#Then they grew monstrous and terrifying

[snuggledupblanketdragon]

Just had a nightmare with the two things I absolutely hate having nightmares about and woke up several hours early

time to be on my phone until I actually have to be awake!

[gothasmo]

If Ais potentially finds MC at the beginning and brings them to Kuras, I wonder if Kuras directs patients that are beyond his abilities to the Seaspring as a last resort as their final choice...

[cupidkenji]

killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises. 

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly. 

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint. 

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?” 

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.” 

“Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up. 

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?” 

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new. 

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick. 

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

– 

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you. 

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up. 

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision. 

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

– 

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him. 

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day. 

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files. 

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up. 

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it. 

“I can watch him.” 

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you. 

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day. 

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.” 

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless. 

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from. 

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back. 

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.” 

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless. 

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between  friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.” 

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

– 

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it. 

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks. 

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in. 

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine. 

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal. 

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day. 

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you. 

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.” 

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure. 

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?” 

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.” 

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself.  You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road. 

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much. 

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm. 

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

[lilacxquartz]

part 17 of 19 of kinktober: trapped

pyramid head x gn!reader

plot: while exploring the town, you find yourself incapacitated in the worst possible position — themes: warning for non con, dark smut, gender neutral reader, size difference, monster fucking, horror, gender neutral smut — w.c: 700ish

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

You were incapacitated.

Trapped in between the barely pried open iron bars, providing just big enough of a gap for your upper body to squeeze through and then… stall. In a way, it was humiliating, but in another sense, it was also terrifying because existing within the town as a whole was a death sentence in its own right. From one little miscalculation—you had potentially doomed yourself.

You tried to dislodge yourself again but the bars were too narrowly placed and you couldn’t push or pull yourself neither back nor forth and in doing so, you only found yourself more stuck than before. Panic quickly swept through your being in violent waves, abandoning all sense of rationality in favour of a hurried escape but nothing was working—but then finally, you heard it—the all too familiar scrape of metal, the thud of staggering footsteps—oh no, no, no… he was here.

You turned your head slightly back to just about catch a glimpse of him filling out the doorway, blocking all gaps of light that otherwise cut into the cell. In an attempt to avoid your flesh likely meeting the blade, you strove to push yourself forward, to at least nullify his efforts to strike you down… but then something else followed suit.

You froze as you felt his calloused hands brush around the soft contours of your exposed flesh; his fingers breaching the torn fabric and tearing away the cloth from the skin, readily exposing you to him. You remained statued in place as you feared for the worst, unable to quite comprehend what he was actually doing to you; almost delicately feeling you up—pushing—spreading your legs apart, ripping away at anything that acted as a barrier between you and him.

You tensed as you quickly understood what was following suit; feeling the tip of something very obvious poke against your most vulnerable parts. You writhed around and squirmed under his grip like a fish out of water, only to remain caught and hooked in his presence, feeling him drive into you in a near hungry pursuit. You gritted your teeth as you felt him force himself inside of you, feeling overwhelmed by his monstrous length that completely filled you out to the brim.

With shuddering, quaking cries, you softly wept as he continued to take in his brutal girth, feeling his cock slide in and out of your insides and stretch you out beyond a recoverable limit. With an unforgiving pace, Pyramid Head continued to hilt himself into your core, feverishly bucking into your body as a radiating, almost scalding pain akin to searing agony settled within the confines of your form. Of course however, he showed you no mercy, pounding into you with a near primal fervour; his hips slamming against your behind with each sawing motion.

Somehow, he grew needier as he continued to violate you—his fingernails digging bleeding crescents into the soft peaks of your ass, kneading against the cushioned skin and spreading you open as far as you could physically handle. It was as if he was trying to force you to accommodate the entire capacity of his impossible length, taking advantage of the limiting position, knowing that you couldn’t just pull yourself away.

Nearing his impending climax; his movements soon became more erratic and maybe even sloppy. He leaned his towering form closer wherever he could press against your bare back—causing the iron bars to crack open further—growling out heated breaths that rolled hot down your spine. Each passing thrust caused for you to shake, prompting you to involuntarily roll your eyes to the back of your head and perhaps even see stars from just how overwhelming it all truly was.

Just as you were about to pass out however, the monster finally came undone with one final violent rut of his stuttering hips. You gasped as you felt a stream of hot oozing warmth fill your senses to such an extent that your stomach nearly bulged from his pent up release.

Thinking it was all over, you tried to close your eyes to recover—but then you were promptly taken out of the cell, readily carried around like a rag doll, to be used and paraded around per each of his passing whims.

In a way you were thankful that he wasn’t going to end you outright.

But then you realised what your life was about to become and that much had otherwise terrified you.

Not quite a mercy after all and worse yet, rather a sentence in the hell you found yourself in.

[uhzuku]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐇𝐄’𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 ( 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 ). ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: His eyes are hooded, dark with a venomous lust that used to frighten you — but you aren’t the shy lamb sent to slaughter that you once were, are you?

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: jujutsu kaisen | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ryomen sukuna/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 3.49k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: concubine reader, demon king sukuna, sacrificial lamb x vicious monster trope, fem reader, manipulative reader, canon-typical violence, background character death, reader got a death grip on sukuna w the pussy ngl, breeding kink, fingering, sukuna has two cocks bc duh?, throne sex, cowgirl, no condoms, double penetration, accidental voyeurism, minor exhibitionism, creampies, biting, kissing, pregnancy mentions, murder, blood, gore, didn’t think i’d have to say this verbatim ( but after wasted summer ig i must ) but reader isn’t a good person.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: he is so so mean and yet … here i am wanting his balls in my mouth 😔✊

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

The stone flooring is cold against your bare feet, icy and sharp in ways that you used to be able to say you were unused to — but after a handful of years as your lord’s most desired concubine, you’d grown more than used to the endless chill of stone against your soles. 

Only a few short years ago you’d been sent into the mountains to the dusky temple of the demon lord Ryomen Sukuna, a toy for him to fuck then eventually rip apart as soon as he grew bored of you. Bound by the wrists with ropes that had scarred, you were dragged up the mountainside and thrown upon a vast stone table, bound yet again with your hands tugged over your head and your legs spread to opposing corners. Your inner thighs had each been granted one deep slash so blood would begin to flow, and then you had been abandoned there. Alone and in tears, night had fallen faster than you’d been found, and you’d almost felt frozen and delirious when the first shadows of a monstrous figure had caught your eyes. 

He had been a terrifying monster, sporting a vast mouth on his abdomen, two sets of eyes, four arms, and two pairs of legs all connected to a towering frame — all things normally singular about the human form had been doubled, and the owner of such a body had slunk over to you all while salivating. At first you’d feared he’d molest you, then you feared being devoured — but he’d mocked you cruelly and cut you loose before dragging you along behind him by the rope binding your wrists with your slit thighs screaming, your journey ending with him casting you at a half dozen women you later learned to be his concubines, and you’d not left his great stone temple in the mountains ever since. On the contrary, your life had become much easier — you led a life of luxury nestled comfortably on your knees atop a plush pillow next to your lord’s hip, you followed wherever he led you to go, and you warmed his bed and his cock whenever he so chose — which was often. 

Today was one such day, and you desired nothing more than to ready yourself to see the man who clung to you as if he were starved and you were a magicked feast. 

“Off to see the King again?” one of the other concubines, Ino, asks snidely as you loosely drape chains of delicate gold over your skin, and you sigh. Ino always started fights whenever she saw the chance, and you were more than tired of it. Still, a verbal spar was nothing for the King to sneeze at, so he wouldn’t make any attempts to stop it; some days he even found the arguments amusing. 

“Must I really answer your question?” You ask tiredly. “He has called for me—“

“As he does every day,” another concubine, Shouko, snaps. “He never calls upon us anymore, not like you.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” you snap back, and in response the bane of your existence stomps forward, smelling of the honeysuckle and melons that grew along the mountainside where you all resided. 

