: reader misses simon while he’s away for work, so she decides to show him, just how much she missed him when he comes back

warnings: smut obviously, i have no idea how cats act bc i’ve never owned one so all those cat lovers, have fun reading my abomination of writing how a cat is (yes, this deserves a warning), loads of consent (like a lot), oral (f receiving), a bit of overstim, unprotected sex, way longer than i thought it was gonna be

Simon quietly closed the door behind him, his eyes darting to the clock in the room as he locked the door.

3:12 it read. In the morning.

He groaned quietly as their small white cat ran over to them, scratching at his shoe.

“What’re you still doing up, huh? Protecting mama, yeah?” He asked quietly, picking up the cat as she purred.

He scratched her back for a few seconds before it started scratching at him, begging in it’s silent cat language to release her. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” He mumbled, putting the cat back down onto the hardwood flooring, watching as it ran away to her cat tree.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ hates me.” He grumbled, taking off his boots and peeling his balaclava off, going to throw it on the couch before he saw his girlfriend of a year, laying there, sleeping soundly, wearing a jumper that belonged to him and comfy shorts.

He quietly walked over, sitting down in the armchair next to the couch, staring at her as she slept, his hand reaching out to stroke her hair.

“Missed you, lovie.” He whispered, swearing under his breath when her eyes started fluttering open and she turned around, squinting up at him.

“Si?” She mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart. Sorry for waking you up.” He muttered, still playing with her hair.

As soon as he spoke, she sat up and jumped on him like she wasn’t sleeping a few moments ago, wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

“Missed you so much, Si.” She mumbled into his neck, sniffling a bit.

He rubbed her back, closing his eyes and whispering reassuring words to her as he felt tears against his neck.

They stayed in that position for a few minutes, just hugging one another after around 2 months of being apart.

She pulled back slightly to look at his face, stroking it with her thumbs, one of them going to his cheekbone where a small cut was.

“What’s this?” She mumbled, pressing a small kiss to the cut.

“Nothing, lovie. I’m okay.” He spoke softly, rubbing her back still.

She exhaled and nodded, leaning forward to press her soft lips against his. He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping his waist and eyes immediately closing.

“Fuck, missed the taste of you, sweetie.” He mumbled into her mouth, his large hands gripping her waist as his rough and chapped lips and her soft and plump lips melded together.

She whimpered into his lips, the thin material of her shorts not doing much to create a barrier between her pussy and the harsh material of his cargo pants.

He furrowed his brows as he felt her hips moving on his, pulling away from the kiss slightly. “Honey.. what’re you doin’?” He mumbled, gripping her hips to stop them from moving.

“Want you.” She whimpered, trying to kiss him again.

“Sweetie.. stop.” He muttered, moving away from her, dodging her lips. “Think about what you’re saying, lovie.”

“I know what I’m saying; want you. Wanna be wrapped around you.” She whined, her face moving to his neck.

He groaned quietly, a bulge forming in his trousers. “Sweetie.. you can’t.. you can’t say stuff like that.” He muttered, his eyes fluttering as he felt her grind on him again, but he didn’t stop her this time.

“Why? I want you. Want you inside me.” She mumbled, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“Wait- wait, honey.” He muttered. “You- you know what you’re saying, right? This is a big deal. I don’t want your first time to be at 3 in the morning. I want it to be special for you.”

“It will be special, Si. It will be. Because it’s with you.” She mumbled against his neck.

He exhaled and nodded. “You sure, honey?” He asked, his hands going to grip her ass.

She nodded enthusiastically. “Want you so bad, Simon.” She mumbled.

He groaned under his breath before standing up with her in his arms and walking towards the stairs, carrying her to their bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him, not wanting them to be interrupted by their cat.

Hs softly placed her down on the bed, flicking on the lamp on one of the nightstands.

“Hey, pretty girl.” He mumbled, hovering over her, his hand playing with her hair.

“Hi, Si.” She giggled softly, looking up at him.

He smiled up at her before moving down to be in between her legs, his hands playing with the cotton of her shorts.

“You’re sure about this, love?” He asked softly, his fingers slowly tugging at the waistband of her shorts.

“I’m sure, Si. Was thinking about it the whole time you were gone.” She muttered, chewing on her lips as he pulled down her cotton shorts, his thumb immediately going to touch the wet patch on her panties.

“Yeah?” He grinned up at her. “You touch yourself?” He asked lowly, leaning forward to press a short kiss to her clit through her panties.

Her hips bucked as he did so, her hands going down to grip the bedsheets.

“I asked you a question, lovie.” He spoke again, pressing another kiss in the same spot, his thumb softly rubbing against her entrance through her panties.

“I- I did.” She mumbled, her eyes clenching shut, a look of pure embarrassment on her face.

“That’s okay, sweetie.” He mumbled, keeping his tone cool even though he was freaking out inside at the thought of her touching herself as his hips were practically grinding on the bed. “Woulda loved to see it. Maybe you can show me some time, yeah?” The thought of that made Simon want to bust right then and there.

She let out a high pitched moan, her head nodding and hips bucking against his face.

“Relax, sweetie.” He mumbled against the cotton of her panties. “Just relax.” His voice was a soothing whisper as his fingers went to play with the elastic of her panties. “Can ya take my jumper off, sweetie? Wanna see you.”

She nodded her head, chewing on her lip as she sat up slightly and grabbed the hem of the jumper, pulling it over her head, revealing that she was wearing nothing underneath it.

He immediately let out a groan at the sight of her bare torso. She continued chewing on her lip, seeing and hearing his reaction. She nervously covered her chest with her hands, looking down at the bed.

“No, no, honey. Don’t cover up. Wanna see you.” He grumbled, moving up from in between her legs to sit next to her, his hands going to her arms, holding them as they covered her chest.

She looked up into his eyes, the dim lighting of the lamp casting a light yellow glow over them.

