#~crimson wraith~

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

....is Seraph even alive after all that? We're not sure, but we're going to try to help him up.

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

@overx behold THE BOYS

Chibi Commissions of this month from ko-fi! thank you very much for commissioning me!

[carus26]

Putting all my favorite HTTYD dragons on one canvas seemed like a good idea to me

[panther-os]

According to the tgcf wiki, Hua Cheng's wraith butterflies are called 无人机 wúrénjī in the original text (traditional hanzi: 無人機). In modern China, 无人机 means "drone/unmanned aerial vehicle". 无 means "no/not/-less" like in Wei Wuxian's name 无羡 meaning "no envies". 人 means "person/people". 机 means "machine/engine/aircraft" although it's also used in the Liezi (Daoist text, c. 300s BCE) and Lan Wangji's name 忘机 to mean "tricks/stunts", in this case specifically referring to tricks a man taught seagulls to perform (and then they forgot them when he tried to capture them instead). 无人 can also mean "uninhabited" and 人机 doesn't appear to have a distinct meaning on its own but it is part of the words for "user interface" 人机界面 and "ergonomics" 人机工程.

I don't actually have a point to this, I'm just being autistic on main and rambling about something I enjoy and find interesting.

[tohmon]

Repost of my older work. I think I like this better in greyscale.

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

My fashion? It's a strange thought, enough to shake off his embarrassment, and it suddenly occurs to the Copy that there wasn't really any point of comparison they could look to for reference for both sides of the isle, save for his and Crim's armor versus Vile's.

Armor truly being that bulky did align with the few files they'd managed to uncover before. Older reploid design wasn't built to be compared to humans, but they likely also had the materials to spare. He thinks back to the tower behind him, doing his best to hide a grimace. It was best to have Crim come here, then to be closer there.

Although... he can't really see his companion with anything other than the silver hair he'd always had. "...Maybe it's the Mythos. Az-- my mentor," hastily added, for an unwillingness to name drop that person to either party with him yet, "implied that it could affect the physical frame to a degree." Except for Seraph, who only ever seemed to have it strain his core.

He's not really sure where to start though. Despite working to get them both in the same place, was it really his place to ask? Not that he didn't want to know-- just knowing anything about Crimson was...

"...Okay, right, so... the Wars haven't happened yet." Which was about all he knew as far as written history and oral history were concerned. Before that, things kinda had fallen to the wayside, even in what little had managed to survive the archives-- but then again he and Crim hadn't finished going through that trove.

Plus, hard to think of what Crimson would want to know... "Uh... You... said that he was-- is-- your commanding officer. Are you on a unit?" Were there others?

...No. Wait, there was one more. It felt like playing with fire, asking that. "Is... X on your unit...?"

Awkward as the situation is, it's coming from a good place. Seraph is genuinely giving him an olive branch here. This meeting isn't about the Resistance, this isn't about Neo Arcadia, it's just about....

Helping me.

"...I..... see." Oh, right, their company. The Zero turns his attention back to Vile, somewhat struck by the Maverick Hunter. That name, that armor, there is something there, even if all that remains is fragmented data. ...forgot? The purple reploid frowns to himself. Can't imagine what kind of hell you went through for your own memories to be unrecoverable. "Shorter," Vi confirms now that the introductions have passed, and to lift his own spirits. Strange being the metaphorical authority in the room, but nothing he can't handle with an audience of only two. "Course, your old armor was a lot bulkier. Seems you're matching Seraph's fashion these days." A wonder why all the armor was so sleek-- is it sturdier or a lack of materials?

"I'll level with you, you don't look and sound exactly like the Zero I know-- my boss is blonder for one-- but I'm willing to bet you've at least got some things in common." His helmet tilts towards Seraph, as if to make sure it's still alright to proceed.

"I don't suppose either of you had a place you wanted me to start? Seraph here can probably guess from our earlier chat what I haven't.... y'know, done, yet." Sort of? The missing history is going to make it hard to compare notes but surely they could find a mutual event somewhere.

[feralcrybaby]

[wr-n]

wraith save me from my finals

[bloodcovered-creechurs]

Blood Entities Identities and Sexualities:

Diluted: Demigirl and Sapphic

Hemlock (Shank & Stabby): Masc Presenting and Aromantic

Wraith: Masc Presenting and Asexual

Echoes: Fem Presenting and Bisexual

Miscreant & Brute: Masc Presenting and AroAce

Lantern: Fem Presenting and Demisexual Lesbian

Agony: Genderless and don’t have a preference

Widower: Male and Straight

The Crimson King: Male and Straight

—————————

@grinninmoon-and-bloodsolar-blog Roseate (BloodSolar): Bigender and Pansexual

Plasma (Bloodmoon): Masc Presenting and Demiromantic

Smilin’ Sun/Grinnin’ Moon: Nonbinary and Demisexual

————————

@bloodbound-twins-blog

Bones: Demigirl and Sapphic

Mutton: Fem Presenting and Demisexual Lesbian

[ziel-soundwave]

They lock optics, but neither of them relents. He can't help the pang of frustration in his chest, the deep burn far more smoldering than the wounds he carried. It's bittersweet, it's aggravating. I hated that about you, that you always thought whatever you were doing was better for me.

...I missed that about you.

Encore holds that eye contact silently, but he doesn't move the second time the tiny fairy drifts closer. To deny that he didn't need the repairs... Yes, that was what the blond was doing, and yes, he did need them, but he didn't want them. There's no chance of being flighty here, when moving was a chore, but by Gods, he wants to leave.

To get away from the all-too-familiar gaze bearing into him. He breaks away first, unable to continue the torture of one too many reminders.

To never get back, to die here, was it what he wanted...?

I don't know. Vox was waiting for him, probably fighting just to find where he'd gone-- had to be here somewhere just by the sheer fact he wasn't in excruciating pain. No. Dying wouldn't fix anything, even if he didn't want to live anymore. I can't leave him behind again.

"...Fine," is relented like pulling teeth. They didn't know how fast he was, and he was relying on that. I won't let you follow us. "...Let me know if you notice any weather changes, I guess." They didn't need to know why.

ziel-soundwave​:

Apparently, hoping his demeanor would deter the two only works part of the way. The girl is swayed, her small voice hesitant, but it does nothing for her companion. He can’t help the jolt of nostalgia that ripples in his processor at the voice so rarely used, gold eyes narrowing. 

When you speak… Encore was far more grateful for when the reploid was silent. 

“Oh, and that makes it your business, then?” It’s not snapped, per se, but the displeasure was there. “You aren’t from my world.” You can see where he’s going with this, can’t you, crimson machine? It’s a twinge that’s hard to place. Why… were they both like that? “If you really think I’m going to allow for anything more than an escort to the nearest portal back, you’d be mistaken.”

Even if the android that damaged Encore had been aware he’d survived, that same android would not have followed him through the portal that must’ve disappeared by now. This the Guitarist knew far too well, like an itch inside his skull. Too… agoraphobic, already. No, Noize would likely be waiting for him on the other side, if that was the case.

Regardless of this silver-haired one’s intentions, the stinging of his own wounds, or Valentine’s kindness, the blond was not willing for the outcome that came from exposing them to those dangers. He gently nudged the fairy away from his injuries with the back of his hand, huffing. “If the price of repairing me is bringing you into that hell, then I am going to have to refuse further assistance.”

It isn’t about what you’ll allow.

Such a thought is kept to himself, the Zero offering no nod, nor shake of his head. It’s obvious they won’t agree on anything for now. This stranger is stubborn, and attempting to negotiate will bring them no progress. It will waste time, and energy.

No, instead blue eyes glance again to the cyberelf, and Val seems to receive the silent message. She’s…. less convinced this is a good idea, but awkwardly flutters closer to the outsider again all the same. Reaching out to mend him with energy once more. 

“…you won’t get back in your condition if you don’t let us help at least a little,” she murmurs, albeit much less assertive than her reploid companion. “Let us do that much? We can’t just leave you in the desert like this…“

What happens after that, well… that was going to be up to Crimson in the end. 