“Maybe if you’d not come here and thrown yourself at him like a common whore, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” Inko, Ino’s elder sister, snarls aggressively. Her eyes are dark and stormy, and her voice low and angry like a startled rattlesnake. “We all had a proper system before you came and ruined everything — but that’s all you know how to do, isn’t it? Traipsing in here practically naked from your first day and swallowing his cock down like it was what you were born for, then even daring to take away my night as well as Komori’s the following day.” Komori was another concubine, one nearly as bitter as Inko; she, however, chose to ruin what few of your belongings she could rather than spar with you verbally.

It was always the same with them — always angry that your lord doted on you more than the others, that he cooed at you so fondly while growls were occasionally sent their way ( growls you’d never received ), and that jewels and silks were lain reverently across your soft skin as rewards for earning his affections. “Maybe he likes me better for a reason, Inko,” you say coldly, standing your ground. “Maybe he isn’t calling upon you anymore because he’s realized how much of a surly bully you are — or maybe he’s grown tired of your once overused loose cunt.”

The sound of a  loud, harsh slap echoes through the room, followed immediately by startled gasps of shock and your face stinging painfully; as much as you all threw poisoned words through the air like arrows were loosed from an archer’s bow, none of you had ever dared lay a hand on one another. 

Your face burns, both from the pain from the hard slap and from a barely repressed anger, as you turn back from where it had been forcibly swung to the side at Inko’s strike to glare at her. 

“You’ll start being a lot happier with your life when you stop basing it around both mine and a man’s,” you hiss before exiting the makeup room and navigating your way through the halls of Lord Sukuna’s temple before finally entering the throne room. He was listening to a few servants of his describe the look of the lands outside the temple, and what they believed the upcoming winter would offer them, but he brushed them away upon realizing you’d entered. 

“Oh, my sweet treasure,” he purred warmly. “Come closer so I can bask in your beauty as I do every day.”

Obedient as always, you do just that, drifting closer before kneeling before him in acknowledgement of his power. Before you do so, you see the look in his eyes, and it sends a shot of fire to your stomach that you know all too well; his eyes are hooded, dark with a venomous lust that used to frighten you — but you aren’t the shy lamb sent to slaughter that you once were, are you?

“My lord Ryomen,” you murmur in a voice as thick and sweet as honey while just as deceptive as it would be when a part of a trap for flies. He stands, striding down the short set of stairs that led to his throne for you as he did for no other, and in a gruff voice commands you to stand at your full height. You do as told like always, and it doesn’t take long for him to catch sight of your aching face, which was no doubt starting to bruise.  

He gently grabs you by the jaw, careful that his claws do not prick your soft skin as he tilts your head to reveal your cheek to him. “Your beautiful face…” King Sukuna rumbles lowly, his voice an angered growl as he gently tips you by his grip on your jaw to look at the bruising handprint marring your face, and his eyes are as stormy as the sky outside of the temple as thunder booms amongst the clouds. “Who dared do this to you?”

“Inko,” you murmur quietly, then whine, “She called me a common whore and said I ruin everything. It hurt my feelings.”

“She will be punished,” he promises, cupping your face and kissing your forehead fondly in a show of slight sweetness that you knew he showed no other and strove to keep hidden at all times. Typically his words would comfort you, but not today. You were tired of Inko’s behavior, and a week locked alone in a room with nothing but bread and milk was no longer fitting in your eyes. 

You wanted her dead.  

“Fill me with your seed, my Lord,” you beg sweetly, and he groans while grabbing you borderline painfully tight and grinds your crotches together as you stand together in the throne room, allowing you to feel him at half-hardness. “I want to carry your spawn for you, just like you always say.” It was true; Demon King Ryomen Sukuna was a weak man when it came to his almost wicked thoughts of breeding one of his women’s fertile cunts, but he’d not yet filled any of his concubines’ wombs with life. That privilege, you knew, was to be yours alone — and with how desperately you knew he wanted it, you’d get your prize of Inko’s head on a golden plate and he would get his of the instinctual want for an heir before the week was up. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, standing as high on your tiptoes as you can to do so, and as usual he dips down so you can mouth sweetly at his skin, feeling one pair of arms rest at your hips while the other gently cup your face. “Let me ride you on your throne, my king,” you whisper sweetly, pulling your face from his hold and closing your teeth around one of his earlobes, tugging lightly. You both feel and hear the aroused growl leave his throat, and you move to nip at the base of his throat before asking again. “Please, beloved one?” you beg lightly, pressing a kiss to his jaw as he basks in the attention from your lips and your now wandering hands, which bury themselves in his hair in just the way he likes. “I want you to fill me in the way that only you will ever be able to. I desire the honor of bringing you life.”

You’re being dragged to his throne before you know it, your words plenty enough to tip him over any and all edges he had when it came to you, and he’s taking a seat and tugging you up onto his lap with a practiced ease that you both remembered all too well. He grinds his cock up into the crux of your thighs, his already hard length pressing against the place you were always bare for him beneath your skirts so perfectly. It only takes a moment for him to loose his cock from his robes, and even less time for him to press two of the fingers on one of his other three hands into your wet hole, the appendages curling just so inside so as to toy with you and prepare you for the vast stretch of one ( or even both ) of his cocks. 

“F-Fuck — M’Lord, there-!” You whimper shakily, hips bucking into his touch as he presses one callused thumb to your clit and begins drawing harsh circles on it in time with each curl of his fingers. 

“I know, sweet treasure, I know,” He murmurs softly. “I’ll take care of you — gotta get ya’ all nice and sloppy for me, dear one.”

“No more!” You whine impatiently. “Want you in me!”

His eyes are already dark, but they seem to darken even further at your senseless pleading. “As my foolish girl begs,” he says in mock-sweetness, pulling his fingers from your sopping cunt with a wet shlk! and beginning to use what you’d left on them to wet his cock rather than lick them clean like usual. Your heart ba-bump!s in your chest as a nervous shiver courses through you, but you don’t back down — you’d take his cocks and the resulting child of this coupling as well. 

“Oh gods — yes, please-!” you whimper, feeling the way he drags his cock against your slickened slit, and he chuckles lightly before pressing the fat head in. A stuttery gasp falls from your lips as your head does likewise to his shoulders, and you cling to him desperately as you begin to sink down onto him entirely. In what feels like forever ( but is really only a couple short seconds ) he’s fully sheathed inside of you, and you both still for a moment to soak in the feeling of both filling and being full — and the the Demon King decides the time to adjust is up, and begins fucking up into you. 

You bounce on his lap, moaning brazenly like a woman in a whorehouse, and your nails dig into his skin as he uses you like a toy for his own pleasure. Each drag of his thick cock inside you alights a fire in your belly as it always does, and you keen from your place on his lap as all four of his arms rove your body — two palming at your tits, one rubbing cruel circles on your swollen clit, and the third thrown around your waist. 

“Fuck… Fuck…” he moans, biting at your neck, and you whine needily while grinding down on him, trying your hardest to tempt him into forcing his second cock inside. Unfortunately, you doubted he would, considering he was always so cautious not to break his favorite toy ( you weren’t a fool, there was no love in his heart — there remained no heartstrings for you to tug on, only his sensitive cock. ), but seemingly today was an exception as a hand on one of your tits releases it just so he can grab his second length and press it against your sopping wet hole. The thick ring of cream around the base of the cock he’d already filled you with smears across his second as he urges the tip inside, a short scream falling from your lips as it pops in after a long moment of slightly-pained pressure. 

You’re overfull, tears are rolling down your cheeks, but Lord Sukuna just licks them up and begins using your body like the hole to fuck it is, bluncing you brutally on both of his cocks all while still seated on his massive throne. Behind you, you hear the wide doors to the throne room open, but it isn’t until a scandalized cry fills the room that you turn to look while your lord master continues fucking you without a care in the world for the eyes watching. 

“My Lord-? Oh gods, my apologies! I beg your forgiveness, my king!” The hand that had wandered in wails, falling to his knees in subservience at the realization that he’s just walked in on his lord taking his most favorite concubine in the throne room. The sight of both of his king’s cocks sinking so deeply into your glistening cunt had his own single cock twitching beneath his robes, but there was no way in hell he would ever dare to act on such a thing; the last time someone other than the king himself had touched a concubine with their unworthy hands, both had been torn apart in the King’s rage and fed to the carrion birds. 