“Please?” He begged, looking at her with sparkling, dark brown eyes.

She continued chewing on her lip before she dropped her arms, showing off her chest once more.

He groaned again, biting his lip as he stared at her chest. He quickly grabbed her waist and picked her up, propping her up on his lap, she she was straddling his hips and facing him, her tits practically in his face.

His head went to her neck, inhaling her scent, his large hands gripping her waist. He peppered small kisses all over her neck, sucking a few small hickeys into the soft skin. His hands slowly trailed up her body to brush over his ribs, then splaying them across her chest, his thumbs resting on her nipples, making her bite her lip and moan softly.

“Si-.” She whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut.

He propped her up even more before leaning down and attaching his lips to one of her nipples, sucking and licking it.

She moaned even louder, her hands going to grip his blond hair as he licked and sucked at her nipple, his eyes closed as if he was feasting on her.

“So gorgeous. Taste so good.” He groaned into her chest, his hands gripping her waist.

She whimpered, burying her head into his hair, clenching her teeth together as he moved to the other nipple, sucking on it.

After a few moments of him paying all his attention to her chest, he finally pulled her away and flipped them around, so she was on her back, laying beneath him on the bed.

She gasped softly, looking up at him wide with eyes.

“My beautiful princess.” He mumbled, playing with a strand of her hair as he hovered over her. He ran his hand over her almost bare body, until it stopped on her panties. “I’m gonna take these off, okay?” He mumbled to her, pressing kisses on her cheek.

She nodded, biting her lip softly. “Words princess. And stop biting your lip, you’re gonna make it bleed.” He mumbled, pulling her bottom lip out from under her teeth with his thumb.

“Please. Please take them off.” She mumbled, her hands going to rest on his cargo military gear on his chest.

He smiled into her cheek, kissing it before tugging on her panties and taking them off.

His fingers immediately went to press against her folds softly, rubbing her clit with his thumb.

She whimpered, chewing on her lip before she mumbled out: “Can- can you take your clothes off too, please?”

He smiled at her before he nodded, his hands peeling off his camo jacket, leaving him in a tight, black tank top and cargo pants.

She inhaled deeply, her hands reaching up to run over his torso, tracing the intricate details of his tattoos on his left arm before moving down to the waistband of his pants, untucking the tight tank top and pulling it over his head.

He grinned down at her as her hands rubbed his now bare chest, his own hands going down to unbutton his cargo pants, unzipping them. He tugged them down his legs, practically throwing them across the room, only leaving him in his boxers, that had a visible bulge in them.

Her jaw almost dropped at the sight of the large bulge in his black boxers. “Si.. I don’t- I don’t think you’ll fit.” She mumbled, her mind going 200 miles per hour.

“I’ll fit, lovie.” He mumbled back, leaning down to kiss her neck softly.

“I don’t think it will.” She stuttered out, her hands reaching up to rest on his back.

“I’ll be okay.” He whispered, reaching down to take off his boxers too, making her eyes snap down when she heard the quiet slap of his dick hitting his stomach, making her jaw actually drop this time.

“Si, it won’t fit, I know it.” She muttered, her eyes glued to his dick.

“You want me to stop, honey? We don’t have to do anything tonight.” He spoke into her ear, his tone soft and loving, his large hand stroking her stomach.

She looked up at him, gazing into his eyes for a few moments before she shook her head. “No, I want to do it.” She inhaled shakily.

“You sure?” He asked softly, making her nod enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He smiled down at her before moving down to be in between her legs once again, pressing kisses against her thighs, making sure to pay extra attention to the stretch marks, freckles, and moles that scattered across the expanse of her thighs, slowly getting closer to her pussy that was practically dripping wet.

He inhaled deeply before sticking his tongue out and licking up the slit of her pussy making her immediately let out a shaky moan, gripping his hair.

He moaned into her in response, his crooked nose softly brushing against her clit as he got closer to her pussy, his hands gripping her thighs, burying his head in between her thighs.

“Taste so good.” He moaned into her, making her legs shake from the vibration, his tongue thrusting in and out of her leaking hole.

Her back arched as his nose pressed into her clit, his lips and tongue attached to her entrance.

“Si.. Si, I feel close already.” She whined, gripping his hair.

He didn’t respond, he only gripped her thighs tighter and threw them over his shoulders, burying his face even more into her.

“Oh, please!” She whined out, her legs shaking and body convulsing as she came all over his face.

She expected him to stop and move away, but he just stayed latched to her, swiping his tongue up and down her pussy, moving his attention to her clit.

She let out a shaky whimper, her hands gripping the bed sheets as he stuck his middle finger inside of her.

“Si-Simon!” She moaned out.

He hummed into her, curling his finger up to press against a spot inside her that made her vision go white, eyes roll into the back of her head, and cum over his face again.

“Mm, so sensitive.” He mumbled against her, his mouth making a slurping sound as he licked and sucked on her.

“Oh, God, Simon!” She whined, her hands gripping his hair. “Stop, stop, too much.” She mumbled, to which he licked one last stripe up her pussy before lowering her hips back onto the bed.

“You okay, honey?” He asked softly, licking his bottom lip and brushing some of her hair out of her face.

She looked up at him with hazy eyes, nodding slowly. “Yeah, ‘m okay, Si.” She whispered.

“You think you’re ready for my cock?” He asked, his soft tone a stark contrast to his words.

She chewed on her lip before nodding. “Yeah… just go slow.” She whispered.

He smiled, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips before moving his hand down to align himself with her entrance, swiping it up and down a few times to get it coated in her arousal before pressing the tip of his dick against her slit and slowly pushing it in.

His head dropped down to her shoulder, slowly moving inside inch by inch.

After a few moments of him pressing himself inside her, she whispered. “Wait, wait.”

He immediately halted his movements, hovering over her to look at her face.

