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sorrowful-lover · 1 month

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Hi! I have a request if that's ok. What do you think a Yandere Kokushibo x Reader wedding would be like? Thank you and have a good day!

Yandere Husband! Kokushibo x Wife! Human Reader - Once Upon a Time

Warning: Yandere, Possessive actions, depression

Slight Summary: You felt foolish, you felt dumb, you felt betrayed, you felt lied to, and you can't do anything, but blame yourself for it.

I'm guessing the reader is a human, I'm so sorry if that's not what wanted! I hope this is to your liking!!

The infinity castle was silent, as you and Kokushibo sat side by side on your own zabuton pillows, you could feel Kokushibo's ever-observant gaze on you and everyone else. His possessiveness over you made him almost beastly. You were both dressed in traditional wedding kimonos, along with everyone else who was dressed for the occasion. It was formal and quiet. You all listen to Muzan as he recites the wedding officiant.

Your head was held down, your thoughts wondering elsewhere, as you really didn't want to be married off, your demon lover, soon-to-be husband, Kokoshibo was a bastard that you had once upon a time loved with all your heart, but you now hated him. When you first met him, he was so kind, sweet, patient, loving, and shy, he was a monster, but he was the man you loved.

Once upon a time, feeling like a lifetime ago, you never thought you would get married, especially not to a demon of all creatures. You were a young girl, living your life according to traditions and your normal customs. You lived with your ever-loving parents, never having been married to a man, you were to stay home, as women couldn't own one alone, she'd have to become a widow for such a thing to happen. Not far from your home, was a field of flowers, where you'd frolicked, danced, and picked flowers when you were feeling trapped or depressed. It was that very field, on a cloudless night with a full moon acting as your only source of light, where you first met him.

You usually didn't venture out at night, but you desperately wanted to clear your mind from your rare nightly thoughts. Loneliness and depression always seem to show their ugly head at such a time. Moving stealthily through the home, you exited with little to no trouble, and you ran for the field. The moon was your only source of light on a cloudless night, sitting on your hip in the soft grass where you gently picked the flowers. A small smile on your face as your depressive thoughts weren't smothering you anymore.

You weren't sure why, but you just happened to look up, and there you saw him. Standing in the distance, stiff like a statue. You grew frightened, as you were alone at night, and a stray man stood in the distance, just seemingly staring at you. You quickly move to stand up, a worried look on your face as you stare at him. You stood there a little longer, debating on whether you should call out to him or not, but you chose not to, running back to the safety of your parent's home. After that, you didn't venture out to the field at night for a while, for it had spooked you.

However, once more, your loneliness and depression made a nightly appearance 3 months later, you rolled in your bed, your troubling thoughts keeping you from sleeping. You looked towards the wooden bared window in your room, seeing the full moon on a cloudless night once more. The images of the man flashed before your thoughts and fear gripped your throat, as it was on a night like this when you first saw him. Your fear won, and you forced yourself to sleep through your sad tears.

The night grew long after that, as your depression grew and weighed on you, your desperation for a peace of mind outweighed your fears, and you decided to sneak out of your home and out to the field once more. You were more cautious of your surroundings this time, as you sat on the balls of your feet, prepared to jump up and run if needed, but the man was nowhere in sight. You grew relaxed and you were once more seated on your hip. You never saw the man that night, and many more nights after that, so you brushed it off as a one-time thing, a coincidence.

Came the next few months, and you were once more faced with your depressive thoughts, you didn't hesitate to make your way out to the field, the moon, once again your only source of light. Once to the field, you raced and frolicked around for a bit, and you smiled happily as you found a spot with the most flowers, there you sat on your hip and quickly got lost in your musing. You began humming a light tune to yourself, your small voice slowly forming words as your humming turned to singing. "Your voice.. is beautiful." Came a deep, older male's voice.

It was so close, your hair stood on end, your eyes wide in fear as you froze in what you were doing. You blinked and released a shaky sigh in anticipation as you slowly looked around yourself, you saw nothing and you wrote it off as your imagination. Your hand reached up to hold your chest, your heart beating rapidly in its caged prison. "I must be sleepy, I'm hearing voices." You said softly to yourself as you thought over what you believed to be a hallucinated voice.

"I assure you.. I am real." Came his voice once more, but closer, too close. Your head whipped around as you looked behind yourself, your eyes shifting frantically as fearful tears gathered in your eyes. "Wh-wh--whoo-oes... Whoes there?" You stuttered out. "For.. I am"He said once more, you looked back forward with a whip of your head, and your heart practically stopped beating. Your vision became that of tunnel vision, your flight or fight reflexes activating rapidly.

You felt faint as your mind tried to process what you were staring at. His six eyes stared deeply into yours, almost as if he were searching for something. Your brain felt as though it were shutting down from the fear itself, for you were looking at a monster, and you just knew that you were to die. Your eyes lost focus as they became dull with unconsciousness and they rolled into the back of your head as your body went limp.

Your world went dark, and then you awoken, in the safety of your room, your covers over your body. You lay there, numb for a moment, as your brain processes your memory. 'Did I truly see that?... Did I truly see a monster?' You thought, your inner monologing voice just as numb as your body. Your eyes slowly drifted back close, as your brain was far too tired to stay awake, having just experienced a sense of life or death in such a rapid fashion.

Your world wasn't the same after that, your thoughts constantly wondering to that night, his six eyes were the only thing you remember seeing, the red sclera of his eye, the yellow iris that gazed back at you, the kanji in his eyes... it was all you could think about... you felt crazy because instead of avoiding the night, you made it a point to venture out more often, hoping to see him once more.

It was a long while before you did, but you never lost hope that he wouldn't show up, and your hope proved to be fruitful as he eventually made his appearance. This time, you were able to get a better look at him. He was tall, powerful, disciplined, stoic, monstrous, and handsome. You were fearful and weary of him, but your curiosity was able to surpass the feeling. He proved to be sweet.

He was kind, patient, and stoic. He held a form of grace about himself that you couldn't help but admire. It became a nightly routine for you both to meet up in the field, you talked and you laughed. You no longer came to the field out of sadness, it was now out of joy. Over time, you grew comfortable with him, you'd make him a couple of flower crowns, and he tried to make you some in return, although his pride was strong and he wouldn't ever allow you to watch him struggle with the delicate plant. It was cute. Your curiosity for him grew and eventually, it bloomed into love. He was a creature of the night, and you were a soul of the day, but your love couldn't have been more right.

When you left to be with Kokushibo, you never told your parents, you wrote them a note, telling them how much you appreciated them and how much you'll miss them and that you promised to visit. You felt guilty for doing such a thing, but you couldn't allow this opportunity to pass you. So you left with him one night, never looking back as you did.

Off on your own with him, you both traveled for miles, days, months, and years. Wandering all over Japan, watching as he'd fight to protect you from his pursuers, he'd leave you to your lonesome on some occasions, going to a nearby village, only to return with a gift for you. You were happily traveling with Kokushibo, but you were ready for a home, gone was the young girl, and in her place was a young woman, and Kokushibo knew it. So, he got you both a lovely little home deep in the woods.

It was a decent-sized home, and you loved it. He'd leave you there on your own, leaving you to your duties as an unmarried wife. You were able to make a few friends with the travelers and their wives, and you were always so happy when they'd make time in their busy schedules to come and see you. He'd come home every few months, checking in on you and allowing you to wash his clothes, and to accompany him in a soothing bath.

You enjoyed pampering him, and he seemed to enjoy it just as much. The years passed, and you bloomed into a wonderful young woman, with a sense of pride, self-respect, and discipline. He felt that you were ready for marriage, and you were pleased to hear it. You've been ready to marry him for a while, wanting to be his for life and he yours.

You'd both live happy lives forever, and you were so ready for it... but that's when everything went wrong. His sweetness turned to bitterness, his kindness turned to rudeness, his patience turned to urgency, and his love turned to possession. He wasn't the man you loved anymore, he wouldn't allow you to leave your home, he'd sometimes keep you locked in one room for days, he wouldn't allow the small group of friends you've obtained to come over anymore, he kept you close, an eye always on your every little movement.

You tried, on several occasions to run away, once your pipedream was shattered that he wasn't going to ever revert back, but he'd always catch you before you could get too far. On a good day, he'd cuddle with you, his cold hugs were comforting, but his words of possession and promise of punishment didn't match his actions. Then, your freedom was completely stripped from you, when you and he were brought to the infinity castle.

There you learned the ugly truth, that the man you loved so deeply really was a monster, he killed and ate your parents, your friends, any other humans who you even shared a smile with on your travels together, he was a demon, a heartless monster.

Once upon a time, he was lovely, he was revered as cool, now he was cruel and you were a fool. You felt so alone, the infinity castle was so big, empty, cold, and devoid of any life. Kept in a room that resembled a small home, the only good thing from any of this was the fact that he'd come and go more often, but it wasn't the same, and it never will be.

The sound of cheering brought you back to the present from your thoughts of the past, from the life you so foolishly threw away. You looked around, the upper moons all having smiles on their faces as they threw rice at you and Kokushibo. Your wedding was complete, and your life was sealed. If you've learned anything from your time in this twisting, turning adventure, it was to act. A smile graced your red-painted lips, your hand intertwining with Kokushibo's as you felt your heartbreak, as your fate was sealed forever.

This was your life now, this was your new beginning.

Once upon a time, a young girl dreamed of falling in love and getting married, she lived in her parents' house still, as young women weren't allowed to own one themselves unless they were widows.

Once upon a time, there was a naive young girl, living in a fantasy land, she never realized it, but she had it all.

Once upon a time, you were that very girl, you were free.

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funeral · 8 months

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The enthusiastic zeal and mad passion I put into becoming a brilliant individual, the demonic charm I adopted to gain an aura in the future, and the energy I spent on an organic, glamorous, inner rebirth, all proved weaker than the beastly brutality and irrationality of this world, which poured into me all its reserves of negativity and poison.

Emil Cioran, On the Heights of Despair

#emil cioran #quotes #excerpts #p #philosophy

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tadpolesonalgae · 9 months

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Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Part 6[*]

A/N: demon!Azriel just rubs me right. Also I’ve had this idea for this chapter for a little under a month by now so I decided to finally put pen to paper!

Warnings: handjob, a bit of oral (m receiving), smut, fingering, mosterfucking, kind of exhibitionism?, blood-drinking

-Part 5- -Part 7-

Azriel nearly groans when he opens his eyes.

He was gifted a few precious hours of sleep, having found the drop itself quite difficult. To a level that even his meticulous breathing cycles found it tiresome to deal with. And now he’s awake again, and his trouble is right before him.

