𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫,
who is a virgin and wants him to be their first. gender neutral, not so much explicit, but still smutty, as usual. Alastor is his own warning. kinda.
this one took me a while for several reasons. mostly because life is a bitch, but also because it was a really hard piece to write. I'm asexual myself and this is heavily self-indulgent. I wanted to maintain this treat of his, but still explore the sexual aspect of the relationship and the way asexual people might participate in it. so... yeah. proceed with understanding of this.
oh? so, you're just like him.
the only one who is not surprised whatsoever. isn't it supposed to be that way?
though there are a lot of vulgar people around. he might even praise you for keeping your chastity for so long.
but… becoming your first?
“Truly, my dear? That's quite the favor to ask a gentleman!”
it's less about being repulsed by the idea of intimacy (it doesn't sound bad if it's with you) and more about not wanting to step into a completely uncharted territory.
that's a first for him too, after all.
give him time. he needs to research some things before he's ready to try.
a week or two later he suddenly appears out of the shadows in your room with loud static noises, scaring the shit out of you, and announces that he would be very pleased to take the offer!!
hooray..? (please come out from under the bed, darling.)
now, just like Husk, he is an old-fashioned man. for him, this could only happen after a nice date.
he prefers a simple stroll around the city arm in arm, and having some coffee with you.
you can sense that he's a tad nervous, but also deeply thrilled. his posture is a little stiff while walking, ears, usually unmoving, twitch slightly here and there. it's cute.
you also notice he's more physically intimate with you today than usual. sitting a bit closer to you and leaning in subtly, so you can feel his warmth. gently covering your hand with his own. reaching to fix your hair, touch feather-like and making your heart pound in your chest.
none of it is sexual in any way, but the difference in his demeanor doesn't let you forget your plans for the night even for a moment.
judging by the sly curve of his smile and very attentive gaze, this is one hundred percent intentional.
inclined to take you into his own room after the date. if you're not against the living forest in the background.
(I suggest you accept the offer. fireflies would be a very romantic addition to your night.)
he needs to talk things out first.
“Let's discuss some rules of our… little arrangement.”
the rules are quite simple, although you might find them odd.
he will not take all his clothes off. especially not the lower part. pants stay on no matter what.
his hands, his mouth? all for your pleasure, darling. no limitations here.
and maybe, if you behave yourself and ask nicely… his shadows, too, can participate.
he merrily refuses to elaborate on what “behaving” means for him exactly. it's simply more fun that way, isn't it?
jacket tossed inside, sleeves rolled up. honestly speaking, it already feels too revealing. you don't think you ever saw so much of his arms or his neck before.
he is in a white shirt today, clean and pure, like the snow on the mountaintop. pristine even.
you never saw this, either.
he follows your gaze and his smile turns a little unsettling. you shiver, suddenly feeling like you are the one who's exposed here, even though you haven't taken off anything yet.
“No blood to stain it today, my dear,” he coos, adjusting the shirt slightly. oh, so usually he wears red for–
you don't want to continue this thought right now.
he's very insistent on undressing you by himself.
he uncovers you like you're his birthday cake in a cute present box. slowly removing every ribbon, carefully taking off the wrapping, anticipating what's underneath.
his hands are cold, but his eyes are heated, even somewhat hungry. and so, so intent.
he drinks on your every shiver, on the way your lips parts ever so slightly to let out a small gasp, on the goosebumps that run on your skin, when he leans in to nibble on your pretty neck, right beside the quicked throbbing of your pulse.
he hums an old tune, seemingly lost in exploration of your body and the way you respond to his touch.
he's eager to learn and very observant. he changes the pace the moment he notices you feeling uncomfortable. he discovers what makes you respond well and uses the knowledge without any shame.
but he also does very much love you telling him what you want him to do with that cute trembling voice of yours.
that's what eventually earns you the shadows taking part in the whole fun. if this is something you desire.
if you weren't satisfied before, you most certainly are now.
expect him to restrain you. he likes to see you squirming under his touch, unable to set the pace. he does everything deliberately slow, so you would beg him to give you more and do it faster.
he's very controlling in general, and although he takes into account what you want, he will also act on his own whim.
it honestly seems that he likes teasing and tormenting you to see your reactions much more than the physical aspect of it all.
humor him, and he will reward you accordingly.
but don't let him get too lost in it. he has a tendency to forget that you're not merely a toy to play with.
set some boundaries and you'll be alright.
once you both decide it's enough, he's a thoughtful gentleman again, bringing a glass of water for you, and helping you clean yourself up.
will let you rest your head on his lap, gentle light of fireflies surrounding you.
he sings a shooting melody, letting you peacefully drift off to sleep.