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

Going through a crisis over here. Don't mind him.

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Wraith and Nightwing

OG Schrodinger's: A CRIMELORD IS TRYING TO BE MY SUGAR DADDY

Dandadandan: Tf

Voice of Reason: You've been in Gotham for less than a month and this happens????

Thrice Danned: Why is Danny allowed a cool boyfriend but I'm not ಠ⁠︵⁠ಠ

Voice of Reason: No

Dandadandan: No

OG Schrodinger's: LOL ¯⁠\⁠_⁠༼⁠ ⁠•́⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠•̀⁠ ⁠༽⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Thrice Danned: (⁠ノ⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

Well, for one thing, the squirthis younger brother was up to his usual bout of trouble. Not that Dan was too worried. At least Danny wasn't getting shot this time.

Traveling out of Amity Park after being simultaneously shoved into a new clone body was disorienting. Sure, the Fentons and Vlad were now pretty okay and he had his new identy and life—but that didn't change the fact that Clockwork was making him do 'community service'. What a load of bull.

What did his new job involve? Occasionally assisting the heroes of their world. Which has led him to Blüdhaven. Jazz's most recent demands was making sure Danny didn't die (or fake his death) in Gotham. But Fenton (and now Masters) luck strikes again and now he's staring at a fight between the city's local vigilante: Nightwing.

He's a pretty thing, that's for sure. Dan might actually get sick of how many times a civilian mentions that man's ass (it was amazing, he knows). But it would be creepy if 'Dante Mastere-Fenton' were to stalk the local hero.

He's got a coffee in hand when he sees Nightwing grapple away, smiling brightly at citizens that waved at him. It was peaceful... If not for the fact that gunshots banged loudly in the streets and Nightwing's line was suddenly cut.

Hero time.

Dan has been a victim to his siblings' commentary on the JL one to many times. He's seen the way Superman scoops up Lois Lane whenever she's made hostage and is dropped from a building.

Nightwing is in his arms seconds later, floating in the air while Dan carries the vigilante bridal style. He offers the obviously surprised man a grin, flashing his fangs.

"I'd ask if it hurt when you fell, but I did catch you in the end."

Dick wasn't expecting to fucking fall. He was usually light on his feet and not just anyone could cut any line that was supplied by Batman. He had prepared to crash, for his bones to break from the fall, but no. His body was pressed against hard and very much sculpted muscle and his eyes blew wide when he saw the man that was surely carved from fucking marble.

The hunk of a man that was surely bigger than Jason had almost fiery hair that reminded him of Kori's, just white. Clearly, he wasn't human. An almost teal tinge to his skin and deep crimson eyes—reallt handsome too. Also, he was flying.

He was being carried the same way Lois Lane was whenever Superman saved her from danger. Damn, was this how she felt? All giddy and kinda aroused excited?

Dick Grayson was not a coward and shoot his shot immediately.

"I'd have to ask what heaven's like since an angel caught me." He grinned, watching as his unknown saviour chuckled.

"I'm no angel, darling. More like a demon."

Teeth... Oh... Fangs.

"So... Can I have my saviour's name?" Dick hummed once the stranger landed in a nearby rooftop. He was... Gentle, kinda. He didn't drop Dick, or whatever, but he did make sure he was on his feet in the concrete roof.

The stranger gave him yet another toothy grin.

("I'm Phantom! I had it first in this world!" Danny argued, immediately flipping Dan off once the subject of their aliases were brought up.

"Then what the hell am I supposed to be called?! CW wants me playing hero for my 'redemption'." There's a mocking tone in his voice before he shudders at the invisible presence of the ancient.

"I have an idea!" Jazz—the only sensible one in the famil—smiled and went to giving him a name.

"How about—")

"Wraith." The stranger—Wraith—chuckled softly and tilted Dick's head a bit. Damn, that man was tall.

A second later, he was gone.

(Later, Dick hijacked the batcomputer to search for any cases that involved 'Wraith')

Part 3 | Masterpost

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

Though his companion's shoulders slowly reset back to a neutral position, the Copy of X still finds himself tense.

I'd... I had... No, not just him. He can't look away from the tablet that rested on the floor beside his lap, painfully aware of the way their positions were. Small contacts, the coattails of their armor splayed out, overlapping. The slight lean in the other reploid's posture, only ruined by their sudden awakening. Leaning for...

That's not the issue. No, they had...

Fuck. Seraph's optics shift to follow the Zero up, stares at the hand outstretched. Fuck. The silence is fragile, his name echoing off the facility walls. It's the fact that he was not the only one to commit what feels like a crime.

Desperate what-ifs and daydreams of peaceful times shatter like glass under the weight of reality. Reality, on the other hand, could not change the way his core thundered in his chest. Crim is right, they should head back. Back to the wishes that they carried for others, back to the oppression, back to conflicting sides.

In spite of himself, Seraph finds his hand settling in Crimson's, and is pulled to his feet. It's warm. "...Right." He's cursed, isn't he? He's a horrible sibling, the memory of Phantom tarnished in the way he can't turn away from the crimson ghost before him. Icarus flew to the sun and burned, right? The Copy can feel his wings melting, but can't look away. This feels like... falling, doesn't it?

When they find Elpizo, when they take care of the threat, their treaty would fracture. It doesn't change the way a part of his core cracks when he releases the hand holding his. The faux reploid finds his eyes meeting the other's, and he hates the realization that follows. It weighs more than the water in the ocean, the drop in his chest.

I can't fight you anymore.

@thegatesofinfinitespace​ Even if he doesn’t mean it, the Zero’s voice echoes in his own head, repeated over and over again like a song on repeat. ‘Someone has to keep you in check, Ser.’ There’s too much, and he can’t tell if he’s reading too much into it. The nickname. The smile that Seraph can see turning away. The relaxed posture of his shoulders.

A snort of amusement is given to Crimson as he shakes his head, forcing himself to refocus on the tablet in front of him. It’s alarming, how much he wants to open his mouth to tell the other reploid, I don’t mind it if it’s you.

Already the Copy’s doubling down into the document he’s only just opened, refusing to acknowledge the thought. Stupid. Unthinkable. Impossible, Seraph, you’re just caught up in the moment. Don’t forget. Don’t forget. But he can’t deny the casual air in the room, the lack of stress between the two of them.

Was there anyone he’d ever felt this comfortable around? The silence stretches between them, but there is never any need to fill it. He finds himself adjusting, resting a chin in hand as he swipes. It’s been a long time since he’s had this kind of stretch of time. Since the Dark Elf…

Uncommon, that he’s never felt so at ease. Can’t remember the last time. Was I ever…? Running on full steam since waking up those years ago. Despite who his company is, there’s never been more reassurance that he was safe. It doesn’t feel normal.

He adjusts positions, tapping open another document.

…

..

.

“….!” Seraph bolts awake, his datapad clattering to the floor off his lap. Shit. Shit. How much time had…?

There’s so much knowledge here. So many memories. It would be a joy to explore them all, to sit here forever, sharing discoveries. Tracing echoes of the past. If it weren’t for the fact they had a mission, a reason to dig… a reason to rush.

I’d like to stay, just a little longer. 

………..the low power of sleep. A rarity. Crimson isn’t sure when he slipped, when he felt comfortable enough to drop his guard. It’s enough that the shift of Seraph’s weight doesn’t register right away, the sound of a fumbled datapad the only reason the Zero stirs. 

Tension, brief, but strong. The war machine reaches instinctively for the hilt of his blade, before his surroundings set in. Still just the two of them. No threat. His hand relaxes, and he glances back to Seraph with a slight frown.

…how long had…? Safe to say they’re having the same thought. When his companion dozed off against him, initially Crimson had been fine relegating himself to sentry duty. 

….it… just didn’t stay that way, apparently. 

Ser looked so peaceful, head resting against the red hunter’s shoulder. The semblance of something more normal. Of a time and place they can’t reach. A different kind of life. 

Not meant for a sword. 