You’re lying neatly on your stomach, blankets pooled around your waist while your arms hug the plump pillow beneath you. Your eyelids are slightly puffy from sleep, your lips smooth and—

The need thrums beneath his skin, instincts roaring at him to flip you on your back and slam inside, rut into you to relieve the incessant itch beneath his skin. You’re the bane of his existence in that moment. The perfect image of taunting purity, robed in white—he’d found it humorous at the time of giving them to you, knowing how quickly you’d be defiled—features peaceful, breathing even and deep.

He has to steady himself when you shift, sending a wave of your scent over to him. He wonders for a moment what you’re dreaming about; you seem like someone who dreams.

He hadn’t shifted last night. Had worried the need would be too unbearable—his instincts becoming a screaming tangle of curses and pleas inside his head, far too loud for him to manage sleep. Even if he knows you like it when he does. Which is vaguely amusing.

You act so prim and proper in almost every way. Even when he’s been inside of you, drawing those unholy sounds from your throat… And yet you seem to enjoy him the more dæmonic he is. He’ll often wake to find you curled against his side, back pressing into him with a pillow clutched to your front, between your thighs. It’s possibly the most unguarded you’ve been around him.

It’s as if his thoughts summon you awake, eyes peeking open, almost instantly latching onto his own. As if sensing that silent bond between you—even if, as a human, there’s no way for you to know.

“Hungry, Azriel?”

He growls low in his throat as he snaps his talons back in—having protruded while he was thinking about you, about your heat: being inside it, lapping over it, coming on it. He wants your mouth on him.

He needs to feel that pleasure.

You watch him quietly. On edge.

His eyes are fully black, which isn’t usually a good sign. And you would never admit it to him, but the dream you’d had was one of your more…lewd ones. That may or may not have involved him in some manner. Maybe concerning your shared trip to that river about a week ago. How he’d…

His nostrils flare, body stiffening, canines twitching, as if debating sliding out further but being kept in. You force yourself to swallow; calm yourself. “I am. What’s for breakfast today?”

Azriel’s blacked-out eyes stay locked on you as he rolls onto his front with beastly grace, muscles rippling with the smooth movement. This time, it’s you who tenses up. He prowls forward, and you have enough sense to keep still. You feel like any sort of movement will send him into fluid motion—whatever that motion is.

You stiffen, heart rate spiking, as his hand lands on your shoulder, ordering you to roll over. You silently debate disobeying him, pushing to keep still—you shouldn’t allow him to push you around like this. But when he gives another gentle wave of pressure, that’s firm enough you don’t think it wise, you follow him.

His hand goes with you as you’re turned onto your back; you suddenly feel cold on your front.

“Azriel?” You murmur, attempting to keep your voice level.

It’s as if his eyes have somehow become darker. They’re piercing into you, moving to be atop your body and traitorous heat starts gathering in your lower belly. He’s moving with that lethal grace of his, caging you in as he lowers himself to your neck and you’re certain he can hear your heart pounding.

Your breath hitches as he noses at your throat, scenting you. You wring your fingers together across your waist nervously as he takes you in, his heat practically melting into you.

His grip tightens on you, and you inhale sharply as his tongue presses against the side of your neck, dragging upwards slowly—so slowly. It’s lazy—leisurely. He’s taking his time…

No.

He’s savouring you.

When his canines scrape over your throat, your hands twitch, considering the merits of pushing him away. But he nudges your legs apart, and you flush, heart pounding wildly in your chest. “Azriel…” Something like a rough purr sounds, reverberating into you—deep and raw.

“Azriel…” you repeat, setting your hands on his upper arms. “Azriel, stop.” He growls slowly, barely raising his head as he opens his mouth over your neck, canines beginning to press in against the soft skin.

You try to squirm away, hands now pushing against his chest but he doesn’t budge. You begin to panic. You don’t know how dæmons work, whether they truly thrive off sin—maybe he needs this from you? Your teeth find your lower lip and you turn it over in your mind. Maybe if you give him a bit, it’ll help relieve some of the strain. You don’t think the gods will be angry if it’s done out of a will to help.

So you relax, arms snaking over his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair and he groans, his hips rolling into your own.

“Just a little,” you murmur. “You can have a little…just to help.”

He snarls at the permission, arms wrapping beneath your waist, forcing you to arch into him, head falling back on the bed as you bare your throat—eyes wide at the abrupt movement. Then he’s biting, marking you with the print of his teeth, nipping and sucking. His hips buck against you, and you can feel him pawing at your night robe, shoving it out of the way and—

You gasp as you feel him against your bare heat, the hard length of him rubbing against your slick.

You shove away from him, trying to scramble back, but he snarls, lips curling back from his fangs. “Azriel,” you plead, “stop it. I don’t want this. Please, stop…” He doesn’t.

Instead he pulls back, forcing your legs apart as he slots himself between them, the tip of his cock pressing into the soft dip between your thighs. Fear pours through your blood as he prepares to push in.

You don’t let him, shoving your hand between your bodies, gripping him tightly.

He gasps, eyes widening as he stares at you. You’ve never taken him so tremendously by surprise before. He’s off kilter.

You shuffle away, shoving at his shoulder but keeping your hand wrapped around him, until you’re both on your knees before one another. He growls, beginning to reach for you but you shift your hand and he inhales deeply, gaze remaining on yours.

And suddenly you have power. Suddenly, you’re in control. And it feels good. Is this what he feels like? This heady, crackling undercurrent of untapped energy?

“Show me,” you stammer. “Show me what to do.”

His skin is buzzing with lightening. Thrumming with an incessant pull.

You’ve got your hand around him. You’re touching him. You’re doing the initiating. He wonders if this is what it’s felt like for you whenever he’s started. But you’re still human, so maybe those senses are blocked off.

“I’ve never…”

You’re saying something, but he’s finding it difficult to focus.

“I’ve never really…helped, before. Not like this…”

Your heart is thumping in your chest, arousal coalescing between your thighs. He can scent how wet you are, how easy it would be to slide home. Settle into his nest.

“So tell me what you like,” he hears you stammer, “and I’ll do my best.”

A low growl sounds, and he realises it’s come from him. He hastily tucks his claws away, sealing them beneath the knuckles of his skin as he settles his hand over your smaller one. Much smaller. You struggle to grasp him.

His mind is going blank—relaying over and over that your hand is atop him.

He’s struggling to keep his composure beneath the humming pleasure.

“Azriel?” You manage, nervously.

He might be furious with you for taking such liberties. Maybe you should release him… But then you’d be giving up the power you’ve suddenly found over him.

Hesitantly, you squeeze him tighter, dragging your hand up until you’re grasping below his tip. Something milky looking has beaded at his slit, and you swipe the pad of your thumb over it. The creamy coloured liquid smears, and he hisses, trembling. You repeat the action, lowering your hand before raising up to his head again.

His eyes are still black as pitch, but colour is flushing his cheeks, breathing deeply as he begins guiding you. His gaze remains latched on yours the entire time. Up and down, down and up. Over and over. He squeezes, encouraging you to hold him brutally…what you would have thought was painfully. But he keeps going, and you’re too nervous—enraptured to stop. The twist of his wrist, how his hand fits around the length of him perfectly, the milky sheen at his tip. You wonder what it tastes like.

A heady flush warms your body, a kick of desire so strong that, for a second, you want to push him on the mattress and take him in your mouth. Like he’s done for you. Maybe it’s his own way of showing affection… Making you feel good in a way he knows will satisfy you. The thought hadn’t occurred to you before. You’ll ask about that, later. Maybe.

Azriel growls low in his throat, twitching beneath your soft palm. He’s panting, blood heating steadily as he gets closer and closer. Quicker than he would have liked, quicker than usual, but you feel so good. And you initiated. You wanted him. It would be enough to catalyse any male’s release.

He’s so close now. Just a bit more…

You know he’s near. You don’t know how, but you can sense it. Sense that edge rising up to greet him. His eyes are closed in pleasure, having fluttered shut moments ago. So he can’t see you. The thoughts flashing through your mind as you again peer at that slit in his head, licking your lips. Maybe just a bit. If it really is how he shows affections, then possibly… You don’t let yourself doubt. You lean downward, continuing with the movements.

Parting your lips ever so slightly, you press them just beneath the head of his cock. A strangled sound comes from his throat, and you can feel his eyes on you. But he twitches again, which must mean he likes it. When your tongue flicks out over his slit, he releases a snarl in warning. One that—were you his kind—you would have understood. But you’re painfully human before him, and don’t understand, delivering tentative laps to his head as he releases.

You squeeze your eyes shut, features heating with embarrassment and… You shiver, aching between your legs. You can feel exactly where the creamy liquid has landed, spurting onto you, dripping slowly over the crest of your cheeks. You bite your lip against the urge to moan, tucking the desire deep inside of you.

Pulling away, you manage to slip your hand out from beneath his. He’s still panting. Staring at you. The whites of his eyes visible. You probably look…You won’t finish that thought for him. But as you meet his gaze, you see the familiar hunger, the need to have you, and something flutters deep in your belly.

Your hand raises gingerly to where his come is dampening your cheek, finger catching it on their pads as you pull away to look at it. Slightly shimmery, milky in its colour, still hot. Your eyes flick to his as he watches you keenly, strain evident in his jaw as he hold himself back from…whatever wicked intentions he has. You don’t think about much else, only his release on the pads of your fingertips as you peer at him with stark curiosity.

“Is it…can I eat it?”

His head goes quiet, arousal thrumming like a war drum in his blood, singing at your words. He manages nothing more than a nod. He’s not one to pray to the gods, he knows they don’t listen to creatures like him, but if he were any other being, he thinks he may have fallen to his knees at the nearest temple.

You raise your fingers to your mouth. Tasting him.

He can do nothing besides watch. Totally bewitched. Enraptured and enchanted so thoroughly he questions your mortality. You hesitate, then scoop more from your cheeks, steadily cleansing yourself as you deposit each drop in your mouth, eyes closing shut in concentration, trying to mark his flavour.

It’s only when you lean forward, making to wrap your mouth around him that he’s spurred into action, gripping you gently by the shoulders as you peer up at him nervously. “Can I not…Do you not want me to?”

Gods damn him he wants you to. Wants it badly. So badly, but—

“Rest.” The word is rough, and surprises even him. “Go have breakfast. We’re going out.”

————

Had you done something wrong?

You would have expected him to want more…unless he didn’t enjoy it. For some reason, the thought doesn’t sit well with you. You should ask him, but how would one even go about prying like that…?

You sigh, and instead focus on your surroundings. It would be a waste not to seize the moment, especially when he seems to have actually attempted to do something for you. Something nice.