“You okay, sweetie?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, just- just gotta adjust a bit.” She mumbled.

He nodded, nuzzling against her cheek, pressing soft kisses to it.

After a few moments she nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay now.”

He pressed another kiss to her cheek. “Just another few inches, honey.” He whispered before slowly moving inside her again.

Her eyes opened wide, her jaw dropping slightly. “You’re not in all the way?”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Barely halfway, lovie.” He muttered, looking down and focusing on moving inside her slowly.

She sighed, leaning her head back to rest on the pillows.

He continued slowly moving inside her before finally bottoming out, making him moan lowly.

“Tell me when I can move, honey.” He said lowly, pressing kisses to her neck.

She inhaled and nodded, her hands gripping his back.

After a few minutes she nodded slowly. “Yeah, you can move. Just- just go slowly.”

He inhaled sharply and nodded, slowly pulling his hips back so only the tip was inside her before thrusting back in.

She let out a high pitched moan, moving her arms to wrap around his neck.

“You okay?” He mumbled again, thrusting in and out once more.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m okay.” She whined softly, clenching her eyes shut as he thrusted in and out of her slowly. “You- you can go faster.” She mumbled after a few moments.

He let out a guttural moan as he sped up his movements, making her also let out a loud moan, feeling his balls slap against her ass.

“Tell- fuck- tell me to slow down if you need me to.” He groaned out making her nod quickly, her hips bucking into his.

One of his hands moved down to grip her hips while the other moved to rub her clit as he continued thrusting in and out of her at his now fast pace.

Her jaw dropped, her eyes filling with tears of pleasure and legs wrapping around his waist.

“God, you’re so pretty.” He groaned, gripping her thighs and pushing them up so they were pressed against her torso, his hips quickly thrusting into her.

“Si- oh, Si, ‘m gonna cum again.” She whined, her eyes clenching shut.

“Do it. Cum all over my dick, lovie.” He groaned, thrusting in and out of her, holding back the urge to bust and cover her walls with his release.

She whined, arching her back as she came again, her legs shaking.

His hip movements didn’t falter, keeping up with the high speed pace making her moan and whine, her nails digging into his back.

“Shit- can I cum inside you, sweetie?” He asked lowly, his hips speeding up.

She whined, nodding her head. “Yeah, yeah, please.” She whined, her legs shaking again.

“You gonna cum again, honey? Already?” He asked lowly, dropping her legs so they were laying on the bed again, his hand going to rub her clit.

She whined, nodding, her nails creating red crescent marks on his back.

He groaned as he felt her clench around him as she came again, her legs and arms shaking and teeth biting into his shoulder.

He moaned lowly, his hips increasing in pace before he came inside of her, his his stuttering and his movements becoming sloppy, his jaw dropping as he thrusted his cum inside of her and let out a deep, quiet moan.

He sighed, collapsing beside her, his hand splayed across her stomach and head buried into her neck.

After a few moments of laying there he spoke quietly. “Was that okay?”

She turned to him, staring into his eyes. “That was incredible.” She whispered, leaning into his touch. He wrapped his large arm around her body as she cuddled up to him, kissing her head.

He quickly looked over to the clock on their bedside table.

4:13 it read.

He smiled and wrapped both arms around his girlfriend, pressing a sweet kiss to her neck as he hugged her.

@abbiesxox u asked to get tagged sooo ♥️♥️ there ya go lovely

#simon riley x reader #fem reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x y/n #ghost smut #simon riley smut

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hd-wireless · 3 months

Text

📻🎶 H/D WIRELESS 2024 - WEEKLY WRAP-UP #1

🎶 Just a perfect week

Read fanfiction in the park And then later When it gets dark, look at art. Just a perfect week Reading at work in the loo, And then later a podfic, too And then home.

Oh it's such a perfect fest We're glad to share it with you Oh, such a perfect fest It just keeps us reading on, It just keeps us reading on. 🎶

🎤 Welcome to the 8th round of H/D Wireless Fest!

The time has finally come to start posting all the fantastic entries we’ve received this year!

We’ve revealed 9 top hits so far, with many more to come. The mods have been working non-stop since December to make this happen, so we’re beyond excited to finally be underway 🤩

As always you can listen to the prompted songs for the works we post on a playlists:

Click here for the YouTube playlist.

And now without further ado, our Wrap-up for the first week of posting:

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 Fly Away with Me Tonight? [Gen, Digital Art]

🎵 Song Prompt: Levitating by Dua Lipa 🎵Summary: A chance meeting, an invitation to dance

📻 ghost (might as well be gone) [Gen, Digital ]

🎵 Song Prompt: Might as Well Be Gone by Pixies 🎵 Summary: Draco Malfoy retired from the Auror force and left England a decade ago, but he still receives the Daily Prophet. Today’s issue provides closure on the one case he was never able to officially solve.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic and Art 🎶

📻 Trade My Heart For Honey [M, 64.170, Digital Watercolour]

🎵 Prompt: Water Under The Bridge by Adele 🎵 Summary: A Witch who thinks she’s a Seer, a Seer who thinks she’s a Witch, a former nemesis-turned-something-turned-acquaintance who thinks they could be friends, and a Scottish village full of Muggles who think this is as much their business as the fair folk in the woods. Draco is going to prove them all wrong.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 You're on Your Own, Kid [E, 44.274]

🎵 Song Prompt: You're on Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift 🎵 Summary: In August of 1998, Draco leaves behind everything he’s ever known. With the help of two middle-aged lesbians, a Muggle bookshop, and a new best friend, Draco’s future is finally looking up. That is, until Harry Potter wanders back into his life a year later, undoing everything Draco has worked towards. Or, a tale about healing, forgiveness, and living for no one but yourself.