“…Seraph,” a sentence started, left incomplete. For the first time in a long time, the silver haired reploid finds himself feeling he can’t place. Like he should apologize, though neither of them have done anything in particular. Crim stands, and in spite of himself, offers the copy a hand. 

“We should… head back.”   

[sinn-bee]

G4G prompt 781

Luo Binghe with his vassel lords Crimson Rain and Black Water for @/BoomFanfic on behalf of @/starlit_radiant

This would be so scary ngl, what a fun crossover prompt 🥰

[ID: Digitial illustration of a dark throne room. Luo Binghe sits on a golden throne with Xin Mo in hand and a dark expression. Hua Cheng stands off to one side with an arm raised with a few silver wraith butterflies flying around. He Xuan is on the other side with a skeletal fish floating up under his hand. The room has several dark red hanging veils that cast the room in a dark and ominous lighting. End ID]

[speaknowgirl3184]

omg can I pls request a fic where anakin does turn to the dark side but then sees the twins he has with the reader and tries to idk redeem himself? with like a shit ton of angst but then a little light of hope in the end

im really bad at explaining what exactly the request really Is but u get the gist of it😭

Ashes To Stars

Unburnt! Darth Vader x female reader

As the galaxy burns under the Empire’s shadow, a lost love and hidden children may be the only light strong enough to reach what remains of Anakin Skywalker.

Warning: ANGST, Major character death, killings, death, funeral, gore, kinda war. (Let me know if there is anything else).

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

Before

The Jedi Temple burned behind you, its flames licking the Mustafar skyline like fingers of hell reaching toward the heavens. A grotesque parody of a funeral pyre, for hope, for peace, for everything the Jedi Order once stood for.

You had arrived too late.

Smoke thick as mourning shrouds coiled around the great stone pillars, charring once-pristine walls with soot and sorrow. You stumbled through the carnage, boots slipping in blood and ash, the stench of death clinging to your robes and searing itself into your lungs.

Tiny bodies, so many of them, scattered like broken dolls on the marble floor. Limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Faces frozen in fear. Lightsabers still gripped in small, trembling hands that would never grow strong enough to wield them again.

You dropped to your knees beside one of the younglings, brushing a strand of hair from their wide, glassy eyes. You bit down a sob.

“Anakin,” you gasped, your voice hoarse from smoke and disbelief. “Anakin, where are you?”

No answer came.

Only silence.

Then—

Snap-hiss.

The hum of a lightsaber igniting echoed in the ruined hall like a war drum.

A blade, red as spilled blood, pierced the gloom.

Your eyes lifted.

And there he stood.

Your Anakin… and yet not.

His silhouette emerged from the shadows like a nightmare carved from obsidian. Cloaked in darkness, his saber casting hellish light across the smoldering temple, he looked more wraith than man. His face was impassive, carved from stone, but those eyes—

Gone was the sun-gold warmth that once danced in his gaze when he looked at you.

Now his irises burned a molten amber, twin infernos of hate and agony and something worse than rage—emptiness.

“Anakin?” Your voice cracked, nearly drowned by the crackling of flames and the weight of the moment. You took a step forward. “What have you done?”

He didn’t speak.

Only stared.

You wanted to reach for him. Wanted to believe this was a trick, a vision, some dark Force illusion. But the truth lay around you, splattered on the floor in crimson and silence.

Your hand hovered over your lightsaber hilt. You didn’t draw it.

He did.

He was trying to kill you.

And some twisted part of you understood why. Because you knew him. Knew the guilt would rot him alive if he let you live. You were the last piece of the old Anakin. The last witness.

If you lived, he couldn't hide from what he'd become.

He wouldn't let that happen.

Not willingly.

You survived. Barely.

It took everything, every drop of strength, every trick Obi-Wan ever taught you, every prayer you’d never believed in, to get away.

Mustafar nearly finished the job.

Lava scorched the sky, a mirror to the fire that had swallowed the Temple. You collapsed on blackened rock, your body broken, saber gone, breath shallow and wet with blood. You remembered the smell of burning flesh, his screams, and the stench of betrayal seeping into your skin like poison.

You had seen him fall.

And you had still reached for him.

“Please, come back. You don’t have to do this.”

“You’re a liar.” “I loved you.”

“You killed everything we ever were.”

He hadn’t hesitated. Not then.

You crawled away from that planet half-dead, dragging yourself aboard a stolen ship, your limbs barely responding, the pain a constant roar in your ears.

You didn’t know how long you drifted in space, slipping in and out of consciousness. Sometimes you screamed. Sometimes you prayed.

And sometimes you whispered his name.

Anakin.

Anakin.

Anakin.

But he didn’t answer.

Not until the Force began whispering back.

Not until you felt it—a pulse, faint but persistent. A flicker of life inside your broken body.

It started as a warmth low in your belly, a tiny flutter like a star being born. You thought it was the pain, a hallucination.

Until the Force wrapped around you like a breath.

Two heartbeats.

Not just your own.

You were pregnant.

And that was the moment the last piece of you shattered.

You wept for Anakin Skywalker.

The man who had died with his hands soaked in the blood of the future.

The man who would never hold his children.

The man you loved more than anything.

Even now.

-----------

Years Later

The Outer Rim was harsh, but you raised your children in its shadows. Two of them, twins. Luke, steady and protective, with his father’s quiet strength. Leia, fierce and luminous, her eyes full of fire and stars.

You told them stories of the Jedi. You told them of a man named Anakin Skywalker, who blazed through the galaxy like a supernova, too bright, too fast, trying to hold back fate with bare, bleeding hands. But you never spoke of Darth Vader.

But the war never truly ended for you. You moved often. You taught them to hide, to bury their power. The Force pulsed strong in both, and the galaxy was no place for children of Skywalker blood.

You dreamed of him sometimes. The man with sun-touched curls and a smile that softened even your darkest days. The one who kissed your bruised knuckles after battle and promised that if there was ever a peace, he’d build you a home on Naboo.

Sometimes, even now, you still woke up crying.

-----------

Now

The Empire was relentless. It never stopped hunting.

You were a fracture in its foundation. A splinter of the past the Emperor never managed to crush beneath his boot. A memory wrapped in flesh. A threat.

So it was only a matter of time.

Vader found you on Dantooine.

The wind was sharp that morning. The sun low and veiled by ash-grey clouds. The cold arrived first. Then the silence.

Then the dread.

You barely had time to usher the children into the underground chamber, heart hammering, before the bunker doors blew inward with a metallic shriek.

They came in like a flood, stormtroopers, faceless and ruthless, shouting orders you didn’t hear as they seized your arms and forced you to your knees in the dust. Your cheek scraped the stone floor, blood smearing your lip. You didn’t struggle. There was no point. You could already feel him drawing closer, every step a thunderclap in your soul.

And then he appeared.

Black armor. Labored breathing. A towering shadow of death, framed in smoke and ruin. The mask was the same you’d seen in holos, the one children feared and rebels cursed. But it wasn’t just a mask to you.

It was a tombstone for the man you loved.

Your throat clenched. Your heart tried to crawl out of your chest. You couldn't breathe, not from fear—but from knowing. Because behind that mask was Anakin. Your Anakin.

Or what was left of him.

“You should have died,” he said. His voice wasn’t his. It came through a filter, flat and warped and wrong. It sounded mechanical and hollow.

Your fingers curled into the floor.

“And yet I didn’t,” you spat, tasting copper. “Neither did they.”

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then his head turned, the mechanical whirring was the only sound.

“They?” he repeated, slow. Almost cautious.

And then, like a wire pulled tight between you, the Force cracked like a whip.

He felt them.

His body stilled, like stone beneath ice.

Two presences pulsed in the distance. Two familiar, flickering stars. Bright. Trembling. Luke’s resolve was already hardening, his small fingers wrapping around the hilt of his training saber. Leia’s fear shone brighter, like fire, but it didn’t crack. She was afraid, yes, but not broken.

He felt all of it.

And you saw the tremor ripple through his stance like lightning striking the sea.