A cool summer breeze swishes through your hair, playing with the wisps that have escaped their binds, floating on the slow wind. The sun beats down on the rolling grassland, earth warm beneath your thin soled shoes, tempting you to remove them—as unkempt and errant as it would be. Despite your time with him, the experiences he’s served to you whether aware of it or not, you still have a modicum of womanly restraint within, and will not yield to the hedonistic ways of those religious zealots who claim the god’s favour. As much as you wish to run bare-footed, unbind your hair, frolic in the summer’s sun. Even if you’re burning with desire to leap and soar. Even if you know he would have no complaints. It’s not like he’s ever shown appreciation for human customs—quite the opposite. They seem to be nothing more than puerile hindrance.

A surge of wind crests through the knee-high grass, making your light cotton skirts billow in the breeze, whipping at your hair again, tugging more of it free.

In the near-distance you can make out a forrest, trees bedecked with luscious green leaves, ranging from the lightest sea-foam green, to the deepest tyrian purple, to the reddest of burnt paprika. Carried on the breeze is the twittering of bird-song, the tweeting and whistling of those melodic voices that coast along the feathery clouds. Near the tops of the trees you can make out how some of the green leaves are already fading to raw sienna, readily yielding to the crisp touches of autumn.

From the crest of the hillock you peer down the side that’s bathed in buttery sunlight, lush moss coating the outcroppings of rock that would normally be dangerous to bare-footed folk. At the base of the small hill you can spot a splattering of colour—wild blues that border on indigo, blossoms that are too smooth a blend of orange and red, like bursts of vermillion, small buttercups dotting between shoots of pale yellow and purest magenta.

The breath steals from your lungs as you take in the sheer beauty of the scape, noticing the brook that winds its way down the hillside, babbling with the breeze in a flurry of words your human ears can’t yet decipher. The sun has long since seeped into the very marrow of your bones, warming you as if you’re bathing in a heated pool of gilded water.

“This is…” How would you even begin? You’ve never seen a sight like this, too accustomed to the burning sting of dust and the drying-out crust of sand as it whips and nicks at exposed skin. A landscape like this…it makes you breathless. Deprives you of words and thought. Just the billowing clouds dancing over the grassland, temperate and perfectly lovely.

“I couldn’t in my wildest dreams create a place like this…” you manage hoarsely. You turn to look up at him, “are we even in the human realm, or is this place blessed with divinity?” His eyes narrow at you, “if you’re asking whether or not we’re permitted to be here…” Your throat closes up. “I was not asking that. I did not think even one of you would dare set foot on holy grounds.” He rolls his eyes, and you stiffen. “Would you…?”

This time he snorts, descending the slope of the hill, moving toward its base.

“Azriel?” You ask, but he keeps to his fluid movement. “Azriel!” You repeat shakily, stumbling after him until you reach his side and step in front of him—not your wisest choice. But all he gives you is a rueful little smile, and vanishes—to appear behind you. He continues walking even as you twirl on your feet. You’re rooted to the spot. You can’t be here. You’re mortal, and if these truly are the holy grounds, then…

“Take me back.”

He smiles to himself internally before turning, features neutral as he takes in your stand of defiance. “Take me back right now.” Again, he offers that smarmy, little grin, “I didn’t say we were in your so-called holy lands.”

“Azriel,” you murmur, eyes wide with sincere fear, voice lowering, “tell me you would not.”

You sound desperate, as if it would be such an awful thing for a mortal to enter the ‘blessed lands’ of the gods, he thinks. “Your soul will not be forsaken, despite what your tampered-with scriptures proclaim,” he replies smoothly, watching keenly. You pause, then “that’s not what I asked.” He bites back a smile at your misplaced terror. Oh, how he would delight in taunting you further! How many ways could he deceive you with your limited and mostly incorrect knowledge of the gods? How he will laugh when you begin to discover their truths.

Instead he speaks calmly, if a bit coldly, “you are indeed in the mortal-labeled holy lands. But as I have already said, your soul will not be forsaken nor damned, nor will you rot alongside the Underking. As much as your liar- priests and priestess’ love to profess it as truth.” Your eyes widen at his bold claims, the brazen statements he’s making. “You understand the severity of heathenism, don’t you? To make claims such as yours…to make assertions like that will damn you to hell.”

He doesn’t remind you of your belief that he’s forced you to reside with him in hell. That would cause too many questions, and he quite likes knowing you won’t try to escape, if only for fear of what lies beyond the castle floor which he holds you in.

So he simply laughs at your fear-spurred actions. How many joys have you refused because of your misplaced faith? Never mind that, you’ll have plenty of time to live out whatever joys you wish to indulge in. You have a long life with him. He doesn’t dare consider potential complications with the Ritual.

“Your false scriptures claim that should a mortal man set foot on sacred lands, he will be struck down where he stands.” His eyes flick to the clear skies, not a thunder cloud in sight, “I see you’re still standing. By logic, they must be untruths.”

Your lips purse, but you remain rooted to the ground, refusing to take another step. Good.

His lips lift in a feral grin as he stalks toward you until you’re cast in shadow, wings flaring, “you refuse to move forward?” He asks, eyes gleaming with sinister promise. Just aching to rip into you, you think. But he is his own kind, and has been designed to lure humans like you to break the laws of your religion, to seduce you into failure and destruction, brought about by the hubristic nature of mankind. The kind you refuse to bow to. Even if he can shred you apart, you will trust in your gods—they have never failed you.

They’d never failed you until that night you’d been dumped in the forrest, bound and left for the beasts to fight over.

Then again when you’d been stolen.

Then again when you’d been dumped in that frozen wasteland, a new side of Hell.

Maybe they have abandoned you. Maybe you were supposed to die that night, yet he’d come swiftly in their place to fill the void the holy creatures had left when they deemed your time to be up.

But those are sweeping assumptions you’re jumping to. Maybe this is their way of testing you, to see if you’re worthy of those Elysian Fields, where only the bravest and noblest of souls may rest. A step above Heaven.

There must be a step below Hell, too.

The thought doesn’t sit well with you.

“I will not be coerced into failing my gods,” you reply firmly, planting yourself stably into the grassland, “I trust in their power, and their words. If they told me to leave my homeland and travel, I would follow obediently, without question or hesitation.”

“And what if one told you to obey me?” He asks mildly, teeth flashing in an animalistic grin that sets your hairs raising. He’s pleased when you falter on your self-righteous proclamations. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“Humour me.”

Your brows narrow as you peer up at him, arms folding over the front of your creamy coloured dress. What trick is he up to now? “I don’t think you know the meaning of the word,” you shoot back instead. Unsettlingly, you think his lips twitch in a smile. Unsettling indeed.

He looks down on you in that judgemental way of his—like he knows every thought that passes through your mind. It doesn’t make you laugh as you had expected. Instead, a strange sense of unease floats across your chest. You wouldn’t like if he could just peer inside of you. But you know so little about his kind’s powers.

“So you would disobey your oh-so-dear gods if their requests did not align with your own sense of right and wrong?” He asks, amusement dancing in his charcoal gaze. Charcoal—not hazel. “They wouldn’t do that,” you repeat again.

He merely shakes his head, “you are blinded by your misguided faith.”

“That misguided faith as you so brazenly call it is what will separate us in the afterlife, Azriel.”

He laughs. It’s cold and heartless. “And what have I done to make you believe I deserve those silver flames? What makes you believe death will claim me—or any of my kind?” He questions, something honed and merciless glittering in his eyes. “You are what you are. Death will claim all of us. Only the Mother is beyond its cold clutches. Even gods yield before that carver’s scythe.”

Darkness writhes around him, a stain marring the beautiful landscape. A smudge of evil amongst this sacred nest of divinity. A wolf in a children’s nursery.

“Careful,” he warns, smiling vaguely, “you’re starting to sound like one of those heathens you so despise.”

“My words are not an affront to the deities. I recite what is written in our holy books,” you defend, even if a shiver spider walks down your spine at his accusation. Men had been turned to candle-wicks for less. “You speak of the death of a god. Such a thing is not taken lightly.”

“Is that a drop of reverence I detect? I thought you had a particular distain for those divine beings,” you reply, staring up a him with half-wild eyes. You will not be pushed from your faith. You will not waiver or tremble.

“I find myself quite close with one of those divine beings,” he drawls, watching as you flinch, trying to sort whether he’s telling a truth or attempting to deceive you, “and I do not think he would be pleased to hear someone—a mortal, no less—discussing his eventual ending.”

Your blood runs cold beneath the blazing sun, leaving a sense of nothingness in the absence of your life’s heat. “I don’t believe you.” But even to your ears it lacks the bite it needs. The unyielding conviction you had spoken with before.

But instead of pouncing on the obvious soft spot, he takes a different approach, returning to the conversation that had started the heated debate. “Your belief aside, you think I would put you in a position of danger? You seem to be in possession of a somewhat sound mind. You should understand I do not wish to have a corpse for a bride. Or a wife. Even I could not reach you once you passed over. I believe you would make a rather dull accomplice.”

The chill deepens, but you raise your chin, staring him down. “I will not take another step. These are sacred lands not yet meant for me.”

It seems to be the answer he was waiting for.

He grins, an animalistic flash of teeth and fangs and then he—vanishes.

You feel the shift deep within your bones. Somehow the veil between your beings has thinned—maybe the holy grounds play a hand in it. Either way, you’re caught off guard as his snout shoves beneath your legs, making them buckle as you’re tossed high into the summer’s air, enough to make you breathless.

And then you’re plummeting back down, landing atop a powerful back, corded with beastly muscle that shifts and ripples with languid grace as his wings snap open, flaring as he moves to shoot high into the heavens, you still seated atop him.

“Azriel!” You gasp, enough sense about you to dig your hands into the thick fur at the meeting point of the tip of his spine with the slope of his nape with the broad width of his shoulders. And the very breath whooshes from your lungs as you’re launched high into the blue as those great wings snap downward, capturing the wind beneath them as you soar to the clouds.

You grip tight, hauling your body flat against him as the wind beats at you, accompanied by the thunderous booming of his wings as they propel him higher and higher—

Those are clouds he’s coasting. Clouds he’s surfing up and over and around. He reaches the base of one, spiralling upward in a tight circle, cutting at its edge as he flies, soars further and further and then he’s at its peak. A wide expanse of pale blue lies before you and your stomach lurches as he begins the deadly plummet.

“Azriel!” You scream, words snatched away by the wind as his wings tuck in. Your heart rate spikes, thundering like an echo of the leathery beat that had pulled you so far from the safety of land and earth. Blood rushes in your ears, pounding through your body with wild intent and he plunges.

The earth is so small beneath you, and you’re unable to pick out the hill you came from as he dives—mostly because you refuse to look. Your eyes would probably tear up anyway. Then you become aware of the weakness of the wind, how the cold is no longer biting at the skin of your calves, catching in the pools of your dress. But he’s dropping—you can feel it in the spasming of your thighs as the end rushes up to greet you.