📻 Heartbeat [E, 22,791]

🎵 Prompt: Heartbeat by Childish Gambino 🎵 Summary: Harry hates Draco, and Draco hates him in return. Only it's not hate, not even a little bit. Featuring: a cooperative independent study, golden hour on wrecked sheets, strawberries in the summer at Grimmauld Place, water from fountains of (dubious) origin, purple Mardi Gras beads, and a bird with silly legs. Also featuring: heated arguments, infidelity, unquenchable desire, and heartbreak. Over and over again.

📻 Long for Bliss! [E, 9,400]

🎵 Song Prompt: This Must Be It by Röyksopp 🎵 Summary: Harry has a tough decision to make: take the blue pill or the red pill. He chooses a pink one instead and throws caution to the wind. What blows back comes in the form of a blond fallen angel that talks like he’s the Devil and moves like he’s fucking. Or: Harry tries MDMA for the first time and unexpectedly encounters a mysteriously captivating Draco at KOKO London.

📻 Going Down Swinging [E, 4,661 ]

🎵 Song Prompt: Hello Mudduh, Hello Fadduh! by Allan Sherman 🎵 Summary: “Who are you?” he asked, feeling around for a truly abominable pair of glasses he fixed firmly above his nose. “I’m Draco,” he answered. “Draco—” He paused. It wasn’t that he couldn’t remember; it was that the memory wasn’t there.

📻 The Most He’s Ever Said [E,16,431]

🎵 Song Prompt: One of Your Girls by Troye Sivan 🎵 Summary: It takes them twenty years.

🎶 H/D Wireless Podfic 🎶

📻 [Podfic] A Different Kind of Meaning by p1013 [E, 01:42:57]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'Outnumbered' by Dermot Kennedy 🎵 Summary: The ceiling doesn't hold any answers, but there are cobwebs scattered across the corners with shadows tangled in their threads. The rug against his back is rough and scratchy, threadbare and devoid of colours other than various shades of brown. Harry takes it all in, absorbs the dingy and depressed state of his home. There's a pointed moment of decision, a note about to be played, a silence about to end, and then he rolls to his feet and sets to cleaning. It's the first constructive thing he's done in years.

#hd wireless #hd wireless 2024 #drarry #drarry fic #drarry art #drarry podfic #drarry fic and art #weekly wrap up no 1

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fantasy-relax · 7 months

Text

Sweet alpha Dangerous Omega

Part 1 Part 3. Part 4

Warning : mention of suicidal thoughts and self harm.

Cassandra Dimitrescu, the most fearsome of Lady Dimitrescu's three daughters, a hopeless sadist, who inflicted unimaginable tortures without any remorse, a hunter whose prey never escaped unharmed, a cruel and merciless monster whose subgender was a mystery.

Some said that she was an alpha, an example of why it was unnatural for a woman to have this subgender, they ended up crazy so it was a mercy that they died during the presentation.

Others said she was a beta, a damaged woman who simply had the fortune to be chosen by the Dark God.

Those who worked in the castle said that Lady Cassandra was an omega, whoever heard tremendous idiocy laughed out loud. The fact that someone like her had the sweetest and most submissive of subgenders was something impossible, hilarious even to think about; It was the theory that was said in a bar purely as a joke.

But it was the absolute truth. Cassandra don't hide her subgender , people just don't believe it

The new maids doubted the fact, taking it as a joke that was told to the newbies, but it was undeniable that under the aroma of blood was the aroma of chocolate, roses and the distinguishable universal touch that identified the omegas.

Despite the obvious evidence, there was no shortage of excuses, they said that the smell of chocolate was due to the youngest's taste for sweets, who often hugged her sisters, and that the smell of roses was the matriarch's mark of protection.

Only when the week of heat arrived did they accept the truth.

If they arrived.

Cassandra's period of heat was once every three months and lasted a whole week, the brunette was very easy to make angry but the days before her heat was much worse, for the slightest mistake a maid received corporal punishment and if Daniela or Bela, gave her the slightest complaint Cassandra will gladly make an example of what happened if they messed with her family.

The week it happened was the calm before the storm, the entire family slept in the brunette's room, with the head maid delivering the food personally.

When it was over was when the staff had to be careful because the sadistic daughter went from whiping , bruises and superficial cuts to breaking bones, dismemberment and any torture she wanted.

A nightmare.

The only ones who were safe were the omega maids in charge of cleaning the room. The omegas in the castle were few, a dozen at most who had decided to go to work in the castle ironically for protection, mostly adults or close to old age.

Cassandra did not scare them or bother them when they worked, at most she rolled her eyes when they looked at her without hiding the compassion and pity in her eyes, even when they had the nerve to release comfort pheromones the brunette only growled at them and walked away.

No shouting or threats.

She just leave.

Because of this the beta and omega maids tended to be on bad terms.

Most betas did not understand or refused to understand a universal fact:

-An omega's heat period was a blessing with company and a curse without it-

It was horrible; It was screaming for affection and love, it was being trapped in a contradiction because you were looking for the warmth that would save you from the abominable winter that was inside your chest at the same time that you wanted caresses that would calm the hell burning on your skin; Your emotions were amplified, transforming a tear into a cry that destroyed your throat.

For an omega who had already reached maturity to be without a partner was something non-existent; those who lived in a castle had a mate inside or outside of it. While biology leaned more towards an alpha, it was not unusual for a beta to manage to court an omega and go through heat with her. If they performed their tasks perfectly they were allowed to return home during heat, otherwise or by their own decision they were given suppressants to avoid this.

Every omega who has had the misfortune of spending a period of heat without a mate and without suppressants knew well that it was one of the worst tortures you could subject them to.

And Lady Cassandra has spent them alone. For who knows how many years.

Because of this, while the human side of the maids could hate and fear the hunter, the animal part of their conscience cried for her and instinctively tried to console her, a consolation that the brunette repudiated but did not respond with violence.