“No…” you whispered, barely audible, tears springing to your eyes. “Please. Anakin... not them.”

The name, Anakin, split the air like a scar. It clung there, heavy and hollow, a word too full of history.

He didn’t speak. But he didn’t move, either.

You saw his hand twitch. Not toward his saber.

"Look at me," you said, voice trembling. "Look at what you became. Look at what they could be. Don’t let this be it. Don’t let this be how it ends."

Something cracked in the silence. Not out loud. Inside him.

The air grew heavy, tense, like the galaxy itself held its breath.

The stormtroopers were frozen, unsure whether to fire or wait for a command. You weren’t sure what would happen either. You were trembling, whether from fear or hope, you didn’t know.

And then, with slow, almost painful movements, Vader stepped forward.

And removed his helmet.

It hissed as it detached. The sound was final. Like the slamming of a coffin lid, only backward. A door opening, instead of closing.

He looked... ruined.

Older. Worn. Paler than you remembered. Scars crawled across his skin like jagged cracks in porcelain, and his eyes, his eyes, they were sunken, haunted things.

But they were his.

Blue, beneath all that shadow. Just barely.

And the moment he saw them, really saw them, everything stopped.

Two small figures stepped into the threshold of the hallway behind you, drawn by something they couldn’t name. Luke, wide-eyed, tense with uncertainty. Leia, brave as ever, her hands clenched at her sides even as her lip quivered.

The second he saw them, Anakin Skywalker fell to his knees.

Not in pain.

Not to dominate.

To beg.

His saber deactivated and dropped beside him with a thud.

“I didn’t know,” he rasped, voice barely more than a whisper through scarred lungs. “I didn’t know you lived. I thought—I thought I killed you—I saw you fall—"

His voice broke, and so did your heart.

You didn’t know how you moved, only that you were in front of him, the twins behind you. He looked at them like they were ghosts.

Leia stepped forward first. Brave little flame. She looked at him, chin held high, and said in a voice far too soft for the moment:

“Mom said you were a hero.”

Anakin flinched as if struck.

A breath escaped him, ragged, wounded. His shoulders crumpled, hands shaking. His fingers curled against the floor, as if trying to hold on to something slipping too fast through his grasp.

You moved closer.

Kneeling in front of him, you reached out and gently touched his cheek.

He didn’t flinch.

Didn’t pull away.

You saw it then, the flicker. The flicker of the boy who’d held you beneath Naboo’s waterfalls. The man who kissed your stomach when you first told him you wanted a family. The warrior who fought with too much passion and loved with too much fire.

“You still can be,” you whispered, your voice breaking in two. “It’s not too late. Come back. Please. Let them know their father.”

Silence.

Then a sound.

Snap-hiss.

Your breath caught.

But the blade wasn’t red.

It was blue.

He turned it, not on you, not on the children, but against the stormtroopers still standing dumbfounded by the door. Against the monster he had become. Against everything Palpatine ever chained him to.

He moved like the wind. Efficient. Cold, but not cruel. He didn’t slaughter them for vengeance.

He did it for you.

For them.

For the light still buried beneath years of shadow.

-----------

Later

You buried him beneath the trees of Naboo.

A quiet resting place, where the wind sounded like laughter, and the light through the leaves looked like peace. Where the water shimmered like glass and the grass remembered bare feet and kisses stolen under moonlight.

You chose the spot where he'd once told you he wanted to build a home. Back when his eyes were still blue, when the war hadn’t yet carved him into someone else. When you’d both believed, naïvely, foolishly, bravely, that peace was possible.

Leia’s hands trembled as she laid her bouquet down, delicate blossoms she'd gathered herself, wrapped in a strip of her old tunic. She didn’t cry, not where anyone could see. But she stayed closest to the grave, as if trying to understand the shape of a man she’d never truly known.

Luke stood beside her, quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the horizon like he was trying to see the galaxy their father once believed he could save.

The stone you placed was simple.

No titles. No rank.

Just a name.

Anakin Skywalker.

The one he finally earned again.

As the final clumps of soil were placed and the wildflowers arranged, Leia knelt beside you. Her small fingers laced through yours. Her voice was soft, almost unsure.

“Did he say anything? At the end?”

You turned your head, you swallowed against the grief swelling in your throat and smiled through the ache.

“He said he loved you,” you whispered. “Both of you. And me.”

There was a long silence after that. No one moved. Even the wind seemed to still, as if the world itself wanted to preserve the moment.

Then Luke stepped closer.

Without a word, he took your hand.

And as the three of you stood there, beneath the trees where love had once bloomed and returned to die, you looked up.

The stars shimmered above you.

Endless.

Quiet.

Hopeful.

Like maybe, just maybe, there was still something out there waiting to be healed.

Something worth fighting for.

Something worth remembering.

Something like hope.

---------------

I loved this rec, I hope it matched their expectations. Also sorry for the sad ending but at least it was happier than my other stuff. 💗 Tysm for reading everyone hope you enjoyed!!

[slut4megantheestallion]

──Crimson Devotion

Trueform! Sukuna 𝐱 Original Vampire!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings. fem! reader, vampire!reader (Reader is an original) heian era, trueform! Sukuna, smut, rough sex, cockwarming, degradation, possessiveness, fingering, blood drinking, mention of compulsion,finger sucking, edging, Overstimulation, light Aftercare, multiple orgasms, Dom!sukuna.

You had been in Ryomen Sukuna's service for years, though it felt like mere days in the grand span of your immortal existence. Time had little meaning to you after living for over a thousand years. You had seen empire rise and crumble, witnessed men become legends before turning to dust. And yet, in all that time, nothing fascinated you quite like him.

Sukuna was unlike any other being you had encountered. Humans feared him, sorcereers despised him, and even curses cowered in his presence. He was destruction incarnate - both a man and a monster, adorned with four roving eyes and a grin that promised ruin.

You had chosen power to serve him for one reason alone: Power.

As an Original vampire, you were an apex predator, feared in your own right. But cursed energy was something beyond even your kind's understanding. It thrived in ways that defied nature, and Sukuna was its pinnacle. You needed to learn from him, to study him, to determine whether such power could be wielded against your enemies- or if it was a threat to your existence.

Sukuna had accepted you into his court without question, though he regarded you with mild intrigue. Unlike his concubines and warriors, you did not flinch under his gaze, nor did you shrink in fear when he turned his attention to you. You were beautiful, yes- so much so that even his followers whispered about the ethereal maiden in his presence. But there was something else.

Something unnatural.

He noticed it almost immediately. The way you moved too gracefully, too effortlessly, like a wraith gliding through his halls. The way your skin reminded flawless, untouched by time or battle, despite having lived through so much bloodshed. The way you indulged in the lavish feasts at his table yet never seemed to be sustained by them, your appetite always restrained, as if something else - something unseen - was what truly fed you.

Sukuna was not a patient man, but he was a curious one. And curiosity for him always led to something dangerous.

Despite the many souls that lingered within Sukuna's domain, you remained an enigma. You were neither servant nor concubine, not bound to him in the ways others were. He had not claimed you, nor had he given you a position of true power, yet you stood above the others.

A maiden, they called you. Untouched. Pure. Otherworldly.

It was ironic. You were far from innocent, having left a trail of blood and ruin across centuries. And yet, the image suited you well- the delicate, untouchable beauty draped in silks finer than what even his concubines wore. The way men gazed upon you, only to avert their eyes in shame. The way women envied you, whispering about how Sukuna never laid a hand on you, despite keeping you close.

He liked that you unsettled them.

But more than that, you unsettled him.

Sukuna was not the kind of man who tolerated uncertainty. He conquered, he devoured, he took what he wanted without hesitation. And yet, with you, there was restraint. Not by choice, no- had you been like the others, he would have had you beneath him long ago, ruined, and marked beyond recognition.

But you were not like the others.

And that fascinated him.