You clutch tighter to him, nestling into the heat of his silky fur and you pray. Pray to every god you know. To the Mother, to your parents, to the king, to every force you have comprehension of that he’ll pull up.

Blood pounds and you feel yourself losing grip. Silver lines your eyes as you’re dragged down through the atmosphere—a millstone dropped into the ocean of skies, plummeting, sinking, dragging you to its depths. You’ll splatter. Faced with your own mortality.

“Pull up,” you mutter under your breath, not even a whisper. Your stomach spasms with the plunge, the effort of keeping yourself intact. “Pull up,” you beg quietly, hands trembling as you fall, the hill coming into sight—the mossy outcroppings, the splatter of wildflowers, the babble of the brook. “PULL UP!” You scream at him, tugging at his fur because one more second and it’ll be too late.

His wings snap open, catching the wind beneath them, leathery skin going taut but holding. You’re jerked on his back, grip being shaken free, and you lurch, as if about to be sent careening from his back to plummet the rest of the way. But shadows snake over your thighs, hug your waist, fastening you to him as he evens out, shooting across the grassy flatlands as he coasts the green sea.

He’s so close to the ground; you’re certain should he wish it, his talons could till the earth. He’s going so fast, hurtling through the open fields, moving with lethal motion, propelled forward by the powerful, beating muscle that binds his wings. Colour blurs by as you pass over dotted patches of wildflowers, leaving only gusts of wind in your wake, crystal-like water spraying to a fine mist as he shoots across a stream.

A laugh—young and wild and reckless—bursts from your throat. His shadows wrap slightly tighter as your grip loosens on him, allowing you to sit upright—that shield that he’s put in place blocking you from the air that would surely knock you clean from his back.

The caged woman inside of you breaks free, tasting the wind and the air and seeing the vivid whirls of colour, smelling the freshness of green grass, the crispness to the summer breeze, edged with the floral sweetness of wildflowers and the earthy tones of the forrest. Everything around you is alive, humming with unspoken life, moving to that unheard melody that keeps the harmony in nature.

You want to bathe in it. To unbind your hair, tear your shoes from your feet and throw your arms to the wind. You want to dance through the clouds as he does, want to shred the dress from your body if only so the essence of the world can fill you up, to shower your senses in the force of nature. Feel the heated grass between your toes, rinse your skin in the crisp and clear water from the spring, roll down the grassy slopes and sleep in the wildflowers.

You sit upright, and raise your hands from his fur, letting the weightless spiralling feeling grip your soul, feeling the billowing air breezing by. Joyous laughter spills from your lips, bright and sun-filled as you allow yourself to forget—just for a moment—about the world you come from. Forget about being a proper woman, forget about duties of piety, of obligations to honour your household. Instead, you exist. You are. You be. It’s wondrous.

More, more, more—

His wings flare, pulling him to a glide downwards, flapping as he lands smoothly on the grassland, not too far from your take-off point.

What?

“What are you doing?” You ask breathlessly. “Why are you stopping? Go again,” you push, but he remains grounded. “Azriel?” You question pleadingly. You want to go again. To soar higher and higher until the air is stolen from your lungs. To make the drop again and again. To feel the lurch of the world beneath you. To have the earth ripped from your feet.

But he shakes his shoulders in a gesture you take to mean get off.

“Just once more,” you breathe, fingers tightening in his fur as you lean closer to him, “one more ride. Please.” His head cocks, tilting to the side, eye curving round to see you on his back. What will you do for me?

Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline thumping in your blood. So many bargains, so many deals. Always one thing in return for another. But you need that high again. He’s given you a taste of the summer winds, how pure the air can be, how the world can tip as you dive and you need it again. Need to feel that insignificance—the unity with something greater.

So you make a reckless decision.

Your lips pull back from your teeth in a feral smile—one he’s given you before—then you’re swinging your leg over his shoulder, sliding down his silky fur as you drop to the mossy grass: spongey and soft. You turn to look at him, almost trembling with energy, sparking at the seems with inherent need and vivacious life.

As soon as your feet touch the ground he’s shifted, and you don’t allow yourself to fear him—only think of the skies and the clouds and that drop. You grab him by the hand, grin still splitting your lips as the sun shimmers in your eyes. You turn, tugging him along, moving as quick as you can as you drag him over to one of those patches of splattered colour, a section of wildflowers.

“You want me, don’t you?” You breathe, peering up into his dark eyes, writhing with darkness and malevolence and—hunger.

No second guessing, no room for doubt, you turn and step into him, hands snaking up his chest as you press against his body. He leans into you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you tight against him, taking in your scent as he growls—half beast. “You’ll let me bed you in a field?” He asks, a taunting undertone to his low drawl.

You don’t let his words summon that flicker of shame as you shake your head. You look him in the eyes, peering up at him as his heat seeps into you—warm despite the chilly upper airs. “Lie down.”

His pulse stumbles at your words. Your command. The feral wildness reflected in your gaze. He can hear the thrumming of your heart against your ribs, how it’s pounding in your chest with a need to be free. “Lie down, Azriel,” you repeat, hands tightening on him with need. Barely hiding his reluctance, he settles in the grass, watching you silently for your next move.

That melody is still living inside of you, strumming your heartstrings; playing on your ribs, but it’s fading. You need to hear its symphony again, that cluster of chords that will make you feel the fire of life. You straddle his thighs, fingers working deftly on his ties to set him free and you hear his breath catch at your intent. Then a rough laugh sounds in the back of his throat, wetness gathering between your thighs in response. “You want to have it here?” He growls lowly, eyes piercing into you.

“Yes,” you breathe, gripping him in your hands.

He doesn’t get much warning as your mouth descends on him, tongue lapping over his head as you had wanted to do this morning, wet heat encasing him. He hisses an inhale at the sudden sensation, taloned hands fisting at his side as he feels blood drain from his head with such dizzying speed.

You’re tempted to keep licking at him, but you’re aching, and want to feel the wind on your skin as you ride him. It feels good, like there’s a greater current tugging you toward him, urging you on in your movements. It feels right.

So you scramble up his body, mouth opening over his own as you slant your lips against him. A sound rumbles in his chest as his hands grip your hips brutally. Your own hands drop to the hem of his leathers, pushing and pawing in attempts to remove his top as you moan against him, letting your heart-beat guide you to what you want.

“Azriel,” you pant between the flashes of teeth and the flicker of his tongue. You again grope at his shirt, pushing it up and he finally follows, removing it and you take him in, mouth practically watering as you actually take him in. Every scar, every swirl of ink, whorls of shadow decorating his skin with ancient marks that beckon and call to be licked and inspected.

“You’re look at me as if you haven’t eaten in days,” he purrs darkly and you can feel him against your thigh. Something fractures inside of you, splitting down your spine and lashing at the inside of your skin, flaying you raw with need so great it threatens to obliterate you.

He senses it, the war drums inside, sitting upright as he grabs you roughly, your arms snaking over his shoulders. You moan when he kisses you, a deep, wanton sound. Your hips roll, pressing against him and he groans at your desperation—for him. Thoughts begin to eddy from his mind as primal need slowly seeps through him, weakening his restraint.

To his surprise, you lift your dress, pushing aside your underwear as your fingers find your pleasure-centre. The loudest moan yet spills into his mouth and he swallows it greedily, hand tangling in your hair as the wind whips around you, sun still high in the sky. Two fingers press inside, and you curl them. You know you need to prepare yourself for him. He was gentle before—or you were ready for him. But this time you’re taking him of your own accord, and you need to be fully equipped to deal with him.

Your breath catches when one of his hands slides possessively down the curve of your back, squeezing your ass before slipping beneath your dress. Talons scrape menacingly against the soft skin of your inner thighs and you whimper with pleasure. His claws retract and the air is pushed from your lungs as you feel one of his fingers join your own. “Azriel…”

He growls over your mouth, tongue flicking your roof as his grip tightens in your hair, drawing more pleasing sounds from you for him to devour. “Is this why you prefer your dresses? For ease of access?” He manages between breaths. “Yes,” you pant, his fingers curling inside of you. He doesn’t believe for a second you’re actually paying attention to what he’s saying, but it sends an overpowering wave of fire lighting his spine regardless.

“Yeah?” He chuckles as you roll your hips against him, getting wetter by the second—he can feel it. Feel you. “You want me to start taking you whenever I want?” He growls, mouth leaving yours as his teeth graze your neck. Your breath catches, one hand tangling in his hair as you tilt your head to the side with primal need, “bite me.”

He snarls, pupils dilating at the whispered command. He follows obediently, fangs scraping over the scars, before sinking down. You whimper, gripping him tighter as he laps at your life that spills on his tongue, drinking down every damned drop he can before his saliva seals you away again. He’s tempted to take another bite.

But you’re tugging at him, and your mouth opens over his, the metallic flavour coating your tongue as you taste him. Then you’re pulling back, taking your fingers from between your legs, too—more room for his own that he presses inside. A groan drags from his throat as you push your fingers between his lips, whimpering as his tongue laps at your flavour, heat raising to his skin as he stares you down, the wet muscle in his mouth flicking and twining over and between your digits as he sucks that taste from them.

“Do it,” he growls, retracting his hand from between your thighs, guiding his tip to your entrance. You pant breathlessly, settling your weight over his head and you know you can just sink down and have him inside of you filling you up making you spill—

“Azriel,” you cry, burying your face in his neck, teeth pushing at his skin desperately, “Azriel…” You repeat his name again and again, chanting it as if it were an ancient spell to relieve you of pain and bless you with unending joy and life. Over and over you say his name as a scared mantra, whimpering and whispering it against his skin with aching reverence. Lower and lower, inch by inch, until you’re sat in his lap and the world spins.

You remain still, basking in the fullness, bursting with energy. Your hips wind softly over his, and you hiss at the pleasure, white spots dancing in your vision like feathers or blossoms on the breeze. Your nails press again his tough skin, raking at his back as you lift, then slide down.

More. You need more. You need that symphony to sing to your bones, need to melt into him, break under him, yield and reforge into molten pleasure until your screams turn to song.

Your hands find the hem of your cotton dress as you pull away. Then you’re tugging it up over your hips, over your stomach, over your breasts, throwing it to the grassy floor. Press against him, bare skin on skin, heat and life and beauty flowing freely between you but you need more.

You guide his hands to your hips, hooking his fingers beneath the cream fabric. His talons slice without you having to ask, and you pull it away, kicking off your shoes and toeing off your socks until you’re completely bare.

Tears brim at your lashes at the feeling, of being utterly naked to the world. You can feel the heated grass beneath your shins, the wildflowers caressing your skin, the sun beating down on your form, the summer air—crisp and clean—filling your lungs. And him. Him filling you from within, filling you until you’re about to burst, laying upon you gift after gift of experiences. So many you would never have touched had he not stolen you away.