“Fuck, you’re nothing but my sweet whore, aren’t you?” Sukuna groans deeply, ignoring the man entirely as you refocus entirely on him and the feelings he was forcing upon you. 

“Y-Yes, my king,” you moan shakily, your eyelashes fluttering as an ever-present knot starts to grow tighter in your lower belly alongside the overfull feeling, fueled by a heat that always burns in his presence.

“Cum on my cocks,” Sukuna orders through a moan. “Give it to me, I command you — I want to feel your cunt pulse around me as you come undone.” As he speaks he speeds up the circles he was drawing on your clit, and within moments you’re falling apart around him, crying out in ecstasy as he lets out a demonic roar and oresses himself as deeply inside as he can before emptying his balls. Faintly you register his eyes rolling back as he cums, but you’re too wrapped up in him to truly give a damn about any of it. 

After a few moments he begins to tug you off of his lengths, the muscles in your body just as instinctually unwilling to give them and their stretch up as you are as a natural resistance shows before being overtaken by you clenching down on him. “No,” you whimper, holding him tight. “Mine.”

“Y’gotta let me go, my precious jewel,” he rumbles quietly, and the urge to actually cry fills you and you just cling tighter. 

“No,” you say again, a fresh wave of tears stinging at your eyes. “Don’t wanna.”

A low groan falls from his lips, but he stops fighting you. You barely react as he lifts you, his inhuman strength making most any show of strength possible ( and making lifting you something easily scoffed at ), and you do likewise as he carries you off to his private chambers. A questioning noise falls from your half-chapped lips as he closes the massive open door of the two closed behind him, and he just shushes you before pulling the silk sheets and thick blankets and furs back before placing you on them. He’s straddling you, still stuck due to your clinging, and it takes a brief moment of wrestling with you before he manages to finally pull out. 

A borderline sickly wet noise fills both his and your ears as his cocks are drawn from your needy cunt, and the rush of thick demon cum that follows makes you whine pathetically. He just clicks his tongue at you and tugs on a rope made of golden chord that would ring a bell in one of the servant’s halls and summoned one such person, ordering them to ready your nightly meal ( despite the sun still being up ) so you could eat then sleep at your own leisure. Once the trembling man is gone, he joins you in bed. 

“I hope you meant your urging for me to grant you a child,” he purrs, biting at your shoulder while you press close to him. He pulls away, sitting up on the side of the bed, “Because there’s no going back now — you will carry my seed in your belly until you birth me a child.”

None of this matters to you. You had always planned to birth his first child, had always known that it was what your fate held for you — this moment was not for talk of a baby, no. You wanted your prize. 

“My dearest lord,” you sniffle needily, sliding from the bed on shaky legs and sinking to your knees between his legs, then propping yourself up over your crossed arms on them with a pout downturning your lips. A quickly growing puddle of his leaking cum begins to drip on the floor between your legs. “Please kill Inko — she’s so very mean to me, and all the other concubines are too because she’s been here so long.” Your bottom lip trembles as fresh tears start, and he sighs. 

“But her cunt is so sweet, dear one,” he murmurs, and you whimper and hide your face in one thick, muscled thigh. 

“You said she was loose. Besides, she hit me — I carry your spawn inside of me, and she hit me.” You didn’t have even his cum in you then, much less a conceived child — but you knew how to play the Demon King’s instincts, and the slight angered huff through his nostrils betray the rage simmering beneath his skin. All it would take was the tiniest push further. “It was the face this time, the face you own, but what if she pushes me down the stairs next? I could lose my life.”

Growling fills the air, and you know you've done it. 

“Rest here,” he says quietly, his voice shaking with rage, “Servants will be here to attend to you in a few minutes.”

He helps you up with one hand, half-tossing you onto the cushy bed, then begins making his way out of his private rooms. “Where are you going?” you call innocently, pushing a frightened tremor into your voice. “My lord Ryomen, please don’t leave me — I’m always so frightened without you!”

He stops in the middle of the room; you can see him shaking with anger. “I have business to attend to,” he says through gritted teeth. 

Your eyes glitter. “Come back to me soon, beloved one — I miss you desperately every moment you are away.” 

A grunt is your only response, and he exits the room as servants wheel in your dinner. You curl up prettily in his massive nest of a bed, and you peruse the options he’d granted you eagerly. When he was done, he’d use the excess rage to fuck you again — you’d need to quell what appetite you have now and then some if you wanted enough energy to survive. 

In the distance, furious roaring mixes with shrill, fearful screaming, and you delicately tug apart the roast duck you’d been served as the sounds of more concubines than just Inko being killed fills the temple. Servants cower, and the younger cupbearers whimper, but you just smile softly and hold out your emptied cup. 

“I would like more pear juice, please.”

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

(Y/n) Grayson, daughter of one of the greatest heroes, learns just how NOT invincible she is. Thrown back in time after her death, she must warn the Guardians of the Globe of the oncoming slaughter while she also battles her own monsters (both figuratively and literally). However, her father and brother begin to gain interest in her strange behavior, something (y/n) could rather do without.

(Y/n) Grayson,  the youngest member of the Grayson family, born to Nolan and Debbie Grayson, with your older brother, Mark, only three years your senior. Life growing up was idyllic in many ways—you had a loving father, mother, and brother who, at least for the first few years of your life, seemed completely normal. But you always knew something was different about your family, especially about your father and brother.

From an early age, you noticed how often your father would leave at odd hours, saying he was "called into work." When Mark turned 10, he and your dad started spending more time together, and they began excluding you from their bonding sessions. You were curious, but it wasn’t until your parents finally sat you down that you learned the truth: your father was Omni-Man, a powerful alien sent to protect Earth, and your brother had just started developing powers like his.

Excited by the revelation, you had a flood of questions—what it felt like to fly, whether you'd get powers, and what space was like. Though your father answered your questions kindly, the growing divide between you and your family was undeniable. Mark, once your geeky, lovable older brother, started to change. By the time you were 12 and he was 15, that change became frightening.

As Mark's powers grew stronger, so did his sense of superiority. He began referring to others as "humans" in a dismissive tone, something that deeply unsettled you. He no longer saw himself as part of the same species, despite being half-human. While he still had moments of warmth and humor with your family, outside of the home, Mark was becoming someone else—cold, calculating, and even cruel.

He rose in popularity at school thanks to his new powers, good looks, and charisma. He became the star athlete, using his power to brutalize opponents on the field, often injuring them far beyond what was acceptable, and then charming others to get out of trouble. One day, he came home covered in blood after beating a kid so badly that the other boy was left mangled and broken. Mark’s behavior was alarming, but what terrified you most was that your father approved of it. Omni-Man encouraged Mark’s aggressive dominance, much to your mother’s distress and your growing fear.

While Mark and your father’s relationship grew stronger, you felt more and more left out. Your own 10th birthday had passed, and your powers had yet to manifest. Nolan began spending less time with you, focusing on Mark's training, leaving you chasing the bond you once had with him. Debbie tried to bridge the gap, but you couldn’t help feeling the loss of both your father’s and brother’s attention.

The real turning point came when you were 12. One day after school, you were hanging out with your friends Hallie, Connor, and Weston in the reclusive meadow near your school. It was a peaceful, secluded spot until you were suddenly attacked by a strange creature—something none of you had ever seen before. It was monstrous, something straight out of the Dungeons & Dragons games you played. You barely managed to kill it, naming it a "Demogorgon" after the game. The four of you hid the body, terrified and confused.

You didn’t know what to tell your parents, but the scratches and bruises covering you were impossible to hide. Your father didn’t have time to deal with what seemed like childish nonsense, and the local law enforcement was baffled by the sudden attacks happening in your area. The creature you killed wasn’t a one-time event; strange attacks began occurring more frequently, leaving the community on edge. Still, your father was too occupied with his work for the government, and Mark was too wrapped up in his own world to help.