There were moments - brief, fleeting moments - where he thought he might have glimpsed something beyond the facade. The flicker of hunger in your eyes when blood was spilled in the arena. The way your breath hitched when a warrior collapsed, his lifeblood seeping into the dirt. The way your lips parted, as if some long-forgotten instinct was clawing to the surface, demanding to be fed

Sukuna had never been one to deny indulgence. He thrived in gluttony, in excess, in the destruction of self restraint. And yet, you resisted.

You did not falter. You did not break.

Until the night, he caught you.

── დ ──

It was feast time in the grand hall, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine thick in the air. The low hum of conversation blended with drunken laughter, the sounds of pleasure and indulgence filling the space. Servants scurried refilling goblets, bringing forth more food, ensuring none of Sukuna's favored suffered even a moment of dissatisfaction.

At the head of it all, Sukuna sat on his throne, legs spread lazily, a golden chalice in one of his four hands while the others toyed with the concubines vying for his attention. They draped themselves over him like silk, whispering sweet praises, offering themselves as though they were gifts to be unwrapped. Their fingers traced over his skin, their lips pressed again his arms, his shoulders, hoping to be chosen tonight.

But his mind was elsewhere.

You had not come to the feast.

It was not unusual - you often avoided these gluttonous displays, never outright refusing his invitation, but always making some excuse to slip away before the night fell into drunken debauchery, Sukuna let it slide, entertained by the challenge you unknowingly posed. But tonight, something felt different.

He watched his concubines drown themselves in wine, their bodies swaying with intoxicated ease. The celebration carried on, loud and frenzied, yet his focus lingered beyond the candlelight hall, where the torches no longer reached.

Where were you?

One of his concubine - young, delicate, with flushed cheeks from too much wine - staggered away from the group, giggling as she slipped past the drunken guards. Likely searching for air, or perhaps to steal a moment of rest before returning to her master's side.

She was alone. Vulnerable.

And in the shadows, you watched.

You had been lingering in the corridors, unseen, as you always were. But tonight, hunger gnawed at you in ways you could no longer ignore. The scent of blood - hot, rich, laced with wine - called to you, sharp as a blade against your senses. You had fed recently, but not enough. Never enough. The restraint you prided yourself on wavered, a beast within you stirring, aching, demanding release.

You followed her.

Your steps were silent, effortless, as you stalked through the dimly lit halls. She was oblivious, humming softly to herself, her pulse loud in your ears.

Sukuna, still seated on his throne, lifted his goblet to his lips- but then he stilled.

His four eyes narrowed.

He felt something shift in the air. Something primal. Something predatory.

His lips curled.

So this was it.

This was what you had been hiding.

And he was going to see it for herself.

── დ ──

The young concubine wandered further into the dimly lit corridor, the drunken haze in her mind dulling her senses. Her silk robe swayed as she moved, bare feet padding softly against the cool stone. She had no destination- perhaps she sought a moment of solitude away from the rowdy feast, or maybe she was simply lost.

But she was not alone.

You followed soundlessly, a shadow moving between the flickering torches. You could hear the steady drum of her heartbeat, the sluggish pull of her breath as the wine thickened her blood. She smelled sweet, ripe- a perfect temptation laid bare before you.

Your hunger, once controlled, now prowled within you like a caged beast.

It had been too long. You had denied yourself for too long.

The game began

You let the tips of your fingers graze again the stone walls, just loud enough for the sound to reach her ears. The soft scrape sent a shiver down her spine, her steps faltering.

She turned, brows furrowed. "Hello?"

Silence.

A beat passed. She swallowed, shaking her head at herself, before taking another step forward.

You moved faster. This time, a whisper- so faint, so ghostly - brushed against her ear.

"Are you lost?"

She gasped, whirling around. Nothing.

Her breath quickened. The hallway stretched long and empty before her, the candlelight casting shifting shadows along the walls. A chill ran down her spine, the once- comforting haze of wine replaced by something colder.

Something wrong.

She hurried forward, her steps uneven, the quiet pressing in around her. She could feel eyes on her, a presence lurking just beyond sight.

And then-

"Boo."

You were suddenly there.

She shrieked, stumbling back, hands clutching her chest. Her wide eyes met yours, and then she exhaled a breath of relief, laughing shakily.

"Oh gods, it's just you." She tried to steady herself, but something about the way you stood- the way you watched her- made her skin prickle.

You didn't speak.

Didn't blink.

You simply stood there, still as death, your face bathed in flickering torchlight.

The concubine swallowed thickly, shifting uncomfortably under your stare. She had always feared you, though she never admitted it aloud. There was something off about you, something that unsettled her in ways he couldn't explain.

"You scared me," she tried to joke, forcing a small laugh. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

Still, you did not answer.

Her fingers twitched at her sides. Something isn't right.

Before she could take another step back, your voice finally came.

"Don't move."

The words weren't spoken- they were woven into her mind, sinking deep, commanding.

Her body locked in place.

Her lips parted, but no sound came.

Panic flared in her wide, helpless eyes as she realized- she couldn't move. She couldn't screm. She was trapped within herself, unable to do anything but feel.

Feel your fingers brushing her hair aside.

Feel your lips ghost over her pulse.

Feel the sharp, piercing pain as your fangs sank into her flesh.

Her muffled whimper vibrated against your mouth, her body trembling as warmth flooded your tongue.

And god- the taste~

It was ecstasy. It was fire and silk, rich and intoxicating, sweeter than the finest wine served at Sukuna's feast. The pleasure of it curled through your veins, deep and consuming, a hunger you had denied for far too long finally being sated.

Her body slackened, her pulse fluttering under your hold.

You moaned softly, drinking deep, savoring, every drop as her life poured into you.

She was yours.

Completely and utterly-

"Well, well."

A voice, low and amused, shattered the moment.

Your eyes snapped open, fangs still buried deep, as the presence of another loomed behind you.

A shadow cast in red and black.

A smile lined with sharp teeth.

Sukuna.

── დ ──

His voice was deep, threaded with amusement, but beneath it lay something darker- something possessive.

Your body tensed. The concubine in your arms was nearly limp, her pulse weak but still present, your fangs still buried in the soft flesh of her neck. You could feel Sukuna's gaze burning into you, devouring every detail- the way your lips were stained crimson, the way blood dripped down your chin, trailing past your throat to pool at the swell of your breasts.

Slowly, you withdrew your fangs, licking the punctures clean, sealing the wound with a flick of your tongue. The concubine let out a soft, breathless whimper, her body slumping as you finally released her.

A heavy silence hung between you.

Sukuna stepped forward.

Your breath hitched - not in fear, but in something else, something dangerous.

"You've been keeping secrets from me, maiden." His voice silk over steel, teasing yet edged with something sharp.

You turned to face him, eyes dark with hunger still not fully satisfied. "And you've been watching me."

He smirked. "Oh, don't look so surprised. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

His four eyes roved over you, drinking in the sight - your heaving chest, the flush of pleasure still fading from your cheeks, the way your pupils were dilated with bloodlust. He inhaled, catching the lingering scent of the concubine's life essence on your lips.

"And here I thought nothing could surprise me anymore," he mused.

You wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb, unfazed. "Does this not frighten you, my lord?" You took a step closer, deliberately slow, watching his gaze darken. "Or does this excite you?"

His grin widened.

"Come here."

The words weren't a request. They were a summon.

But you didn't move.

Sukuna's amusement flickered into something sharper, something more demanding. His four arms flexed, muscles coiling like a predator about to strike. "Now."

Still, you met his gaze without wavering. The tension between you thickened, charged, stretching unbearably tight.

And then, in a blur of motion, he was on you.

Faster than you expected, faster than a mortal should be- one of his hands wrapped around your throat, another grabbing your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body was intoxicating, his scent laced with wine, blood, and something purely him.

"That little display back there," he murmured, voice dark and velvety as his thumb brushed over your racing pulse. "It was entertaining."

His lips hovered dangerously close to yours, teasing, taunting. "The way you drank from her... the little moans you made." He chuckled, low and deep. "Do you even realize how beautiful you looked?"

Your breath shuddered.