-------------—-----------------------------

Cassandra was curled up in her mother's lap, who was gently caressing her head while her sisters hugged her from the sides. The three of them released pheromones to calm her down. However, it was in vain. The brunette made grunts of pain and frustration. Her pheromones had an acidic smell, barely a day had passed since she had returned to the castle and she could no longer bear the demands of her stupid omega.

"Missing, the nest is incomplete!"

"We have clothes from our entire pack!"

On her bed was a mix of blankets and pillows from her sisters, a shawl from her mother, the cleanest fabric from her Uncle Moreau, her uncle Karl's coat, a sweater from her Aunt Donna along with a dress from Angie and one of (grandmother) Miranda's togas.

"Not of the alpha who courted us! Alpha did her part we must answer!"

"That pathetic alpha has nothing to give us!"

"She gave us a bed full of trophies from her victories!"

"Prey we can hunt blindfolded and with one hand behind our back!"

"She brought us fresh meat from our favorite animal!"

"She didn't even know we like venison and the food was simple!"

"She pleased us despite her fatigue!"

" Not completely! "

"Because we leave! "

"That cabin is falling apart!"

"And alpha is there alone! She should be here where we can take care of her! Where she can pamper us and finish the mating!

"I'm not going to mate with her!"

"I want a mate! I want that alpha!"

"We are fine like this!"

"NO!"

Cassandra hugged herself, her grunts were transforming to soft whimpers.

"My brave little wolf, you're okay, mom is here"

"You're strong Cass and it will pass."

"I love you Cassie, you're not alone."

I don't want my mother! I don't want my older sister! I don't want my little sister! I WANT MY ALPHA!

"Cassandra stop!"

Alcina held the hands of her daughter who had begun to scratch herself frantically while she burst into sobs that broke her heart. Daniela had been kicked off the bed before Bela could restrain the brunette. Cassandra was so hysterical that she didn't even try to transform into her swarm, however a few flies came out of her body fluttering aimlessly.

Daniela got up quickly, looking helplessly at the state her sister was in, purring as loudly as she could, she approached her, hugging her stomach.

"Mother, Cass has never been like this before." The eldest daughter commented with surprise, her sister's condition was worsening, it seemed that her reason was fading, how she wished that the suppressants would work but due to her mutation, the effect of the medications was short because her body adapted or burned them with speed.

"Maybe we should bring her what she wants." Bela looked from her to the matriarch who quickly understood what she was referring to.

Alcina was about to veto the idea but the heartbreaking cry of her daughter silenced her complaint. She was no longer moving frantically, but her whole body was shaking and her crying did not stop. The lady got up and her daughters quickly settled in. Bela hugged Cassandra from behind, purring softly but maintaining her grip for fear that she would hurt herself again. Daniela continued hugging her sister's stomach without stopping the noise coming from her chest.

"I'll be back soon my loves" With a sigh Alcina started towards the cabin of a pathetic alpha.

-------------—-----------------------------

How long have you been like this?

Minutes, hours or days?

You did not know.

It was cold and your whole body hurt, yet you didn't have any energy to move. You were just waiting for the Lycan or beast to break through your traps and end your suffering.

"We did everything right, we gave her a nest"

"Very small, she couldn't even stretch her legs"

"We show our skill when hunting to give her fresh meat"

"Without enough spices to give it flavor or vegetables to give it more nutrition"

"We fulfilled her wishes"

"If we had done it she would have stayed"

"....Did we fail?"

"As usual"

There was a dying animal nearby, someone should put it out of its misery, its afflicted cry echoed in your head.

Oh.

It was you.

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

The image Lady Dimitrescu expected to see was of a perverted alpha committing unseemly acts with the clothing her beloved daughter had left behind.

In her place she found a woman despondent in a ruined bed, Cassandra's lingering scent now was accompanied by one that caused her inner beta to frown in maternal concern that she vehemently suppressed.

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

There was someone at the door. You looked askance at who would be your executioner, Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. Maybe she would have heard about you and come to kill you to make a special wine with your blood.

At least that's what you'd be good for.

Noticing how she couldn't enter due to her immense height, you decided to help her, standing on trembling legs without letting go of the omega's shirt, you went to her.

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

How strange, Alcina thought that she would have to exercise self-control to not kill you for taking advantage of her dear daughter, now having you in front of her she has to exercise self-control to avoid hugging you and giving you comfort.

Your face was pale, your lips were blue from the cold, your eyes were sunken and every piece of exposed skin was covered by scars, you could barely stand, the smell of dry and fresh blood reached the vampire's nose. Even so, you kept your arms around Cassandra's shirt as if it were the raft that held you in the middle of a turbulent sea.

Alcina snorted, you were a peasant, without money or prestige you were not worthy of being Cassandra's companion. However, her beta accepted you as a candidate, you knew her pup for just two days and her absence had left you on the verge of death.

That kind of devotion was worth more than hundreds of bags of gold.

Grabbing you by the neck and keeping you away from her body, Acina carried you to her home.

She rolled her eyes at the nod of approval that her beta gave when she saw how you held the shirt tightly.

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

You kept your face hidden in the omega's clothes, wanting to memorize the scent even after death.

You didn't notice when you arrived at the castle, you only raised your head as you entered a particular hallway, there was a scent that you recognized well.

The Omega.

Had she been captured? Or had her family sold her after finding out what you had done with her?

No matter the reason you had to rescue her, you moved frantically but the woman did not give up her grip on you and she continued moving towards the room where the smell was stronger.

Misery and loneliness, the girl had been calling for you while you were drowning in your own pity.

Pathetic.

You continued trying to free yourself, growling with all the aggression you had, your alpha was determined to fight and you were willing to sacrifice yourself to give the omega a chance to escape.

The door to the room opened and a swarm covered your vision.

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

Bela watched with curiosity as Cassandra went from being distressed to a state of alert in just a moment. Her sister looked at the door with curiosity and longing for a few seconds before letting out a happy chirp to transform into her swarm as soon as it opened.