As time passed, it became painfully clear that your father was growing distant. You idolized him, but without powers of your own, it seemed like you were losing him. Mark, meanwhile, reveled in his strength, and with your father’s approval, his behavior became more dangerous and reckless. He started using his powers in more violent ways, and the line between heroism and cruelty began to blur for him. You watched your once-loving family dynamic twist into something darker.

Despite this, you chased after them both, desperate to stay close to the people you loved. You begged to join their training sessions, hoping that maybe your powers would eventually show. Yet, with each passing day, you felt the weight of their growing alienation. Mark was becoming someone you barely recognized—a far cry from the nerdy older brother who used to sneak you extra cookies at night and argue about comic book trivia.

Now, you and your friends are facing a looming threat from these mysterious creatures. The attacks are increasing, and no one seems able to stop them—not your father, not Mark, and not the authorities. As the danger mounts, you realize that you and your friends are the only ones who know the truth about the creatures. You’ll have to rely on each other to survive and solve the mystery behind these attacks.

Now at 15, your life had already turned into a living nightmare, but that year? That year, everything truly fell apart. You’d made it to high school, but the past three years had felt like an eternity. Your father was still physically there, but the emotional distance between you two had grown insurmountable. When he did spend time with you, it felt more like an obligation than a genuine connection. You weren’t stupid—you could see it in his eyes. He’d written you off the moment it became clear you didn’t have powers. To him, you were just another weak human, barely worth his time.

Mark wasn’t much better. He oscillated between two extremes: sometimes he was distant, barely acknowledging your existence at home or school. Other times, you’d catch glimpses of your old brother, the one who’d stay up late with you, watching cheesy movies and tucking you in when you fell asleep. Those rare moments of warmth became your lifeline. You clung to them desperately, as if each one could push back the growing darkness in your family.

But then there was the other thing—the real problem. The Demogorgon situation. What had started as a single encounter had become a full-on invasion. No one else seemed capable of dealing with it. Not your dad, not Mark, not the heroes the world adored. So you and your friends had decided to do it yourselves.

At first, it seemed impossible to hide the cuts, bruises, and sprains from fighting the monsters. But with your mom working full time and your father and brother too wrapped up in their own twisted lives to care, no one really noticed. You didn’t blame your mom—she was drowning in her own problems, trying to keep the family together despite everything.

You were fortunate enough to meet Haymitch—a rugged, grizzled man who’d been hunting the creatures for longer than you could imagine. He tried to tell you to back off, to leave it to the adults. But of course, you didn’t listen. You and your friends had been through too much, seen too much. In your stubborn teenage way, you refused to step aside, leaving him no choice but to train you. Over time, he became something of a mentor and a father figure, filling the void that your real father had left behind.

But that year? That year, the world came crashing down.

It started with the Guardians of the Globe. They were the strongest superhero team on the planet, and they were slaughtered—every last one of them. Except for your father. At first, the news rocked the world. Omni-Man was hailed as the tragic survivor, the hero who narrowly escaped death. But you knew better. Something felt wrong about the whole thing. Your gut told you there was more to the story, but you couldn’t imagine the scope of the horror that was to come.

Soon after, the truth emerged.

Your father didn’t come to Earth to protect it—he came to conquer it. And Mark, your once-nerdy, sometimes-kind brother, had fallen right in line with him. Together, they unleashed chaos on the planet. They pillaged cities, tearing through anyone who stood in their way. Mark, now going by the name Invincible, seemed to take after your father in the worst possible ways. The sweet boy who used to protect you from bullies was now a monster, crushing anyone—heroes, civilians, soldiers—who dared oppose him.

The world was plunged into ruin.

You and your friends ran, barely escaping the destruction. You thought maybe your father would have taken you, but no. You weren’t a Viltrumite. You weren’t powerful. You were just… nothing to him. Weak. Disposable. He had already whisked your mom away to a “safe location”—where, you didn’t know—but you were left behind. Haymitch stayed with you, leading your ragtag group as you all tried to survive in a world turned upside down.

You’d never felt so betrayed, so alone.

But even in the wreckage of your life, there was a flicker of hope. You had your friends, and you had Haymitch. And most importantly, you had a burning desire to stop your father and brother. Even if you didn’t have their powers, even if you didn’t have Viltrumite strength, you had something they didn’t—humanity.

And you were going to fight back.

Months passed, and the world’s governments were in tatters. Omni-Man and Invincible’s conquest was nearly complete. Entire cities lay in ruins, and any resistance from the human military or remaining superheroes was swiftly crushed. Yet, even amid the chaos, pockets of resistance formed. Small groups of survivors, including former heroes, started to organize, desperate to reclaim their planet.

You and your friends became part of that underground movement, thanks to Haymitch’s connections. He was no stranger to fighting overwhelming odds, and with his help, you quickly became proficient in guerrilla tactics. You might not have powers, but you had your wits, and you knew how to strike fast and hard, using the terrain and the enemy’s overconfidence against them.

Every day was a struggle, a fight for survival. You missed your mom, wondering if she was safe or if she even knew what was happening. As for your father… well, you weren’t sure what you felt anymore. Love? Hatred? Betrayal? It was all tangled up in a knot too painful to untangle.

And Mark. God, what had happened to him? Was he too far gone, or was there still a part of him that remembered what it meant to be human? The Mark you once knew wouldn’t have done this. But now, the lines were blurred. You didn’t know if he could be saved, or if he was beyond redemption.

The day started out like any other grim scavenging run. You, Hallie, Connor, Weston, and Haymitch had been searching for rations—anything to keep your group alive. The world had become a brutal place, where food and supplies were scarce, and desperation drove people to violence. It was only a matter of time before you crossed paths with another group, and when you did, tension rose immediately.

The air was thick with the potential for bloodshed. Hands hovered near weapons, and the slightest wrong move could trigger a firefight. But as the seconds ticked by, you realized that these weren’t just scavengers—they were survivors, just like you. What’s more, they were part of something bigger. The remnants of humanity’s greatest defenders had gathered in secret, forming a larger resistance led by the surviving heroes who had managed to evade the massacre Omni-Man and Invincible left in their wake.

After a tense exchange, they extended an offer: come with them. They said kids shouldn’t be out here, fighting for their lives like this. It took your group time to weigh the options, but the decision was unanimous—you’d all go. You’d join the resistance and help however you could.

Those weeks spent with the resistance were the best you’d had since the world fell apart. There was food, shelter, and—most importantly—hope. You trained alongside the heroes, working with them to organize missions, raid supply caches, and defend what little remained of civilization. For a while, you dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d have a chance to fight back against the Viltrumite tyrants.

But in the back of your mind, you dreaded the inevitable. Every night, the fear gnawed at you—Omni-Man and Invincible would find this place. They always did. And when they did, there would be no mercy. No escape.

That day came sooner than you expected.

You were talking with another resistance member when the alarms blared. Panic rippled through the compound as the distant sound of gunfire echoed closer and closer. Then, the ground shook beneath your feet as the roof was torn open with monstrous strength. Invincible descended into the fray, a twisted grin plastered on his blood-splattered face. Omni-Man followed, cold and detached as ever, watching the carnage unfold like it was just another day.

The heroes fought valiantly, but one by one, they fell. Invincible tore through them with savage glee, while Omni-Man dealt crushing blows with deadly precision. It was a massacre.

You were frozen in place, too terrified to move, when you heard a booming voice cut through the chaos—your father’s voice. "To the rest of you," he called out over the battle, "you will die today. There’s no point in fighting." His words sent a chill through your bones.

Everything happened so fast. You tried to run, but before you could escape, a powerful hand grabbed the back of your shirt and lifted you effortlessly into the air. The breath was knocked out of your lungs as you were spun around to face the monster holding you.

It was your father. Omni-Man.

Your mind reeled as you looked at his face, stained with blood—an expression of cold indifference as he gazed down at you. You wanted to scream, to beg, to ask him why, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare at the man who once cradled you in his arms, who used to play tea party with you, who had been your hero.