You manage to raise yourself from his lap—then sink down, settling yourself on his cock. You moan, loud and unrestrained. One hand raises from your hip to cup your cheek, thumb brushing beneath your lashes, pushing away the dampness. You’re not sure if you’re anymore capable of movement. Of breath, of thought, of anything other than being entirely with him. Of being entirely his. With every bone, every breath, every thought. If it’s all his, will it ever be enough?

His hips buck and a silent moan spills from your lips, cock touching a sensitive spot that has you finally spurring into action because you want more and more and more and it isn’t enough. You raise up, and drop down, pushing him deeper inside of you, so deep you’re winded from the fullness.

“Azriel,” you whisper over his lips, tipping your head upward as you wind over him, finding your pleasure in his body, “Azriel, please.” You need him in that way of his, need him to obliterate you. Your nails claw at him, grazing the base of his wings and he hisses. Repeat it, gentler. He groans. More pleasure.

“Azriel,” you beg again.

He pulls back to look at you, something raw in his eyes, “what?”

“Shift.”

His head goes quiet, almost silent, and there’s nothing left in him to resist your request. His features sharpen, fangs protruding beneath his lips, eyes slitting to slivers of darkness then his iris’ turn black, swallowing the whites. Talons push from his knuckles, thick fur dusting his abdomen and then—

Your back arches, curving up into him as you cling on desperately. His cock shifts, expanding below the head to rub against that spot inside of you, to drag against it whenever he—yeah. That’s it. Your eyes have gone wide and glazed, winding over him with fluid ease, as if you’re following some innate rhythm inside of you that’s perfectly synchronised with his roar of harmonies.

“A little more,” you breathe, staring up at him, “just a bit more, Azriel.” He shifts further, fur raising to his stomach, finger merging to form three-toed paws, accented with razor sharp claws. His cock grows inside of you, swelling, and you think you could die. Right there. You could be peaceful. So happy and content.

He grips your hips, urging you to move, to find your pleasure. To give him his own, too. But you can hardly move with the sheer size of him, one shift of your body will likely send you— He lifts you up and slams you down. You scream, gripping onto him as your hips buck wildly, and he’s pounding into you, canines scraping and nipping to deliver that edge of pain that has stars and moons colliding in sprays of silver and gold inside of you.

He keeps going, raising your hips and slamming you down and the breath is knocked from your body as you free-fall through ecstasy.

And you shatter.

He feels you fluttering around him, clamping down and he can’t help himself—his teeth sink again into your skin. Bursts of lightening buzz beneath your skin as pleasure sings to your blood, sparking and fracturing and welding and reforming. Heaven spills on his tongue, finest ambrosia put to shame as he’s swallowed by his senses. Indulging in your divine decadence until he’s lost what he is.

It takes minutes for the both of you to come back down from the highs you’d flown to. To glide back down and fully settle takes longer, and when you’re finally able to crack your eyes open, and push up from his body to meet his gaze, you’re not quite sure what to do.

Something changed. You’d been working in tandem, flowing from the same beginning to the same end, blending at some point as you blurred and melted.

You barely manage the energy to pull back a little, to put some space between your bodies so you can peer down. You’re startled by the sight of the bump in your lower abdomen. He just watches quietly as you lower your palm to it and press curiously. Both of you hiss as you press his cock against you through your skin. He’s so big. So big you can see his mark from the outside. How full did he make you?

“I…” You rasp, but don’t know what to say. Instead his eyes gleam, though there’s still something raw in those dark hazel depths, “still want that ride?”

Both of suck in a sharp breath as you tighten around him at the kick of need in response to his double-edged question.

It takes a while before you’re able to ease off him, and you feel empty once you’ve slid out of his lap. Empty enough you’re tempted to scrap the ride through the skies and instead hop back on top of him.

He probably wouldn’t mind.

But instead you manage to make it to a stream, both of you bathing in the waters. You dry off quickly in the sun—even if small blades of grass litter your body. With a little reluctance, you re-adorn yourself in your crumpled cotton dress, though your underwear is done for. You attempt to tie the sliced pieces together over your hips, but Azriel only re-slices them once you’ve managed. You can’t tell whether it was accidental or intentional on his part.

The ride isn’t as intense as the first, both of you seemingly in need of something soothing and calming to replenish yourselves with after the frenzied coupling.

The winds are still pleasant, the weather delightfully temperate, and he flies until your stomach growls in protest. You would have asked him to fly more, if you hadn’t thought maybe he might be in need of food as well.

So you spend the afternoon lazing in dappled shade, gorging on berries and weaving wildflowers—you haven’t done so since you were a child, and take great joy in seeking out the colours and stems you want.

Azriel lazes at your back, shifted into a four-pawed form to settle at the base of a towering oak. He keeps his eyes shut, but you get the feeling he’s watching silently as he always seems to do for you.

It’s only when you approach him gingerly from the front that he cracks his eyes open. His large head raises from the sun-warmed earth, peering down at you with a blacked-out gaze. His attention runs over you, going from the crown of your head—where a corona of flowers sits woven into your hair—to your still-bare feet.

Hesitantly, you hold up the circlet of wildflowers, beginning to approach. He growls lowly when you set it on his snout—unable to reach his brow. With a heavy huff of air, he blows the small crown up high, letting his shadows guide it lower to rest atop your own wreathed head.

You blink, touching the crown inquisitively. He waits for you to kick up a fuss, to start crying or to stomp away, but you stay where you are for a moment, watching him warily—as you should. Then walk away.

His eyes close, settling his large maw down atop his paws until he feels a small weight press into his side. Shadows swirl to find you dosing against him, the sinking sun bathing you in orange light as you press into his side with a yawn. The second crown tilts slightly as your eyes close, head tipping to the side. You continue slumping until you’re laying flat against the ground, still nestled to his side as you usually do when sleeping.

It’s somehow good to know that behaviour isn’t limited to when you think he’s unaware. It’s good to know you’re settling into some more animalistic habits. Hopefully when the Ceremony comes, it won’t be too demanding of a change.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

#azriel #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel smut #azriel fluff #shadowsinger #teeth and talons #demon!azriel #demon!Azriel smut #demon!azriel x reader

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miguel-owhora · 4 months

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I'm honestly obsessed with your cult au?!?!??!? Keep it up oml. I love it when I'm some weird inhumane and 100% demonic cryptid and there goes my husband walking around my nest full of my brood and it's almost domestic in a fucked up kinda way, giving him food n stuff and allowing him to use fire to cook it because eh he's human I guess and when he gives birth I'll give him the healthiest one from the rest and I'll eat everything else because fuck it I'm cryptid eldritch monster for God's sake

☆ 🤯

miguel is, in the simplest of explanation, a very depraved and sadistic man. he's an egocentric and intelligent man who craves power, who hungers for control and will go to any limit to achieve it. when he learns of how powerful cult leaders are, he decides to become one, and isolates them from society.

and when he learns of the cryptid learning in the surrounding forest where his community lives, he doesn't fear it, not like they do. he studies it the way you study them, learning each other's patterns, motives, personality. miguel catches glimpses of powerful claws and gleaming eyes, of sharp horns and low huffs through the shadows, watching hiw the tallest of trees tremble as you pass.

but he doesn't fear you, and this interests you. and your interest only grows when miguel offers you the corpse of an infant. less than a week old, born with abnormalities, born imperfect - miguel has strangled it to death and offers you the corpse, the prey, in return for a truce. miguel watches, unafraid and instead in awe, as two large claws take hold of the infanct and slink back to the shadow.

miguel doesn't fear you. weekly he returns with prey; whether that be of his own community that failed to do as they were told, or people they snatched up. he offers you their corpses, slick with blood and still warm, and each day you protect them from outside threats.

miguel doesn't fear you, no, he craves you. and it's not long before he's stuffed on your cock, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his screams as your cocks - plural, now - pound into his pussy. and he begs for more when you inflate his belly with your cum, begs for your brood, for your children, for anything you're willing to give him.

and miguel changes the ideology. they don't worship any false god now - they worship you, and miguel is your most loyal and divine follower, the only person not to fear you whenever you make your rare appearance, tall and towering and beastly, looking up at you with loving eyes.

and miguel doesn't truly love, not properly. but he cares deeply for gabriella, the strongest of your brood, the only one to survive, the rest crushed by your powerful teeth, swallowed up like mice. he cares for gabriella because she's him and you, she is a mixture of you both, and miguel views her as a physical, divine symbol, something sacred, a proof, of your 'love' for each other.

#mr. o'whora — lyla's messages.#mr. o'whora — miggy's miguel.#mr. o'whora — 🤯 anon.#hes so twisted n sick #he'll kiss you right on the lips n let you eat him if you wanted to #i love cult leader!miguel

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necroromantics · 2 months

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Do you have any headcannons about Eyeless Jack or even Laughing Jack by chance? :0] For Cryptpasta

HI YES I DO

EYELESS JACK

- He's 6'3 in his typical form, but as he gets hungrier, his body shifts into a more demonic and beastly form. At his peak, he's about 6'7-6'8

- Jack is sort of like a host for the demon Chernobog. He needs to feed it to keep it contained. If he starves it by not giving it proper sustenance (living things, human organs give the most sustenance), then Chernobog will "take over" and cause Jack to go absolutely feral

- He can see pretty well in his typical form. His vision is just muddied and he's colour-blind

- The more beastly/hungry he gets, the worse his sight gets. When hes at his peak, he can't see shit and acts completely on instinct

- He is a huge geek. Very interested in classic literature, maths, sciences, and especially medicine

- Jack was a college student before he got sacrificed, and was working hard to become a doctor

- After his transformation, he began to really look into herbal medicine and started to use the plants around the forest in his medical practices for the other Creeps

- He's very good at fishing, but he fishes like a bear. Jack will jump into the water and catch fish in his mouth. He hates it, but he's more efficient like that than with a rod

- He grew up in a very religious household, which made him very atheist and anti-religion as he grew up

- As a teenager, he was very into things like politics, anarchism, video games, rock music, anything he could to rebel against his parents. He eventually grew out of it and mellowed down

- Jack was always a very intelligent and wise person. But he found himself so angry all the time, and isolated from his peers

- He experiences a lot of guilt now for his anger. He never wanted to hurt anyone, and after losing everything, Jack quickly realized that all he wanted was to make peace with the world

- When he turned into a demon, he felt like the only thing he could grasp was God. He has a very complicated relationship with religion, but its all he has left

- Even after everything, he's at God's mercy. Always rebelling

LAUGHING JACK

- He was human once, back around in the 1930s

- Jack was a serial killer who worked as a clown for a travelling circus

- "The Laughing Jack" was his stage name, he wore all black and white, mixing the traditional clown costumes with the mime act. He only ever talked to children, and would immediately go mute as soon as an adult was in hearing range

- Everybody knew he was a little bit strange. He was irritable, off-putting, didn't quite understand boundaries or when he was going too far. Parents thought his torment of their children was just apart of some sick act, but his coworkers knew it wasn't

- LJ would lure in children from parks or their yards and murder them right before his circus was about to leave the next morning. He wasn't careful at all, very messy and thoughtless

- This carelessness eventually led to his arrest, and he hung himself in prison

- He's actually technically a Zalgo proxy, because Zalgo is the one who granted him an afterlife as a ghost of sorts after his death

- But he always does his own thing. He targets who he wants, talks to who he wants. And it's almost always strictly children.