His grip tightened, not enough to hurt- just enough to remind you who was in contact now.

"And yet," he continued, his tongue darting out to lick a stray drop of blood from your collarbone, "You didn't come to me first."

You swallowed, pulse quickening.

Sukuna smirked.

"Tomorrow afternoon. My throne room."

His voice held no room for argument.

You tilted your chin up slightly, not willing to appear submissive. "And if I don't come?"

His smirk widened. "Then I'll come find you myself."

With that, he released you, stepping back, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before turning away.

You stood still, watching as he walked off, leaving you alone in the corridor.

Tomorrow.

Whatever he had planned, you knew it would be dangerous.

And yet... you couldn't help but anticipate it.

── დ ──

The next afternoon

You had spent the entire day in your chambers, the heavy drapes drawn shut, isolating yourself from the world outside.

Yet no mater how still you sat, no matter how you willed your mind to silence, you couldn't stop thinking about last night.

The warmth of fresh blood trickling down your throat, the way the concubine's pulse had fluttered beneath your lips like a caged bird before it slowed... the way Sukuna watched you, his gaze dark with something you couldn't quite name.

You had fed.

You had savored.

Any yet.. it hadn't been enough.

A dull ache thrumned beneath your ribs, hunger curling are your senses like smoke, whispering, tempting-more, you need more.

You exhaled sharply, trying to suppress the gnawing craving, but it lingered, stubborn and insatiable.

Then, a knock at the door.

It was faint, yet you heard it as clearly as if it had been a thunderclap.

You straightened, smoothing down your robe before moving to the door, unlocking it with a soft click.

Uraume stood before you, their expression unreadable as always, yet there was a glint of knowing in their cold eyes.

"Master Sukuna requests your presence."

Your fingers twitched at your side's.

It wasn't a request.

You knew this summons was inevitable, and yet, a silver of unease slithered down your spine. Sukuna was not a man to summon something without a purpose.

And you already knew what this was about.

Still, you maintained your composure, tilting your chin slightly. "Of course."

Without another word, Uraume turned on their heel, leading you down the vast corridors of Sukuna's domain. The air was thick with the scent of incense and faint traces of blood, the dim lighting casting long, shifting shadows along the walls.

Your heartbeat was steady, but your mind was racing.

Last night, Sukuna had seen you.

And he had not been repulsed.

No, he had been entertained.

Something inside you told you that today was a test - a game in which the rules were his to control.

As you entered the throne room, your eyes imma found him.

Sukuna lounged upon his grand throne, the golden light of the torches flickering over his tattooed skin, casting sharps shadows across his sculpted form. His robe was loose, draped over his powerful frame, his four arms resting lazily at his sides.

And beside him, a concubine knelt.

Your gaze flickered to her, she was adorned in delicate silk, her skin flushed from the wine she had no doubt been given, her breaths slightly uneven. She wasn't looking at you- her head was bowed in reverence towards Sukuna, awaiting his attention.

You frowned slightly.

This was different.

Sukuna was not one for subtlety. If he had summoned you here with a concubine present, it was for a reason.

His eyes locked onto yours the moment you entered, sharp and unreadable, but that smirk-that damned smirk- was still carved onto his lips.

"So you did decide to come," he drawled, amusement lacing his tone.

You remained poised, meeting his gaze with cool indifference. "You summoned me, my lord. It would be unwise to ignore such a call."

His smirk widened slightly, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest of his throne.

"Mm. Obedient today, aren't we?" His voice was deceptively casual, but you could feel the weight of his scrutiny, the way his eyes traced over your form as if searching for something unseen.

You did not respond.

He exhaled a short chuckle, his gaze flickering towards the concubine at his side.

"Tell me, my little maiden... does she tempt you?"

The words were unexpected.

Your brow furrowed slightly. "What?"

Sukuna's hummed, shifting slightly in his seat, his many arms flexing lazily. "Does she tempt you?" He gestured toward the concubine with an elegant flick of his fingers.

The woman remained still, unmoving, but you could hear the steady thrum of her heartbeat, the scent of her blood mingling with the rich perfume of incense in the air.

Your throat tightened.

You knew what he was doing.

Your hunger from last night had never truly been sated, and Sukuna knew it.

He was testing you.

You kept your expression smooth. "If this is meant to be some sort of trick, my lord, it is a poor one."

He laughed at that, low and indulgent, like he found your resistance adorable.

And then, before you could react, one of his hands moved.

A sharp slash of his clawed fingers- and the scent of blood filled the air.

You inhaled sharply.

The concubine gasped, her body trembling as a thin, precise line of blood bloomed across her throat- not deep enough to be fatal, but deep enough to bleed.

Rich, warm, fresh.

Your breath hitched.

Sukuna watched you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

"Go on," he murmured, his voice low, dangerous, and dripping with amusement. "Drink."

A shiver danced down your spine.

He was playing with you.

Tempting you.

Daring you.

The hunger inside you roared, the scent of fresh blood stirring something deep, primal in your core.

You clenched your fists. "You're cruel, Sukuna."

He grinned. "Oh? But you don't seem very disgusted, maiden. In fact..." He leaned forward, resting his chin upon one of his hands, voice like a purr, "I think you want it."

You swallowed hard.

The concubine whimpered, swaying slightly, her eyes glassy from wine and pain.

You could hear the blood pulsing from her wound, calling to you, enticing, inviting.

And then Sukuna's voice, teasing, coaxing.

"Drink, little vampire. Show me what you really are."

Your breathing was shallow.

You were losing control.

And he knew it.

── დ ──

The moment the scent of fresh blood fully filled your senses, your control snapped.

Your veins darkened, creeping like ink beneath your skin, eyes glowing a deep, predatory crimson. Your fangs fully extended, gleaming under the dim torchlight, and your lips curled into something no longer human- a hungry, primal snarl.

Sukuna stilled.

His breath hitched for just a moment.

And then he grinned.

Pure, unrestrained awe danced across his features as he watched your transformation. His keen eyes traced every shift, the way your bones sharpened, the way your beauty twisted into something ethereal yet so monstrous.

"Now, that... is exquisite."He murmured, voice thick with dark amusement and something else. Something possessive.

Before the concubine could even process what was happening, you moved.

In the blink of an eye- faster than human sight you could track- you were there.

The concubine barely had time to gasp before your hand gripped the back of her head, tilting it sharply, exposing the wound sukuna had so generously gifted you.

"P-Please-" she whimpered, eyes wide, caught between terror and the lingering haze of intoxication.

You didn't hesitate.

Your fangs sank into her throat, piercing flesh effortlessly.

The moment her blood spilled into your mouth, warm and rich, a deep moan rumbled from your chest. The taste was intoxicating - filling, divine, but it was the sensation, the act itself, that sent a wave of pleasure rippling down your spine.

The concubine gasped, her body tensing, then shuddering as you fed. Her whimpers morphed into someone softer, her breath hitching with each slow, deep pull you took from her veins. The mixture of pain and pleasure melted into something blurred, a trance- like state overtaking her mind.

Sukuna watched.

Her fingers gripped the armrest of his throne, his smirk fading into someone darker, something hungrier.

The way you drank from her, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed each mouthful, the low, breathy moans slipping from your lips- it was obscene.

And he wished - no, he ached - for it to be him instead.

"Tch... look at you," he purred, voice dripping with amusement but laced with something thick with desire. "Like a beast finally set free."

You did respond, couldn't.

Not when the hunger was thus overwhelming, not when the concubine's pulse was weakening beneath your lips, the taste of her blood sending sparks of ecstasy through your very core.

Your hands tightened against her trembling form, and you drank deeper.

The concubine let out a breathy whimper, her body sagging as her strength began to slip.

Sukuna chuckled, tilting his head as he observed every detail of the masterpiece before him.

"How many times have you done this, I wonder?" He mused, eyes gleaming. "How many have you lured into your embrace, sinking those fangs into their flesh, making them yours?"

You finally pulled away, gasping sharply, a shudder raking through your body as the last traces of euphoria from feeding faded into someone sated yet still longing.