But now? Now, he barely recognized you as his daughter.

You struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it was useless. His grip was iron. His gaze pierced through you like you were nothing. Then he spoke, his voice calm and emotionless.

"It really is a shame you turned out like this. So weak."

The words hit you harder than any physical blow could. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked into his face, searching for any sign of the man you once loved. But there was nothing.

He tilted his head slightly, almost as if considering his next move. Then, his large hand enveloped your head, cradling it—just like he used to when you were little—before he squeezed.

The pain was blinding. It was as if your skull had exploded under the pressure. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t think. Everything went dark.

You were dead.

Your father killed you.

You didn’t even get to graduate high school. You didn’t get to have your first crush. You were dead.

But then, you started to feel.

You were supposed to be dead. The pain should have been gone. Darkness should have consumed you. But you could feel again.

You violently jerked awake, gasping for air, your heart pounding in your chest like it was about to burst. Your mind scrambled to make sense of what was happening. 

You should be dead. Your father crushed your skull.

Your hands frantically touched your face, your head, everything. You were whole. You were alive.

Your heart raced, your breathing ragged as you clutched your chest, desperately trying to calm the frantic beating. You forced yourself to focus, but only one thought kept swirling around in your mind:

‘How the fuck am I still alive?’

Last you remembered, your fathe—Omni-Man—was crushing your skull in, revealing just how much of a useless, weak, waste of Viltrumite DNA he thought you were. Then... nothing.

That’s when you noticed your surroundings.

Wait– this wasn’t the battlefield or a bunker. This was your bedroom. The walls were familiar, decorated with posters of bands you loved when things were still normal. The faded rug beneath your feet had that same worn-out spot where you always paced while talking on the phone with your friends.

But this wasn’t possible. You watched your house get destroyed when Invincible and Omni-Man tore through your neighborhood. You watched it crumble along with everything else. You scrambled to your feet, heart racing again as your mind tried to make sense of it all. That’s when you stopped dead in front of your mirror.

Your reflection stared back at you, wide-eyed and pale, but something was off. Way off. Your scars. The ones you had earned during your time in the resistance, the ones that covered your face, arms, and body from fighting to survive—they were gone. Not all of them—no, the scars from your battles with the Demogorgons were still there, thin lines across your skin like faint echoes of the hell you’d been through. But the deeper, newer scars from the resistance, from facing Omni-Man and Invincible’s destruction? They were gone.

Your breath caught in your throat as your mind raced to make sense of this.

Wait a minute.

Something clicked, a horrifying realization dawning on you. You spun around, desperately searching for your phone. After a frantic few seconds of tearing through your sheets, you finally found it, buried under your blanket. Hands shaking, you powered it on, staring intently at the screen as the date loaded.

October 13th, 20XX.

Four months before the Guardians of the Globe were slaughtered. Five months before the world would fall to ruin.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, the word escaping in a half-choked whisper.

Your bitch ass time traveled.

[buldakcorn]

Captured

LOONA/LOOSSEMBLE Yeojin x Male Characters

1349 words

Genre: (TW) Non-con, Size kink, Manhandling, Carryfuck, Belly bulge, Forced creampie

Yeojin's heart raced as the shadowy figures closed in, their towering forms casting long, menacing shadows on the cold, damp concrete. Despite her size, she had always been fiercely independent, but now, surrounded by these brutes, she felt more vulnerable than ever. The stench of their sweat and the metallic scent of fear filled the air as their grinning faces leered down at her. She knew what they wanted, what they were here to do, and she knew she had to fight with every ounce of strength she had to prevent them from carrying out their sickening plan.

Her eyes searched desperately for an escape, but the alley walls seemed to close in around her, trapping her like a cornered animal. With a trembling voice, she demanded they leave her alone, her words echoing in the silence of the night. But the men only chuckled, their grip tightening around her slender arms, as they began to drag her deeper into the darkness.

Yeojin's clothing was ripped away, leaving her bare and trembling in the harsh glow of a solitary streetlight that had managed to pierce through the gloom. Her pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as the men's rough hands began to explore her small, delicate frame, their eyes glinting with malicious intent. The cold air of the alley bit at her exposed skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. They squeezed and groped her breasts, the cruelty in their touch sending waves of revulsion through her body. Each time she begged them to stop, her words were met with a sharp slap on her ass, the sound echoing through the deserted space. The pain was a stark reminder of her vulnerability, fueling the fire of her determination to somehow find a way out of this nightmare.

Her eyes searched for anything that could be used as a weapon, a glimmer of hope, but the alley remained a grim tableau of shadow and despair. The men's laughter grew louder, their anticipation palpable, as they continued their humiliating assault on her dignity. Yeojin knew she had to act fast if she was to survive this horrific ordeal.

One of the men, a hulking brute with a sneer that sent shivers down Yeojin's spine, stepped forward and casually dropped his pants, revealing his engorged member. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at it as he stroked himself with a hand that looked as if it could crush her entire head. He bent down, his hot breath reeking of stale alcohol, and whispered, "Look what you're missing out on, little one." His calloused fingers then invaded the soft folds of her sex, rubbing her clit with a roughness that sent a shock of pain through her body.

She screamed a furious "No!" that pierced the night, her voice hoarse from fear and outrage. Despite her protests, the man's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with perverse pleasure at her distress. "You're going to love this," he leered, his voice a sickening blend of mockery and excitement. Yeojin's mind raced as she desperately tried to think of a way to escape, her body trembling with a mix of fear and revulsion as the men's grip tightened around her. She pleaded once more, "Please, just leave me alone!" but her words were lost in the cacophony of their lewd comments and cruel laughter. The reality of her situation was setting in, and she knew she had to fight back with everything she had if she didn't want to become a mere plaything for their depraved desires.

The man behind Yeojin lined himself up with her trembling pussy, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over her exposed form. Despite her efforts to resist, the men held her in place, forcing her to stand on her tippy toes to meet the brute's monstrous height. She could feel the hot, throbbing head of his cock nudging against her entrance, a stark and terrifying reminder of the brutal violation that awaited her. The cold, unyielding concrete beneath her bare feet offered no comfort, only a harsh contrast to the warm, sticky mess of fear that coated her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her cheeks, and braced herself for the pain that she knew was about to come. The man's grin grew wider as he took in the sight of her quivering body, his excitement palpable in the air as he positioned himself to take her roughly. Yeojin's chest heaved with shallow, panicked breaths, her mind racing for a way out of the impending horror.

With a violent grunt, the man lifted Yeojin off the ground, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her onto his massive, pulsating cock. Her legs dangled uselessly in the air, unable to find purchase as she was held in his iron grip. She screamed as he thrust into her, the sheer size of him ripping through her tight, unprepared pussy with a brutal force that sent shockwaves of agony through her entire being. "It hurts! It's too big!" she wailed, her voice piercing the air with desperation. The men laughed in unison, their sadistic delight only growing as her cries grew more frantic. Her eyes bulged as she stared at the monstrous cock invading her, her tiny frame no match for the thick, unyielding shaft that claimed her with each savage pump. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt, a searing, relentless fire that consumed her as the brute pounded into her mercilessly. The others watched with eager eyes, stroking their own swollen members as they awaited their turn with the defenseless girl, their lustful grins a testament to their depravity. Yeojin's world had been reduced to a whirlwind of pain, fear, and the crushing weight of the brute's body as he used her to satisfy his animalistic desires.

Yeojin's body, despite the agony, began to react involuntarily to the relentless assault, her pussy spasming and clenching around the monstrous cock that invaded her. The brute's deep, guttural grunts filled the alley as he hammered into her, his thrusts growing more erratic as he neared climax. Each time he slammed into her, his hips slapped against her ass, leaving reddened prints on her pale skin. The men around her jeered and whispered degrading comments, their eyes alight with sadistic glee as they watched her suffering. "Look at the little slut, taking it all," one of them taunted, while another chuckled, "You're going to take all our cum, aren't you?" Despite her pleas for them to stop, her body betrayed her, her orgasms coming in waves, one after another, each one more intense than the last. The outline of the brute's cock was clearly visible on her distended belly, a sickening testament to the brutal stretching she was enduring.