- Laughing Jack tends to target the boys more than the girls. Nobody really knows why

- He's generally a fun, goofy guy outside of the creepiness and he likes a good classic prank. But once the mask drops, he's very brooding and sinister, and has a tendency to make everyone around him uncomfortable

#cryptpasta #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #laughing jack #eyeless jack #creepypasta lj #creepypasta laughing jack #laughing jack headcanons #creepypasta eyeless jack headcanon #eyeless jack headcanon #creepypasta eyeless jack #ej headcanon #creepypasta ej

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the-ultimate-puppteer · 5 months

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Ibuki, Akane, and Sonia with a male S/O who's a famous delinquent for their charisma and their beastly strength and is gonna be in an upcoming turf war with a rival gang, S/O sees the leader of the rival gang flirt with with the girls and it triggers him to the max, making him become the embodiment of: "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, AND THEN I'LL KILL YOU AGAIN."

Ibuki, Akane, and Sonia with an Ultimate Delinquent Boyfriend

Akane Owari

•Honestly it was only a matter of time till something like this happened

•I mean have you seen Akane? She's absolutely gorgeous

•Though she only had eyes for you

•Doesn't mean you were any less pissed off that some Scrub was hitting on your girl in front of you

•You were barely able hold yourself back from making him swallow his teeth

•Though as soon as the turf war started you shouted at him with the eyes of a demon

•Telling him”’You cocky scrub I'm gonna kill you until your dead and kill you again so you never touch what's mine again

•Needless to say you won that turf war and the rival boss was put in the hospital for a while

Sonia Nevermind

•I kinda think it was Sonia being a bit of an airhead when it comes to Japanese culture that caused this incident to happen

•Truth is she didn't even realize that she was being hit on in the first place

•That definitely didn't help since it just encouraged the scrub

•Doesn't mean you took to kindly to some puffed up pissant flirting with your girl

•In light of the fact that a turf war was coming up you ended up settling matters right then and there

•Walking up to him and his group with eyes that showed immense blood lust

•Telling him, “Oi Scrub you think that since you're the boss of some pathetic gang that you're bossed up?” “Well I'm gonna make sure by the end of this your gonna be holding your molars!!!”

•By the end of it there's was t a need for a turf war since you beaten the boss of the gang and the squad leaders by yourself then and there

•And Sonia being who she couldn't help but admire the chaos you just caused comparing you to an anime character she saw

Ibuki Mioda

•Lets be honest like with akane this was definitely gonna happen to her at some point

•Ibuki has a habit of wandering around where she wants and she s hot rocker girl

•It’s surprising this didn't happen sooner given who she is

•Her wandering off basically left you no choice but to look for her

•When you found her you saw her with the Boss of a bunch of scrubs that your gang was going to fight in a turf war soon

•And.He.Was.Flirting.With.Ibuki

•Yeah you immediately saw red and shouted out, “You Overgrown scrub, who the hell do you think you are hitting on my girl?!?!?”, “I’LL KILL YOU TILL YOUR DEAD THEN KILL YOU AGAIN!!!!”

•The fight that happened afterwards was bloody curbstomp with you as the winner

•And Ibuki was cheering you on from the sidelines yelling out how awesome she found you

•Afterwards she told you was totally going to make a song from this fight, she called The day my delinquent boyfriend rescued me by beating up a Rival gang

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #super danganronpa goodbye despair #akane owari x reader #akane x reader #akane owari #sonia nevermind x reader #sonia x reader #sonia nevermind #ibuki mioda x reader #ibuki x reader #ibuki mioda #sdr2 goodbye despair #sdr2 x reader

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gothfoxgirlboy · 9 months

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The demon stood at a monstrous 15 feet tall, more beastly than most with a bull like physique . Wielding an axe that was heavier than your average person with ease the minotaur led the battle against the angels. The Deadwoods were rife with combat.

The minotaur looked around, defeated angels all around him, and sighed at the lack of challenge. Then, the sound of a woman's laughter could be heard. Not the unsettling laughter of a psychopath, nor the smug chuckles of arrogance, it was a pure and gentle thing.

A young angel skips out of the forest into the clearing the minotaur was resting in. She couldn't have been much more than 5 feet tall and she smiled happily.

The minotaur quickly buries his axe where her head is... Or was, as she cartwheels out from the blindspot made by the axe.

"That wasn't very nice." She whines "we should at least greet each other first. I'm Joy what's your name?"

She flies up to the minotaur without fear. Pure white wings as opposed to the metallic wings most angels have, the incense her tail releases smells more floral than most. Her halo is a brilliant and blinding rainbow of colors.

The demon attempts to swat her away but she easily evades and hugs his chest.

"wow you're like totally soft."she says before letting go just in time to dodge another axe swing. She freefalls down to the ground, landing in a roll and hopping up to her feet right over the next axe swing.

The minotaur swings faster and faster, finally, a worthy foe. Except Joy never attacks. She simply dodges each swing, dancing around the axe that streaks through the air like lightning.

She cartwheels circles around the minotaur, laughing as though they were old friends. She cartwheels through his legs, under his loincloth, and gets a good look at a lot of the minotaur including his large sheath and massive balls.

She can't help but to reach out and touch it. As soon as she does the minotaur stops for a moment as intense pleasure floods his body. His equine cock starts to flare its head. It's already throbbing as the angel, who is mid handstand, rubs her foot along his half revealed cock.

Before his cock is fully erect it starts spurting out cum, the minotaur drops his axe from the unexpected pleasure. As the angel finishes her flourish just in time to get her face covered in cum.

She licks her cum covered lips before joking "that's a better greeting than the axe".

The minotaur's loincloth can't even hide his erect cock. It's bigger than her arm by a longshot, still dripping cum from the tip. He tries to grab the small angel but she easily evades his grasp, closing the distance between them.

"so soft and inviting." Joy states as she ducks under the demon's loincloth and buries her face in his balls. Her touch causes the minotaur to fall to his knees as another orgasm shakes his body. "It seems like you've never experienced this kinda joy you cute little moomoo. So sensitive that you're spurting everywhere."

The angel looks to the minotaur with a wide smile.

"should I give you true joy?" She says to the demon who's mind is fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure. He nods gently, his hand fondling his balls.

She flies up to his face and kisses his forehead.

"now I know what to do" she exclaims. She hugs the demon's chest again. Her hands explore his furry chest before finding something cold and metallic. "Here they are"

Joy pulls on the two metal rings. The minotaur moans loudly as his cock throbs. It seems like muscle and height are changing to fat as the minotaur's shape softens up, their powerful pecs become soft tits. The thick fur becomes fluffy and smooth. She spurts out cum from an incredible pleasure, far greater than anything she's ever felt.

Milk drips from her large breasts as the angel suckles on her nipples.

"This is what you were meant to be." Joy says as she pets the cowgirl.

The thick heavy horns that weighed down her head fall to the ground. So many expectations, so much violence, so much sin. It all disappeared with this previously unimaginable joy. A warm golden light appears over the minotaur, a comfortable halo.

If you enjoy my stories please look into my Patreon. There's free stories if you don't have money and if you do choose to subscribe you get a 1k word story minimum plus access to all other premium stories.

#the catboy author #purification kink #gender tf

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witheredhorns · 10 months

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History time! Because, why not? It's a good opportunity to babble about Sah'ki <3 Back when I made Sah'ki in 2005 (then called Sakki/Sakkidatta and affectionately 'Demon Boy') he initially had clawed feet. At the time Sah'ki was a man-made science project demon, and the idea was that he turned into an armoured, scaly beasty thing as the demonic blood being infused into him had corruptive properties, causing him to lose his humanity. However, that concept was never realised

Sah'ki underwent a slight redesign in late 2007 - his colouration had become more uniform and paler. Along the way he also acquired hooves! Not only was he mistakenly being referred to as a dragon boy I had also long since ditched the science experiment backstory (I mean... it led nowhere). Making him resemble his sire a bit more made sense, too!

Through roleplays and creative character ramblings I went to revisit his beasty side; a final form design hadn't been settled on just yet, so I worked with his hybrid form - the spikes and scales made a brief resurgence but were very quickly dropped for just fur instead as the former were absent (you'll notice he starts to lose a lot of his spikes)

In 2014 I made a cute little comparison to show how far he'd come in terms of design, and back track to 2011 with feet sketches

Over the years I've had some mental backs and forths as to where to take his design. I've been very happy with the direction I've taken it, and that I've been able to implement more of his goaty side into his regular form - more fur, longer neck, mane, sheath, etc. So... instead of having some hot demon dude that turns into a monster you now have a furry, weirdly proportioned hot demon dude turning into a monster - the transition is less jarring. Considering his revamped backstory - being raised by his sire's clan and having access to a surrogate demonic dam - looking more beastly just fits~

As one can appreciate, it's starting to make less sense for Sah'ki to have retained his clawed feet considering his beast form (sans wings) now looks like this. He's no Asriel

#oc #sah'ki #headworld #art #demon #artists on tumblr #tetrophilia

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

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Hi is it ok to request Yandere rin okumura (blue exorcist ) romantic HCs please 💗

Yeah I can try! Aged up as usual. Yet another yandere who is very conflicted with himself imo.

Yandere! Rin Okumura Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Demons, Blood, Biting, Burning, Sadism, Protective behavior, Moral conflict, Jealousy, Marking, Violence, Stalking, Forced relationship implied.

Naturally, as a demon, Rin would be possessive despite him being compassionate.

Most of the time, Rin is really sweet towards his darling.

He's awkward around his darling but supportive and kind.

Rin just wants to keep his darling safe as an exorcist and doesn't want his darling to be afraid of his power.

As a yandere, he really doesn't want to be seen as a monster due to his power and feelings.

Rin is Obsessive, Protective, Caring, Impulsive, Aggressive, and Possessive.

His personality has two sides.

A man who who wishes to avenge his father by becoming an exorcist to protect those he loves...

And a demon who wishes nothing more than to claim and destroy.

Rin's scared of his more animalistic desires towards you.

He doesn't want to hurt you, but it appears he is incapable of loving you without wishing to mark you.