Hmm, she no longer had a doubt, Cassandra was completely immersed in her instincts, the animal side of her was the one in control, something that while it was common for them, it had been decades since she had seen Cassandra act like that.

When her mother released you Cassandra quickly transported you to her nest, placing herself on top of you purring contently as she rubbed herself all over your body, confusion covered your face but you responded with your own purr.

Interesting.

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

Oh okay. It seems that the Omega you saved is none other than one of the Dimitrescu.

She is out of your reach.

But...Then why did she is acting like this?

"Forget about that, we must do our duty"

True, the poor thing had a bad time being away from you, it was your duty to give her comfort, affection and pleasure.

You won't fail this time.

-------------—-----------------------------

"Mine, mine, mine"

Finally she would have a mate, one who was hardworking, persevering, capable of violence and gentleness.

Her sweet alpha would be hers forever and no one, not even herself, would stop it.

#resident evil village #cassandra dimitrescu #My work #omegaverse

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slickchickchocolatier · 1 year

Note

hiiiiii reinna i love ur work it makes my day everytime i read it lmaooo <333

i was wondering if u could make a fic abt sunoo like youre the 8th member of enhypen and since youre not that girly or act cute like the other female idols instead kinda tomboy and baddie sunoo finds you annoying cos hes not used to it but the other members r fine. one day after dance practice (y/n and jungwon r roomates) saurrr jungwon told yn the tea abt sunoo hating her but yn secretly likes sunoo. So after jungwon left to go somehwere idk shopping?? Yn cried n cried n cried and u can basically use ur creative imagination for the rest 👻👻 pls make it smut at the end tho i love it 👻👻👻

Thanksssssss miss bestest ever writter everrrr!! 1!111!1 ❤️❤️❤️

"Ddeonu....."

@reyna-ohno - I hope i did you justice ;)

Warnings: unprotected smut, fingering, gossiping, enemies to lovers trope, some minor angst, cursing's, a little bit of hate sex....and i think that's it. to make it more believable, Y/n has her own room but is close with the members and allows them to come hang out. I wrote majority of this while i was on bedrest recovering, so i apologize this is not proofread.

"She's really not at all like the others..." Jake remarks as he sits next to Heeseung, noting that your behavior on camera, was very much genuine as you were no different than how you were off camera.

"Yeah she doesnt seem to be into that whole cutsie thing. Kind of refreshing actually."

"Yeah man, i think so too."

Everyone could relatively agree, to see you be yourself, it was new and fresh, and a delight to see. For Sunoo, it was an abomination.

While you were filming alongside Jungwon, while you were chic and stylish in your own manner, you opted for casual and simple flares of fashion rather than the traditional girly and fancy type. With a loose pair of jeans on, a fitted tee shirt with a matching baseball cap, you displayed your smile and laughter by having a good time being the only girl member in the band.

Watching from aside, Sunoo glares and rolls his eyes. Next to him, Sunghoon pops over and gives him a slight side bump to break the silence after noting the look of irritation on his face. "Whats got you all worked up?"

"Why can't she just be like the rest of the girls in the industry? She's not at all doing well on these weverse lives, people want to see cute girls being....cute...not relaxed and chilled."

"give her a break, she's just being herself man. Can't be mad at that."

"I'm not mad i just.....i just dont get it." Sunoo shakes his head as he turns and walks away with his arms crossed, obviously irritated by your lack of enthusiasm when it came to attempting to be adorable, much like your counterpart, Jungwon. For a young man to be far more agile in being cute in his mannerisms, more than you, that usually was an indicator that you were someone who was far too much of a hopeless cause. Truth of the matter, Sunoo knew what the public liked, he knew that fans liked it when idols did silly and cute things like finger hearts, squinting eyes while displaying a cat like smile, or making high pitched sounds. You didn't do any of that, nor did you attempt it, which caused him to wonder if you were going to be the downfall of Enhypen.

Finishing the live stream, you and the boys all made your way back home to the dorm where you nestled yourself in you room, conveniently next to Jungwon's, who had developed a close bond with, much like a sibling. Since receiving your room assignments, being the only girl, you got your own room, yet it was nice to have Jungwon right next to you, since it was easy for him to come in and out to visit all throughout the night to hang out or watch tv together. Tonight was no different, especially with the new episodes of your guys favorite tv show coming out.

*Knock knock*

"come in." you softly call out, and as expected, you watched as Jungwon brings in a plate of fresh hot hotteok, and tea.

"did you start it?"

"no not yet, was waiting for you."

"Ah."

settling in as he places the plate and two cups on the table, you both prepared to watch the latest episode. As the opening credits rolled, Jungwon took the opportunity to talk about the vlive from earlier.

"Hey so......only because i'm the leader.......but......does it bother you that Sunoo.....well....you know...."

Raising your eyebrows in confusion as you munched on the honey filled treat, you looked up and shrugged your shoulders slightly. "What do you mean?"

"You dont know?"

"Know what?"

Jungwon sighs as he curses himself for opening a door that he wish he hadn't. "nevermind."

"Nooooo...dont be like that....tell me."

"its just....well....he really doesnt like you......and he makes it obvious."

Stunned, your eyes grew wide as you felt your heart drop. "Oh....he does?"

"yeah......do you want me to talk to him about it?"

Shaking your head, you kept your composure as best as you could. "No...its fine.....i'm sure he'll get over it."

Jungwon smiles in return. "yeah, i'm glad you're not too upset about it."

But the fact of the matter was, you were upset....deeply. No one would know of it, since you were very much strategic in keeping it hidden, but you were quite fond of Sunoo....you actually liked him even....so much, that you caught yourself dreaming of him, fantasizing on what it would be like to snuggle up with him, going on dates, or just being in his embrace and smelling his cologne.