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DEVOUR ME ♢
INFO: 1741 words, itoshi rin x gn! reader
SYNOPSIS: Rin had never known how to love, and what wouldn't serve him any purpose, he needed to devour - but how was he to devour a concept? Conversely, love may devour him.
WARNINGS: uh kissing (LMAO), suggestion of alcohol consumption (reader literally holds a bottle of beer in her hand tf), gorey language and metaphors
AUTHOR'S NOTE: uh yeah this is a product of 2(.5) insomniac nights and some delusions pls don't make fun of the emo monologue at the end I swear I tried. edit: rereading this I realised that the ending does not match the vibe of the start of the fic AT ALL but i'm too lazy to change it so good luck have fun be nice pls (likes and reblogs are so appreciated i will love u forever)
Love was a concept that eluded Rin’s realm of understanding. He never understood it, and likely never would. He’d seen it – the mimesis of it – all around him, but there was no telling the scorn that lay underneath each smile, each furtive glance, each word of affirmation that fluttered about aimlessly.
Rin Itoshi is a cynic. He doesn’t believe, he never believes. He simply knows. He didn’t believe in love, not when it had betrayed him before, and he was a man that learned from his mistakes. He had no time to be wasted on salvaging the wreckage of his relationship with his brother, he knew that it was beyond his power. What had failed him, he would destroy – the world had no need for something as tepid and fallible as this – but how was he to destroy a concept? Intangible, yet looming and defiant, echoing throughout the world, entangling itself with rationality, parasitic in its own Sisyphean way.
Rin Itoshi wanted to devour love as he had the other obstacles obstructing his vengeful path. Yet unlike his conquests in vanquishing pests that shrouded his success, devouring love did not move him. It did not grant him the same satisfaction it did when he crushed his opponents and rivals, it would not crumble beneath him and succumb to his superiority.
There was no way to best love, yet he found himself wanting to devour it more than he knew. The genius knew that it wasn’t within the realm of possibility, and yet he never thought that he’d wind up as the one love would feast upon.
He would’ve never understood love if it weren’t for you.
You, an impenetrable wall of reason and rationality to his egotistical mindset that simply wanted to take and take and take. He prided himself on his restraint and reason, yet when it came to you, he became a madman.
Hence, you became his paradox. The being of all reason, yet the sole catalyst of his undoing. Your voice became the siren’s echo of his dreams, your whispering touch became the blessed curse that he wished upon himself.
“Rin!” He barely had time to register your presence before you tackled him into a hug, smothering him in your arms. Your scent was hypnotic – clinging to your hair, your clothes – as he breathed you in, turning liquid in your hands. He shouldn’t be this malleable by anyone. This was his moment of weakness – you were his weakness, but he didn’t find himself objecting to this as he enveloped you with his arms in return.
“I’m so proud of you.” And there it was, that swelling in his chest, that odd warmth flooding his senses. “You did so well.”
“I know that.” he deadpans. You should back off here, you should retreat, frown, ask him what’s wrong – but you don’t. This was his big game, after all, and if it wasn’t obvious enough, you’d follow him even over hot coals.
You laugh, taking his face in your hands. ���I love you, Rin.”
There it is. That word, love. The first time you used it – because it would’ve always been you to use it first, never him – he frowned. It was late December in Japan, his hometown, while you sat huddled beside him for warmth, the landscape of the sun setting over the sea golden as the paintings of rebirth.
“Why?”
“Why?” your turn to frown, as he met your eyes in question. “What do you mean?”
“Why use the word ‘love’?” It was already fatal that he allowed you to stay for this long, that he even kept you with him spoke volumes of his heart’s wishes. His icy facade seemed to falter at your hands, and you wanted to melt it away completely. A smile breaks across your face, and he finds himself wanting to drown in it forever. To drown in the depths of your mirth like a rich man and never face worries again.
“Because I love you, stupid.”
“Huh.” but before he can question further, you press a kiss to his lips, and all his questions die on the tip of his tongue, his rationality surrendering to you. His undoing.
It took him even longer to understand love, even after you’d said it the first time on that cliffside, overlooking the vast, infinite ocean. The light had shone on the water like ambers – opalescent and gleaming – he felt as if he could pluck the light from the ocean and string it into a necklace for you, ordinarily divine. The second time you said it, it was “just because”. You lay against his chest, curled up on the couch. If you listened hard enough, you’d be able to hear his heart racing.
“I love you.”
Instead of inquiring, this time, he simply planted a kiss to the crown of your head, watching the woman on the TV sob, dark tears streaming down her face like ink. Onyx. Rivulets of Onyx. He thought you’d look far better with your mascara running down your cheeks than this second rate, lukewarm actor.