The concubine's body went limp, slumping into your arms, her chest rising and falling in shallow, weakened breaths. She was still alive, but barely.

You let her drop unceremoniously to the floor, her head lolling to the side, blood still trickling from the wound you left behind.

Your lips were stained red, glistening with the evidence of your indulgence.

A single drop of blood rolled down from the corner of your mouth, tracing the curve of your chin, slipping further down to the swell of your chest, vanishing into the fabric of your robe.

Sukuna groaned, one of his hands clenching into a fist.

"You truly are a sight to behold."

You turned to him, breath still heavy, eyes dark with something unreadable.

"You don't seem horrified," you murmured, voice huskier than before, thick with the remnants of your feeding.

Sukuna laughed, the sound rich and full of delight.

"Horrified? Oh, little maiden... you must take me for a fool." He leaned forward, resting his chin upon his palm, his other hands flexing in barely restrained temptation.

"Do you think I fear monsters?" He grinned, sharp and dangerous. "I am one."

Your gaze remained steady, though something deep inside you twisted at his words.

"Then why summon me here?" You asked, though you already knew the answer.

Sukuna hummed, eyes raking over you, taking in the lingering traces of your true form, the blood still wet against your lips.

"Curiosity," he admitted. "You have been under my roof for so long, yet I never knew what you truly were. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon such a rare little creature."

His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips.

"And now... I must test you."

You narrowed your eyes slightly. "Test me?"

Sukuna exhaled a dark chuckle, rising from his throne with slow, delicate movements.

The air in the room shifted.

"Oh, yes," he murmured, stepping toward you, his sheer size and presence making the space between you feel small.

"You see, I am not one to let precious things slip from my grasp." He raised a hand, fingers lightly brushing over your jaw, tilting your chin upward.

"And you, my little vampire... are far too precious."

Your breath caught a sharp, unfamiliar sensation curling in your stomach.

Sukuna's eyes gleamed, his smirk widening.

"Tomorrow night... you will come to my chambers."

A pause.

"And we will see just how hungry you truly are."

── დ ──

The next night…

The hour was late, the palace silent except for the distant flicker of torches lining the halls. You stood before Sukuna’s chamber doors, heart steady, expression unreadable. Despite the calmness you portrayed, there was something else humming beneath your skin—anticipation.

Not of fear. Never fear.

But of what he had planned.

After last night, you knew Sukuna did not view you as something to be feared or destroyed. No—his gaze held something far more dangerous: ownership.

And you were going to test that.

Taking a final breath, you pushed the doors open.

Sukuna sat at the far end of the room, bare-chested, lounging against the grand silk-covered bedding like a king awaiting his conquest. His crimson eyes gleamed with expectation as he observed you enter, slow and poised, yet undeniably predatory in your grace.

"Ah," he exhaled, amusement flickering over his lips. "My little monster finally arrives."

You said nothing, your gaze drifting over him. The candlelight cast deep shadows over his sculpted form, illuminating the inked markings that twisted along his skin. His lower arms rested lazily at his sides, but his upper set of hands flexed slightly—restrained temptation in its rawest form.

"You look at me as if you are already planning your next meal," Sukuna smirked, tilting his head. "Tell me, do you wish to drink from me, little fangs?"

Your tongue flicked over your lips, slow, calculated.

"Would you allow it?" you murmured, stepping closer, your voice a low, enticing hum.

Sukuna’s smirk widened.

"For you?" He chuckled, watching the way your eyes darkened with barely concealed hunger. "I may consider it. But first…"

Faster than human sight could track, he was in front of you, towering over your form, his heat overwhelming.

"I must punish you for keeping such a secret from me," he murmured, his voice dangerously smooth as he grasped your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back.

Your lips parted slightly, eyes half-lidded as you met his unwavering gaze.

"Punishment?" You echoed, feigning innocence.

Sukuna laughed, dark and rich.

"Oh, you are far from innocent, maiden."

His thumb brushed over your lower lip, his touch deliberate, testing. Your fangs barely grazed his skin as he did so, and his gaze flickered—a brief, sharp glint of something ravenous.

You held his stare, unmoving, unblinking.

Then, you bit.

It wasn’t deep, just a shallow scrape of your fangs over his skin, but the reaction—

Sukuna groaned, low and deep, his grip tightening.

"Fucking hell," he exhaled, eyes dark with something primal.

The taste of him—potent, rich, unlike anything you had ever indulged in—spread over your tongue, warm and intoxicating.

It was addictive.

You licked the wound slowly, savoring the faint trail of crimson left behind.

"So you do enjoy pain," you murmured, voice dripping with amusement.

Sukuna growled, pushing you back against the wooden frame of his bed, his body pressing flush against yours.

"You have no idea what I enjoy, little monster."

His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"But I will show you."

A shiver ran down your spine as Sukuna’s lips ghosted over your ear, his voice thick with promise. His fingers trailed along your jaw before gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his crimson gaze.

“You’re trembling,” he mused, a dark chuckle vibrating from his chest. “Excited? Or afraid?”

You swallowed hard, refusing to answer, but the wicked smirk curling his lips told you he already knew.

Before you could gather your thoughts, his mouth crashed against yours—hungry, demanding, possessive. His fangs grazed your bottom lip, threatening to pierce, but he didn’t bite. No, he wanted you to beg for it. Sukuna thrived on control, and right now, he was savoring the way you melted under his touch.

He pressed you harder against the wooden frame of his bed, the solid structure creaking under the force of his body caging you in. His hands roamed over your curves, fingers digging into the fabric of your robes before slipping beneath, seeking bare skin.

“You’re always so obedient,” he murmured against your lips before dragging his tongue along your jawline. “But I wonder… just how much will it take to break that composure of yours?”

One of his hands slid between your thighs, parting them effortlessly. His fingers ghosted over the soft flesh there, teasing. You sucked in a sharp breath, your body betraying you as heat pooled low in your stomach.

“Look at that,” he mused darkly, his fingers barely grazing your core. “You act like a proper little maiden, but you’re already soaking for me.”

Your lips parted, a protest forming, but Sukuna silenced you with a sharp slap to your thigh. Not enough to hurt—just enough to make you jolt.

“Don’t even think about denying it,” he growled. “I can feel it.”

A single finger slid through your folds, gathering the slickness pooling there before he lifted it to his lips, sucking it clean with a groan. His eyes never left yours.

“Sweet,” he purred. “Just like I expected.”

Your face burned, shame and arousal intertwining, but Sukuna wasn’t finished toying with you. His hand returned to your core, fingers pressing against your entrance but not pushing in.

“You want more?” he taunted. “Then ask for it, little monster.”

His words made your pride bristle, but your body ached for him. You bit your lip, refusing to give in so easily.

Sukuna’s expression darkened. “Still stubborn?”

Without warning, he pressed a single thick finger into you, the stretch making you gasp. He didn’t move—just held it there, buried deep inside you.

“Come on,” he cooed mockingly. “Tell me how badly you need me.”

Your breath hitched as he curled his finger, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you. Your legs trembled, hands gripping at his arms for support.

“Sukuna…”

He hummed, adding a second finger, stretching you further. “Say it properly.”

You swallowed your pride, your need for more outweighing everything else. “I need you.”

His grin was pure sin. “Good girl.”

His fingers started moving, slow but deliberate, thrusting in and out of you, slick sounds filling the room. You bit your lip, trying to hold back your moans, but Sukuna wouldn’t have that. His free hand gripped your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.

“Let me hear you,” he ordered. “Or I stop.”

A soft moan slipped past your lips, and Sukuna’s smirk widened.

“Better.”

His pace quickened, fingers working you open, building that unbearable tension in your stomach. But just as you were about to tip over the edge, he pulled away.

A whine of frustration left you, but Sukuna only laughed.

“Not yet,” he teased. “I haven’t had my fill.”

His hand gripped your hips, effortlessly flipping you onto the bed. Before you could react, he was on top of you, parting your legs with his knee, his heavy length pressing against your soaked core.