You held it all in and the entire night, one episode after another, you felt as if your heart was punching your chest outward.

...........

"Well, i'm gonna go to bed. we got an early morning tomorrow, so dont stay up too late."

"Okay." you feigned a smile as you watched him walk out. The moment you left the room, you hid yourself into the dimmed lighting in your room and began crying. You felt hurt. Did Sunoo really not like you? Why? You both hardly shared any words to one another. Yet it all started to make sense, for all the times you though back when you tried to make conversation, only to watch him side eye you as he would get up and leave the room. There were other moments too, such as whenever you would sit right next to him, and he'd let out an exhausting sigh, and get up to walk across the other side of the room to sit in a different seat. Initially, you didn't think much of it, you had thought he merely was just shy or just was not used to being around female idols. But now......it all makes senses. The man who you really wanted to be with....the one you admired from afar, day dreamed...the one you would do anything for, actually disliked you.....hated you......

Sobbing away into your kneecaps as you held your legs to your chest, you failed to notice that Jungwon had mistakenly left your door cracked open, not shutting it all the way through. With the bit of the dimmed lighting peeking out from the crack, the hallway remained pitch black with just a strip of the orange and yellow hue coming from your room.

Walking up after grabbing a bottle water from the kitchen, Sunoo strolls through the same hallway, all to reach his room at the end of the corridor.

hearing the faint sounds of your sobs, he takes a swig of his water and gulps it down as he sides eye the slivers crack in the door.

“is she….crying? What is her deal?”

sighing out in frustration, he took the chance to enter and see if he could get you to stop, considering your room was across from his. With all that sniffling and whimpering, it would be hard for him to get some sleep with your cries echoing in the hall. Walking into the dimmed room, he gently shuts the door behind him and walks further in. Breaching the opening of your room, he stands straight and leans against the wall while watching your pitiful state. Taking another gulp of water down, he rolls his eyes as he breaks the silence.

“you know if you’re going to cry, you can at least have your door shut all the way through so you don’t wake anyone.”

jolting out of your fetal position, you look up him with your tear stained face. Shocked, your eyes were wide and glossy, pieces of your hair remained plastered on your face and you softly whimpered out a few sniffles before stuttering out an “s-sorry….”

eyeing you down, he takes yet, another gulp from his bottle. Switching his gaze to the floor as he screws the cap back on, he crosses his arms before asking you the big question, merely because he grew curious after seeing your face.

“so…..”

confused, you sat there in silence and looked off to the side before turning back to him. “……um….s..sorry?”

sighing out as he rubbed his temple, he finally speaks out. It was soft yet firm, with a low tone….much lower than what he normally dispelled.

“bitch why are you crying?”

taken aback, your eyes became overflowing with the stinging of tears once more when you heard his harsh tone. Whimpering into your kneecaps again, he rolled his eyes in defeat as he regains composure and attempts this once more.

“okay okay look….just tell me why you’re crying. Can you do that? Hmm? Can you just stop and talk for a second? I’d like to eventually get some beauty rest.”

you shifted over and turned your back towards him.

“just go sunoo…….you’re not going to be the solution to any of my problems right now.”

“Huh…..”

gaining width in his widened glare, you heard his foot steps and thought he was walking in the opposite direction to exit the room. It wasn’t until you felt his weight plopping beside you that you realized he was sitting right next to you. Not only that, but the moment you heard his careless whisper, how his hot breath touched your ear, you knew he was far closer than he had ever been with you.

“Why is that?” He whispered into your ear. you shuttered as you felt an electric shock travel up and down your spine.

“stop! Why are you here? Why do you even care or try? I know you hate me…..just….leave me alone.” You broke down and began to sob as you lashed out the truth.

he didn’t deny it, nor did he try to argue with you on your statement, he did in fact, borderline hated you. Though hearing you say it aloud made him feel a certain type of way about it.

“you’re right….I do hate you.”

“could you please just go……..I….I don’t understand…I’ve never done anything to you….I’ve tried to be nice and I’ve always been helpful…..I’ve……I’ve don’t everything I could to make you see how much I care…” breaking down, you sobbed as you curled your body in.

“I know.” He admitted, nonchalantly at that, as if he knew all this time yet still found it suitable to hate you. But that’s as all about to change….

feeling his hand grasp your shoulder and turning you over, in a rather forceful nature, you gasped out in shock as you witness his frame hovering over you. His feline eyes staring right into your iris and a soft, very faint smile appeared on his pouty lips.

his pupils shift in random direction as he takes in y the sight of your face. Releasing a soft chuckle, he calmly speaks out.

“cute.”

caught off guard, he blinked in shock before uttering an “excuse me?” Bidding him to clarify.

“I said, ‘cute’. Does crying make you deaf too?”

“why are you being this way? I don’t get it…..”

“welcome to my world."

"What is your problem!?" you snapped. you've about had it with his cocky attitude and the lack of sincerity in his tone. Yet the moment he pinned you down as he leaned further in, with his nose pressed against your cheek and his hot breath grazing against your lips, you were shocked still.

"you know, you put on that act to behave like one of the guys. you act cool and casual, and you treat all aspects of being a girl as something that is beneath you. yet look at you now.....crying and looking so adorable......so soft....all your feminine features coming out with each tear drop you cry out."

"ar.....are you toying with me?"

"Maybe.......is that bad?.....is that something that bothers you?"

Shrugging from left to right, you try to break free from his grasp as he began to hold on to your wrists. "huh....you're even cuter when you struggle."

"stop it! get off of me!"

"I will.....if you can get me off." he smirks with that sly smile that he was known for. You gave in as you break down from feeling the immense different in strength. Despite being the carefree and adored idol he was, Sunoo was indeed still, a man.

"Why .....just why....?"

Smirking once more, he leans further in and pauses just before his lips are met with yours. "ddeonu" he whispers.