The third time, it was new year’s eve. The snow fell in a light sheen across the balcony of the apartment – one of his team mates was hosting a party. He wouldn't have gone if it weren't for your insistence, and so he stood with you, leaning on the railing in favour of the pandemonium behind. The view was a quiet, dark sort of beautiful. Not the majesty of a sunrise or the tragic beauty of rain, rather quiet, sequestered. The park below was still, yet the escapism from the sounds of the party made the air all the more intimate.
“Any new year’s resolutions?” you’d asked, a half finished bottle of beer hanging loosely from your grip.
“Become the best in the world.”
You smiled. “Never change.”
“What about you?”
You shrugged, gaze distant. If he looked closely, he could see the dim moonlight reflected in your eyes. He inched closer.
“I don’t know.”
He scoffed at your answer. So indefinitive, so irrational. The moonlight reflected in your eyes like tiny stars. If he dared, he would claim them for his own. But you claimed his before he could even try.
Your gaze was heavy. A blanket of heat to combat the penetrating cold, the film of snow that dusted your hair, catching in your lashes.
“You have snow on your eyelashes.” You reach out, brushing your cold fingers gently across his eyes. Almost absentmindedly, you mutter “I hate that about you.”
“What?” The word comes as a thin breath, and he hardly registers anything but your touch, your gaze, your breath warming his skin.
“You're absurdly pretty.” you murmur, almost to yourself. Shaking your head in disbelief, a clamour rises from indoors, where the cacophony of the new years celebration presses on, into the intimate night.
“Shut up.” and he brings his lips to yours, closing the centimetres of space left between you. You let his arms wrap around your waist, reaching up to place your hands on his face, entangling your fingers into his hair, lightly tugging at it as you pull away.
“Happy new year, Rin.”
“Fucking shut up and kiss me.” he moves to press his lips to yours, but you evade his movement by a hair’s breadth.
“I love you.” you whisper against his mouth. The words are swallowed in the kiss, and he doesn’t question your love, anymore. Because if anyone would love him against all odds, it would be you, wouldn’t it? Because of course, you knew what love was, and you would teach him. You wanted to teach him the meaning of love, show him its meaning through precarious action, allow love to finally become a constant in the churning sea of his person.
Yet you knew that for Rin Itoshi, love was another paradox.
To love was to be devoured.
To be consumed from the inside out, to desperately hold in the guts that threatened to spill out, to drown in the metallic sweetness of your own blood, to hear the sickly beating of your heart as a siren through your mind, and to allow – enable – this grotesque discordance to rip at your disposition. It’s ruthless in its ruination, it tears out flesh and admires the way the blood gleams like rubies on its severed, screaming surface. Like fruits of its own endeavour, the masochistic, self wrought destruction of sense admires lovers such as him. It admires the victims to its siren wails, the eradicating, breathless declarations of devotion that pale in the grand scheme of love’s insatiable appetite.
To love was to be devoured. Love was the devourer, and lovers their prey. Love was rich in tragedy, all consuming and death defiant. Love was deceptively gentle, practising the art of elusion with a lover’s seduction, the maestro of sadism.
To love was to be devoured wholly – from the thick rivulets of blood dripping down the maw of the beast, the drying, flaking stains of it crusting the mouth and the torn flesh lodged in the beast’s throat.
If to love was to be devoured, you would be next. Foolishly naive, eyes on the stars instead of which beasts lay behind.
If to love was to be devoured, you gladly asked it to devour you. You surrendered yourself to the beast, allowing your heart – still beating – to be ripped out of your chest and be feast upon. You let love take your lips in a siren’s kiss and drain your body dry of supplement, leaving a husk of what remained, and yet you still have more to give. You’d let love reduce you to nothing – impoverished, emaciated and forlorn – for a glimpse of the glories that were of legend. To follow him to the true end, the one promised by fabled lips.
If love was to be devoured, Rin decided that he would let it take, because what was love, if not devotion? Love was devotion, and you were devout. Pious, devout and reverent in the pursuit of sating it's abysmal appetite.
You devoted yourself to love – loving him. You let yourself be devoured, let yourself be reduced to ashes in the blaze of love’s fury, just to experience the sweet nothing of its aftermath. Hollow, void, fruitless.
So Rin takes the dagger, and points it to his own heart. The fruit of love is still ripe within him, and the beast means to be fed.
written by @atlaswav , published 25th of December 2023
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Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.
-Doll
This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)
Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader
As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?
Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)
[Part 2]
You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.
A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.
Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.
This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.
You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.
"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.
He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.
Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.
The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.
You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.
His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."
Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.
What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.
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