His darker side wishes to taint you in the power as a demon....

His obsession reminds him he isn't human.

He'll never be fully human with a normal life.

While Rin wants to love and cherish you, his mind tells him to crush you.

He tries to suppress his feelings in general towards you...

It proves futile the longer he knows you.

Rin starts as obsessive during his crush.

Akin to a puppy he follows you around.

There's no doubt if he didn't hide his tail it would be wagging.

Rin gets so happy around you.

You are addicting to him to the point he's watching you everywhere you go.

Rin also likes to offer you gifts in return for putting up with him and his behavior.

His specialty is cooking for you.

It makes him happy to see you enjoying something he made himself.

Rin, like how he is towards most of his loved ones, is protective of you.

The idea of other demons hurting you sparks both sides of him

The exorcist side, who hates to see you hurt and just wants you safe in his arms.

The demon side, who growls at the thought of another demon stealing what's his.

Either way... he tries his best to defend you with his life.

You may not know it yet but he loves you more than just a friend of his.

He wants to make you happy, to taste normalcy through you.

Although he knows he should restrict himself... he could hurt you if he's too eager.

He can't bring himself to stay away, however....

Rin's very caring.

He hates to see you sad, he hates to see you hurt...

He hates himself even more if he causes you such pain.

He's a beast that desperately tries to be something he isn't.

He knows that if he stops being careful, once that sword is drawn, he'll hurt you.

You'd never forgive him... so he tries to monitor how eager he gets.

All because he cares for you and what you think of him.

Rin's very impulsive in his obsession.

He finds himself collecting little trinkets that remind him of you and casts himself into danger for you.

His demon side even considers locking you in a room with him, away from everyone.

Most of the time him being impulsive is him getting hurt due to protecting you.

Although he finds himself picking fights with people around you, in part due to him being possessive.

He can't help himself.

Seeing others so chatty around you makes him irrationally angry.

Partly because he feels you're his....

Which leads into his more demonic aggressive/possessive behavior.

The moment he slips up and allows his darker desires through, he becomes more beastly.

Like an animal, he wants to pick fights with others.

It's worse with demons.

Rin's demonic self wants to fight other demons in some form of proving his power and worth.

Which leads to other demons noting this behavior and taunting him about it.

Just when will he decide to taint his beloved?

He clearly already has the ambition for it in the way he fights!

When overcome by demonic desire, Rin is sadistic towards you.

He wants to bite you and lick the blood.

He wants to burn you and let it scar.

He wants to claim you... inside and out.

He's wrapping his tail around you, forcing you closer while he marks you.

It takes Yukio to subdue him.

Rin, once he comes to his senses, is guilty.

He hurt you and he feels horrible.

Yet he also feels... victorious.

The idea of no one else having you like him is exciting, but wrong.

Rin knows his obsession with you is dangerous.

It's only natural he feels such a way though.

He's half demon.

Demon's are rather possessive and sadistic after all, even if he tries to deny it he can't block out the truth...

His love for you is wrong, but it feels so right

#yandere blue exorcist #yandere rin okumura

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altocat · 1 year

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I have Safer Sephiroth brainrot. Do you have any headcanons about his Safer form? It's ok if you don't have any, I'm just being a simp

I don't know if I have specific hcs yet on Safer, but rather than leave you empty handed, here's a few things...

Safer Sephiroth has gone through some very interesting design changes in the last decade. There's his original form from FF7, which of course is designed to resemble biblical angels.

And then you have his newer Dissidia design which still somewhat keeps the angel look, but has added new striking features to give him a more beastly/alien appearance.

Note the claws, facial markings, and duller, darker colors. His eyes are also now completely without pupils as well, giving him a decidedly more otherworldly air. I really like it.

SO with that in mind, here's a mild Safer Sephiroth Sephcanon.

His Safer form decays and warps literally every time he merges into it. While it was bright and beautiful and breathtaking in FF7, his form is slowly becoming more and more twisted and unsettling over time, becoming more demonic than angelic. Jenova's presence is pumping him with godlike power, but it's also rotting him from the inside out.

#Sephcanons #ff7 #asks #ffvii #crisis core #sephiroth #final fantasy 7 #Jenova #Safer Sephiroth #Dissidia

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thousand-winters · 3 months

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How do you think Darius and Eberwolf met?

HELLO, HI, I LOVE THIS QUESTION (I also just remembered I have a wip of that I completely forgot about oops)

See, I find very sweet the possibility that they might have met when they were both children, even if that meant they drifted apart at some point and then reunited, but most of the time I headcanon that they met at the coven.

Despite Eberwolf becoming a Coven Head, I feel like they might have faced some prejudice because it doesn't seem like demons truly hold an equal position in society on the Boiling Isles, other than the bipedal demons, but that's still just one of three types of what seems to be an incredibly abundant race in the demon realm. Now, of course Eber has to be a bipedal demon, he can do magic and, well, he's bipedal, but he does look a lot more beastly than other bipedal demons, so I think there's a good possibility that he's part bipedal, part beast demon, which wouldn't give him a very good standing.

He's powerful, however, and bringing him in as a Coven Head is probably good for an image of "anyone can become a Coven Head" if Belos was going for the publicity angle, though mostly I imagine he must have cared about him being powerful since the Head Witches were the catalysts for the draining spell. We know how the rest of the Coven heads were though, and I don't think they particularly cared for being kind even to one of their peers.

So here's what I'm getting at: Because of all of that and the fact that Eberwolf doesn't speak the "common" language on the Isles, I think to a certain point no one was bothering with them too much, with a general attitude at the castle being like "ah, let someone else deal with that beast", more passive aggressive that straight up rude. Now, I doubt Darius was even interested on them at the beginning, too busy trying to figure out what had happened to his mentor, or being a little bit depressed, or both. He would have learned by this point that connections at the castle are a big no-no anyway.

But "he doesn't give me the time of day" is still better than "he sees me as lesser" so I like to think Eber latched onto that and kinda went "oh, it's too late, you're never getting rid of me now", and no matter how irritated Darius seemed to be, he was still irritated because of Eber's behavior, not because of his nature, so Eber was delighted 😭

I tend to think that there's scarce people who can truly understand Eberwolf, most of them getting by with written messages or rough signing, and Darius learned out of spite just so he could retort properly and then they kinda ended up being stuck together for missions because hey, why not send the one guy who can handle the Beastkeeping Head Witch? And Darius didn't even want to be friendly but now he's stuck with them and uh, oh, overtime he started getting fond of them. It was very much mutual, and once they found out they both had rebel tendencies? Oh, it was for life.

Nobody asked for this but take a fragment of the wip I mentioned at the beginning to see if I can somehow gather motivation from this to actually finish it:

“This is no beast,” He states through gritted teeth, even if the extremely pleased and sharp smile the small furry demon is sending in his direction makes him want to take back his assessment. The scouts that are still there, watching the spectacle with what Darius guesses must be stunned expressions behind their masks. If they put as much effort on their jobs as they do on staring at him, they could have avoided this whole thing, but he’d rather extricate himself from this situation as swiftly as possible than waste his time by scolding them. “But Head Witch Eberwolf-” “-is right here," He cuts them off, watching with little amusement how they turn their heads so fast behind them that he's fairly sure at least one of them has some extra vertebrae on the neck to make for that ease of movement. "The demon you just pushed at me," He clarifies. The scouts stop moving so abruptly that Darius wonders if they were somehow petrified without him realizing. And with all their clothes staying intact instead of turning to stone alongside them. It’s impressive really, though not enough to lessen his irritation.

#darius deamonne #eberwolf the huntsman #the owl house #toh

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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idk if you plan to do any monster mayhem for the staff where reader is there age too but i am having SUCH a brainrot over monster crowley i have to share it

im just imagining hes similar to howls feathery monstrosity form except more Fae more thats his actual true form not a form of magic and he takes on a human form albiet one obvs non human due to the pointed ears and the feathers people swear up and down are in his hair and pn his shoulders like a feathered ruff bc all the shiny things humans have and interesting devices to make life easier!

the man definetely has like 838384 heated blankets for his bedroom that is more a nest than anything else lol and the one day he gets injured in his natural more beastly form and mc come across him and he thinks that this is it this is where he dies bc humans attack what they cant understand due to fear but instead this little human he could crush under his talons like a bug comes up and fusses over him ordering him to not move (as if crowley even could) and then leaves

but they come back with a bunch of medicinal stuff and patches him up and returns every day chattering away aimlessly at him as they changed the bandages and compliment how beautiful and shiny his feathers are and maybe theyre a healer or smth and mention a familar and the next day they come back they have a crow following them feathers glistening brightly in the sun cawing happily at mc and crowley is faced with the realisation that oh no hes become smitten with them at some point

and then once hes healthy again he starts showing up in his humanoid form at mcs little apothecary with random cuts or bruises from tripping or being attacked by stray cats that he totally couldnt have healed himself oh no! and everytime he slyly conpliments them and leaves something shiny they could keep or give their crow familiar or some bundle of rare herbs they mc was having trouble getting

and he just turns down all his admirers (that hed never paid attention to more then for the praise anyway) to instead lavish mc with attention bc theyd seen his true beastly form crowley had secretly been so sure no one could love which led him to indulging so much in his "human" life and had looked after him like he was something beautiful to be cherished and bow MC is like oh no i think im smitten

anyway i dont like crowley i swear i dont okay hes just hes just i DONT hes just pretty i dont like him i swear <- man helplessly in denial

I do indeed love the absolute horror nightmares that could come from Staff Monster Mayhem, and Crowley as some sort of demonic bird monstrosity is Peak. I do have to get a bit better with his personality I think before I dive into anything actual for him, because mostly I just write him as A Nuisance, when in reality he gives me vibes of being A Bigger Nuisance but also... not quite right? Like he's got pointy ears and glowing eyes. There's got to be some sort of weird, fae, bullshit going on with him. And in the words of Patrick Star, gotta 'firmly grasp it.' Because I'm still a bit lost on him

My thought honestly when I was debating something for the Staff was, like, a Mount Olympus sort of setup? Or maybe more specifically like a Hades (the game) sort of situation? With the MC as a sort of stand-in for Zagreus, receiving the guidance and blessing of all these all-powerful, very temperamental and moody, gods.

#Asks #Monster Mayhem

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cypriathus · 6 months

Text

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: There are very brief mentions of torture, suicide, and things related to copulation.

LORVAZTEKIPHUS SUBSPECIES

FALLEN ANGEL (plural noun: FALLEN ANGELs): They were originally angels who inhabited the heavenly spheres, but fell from grace due to their actions that went against the celestial code. Once they fall from heaven, the infernal pits taint their magnificent form, making them beastly and fearsome. However, they do retain their angelic form, but their wings, eyes, and/or hair have gone through some noticeable changes. They used to have saliva that can burn naturally sinful things, but has now become an acidic venom due to their tainted holiness. They’re the most well-respected Lohtazrendius breed, often being appointed the supreme kings and queens of the underworld or some other position of high regard.