"Ah, I'm gonna cum, little one," the brute grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt his climax approaching. Yeojin's pleas grew more frantic, "Please, no, don't cum inside me!" she begged, her voice trembling with fear and pain. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, trying to hold onto any semblance of control she had left, but her words had no effect on the animalistic creature ravaging her. His grip grew even tighter, his thrusts more erratic as he neared the peak of his lust. Yeojin could feel the pressure building inside of her, the stretching and burning becoming unbearable as she knew she was about to be filled with his vile seed.

With a final, violent thrust, the man's entire body tensed, and Yeojin felt the hot, thick fluid fill her up, his cock pulsing with each shot deep within her. She screamed in despair, her body trembling uncontrollably as wave after wave of his cum flooded her insides, the sensation of being so utterly filled and claimed washing over her in a nauseating tide of violation. The men around them cheered and clapped, their lustful eyes never leaving the scene before them as they eagerly awaited their turns to use and degrade her even further.

Happy (belated) Yeojin day! A short one for the short one.

---

Will be going on a hiatus for the rest of the month and will go back to writing afterwards.

Ideas are welcomed. :)

[doumadono]

Senne koszmary - Urogi x Reader

Warnings: smut w/o plot, dirty talk, vaginal sex, somnphilia Synpsis: the vividness of your nightmares made them seem more than mere figments of your imagination, and eventually, you obtained the proof that confirmed your suspicions Requested by: @crystalwolfblog - kocham cię mocno, złośnico ♥ Oby ten ficzek przypadł Ci do gustu

MASTERLIST

You had been experiencing a persistent issue with unsettling nightmares that plagued you night after night. They were vivid and often disturbing, leaving you feeling fatigued and anxious during the day. You had tried various methods to alleviate this distressing problem, including altering your sleep habits and seeking professional assistance, but to no avail. The recurring nightmares continued to intrude upon your restful slumber, hindering your ability to obtain the peaceful respite that your mind and body so desperately needed. There was one particular nightmare that haunted you incessantly, in which you found yourself face-to-face with a demon of immense proportions. This demonic entity possessed large bird-like wings that towered above you, casting a dark shadow over your trembling body. Its sharp talons, protruding from its monstrous hands, glistened menacingly in the dim light of the nightmare. The demon's massive claws, terminating its grotesque legs, dug deep into the ground, leaving deep imprints that seemed to seal your fate.

As you stood before the demon in your nightmare, his presence looming over you with his large bird-like wings and sharp talons, he introduced himself as Urogi. His voice was deep and gravelly, sending shivers down your spine as he spoke. You tried to wake up from the nightmare, but you were trapped in the darkness of your subconscious, unable to escape the terrifying encounter with this monstrous creature. Every night was plagued by the same harrowing dream, with the demonic figure of Urogi relentlessly haunting your slumber. His intimidating form, with large bird-like wings, razor-sharp talons on his hands, and massive claws ending his legs, loomed over you, filling you with an overwhelming sense of dread. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the nightmarish vision from your mind, and it continued to torment you night after night.

You had already been having a hard time falling asleep that night and you woke, maybe an hour or so after falling asleep, to the feeling of someone sliding under your sheets.

At first, you were confused and groggy. You didn't have anyone over so you had no idea who was crawling between your legs. You figured you were just having a really vivid dream as you felt a thick, sharp talon pulling the hems of your kimono up your figure. The creature held it back and pushed your legs apart.

You were beginning to actually wake up, soft yet shrill humming playing in your ears but you weren't able to pay attention to it. You didn't dare move, but the more it all sunk in and you realized what was happening your stomach dropped. And your pussy instantly grew hot and wet, involuntary. The sensation that overcame you was one of peculiar yet pleasing nature, compelling you to heed its beckoning and venture forth into the unknown.

"You're nice and wet for me tonight, Y/N," you heard a deep, male voice whisper, a loud chuckle followed. It was a confirmation that one - it was that demon, again, and two - he had done this enough to be confident sufficiently to dirty talk to you. It was so messed up and gross because he was fucking revolting, yet tempting in some strange way. The fact that the feeling of his forever sharp talons finally starting to rub your throbbing clit made intense pleasure run through your body made you want to throw up. It was an odd sensation, one that you knew you shouldn't indulge in. The forbidden feeling lingered, tempting you to follow its path. Despite your reservations, you eventually succumbed to its allure and gave in to your curiosity.

It wasn't long before the demon buried two taloned fingers in your pussy while he stopped his thumb on your clitoris, brushing it ever so gently. Soon, you felt something incredibly wet on your exposed pussy. The saliva oozed out of the demon's mouth in a thick and slimy consistency, dripping down onto your sex with a wet plop. It was warm and you hated it but you also fucking loved it at the same time. You were actually enjoying the fact that you didn't have to do anything but lay there, pretending to be sleeping. In seconds he was sucking on your clit with his wet, hot mouth, flattening his tongue to press it tightly against your slit. You couldn't stop the moan that abruptly slipped out of you, sure that you had blown your cover, but Urogi just chuckled and started flicking your clit with his tongue. "How is such a quiet human a loud sleeper?" He asked as if he expected an answer. You just laid there, letting yourself move or breathe hard as much as you needed at such a relaxed state. You never had your pussy eaten like that. At least not awake. He made sure your whole pussy was soaked with juices and his spit. As he licked your pussy, his taloned hand traveled up under your kimono, and he started groping your tit. "Fuck," he groaned against your sensative folds, rough lips and hot breath keeping you horribly stimulated. You literally heard when his thick fingers sunk back inside your aching cunt, slick being forced out to make room as he started back up thrusting them inside. "Gonna make my little human toy moan for me. But you won't remember, will you?" The longer he spoke the rougher he fingered you. Then he got right back to using his mouth while he loudly attacked your pussy, curving his taloned fingers so he was able to rub at your squishy spot, and you were afraid you were going to have to give up on my act to beg him to just fuck you already.

You didn't want him to stop, as much as you fucking hated yourself for it, so you just kept letting it happen and, apparently, were good enough at pretending to be asleep to fool your horny late night visitor. It was astonishing in the worst way possible. Your body was completely moving on its own as it stiffened and your hips rolled against his face and talons to get through the shocking orgasm that washed over you in warm, electrified waves as a moan escaped your parted lips. As soon as you began to relax again, Urogi slapped your pussy a few times. Some slaps were soft, some harder. All of it made the wettest and most obscene sounds you have ever heard.

You thought this was all he was going to do - to play with your needy pussy, using it to pleasure himself, but then you felt him stop and he moved up your body, only settling once he fully pinned you down, rolling you to your tummy less than gently.

"Never seen a woman so fucking messy," he grumbled.

You were in a trance until you felt a heavy, hard cock start to poke the back of your thigh. You felt it all and it was impressive. Your mouth drooled as you licked your lips, and your cunt appeared to ooze more of your desire.

"You belong to me, you gorgeous, little slut!" Urogi chortled in a manner that can only be described as mischievous, his deep and rich laughter reverberating through the air. His eyes, which glinted with a devilish mirth, crinkled at the corners as he chuckled, thoroughly enjoying whatever he found amusing in that moment. His lips parted, revealing a set of sharp canines that seemed to gleam in the light, while his chest rumbled with each guffaw, giving the impression that the very ground itself was shaking beneath him. "You have some gorgeous cunt, little woman." Urogi's corpulent dick plunged deep and sure into your core, causing you to respond in the expected manner - a protracted, resounding, and ecstatic ululation emanated from the depths of your chest and reverberated into the nocturnal stillness, while his sturdy hand encircled the back of your neck, fiercely immobilizing you onto the cushion below. "You're my fucking bitch!" Urogi swore and his other hand gripped the curve of your waist, talons digging into your softness still covered with the kimono as he drove himself deeper and deeper. His stiff girht spread your silken tightness wide until he was seated fully inside. The tip of his cock, red and oozing precum, had carved the way and buried against the entrance to your womb. "Taking demon's cock so well," he crooned and stroked your flank. "Such a good, little hooch!" With agonizing slowness, he retracted his cock, deliberately dragging the girthy length over every contour and swell of your insatiable hole until the tip hung on the brink of liberation once more.