You raised a brow in annoyance as you whispered back. "is that supposed to be funny? like a joke?"

Once more, he whispers back "ddeonu....you tell me...." smiling and smirking against your lips, you faintly smile back as you feel his grasp loosen and soften up, with his finger tips stroking your skin.

"do. you really hate me?" you asked.

Before he could answer, you softy whispered and cut him off. "let me guess.....ddeonu?"

His eyes widening for a moment, he whispers firmly and tells you, "say it again."

Leaning slightly upward, you softly tell him......"ddeonu....."

His lips lock yours in. His hands eagerly roam up and down your body. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders as you feel his grope slightly shift your body upward from the overwhelming sensation of his soft skin traveling all over your stomach, your breasts, and your ribcage. breaking the kiss to catch his breath, ultimately allowing for you to do the same, he breathes out his gasping words as he rips your buttons apart.

"Whine for me....little girl."

"No Sunoo...."

"Do it."

Kissing you, he shoves his hand down your shorts and flickers his two fingers against your clit. Just as he wanted, you whimper into his mouth as he holds your wrists down with one hand. "Whine some more." he breathes out.

Meshing his lips with yours, he rubs your slit up and down and presses his palm on it as he clams a grip and shoves his tongue deeper into your mouth.

Breaking free for a moment, you turn your head and gasp out. "God!.....I hate you i swear."

"Do you now? Tell me how much you hate the fox." he mumbles against your lips, as. he pulls down your shorts and panties, rolling them down past your kneecaps.

"Sunoo....." you whispered out.

Hovering over, he props his frame on his knees and pulls his shirt off, loosening his sweatpants, he leans back in and props his chest to remain heightened just above your exposed breasts as he uses his arm to stilt himself up. His hair loosely draping down as he eyes you with an intrigued glare.

"you look so cute when you cry...."

"........you're crazy."

"every sly fox is." he smirks as he kisses you once more, this time it was tender, and more gentle. Leaning all the way down, you relished as his body melts into yours, your arms wrap around his neck as you feel him probe your entrance. Gasping for air, you grip on to his shoulders and dig your fingers in as you feel him slide the remaining length inside you.

"Y-you...you're not wearing a condom." you breathed out, wincing your eyes shut as you felt the sting of him inserting all the way through.

"Don't worry.....i know you're a good girl....and you know i'm clean.....considering we're with each other all the time." he heavily breaths out upon feeling the pressure of your entry squeezing him as he bottoms out inside.

It was true, since you always had feelings for the man to your right, you never once paid any mind to all of your fans, the other idols, or staff that showed interest. You remained faithful to a dream that you never thought would have come, yet you stayed hopeful. The dreams alone, were enough to get you by, now that you were in this moment, it all felt surreal.

"Ah! You...you're too big!"

Kissing you tenderly, he begins to thrust slowly and deeply. "Yeah?....It might be because you're super tight." wincing at the last part, he grits his teeth slightly as he pulls out yet kept the tip nestled in before shoving himself all the way back in through.

"Fuck.....you're really tight......" breathing in deeply into your ear, he caresses both sides of your head and twirls his fingers with your hair as he softly kisses your helix, nibbles on your lobe and licks the inside of your ear canal.

"Ugh! ugh! Sunoo!" you gasp out as you release each pleasurably moan and bite your lip. Remaining in the missionary position, Sunoo props himself up as he lifts both your legs and rests them over his shoulders. "S...sstop." you shyly utter out as he positions you to be fully exposed and in his view. "Shhhh......be a good girl." breathes out as he reaches around one of your thighs and circles the pad of his thumb on your clit. With your hips dipping high and low with each thrust, he picks up the pace upon seeing how delectable your breasts looked as they jiggle up and down from his momentum.

"Oh.....shit....move like that some more baby girl...." he gasps as the sweat beads drip down and his hair glistens and becomes slick wet. "Move...baby....move some more...." thrusting in faster and faster, you lose breath as his bumping thrust instilled a raging sense of pelting pleasure that penetrates deep into your chest.

"Oh.......oh my god...fuck.......what.....what are you doing??...." you gasp out as you bite on to your finger as you shift your face off to the side, your body drenched with sweat as you take in thrust after thrust. Feeling him easily sliding in, you felt your body leaking the bit of moisture onto his lengthy shaft as his thrusts and friction caused it to thicken and cream up on the base of your opening, with a reside ringing around his length.

"Shhhh......take it cutie....fuck.......take it all." he gasps out as he thrusts in deeper, leaning back in as his chest rests atop your breasts, locking your lips in once more. Your moans started to pick up volume, so he swoops a hand and gently covers your mouth while planting his lips on your forehead, taking in the feeling of your face jolting up and down as he pelts you with his hip thrusts. "Oh you're so fucking good.....you know that?" he whispers as he kisses your sweaty brow line as you moan out your muffled answer into his palm. "keep taking it.....just......shit....little more......r-...right there...." gasping out a deep breath, he pulls out his shaft and watches as the slime of your body's lubricant and his pre-cum lines a bridge between your entry and his tip. Aiming for your breasts, he holds his shaft steadily in his palm as he releases and paints your chest with his seed. Chuckling as he catches his breath, he kisses your face tenderly as you whimper out, trying your best to calm your heartbeat.

"Can't get you pregnant....not yet.....staff and company wouldn't like that....." with a tender kiss, he softly rolls his tongue around, massaging the inside of your cheeks as he continues.

"but maybe.....a little later......maybe we'll make something as cute as you.....hmm?"

Tired, breathless, weakened and limp, you whispered out "ddeonu...." to which he laughs as he keeps his lips planted on your cheek.

"I do...."

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#enhypen sunoo #sunoo x reader #kim sunoo #sunoo smut #enha sunoo #enhypen scenarios #enhypen au #enha drabbles #enhypen #enha fics

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