“You’ll take me like a good little thing, won’t you?” he murmured against your ear, teasing the head of his cock against your entrance. “And you’ll thank me for it.”

His voice was pure arrogance, but gods, you wanted him.

“Sukuna…” you breathed.

He chuckled, dark and knowing. “That’s what I thought.”

Then he pushed in, inch by inch, stretching you to the point of delicious pain. Your back arched, a strangled moan leaving your lips as he bottomed out, filling you completely.

Sukuna stilled for a moment, savoring the way you clenched around him. Then his hand found your chin again, tilting your head to the side.

“You want something else, don’t you?” he mused, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Go on. Take it.”

He tilted his head, exposing his throat to you—a silent command.

Your fangs ached, your hunger mixing with the pleasure, and with little hesitation, you bit down.

Sukuna groaned at the sharp pain, but instead of stopping you, his hips snapped forward, setting a brutal pace as he fucked you through the overwhelming pleasure.

Blood and pleasure. Pain and desire. It was intoxicating.

And Sukuna wasn’t finished with you yet.

── დ ──

The taste of him was intoxicating—rich, potent, unlike any mortal blood you had ever consumed. It burned through you, filling you with something far more than just sustenance. Power. Desire. Possession.

Sukuna groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he rutted into you with brutal precision. “That’s it,” he growled, voice thick with pleasure. “Drink, little monster. Take what’s yours.”

Your fangs sank deeper, his blood rolling down your throat like fire, making your body shudder. The pleasure of feeding intertwined with the overwhelming sensation of him stretching you open, filling you so completely it left no room for thought. Just raw, unfiltered sensation.

Sukuna’s hips slammed into yours, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through your core. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the dimly lit chamber, mingling with the wet, sinful noises of him fucking you. He was ruthless, taking you like he owned you—like he had always owned you.

His hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back and forcing you to release his throat. Blood smeared your lips, and he took a moment to admire it, his gaze dark with something primal.

“Look at you,” he mocked, dragging a thumb across your lips before shoving it into your mouth. “Greedy little thing. Is that what you wanted? To be filled in every way possible?”

You whimpered around his thumb, your body trembling beneath him. He smirked, pulling it free only to grip your throat again, pressing just enough to make your pulse quicken.

“Answer me,” he ordered, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust that made you cry out.

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice breaking under the pressure of pleasure. “Yes—Sukuna, please—”

“Pathetic,” he sneered, but the way his cock throbbed inside you betrayed how much he enjoyed it. “So desperate for me. It’s almost adorable.”

He shifted, forcing one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to press even deeper, hitting that devastating spot inside you that had you seeing stars. Your nails raked down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

But just when you were right there, when your release was seconds away, he stilled.

You let out a strangled whine, body trembling, hips bucking against him in protest. “No—don’t stop—”

Sukuna chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Oh? You thought you could come that easily?”

His hand slid between your legs, fingers pressing against your throbbing clit, teasing but not giving you what you needed. “You’ll come when I allow it. Until then, you’ll suffer.”

Your body burned with frustration, pleasure denied just as it was about to crest. He watched you struggle, your hips twitching, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, and he reveled in it.

“You look so pretty when you’re desperate,” he murmured, dragging his tongue along your throat. “Maybe I should keep you like this a little longer. Keep you begging.”

You whimpered, your pride warring with your need. But Sukuna was relentless. He pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, his pace brutal, unforgiving. Your walls clenched around him, trying to pull him back in, but still, he refused to let you fall over that edge.

Your eyes met his, hazy with pleasure. “Please,” you whispered, barely audible.

Sukuna’s smirk widened. “Oh, now you beg?” His fingers tightened around your throat, possessive, claiming. “Say it properly.”

“Please, my lord,” you gasped. “Let me—let me come—”

His eyes darkened with satisfaction. “Good girl.”

And then he shattered you.

His fingers pressed against your clit, his thrusts turning erratic, deeper, rougher. The pleasure slammed into you all at once, overwhelming, consuming. Your body arched, your vision going white as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Sukuna groaned, your walls clenching so tightly around him that it nearly dragged him down with you. But he wasn’t done yet.

“Fuck—” he growled, driving into you with a few more ruthless thrusts before burying himself to the hilt, his release spilling deep inside you. His grip on your throat tightened momentarily, his body shuddering against yours as he filled you completely.

For a moment, the world was nothing but harsh breaths, the lingering echoes of pleasure, and the warmth of him still inside you.

But Sukuna wasn’t finished with you yet.

His weight pressed down on you, his cock still buried deep, still hard. His smirk returned, slow and dangerous.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “You’ll keep me warm for a while, won’t you?”

His hips shifted slightly, making you whimper at the sensitivity. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, little monster,” he purred. “I’m far from done with you.”

── დ ──

Your body was spent, trembling beneath Sukuna as the aftershocks of pleasure pulsed through you. But he had no intention of letting you rest. His cock throbbed inside you, still buried deep, still claiming every inch of you as his.

You barely had time to recover before he moved again, slow but deliberate, his hips rolling against yours. A pathetic whimper left your lips as overstimulation sent sharp jolts through your body.

“Sukuna—”

“Shh,” he hushed, dragging his fingers along your sensitive skin, tracing the marks his teeth and hands had left behind. “You can take it. A little monster like you was made for this.”

His fingers slid down to your already sensitive clit, circling it lazily, teasing. Your body jolted, overstimulated and raw, but you were too far gone to protest. All you could do was cling to him, eyes hazy, breath ragged.

He took his time, savoring the way you twitched and shivered under him, the way your body molded so perfectly around him, like you were made to be ruined by him.

“You feel that?” he murmured against your ear, his voice a dark purr. “My seed dripping out of you? What a fucking mess.”

He pushed your legs further apart, making sure you could feel every inch of him pressing against that devastating spot inside you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body caught between exhaustion and pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

“Such a needy thing,” he continued, lips ghosting over your jaw. “You wanted to be filled, didn’t you? Now look at you. Too fucked-out to even speak.”

A sharp thrust had your back arching, a gasp ripping from your throat. Sukuna groaned at the way your walls clenched around him, and his control slipped.

His pace turned brutal again, each thrust knocking the breath from your lungs, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. He was chasing another release, dragging you along with him whether you could handle it or not.

“You’re mine,” he growled against your lips, his grip on your thighs bruising. “Say it.”

You barely had the strength to speak, but you forced the words out, voice broken and hoarse. “I’m yours.”

“Again.”

“Sukuna—I’m yours.”

His eyes darkened with satisfaction, and he rewarded you with his fingers pressing against your clit, working you toward another unbearable high.

Your body tensed, teetering on the edge again, and then—

Release tore through you like fire, like lightning, a white-hot explosion of sensation that left you trembling and utterly wrecked. Sukuna followed moments later, spilling deep inside you with a guttural groan, his body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You were both spent, breathless, bodies tangled in the aftermath of pleasure. His weight pressed you into the mattress, grounding you, and for once, he didn’t immediately pull away.

Instead, his lips found your throat, softer now, less demanding. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your thigh, his usual arrogance dimmed by something almost… possessive.

“You did well,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, his breath warm against your skin. “I might just keep you.”

You let out a weak, breathless laugh. “Might?”

Sukuna smirked, but there was something in his gaze—something deeper, something claiming. He wasn’t just saying it to tease you. He meant it.

“You’re mine now, little monster,” he said, voice low, final. “And I don’t share.”

You knew better than to think he was just talking about this night. This was a declaration, a claim that ran deeper than flesh and pleasure. He had no intention of letting you go.

And maybe… maybe you didn’t want him to.

Sukuna pulled you closer, his arms locking around you in a way that almost felt protective. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply, as if memorizing your scent.

“Sleep,” he murmured. “You’ll need the rest.”

And with the warmth of his body wrapped around yours, the steady rhythm of his breath against your skin, you let yourself drift into the darkness, knowing that when you woke, he would still be there.

Because now, you belonged to Sukuna.

And he never let go of what was his.