You trembled, anticipating, whining and whimpering. You were willing to wait for Urogi as long as he desired. You knew that he wouldn't leave you unsatisfied.

When he inevitably thrust back in, your mortal body accepted him eagerly and ravenously. The anticipation amplified the sweet release, making the pleasure more ecstatic. With a sudden jolt, his hips drove forward, plunging deep into your core. The movements were rhythmic and unrelenting, a constant in-and-out motion that left you gasping for breath. Urogi found his pace, and soon, you were both moving in unison, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Your body responded eagerly to his touch, quivering with each thrust. His movements played you like an instrument, the pleasure building with each stroke. You couldn't help but push back against him, your hips meeting his in a desperate dance. The sensation was overwhelming, your body rippling and pulsing with each thrust. Together, you worked to bring each other to the brink of pleasure, his body and yours moving in perfect harmony. It was a private concert, a symphony of passion that left you both breathless and sated.

As seconds ticked by, Urogi let out a bellowing groan and spilled his sticky and opaque seed deep into your womb, marking you as his own. "Fuck!"

Your mouth hung open in ecstasy and you teetered on the edge before tumbling over the brink to a glorious climax. Your body convulsed as your cunt released a stream of honey salt over your quivering thighs and the sheets of the bed. "Ah, Urogi!"

Urogi chuckled, releasing his grip on your nape and trailing his taloned hand down your spine, which was still covered by your kimono. The alate demon leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you weren't truly asleep," he grunted in a low, gravelly voice. "But I couldn't resist the temptation to come to you, to feel your body beneath mine, to claim you as mine. Again."

As you lay there with Urogi's hand still tracing down your spine, you summoned the courage to speak up. "I knew you've been doing this before. I was sure that these weren't just dreams. They felt too real, too vivid to be mere figments of my imagination…"

Urogi chuckled, his breath fanning the back of your neck. "Of course I have," he concluded.

You shivered as his talons grazed over your lower back, sending a ripple of pleasure down your body. "Why me?" You asked, genuinely curious.

Urogi leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "It's the way you submit to me," he whispered. "The way you give yourself completely to my pleasure. No one else has ever done that before."

[selinay-in-wonderland]

„ A Monster‘s Kiss “ ( VENOM X F!READER)

***************************************

You hadn’t expected to develop feelings for a creature like Venom. When he’d first come into your life, it was nothing short of terrifying. A towering black symbiote with sharp white eyes and a voice that rumbled through your bones, Venom was something out of a nightmare. But over time, something changed. His presence, which was once intimidating, became familiar, almost… comforting.

It started with chance encounters, moments in the dead of night where Venom would silently watch over you as you navigated your daily life. Somehow, he was always there—whether you were heading home from a late shift, or pausing at the park to catch a breath after a long day. You could feel him, sense his intense gaze on you from the shadows.

You grew accustomed to him. Even more than that, you grew fond of him. Beneath the brutal exterior, Venom had his own kind of gentleness, though he’d never admit it. When you were around, his snarl softened, his tone shifted, and you saw flashes of something almost vulnerable beneath his dark, monstrous exterior.

One evening, the city was quiet, bathed in the faint glow of streetlights. You were walking home alone when a chill ran down your spine, a feeling that someone—or something—was watching you. But you knew it was him.

“Venom?” you called softly, knowing he could hear you.

A ripple of movement appeared in the shadows, and he stepped forward, his form towering over you as he emerged. His eyes, pale and gleaming, fixed on yours, intense and unreadable.

“Why do you always seek me out?” he asked, his deep voice echoing, resonating in the still air. “You know what I am.”

You crossed your arms, a playful smile on your lips. “I think you know why.”

Venom tilted his head, his jagged teeth showing in a faint grin. “You are a strange human,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Others fear me. But you… do not.”

You shrugged, feeling bold under his unwavering gaze. “Maybe I see something others don’t.”

His eyes narrowed, his gaze softening as he took a step closer. “You are foolish if you think I can be anything but a monster,” he said, though there was no malice in his voice. It almost sounded like… regret.

Your heart raced as you took a step closer, feeling his strange, dark energy washing over you. “Maybe you’re not as much of a monster as you think,” you whispered.

Venom hesitated, his gaze flickering. He looked almost… uncertain, as though torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer.

“Why do you stay?” he asked, his voice softer, barely more than a rumble. “I could destroy you with a single movement. I am dangerous. A lethal protector.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be protected,” you murmured, lifting your hand to rest gently against his chest. He was cool to the touch, his skin slick and smooth under your fingertips. Your heart pounded, and for a moment, you wondered if he could hear it.

Venom’s eyes softened, and you saw something there that you hadn’t seen before—something vulnerable, almost hesitant. “I do not understand you,” he said, his voice a whisper, though the words seemed like a confession.

“You don’t have to,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile. “I’m here because I want to be.”

Venom’s expression darkened, and for a heartbeat, you thought he might pull away. But then, to your surprise, he leaned down, bringing his face close to yours. The air between you was charged, an electric tension that left you breathless.

“If you stay… you are mine,” he murmured, his voice a possessive growl. His words were both a warning and an invitation.

You didn’t hesitate. “I’m already yours,” you whispered back, reaching up to brush a hand along his face, tracing the sharp lines and jagged edges of his form. He tensed under your touch, as though shocked by your gentle fingers, by your choice to stay with him in spite of what he was.

And then, slowly, he leaned down, his lips—or what passed for them—pressing against yours. The kiss was strange, wild, yet tender. He was cool, firm, and there was something thrilling in the way his dark tendrils wrapped around you, holding you close, as though afraid you might slip away.

Venom pulled back, his eyes flickering with something deep, something raw. “You are… fragile,” he said, his voice a murmur, a hint of pain in his tone. “I do not want to harm you.”

You shook your head, smiling softly as you reached up to cradle his face in your hands. “You won’t,” you whispered. “I trust you.”

For a moment, he was silent, studying you as though trying to understand why you would choose him—why a creature like him could ever deserve something as pure and precious as your trust. But then his expression softened, his sharp teeth flashing in a faint smile.

“Perhaps… I can protect you,” he said quietly, though it sounded like he was speaking more to himself than to you. “Perhaps… I can care for you, even if I am what I am.”

You leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I know you can,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his presence, the strength in his embrace.

In that moment, Venom seemed to relax, his dark, monstrous form softening ever so slightly, as if the weight of your trust had somehow made him lighter. And as he wrapped his tendrils around you, pulling you closer, you realized that no matter how strange or dangerous this bond was, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[fatkish]

Hello, can I request some inner child HCs featuring Gang Orca? Where he saves a kid who has a quirk that makes them appear frightening, like, they turn into a monster when their adrenaline spikes and/or they get emotionally distressed. They were abandoned by parents who couldn't deal with the child's "outbursts", had a panic attack, and turned into the monster form. Heroes are called in to fight what appears to be a villain threatening civilians (actually just a child in a large, frightening body who is struggling to regulate their emotions). Orca realizes what's up and stops other heroes from attacking before he calms the kid down.

Inspired by how I'm haunted by the fact that Orca is on the heroes that look like villains list and is secretly upset that kids find his appearance scary. Let him adopt one with similar struggles who isn't scared of him!

Okay so I’m thinking that the reader would be similar to The Hulk as where the child will unintentionally transform after a certain amount of adrenaline is in their system and I’m thinking they’d be a buffer and more muscular version of RWBY’s Grimm Hound

Basically it’s got super intelligence and can even grow wings but with Hulk’s strength. That’s the idea.

Gang Orca x Child Reader:

Monstrous transformation

It was a disaster. Carnage and wreckage everywhere. You had been living on the streets since your drunken father kicked you out for being a monster. You had a hard time dealing with your quirk. You knew it was some kind of transformation quirk, but you had yet to fully transform. Until you did. You had been minding your own business walking down an alleyway towards where you had been sleeping. You hadn’t eaten much in the last few days and you hadn’t slept well. All of this was too much for your child brain so you broke down. You had a panic attack.