ARCHDEMON or DEVIL (plural noun: ARCHDEMONs or DEVILs): The first generation of archdemons were the direct descendants of various fallen angels before the other Lohtazrendius subspecies. They’re most commonly the second-in-commands to the armies of fallen angels and/or lesser royalties of the underworld. They’re also the highest members of the supreme court that oversees all infernal laws and punishments.

TREACHERY (plural noun: TREACHERIES): There are four types of treason-invoking demons that are most commonly seen in the Circle of Perfidy. They often play the roles of law-makers, judges, contract-binders, and oath-keepers.

a. TRAITOR OF THE LORD (plural noun: TRAITORs OF THE LORD): They’re the voiceless and physically distorted overseers of those who betrayed their lords and benefactors. They’re capable of rendering sinners fully immobile and horrifically twist them in every conceivable position.

b. TRAITOR OF THE GUEST (plural noun: TRAITORs OF THE GUEST): They’re the crystal-eyed and eternally weeping overseers of those who betrayed their guests. They can cover the eyes of sinners in a visor of frozen ice, rendering them blind and showing that the comfort of weeping has been denied.

c. TRAITOR OF THE COUNTRY (plural noun: TRAITORs OF THE COUNTRY): They’re the stiff-necked overseers of those who betrayed political entities such as parties, cities, or countries.

d. TRAITOR OF THE KINDRED (plural noun: TRAITORs OF THE KINDRED): They’re the wind-protected overseers of those who betrayed members of their own biological family. Besides overseeing those broken family ties, they’re known for greeting everyone they meet with a courteous bow.

FRAUDSTER (plural noun: FRAUDSTERs): There are twelve types of fraud-invoking demons that are most commonly seen in the Circle of Fraudulence. The fraudsters are closely related to the greed demons and green-eyed monsters. They’re often loan sharks, con artists, and business executives who are in charge of advertising and interest rate. They’re also usually responsible for the coverage of news-based media and televised entertainment. They can be seen in many working environments such as casinos, brothels, and businesses that utilise contracts.

a. FALSIFIER (plural noun: FALSIFIERs): They’re demons who naturally declare that all truths are false and actively change documents and records in order to deceive others. They inflict their falsifying victims with various afflictions such as diseases, stench, filth, and thirst.

b. SOWER OF DISCORD (plural noun: SOWERs OF DISCORD): They’re demons who sow the seeds of discord into the brains of their victims in order to disrupt harmony and create disagreement. They hack off the limbs and mutilate the bodies of their victims with bladed weapons. Their victims have to fall in one of three categories: (i) religious schism and discord, (ii) civil strife and political discord, and (iii) family disunion.

c. COUNSELLOR OF FRAUD (plural noun: COUNSELLORs OF FRAUD): They give advice for other fraud-invoking demons and tempt people to commit fraudulent acts. Their victims are people who use their position to advise others to engage in fraud and they punish them by encapsulating them in flames.

d. THIEF (plural noun: THIEVES): They’re stealthy demons who steal from the property of others without using force. They often keep these items to themselves, give them to others, or sell them through various markets. They can create reptilian creatures that prey on their victims in order to show that just as they stole from others, their identity becomes subjected to infernal theft.

e. HYPOCRITE (plural noun: HYPOCRITEs): Similar to the sowers of discord, they sow the seeds of hypocrisy into the brains of their victims. Their hypocrisy is a reflection of their behaviours where they do things that they have told others not to do. They’re often seen wearing leaden robes that are brilliantly glided on the outside and are shaped similarly to a monk’s habit.

f. BARRATOR (plural noun: BARRATORs): They encourage people to vex others with frequent and often groundless lawsuits. They also engage in the act of trading state appointments and religious property, while tempting others to do the same. They torment their victims by immersing them in a lake of boiling tar, which represents the sticky fingers and dark secrets of their deals.

g. SORCERER (plural noun: SORCERERs): These demons consist of fortune tellers, diviners, astrologists, and false prophets who utilise their precognitive abilities for nefarious means. Some have their heads twisted around their bodies, while others have a face blinded by bleeding tears on the back of their heads.

h. SIMONIAC (plural noun: SIMONIACs): They focus on tempting those to commit simony, which is the sale of ecclesiastic favours and offices. They place their victims head-downwards in round, tube-like holes that mockingly resemble a baptismal font. They light the soles of their feet with flames that burn for an eternity.

i. FLATTERER (plural noun: FLATTERERs): They focus on tempting people to commit flattery by exploiting their greatest desires and fears. They punish those who abused and corrupted their use of language to use other people for personal gain. They do this by turning them into wild beasts that howl and fight amongst themselves, while steeped in tar-like excrement.

j. PANDERER (plural noun: PANDERERs): They’re demons who often try to please others for ulterior motives and tempt people to engage in pandering. They’re primarily responsible for furnishing clients with prostitutes or supplying them for illicit sex acts, while collecting their earnings.

k. SEDUCER (plural noun: SEDUCERs): They’re demons who lead people astray with persuasion and false promises. They sometimes carry out the physical seduction of encouraging people to engage in sexual activity on behalf of the lust demons.

a. HERETIC (plural noun: HERETICs): They’re heresy demons who are most commonly seen in the Circle of Apostasy. They punish those who inappropriately abandon and/or renounce orthodox religious doctrine or political belief by encasing them in blazing tombs. This particular Lohtazrendius subspecies are employed as workers for various black markets and overseers of special operations surrounding the military and assassination.

b. BRUTE (plural noun: BRUTEs): There are three types of wrathful demons that are most commonly seen in the Circle of Barbarity. They’re often seen working as executioners, militant soldiers, gladiators, and law enforcement.

c. USURER (plural noun: USURERs): They’re the least violent of the brutes and work on behalf of the greed demons. However, in the eyes of angelic law, usury is an act of violence against pure art. They tempt people to lend money with unreasonably high rates of interest in order to enrich themselves.

d. SODOMITE (plural noun: SODOMITEs): These brutes don’t focus on the sex between people that involve anal or oral copulation. They punish those who have committed bestiality, which is an act of violence against nature.

e. BLASPHEMER (plural noun: BLASPHEMERs): Similar to the usurers, they aren’t violent as they encourage people to speak sacrilegiously about the Hirczalotepus Tejasozuri and/or sacred things. Blasphemy in the eyes of angelic law is considered to be an act of violence against divinity.

f. SUICIDAL (plural noun: SUICIDALs): They are the overseers of those who attempted or died by suicide. They have metamorphosed them into gnarled, thorny trees with their mortal bodies resembling cocoons. These humanoid cocoons are filled foreign, mushy organs that the harpies and gluttons rely on. They can create ferocious, canine creatures that act as guardians of these special trees.

g. MURDERER (plural noun: MURDERERs): They’re centaur-like brutes who punish killers, war-makers, plunderers, and tyrants by immersing them in a river of boiling blood and fire. They shoot arrows dipped in acid at any sinner who emerges higher out of the river or tries to escape.

GREEN-EYED MONSTER (plural noun: GREEN-EYED MONSTERs): They’re envy demons who are most commonly seen in the Circle of Avarice, being closely related to fraudsters and kleptomaniacs. They use their eyes to instill the resentful longing that occurs when someone lacks another’s quality, skill, achievement, and/or possession that they wished they had. Eny demons work in cosmetic and fashion industries, restaurants, and reception offices. This particular Lohtazrendius subspecies also work as janitors, librarians, and suppliers of embroidered items.

FURY (plural noun: FURIES): They’re closely related to the brutes and are most commonly seen in the Circle of Ire. They’re responsible for punishing sinners who committed crimes against the natural order. They primarily focused on homicide, unfilial conduct, offences against other species and/or their own kind, and perjury. They inflicted insanity, pestilence, and hunger upon those who committed these aforementioned crimes during their mortal life.

KLEPTOMANIAC (plural noun: KLEPTOMANIACs): They’re the greed demons that are closely related to the fraudsters and green-eyed monsters. Similar to the green-eyed monsters, they’re most commonly seen in the Circle of Avarice. They focus on punishing hoarders, spendthrifts, and those who valued material goods over everything else. They’re often seen working at insurance companies, banks, financial services, real estate, and casinos. They’re the main subspecies who are in control of all black markets and their supplies.

GLUTTON (plural noun: GLUTTONs): They’re the gluttony demons who are most commonly seen in the Circle of Overconsumption. They focus on punishing those who have a voracious appetite and consistently over-indulge in food and/or drink. They often play the roles of hunters, butchers, harvesters, brewers, cooks, and guardians.

LIBERTINE (plural noun: LIBERTINEs): There are three types of lust demons that are most commonly seen in the Circle of Concupiscence. They focus on punishing those who let their unchecked carnal desires sway their reason. Lust demons work in the sex industry, which includes the direct provision of sex-related services and providing adult entertainment and products.

a. INCUBUS (plural noun: INCUBI): Incubi are male lust demons that actively seek to copulate with sleeping women and create offspring.

b. SUCCUBUS (plural noun: SUCCUBI): Succubi seduce men by appearing in their dreams and use their semen to replenish their health and sex drive as well as reproduce. They also pass the samples of sperm to an incubus who corrupts and strengthens the seed.

c. CONCUBUS (plural noun: CONCUBI): Concubi are hermaphroditic lust demons that prey on both men and women, changing their appearance and genitalia into whatever they see fit.

IMP or FIEND (plural noun: IMPs or FIENDs): They are divided into two different categories according to their family history and purpose. These two categories are uncultivated and sophisticated. Uncultivated imps are animalistic in their biology and way of thinking, often appearing to partially mimic the forms and abilities of certain animals that inhabit their environment. For example, those who live in swampy areas might appear to be toad-like and have sticky tongues, while those living in the ocean might appear to be piscine and are excellent swimmers. They’re primarily quadrupedal and they often act on instinct rather than intelligence. Sophisticated imps are more humanoid, fully bipedal, and aren’t noticeably animalistic in their way of thinking. They primarily utilise their intelligence to handle situations, but they might act on their instincts when it’s necessary. They’re often the most respected and valued servants of archdemons, fallen angels, lust demons, fraudsters, treacheries, and kleptomaniacs. However, both imp types are valued as mage familiars due to their strong connection to the underworld and their unique abilities and characteristics.

SINNER (plural noun: SINNERs): They were formerly humans who committed sins that are viewed as truly heinous and unforgivable by the angels. They’re punished according to the sins they have committed during their life on earth. They’re completely nude with an inside full of purplish blood, unorganised organs, grotesque insects, mud, excrement, and green slime.

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