As you sat clutching at your head you didn’t notice how you seemingly grew and changed. Your bones shifted and realigned, muscles grew and redeveloped, you grew shard claws and fans as you turned into a beast. So caught up in your emotions, you were startled by a passerby who screamed at the sight of you. You then lost it. As something primal decided to act on the rage and pain you felt and built up over the years.

A hulking monstrous bear, wolf, human hybrid thing that looked like it was born from nightmares tore out of the alleyway past the innocent man and into the street where traffic pulled to a stop as people began to scream at the terrifying creature. The creature began to destroy its surroundings and cut cars in half, throwing them everywhere, damaging buildings as it wrecked everything and people scurried away in fright.

Heroes were called in to deal with this supposed villain. Amount the heroes was Gang Orca. As the creature threw heroes out of the way and tore through them it dodged their attacks and took heroes down. It wasn’t until Gang Orca used his sonic attack on the creature that it finally seemed affected and halted as it shook its head. Your head was splitting as the ringing got worse. It managed to snap you out of whatever was happening to you. As you decreased in size and eventually became your normal self, you fainted. Seeing that it was actually a child, Gang Orca quickly realized that what happened was most likely unintentional and was the result of a powerful quirk that got out of control for a child.

He took the child to a hospital where the police informed him about the child’s living condition and situation. When he thought about how everyone was scared of you, even your own father, he decided to take you in. When you wake up you start to panic as you’re in an unfamiliar place. Gang Orca hears this and enters your room and tries to calm you down. Upon seeing the Orca hero the first thought that comes to your mind, comes out of your mouth.

“Can you talk to whales?”

You look up at him with that childish curiosity and wonder. He can’t help but smile seeing that a kid isn’t actually afraid of him for once. He chuckles and pulls a chair up to your bed and sits down at your bedside.

“I don’t think I can, but I’ve never really tried.”

“Do killer whales like you and think you’re one of them? Oh, do you eat seal meat? Are seals scared of you? oh oh, do sharks swim away from you cause they think you’re an Orca? Would a pod of Orcas accept you as one of them? How fast can you swim? Do you like cold water or warm water better? Can you breathe under water like a whale? Who would-“

Gang Orca just laughed a deep belly laugh at your onslaught of questions. He even slapped his knee in delight as he tried to rein in his laughter. He smiled at you as you tilted your head in curiosity, not able to understand what was so funny.

“Alright, I’ll answer your questions one at a time. But after I do that, do you think you we could talk about you a bit and that quirk of yours?”

“Um… sure. But my questions come first okay”

“Okay. Well first, I’ve never met any killer whales but I guess maybe I should. I don’t eat seal meat, I eat normal food like beef and pork and yes, I’d probably assume that seals are afraid of me. I’ve never been close enough to a shark to tell if they’re afraid of me. I think I’d have to find a pod of Orcas to see if they’d accept me but I doubt they would. I can swim pretty fast, at least faster than average. I don’t really have a preference on water temperature but I guess I’d have to say cold. And as for breathing like a whale, I do have a blowhole, whales don’t have gills since they’re not fish so they breathe air like you and me.”

“Wow, you’re so cool”

“Why thank you”

“Can I be as strong as you someday?”

“Well actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. How would you feel about coming to live with me and having me help you with that quirk of yours? I’d be your new legal guardian and I’ll take care of you and help you with everything. How’s that sound”

“Does that mean no more sleeping on the ground outside?”

“Yeah, we’ll go and get you a nice soft bed and we can even decorate your room however you want.”

“Can I have glow in the dark stars on the ceiling? And a pet bat?”

“Yes to the stars but I’m afraid bats aren’t the best pets but we can probably talk about some other kind of pet once we get a better understanding of your quirk. You wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt an animal.”

“I guess that’s true. I’m kinda tired. Will you stay here?”

Gang Orca smiled as you yawned and looked at him with tired eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll be here when you wake up”

“Okay, goodnight”

“Goodnight”

[bowieandqueen11]

Love For You / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: I just found your ao3 account a few days ago and your writing style is excellent! Legitimately some of the most visual and evocative writing I've seen on that website, and I've been devouring your izzy hands fics since I caught up on season two! Can I request another izzy x reader post-amputation and just the reader caring for him while he's pining hard? Maybe the reader has some medical experience so they've been able to help him a little better than the rest of the crew, making sure he's taking time to heal in a difficult moment (physically as well as emotionally, god knows he needs that.) Letting him know he's loved and him realizing he hasn't...heard someone say that to him or treat him this gently in a long time

Thank you so much that's so kind of you to say, it's so lovely people finding me from AO3!! Honestly one of the best feelings, and goodness knows Izzy needs this :)

Okay so I haven't been able to watch the new season so all my knowledge is coming from Tumblr gifs and posts, so I really hope this isn't too ooc my lovely!! Anyway let's get this man some comfort!

I spent all day writing this, so all comments are much appreciated! Thank you! :)

Warning: mentions of blood/injury, mentions of physical abuse, mention of smoking, kissing and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Something monstrous seemed to be creeping up the shuddering walls.

No, it wasn't the stifling silence that had seemed to envelop those of Blackbeard's crew still left, hiding their heads between their legs and closing their eyes as they felt the quicksand drain out through the fingers. Nor was it the creaking organ snore of Wee John thrumming up the timber; the rest of your usually upbeat crew grew despondent as they wracked their brains together and came up with a way to save you all from imminent demise, having flopped onto their sides and fallen into fitful sleeps just before sunset. Sadly it wasn't even the feel of Lucius' finger stroking yours through the cold grates of your jail, his smile lost and forlorn as he thumped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as well, feeling even more entrapped in himself than you did.

It was, in fact, the hard glare Izzy Hands was shooting into the side of your face. He hadn't spoken a word since Stede had left, choosing instead to let out the odd sniffle from his corner bucket and busy himself by watching you like a man possessed: like something wild, something smothering itself in the shadows to stop its howling heart from devouring the light around itself. From tearing his dagger out of his scabbard and devouring his heart himself with clawed hooks. He looked ghastly, and he looked gargantuan as the life seemed to convulse within him, leeching out and darting its tongue around the creaking wood until it filled up the room and began to fill your heart up with a hope you thought had been lost weeks ago.

He looked beautiful and proud and defeated and assured in spite of it all, and you were finally beginning to understand why Zheng Yi Sao had locked him away in this cage.

And in a way, it terrified you that this cataclysmic, lucent shadow was creeping its merry way straight for you.

The tenebrosity was quickly broken by Izzy's shining eyes gliding across the bridge of your nose to land instead on your top lip. He wasn't entirely sure why exactly he was feeling so timid. It wasn't as if Frenchie was still awake, as he was too busy hugging his free arm around the remaining muscle of Izzy's thigh and burying his head into the muscle with a soft murmur of contentment. Yet the idea of being caught leering at you like a dopey boy was enough to make him judder with embarrassment, and enough to send Frenchie's head keeling sideways so his lips were rammed up against his trousers.

Thankfully, it was exactly Frenchie's floppy head that gave away the fact that he was fast asleep, and allowed you to steal Izzy away for yourself. With a gentle lift, you were quick to replace your friend's cheek with your own hand, giving the side of Izzy's thigh a reassuring squeeze.

'You look like you're bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders', you sighed as you took in Izzy's harrowing form. It wasn't his paleness that worried you, or the redness that cracked and splintered around his irises. It was the way he was watching you, eyes trained steadily on your face for the last hour and a half, as if he were doing his best to memorise everything he could before he ran out of time. As if he would never have the chance to look at you again.

The edges of his lips curled up, and he thumped his head back against the wall. 'Me? I'm feeling fucking fantastic. Never been better. Why do you ask?'

'Well', you began as softly as you could, straining to reach the vials in your hip knapsack to retrieve some salve for the scarring that had begun to pucker around his skin. 'We are about to be executed. I guess I just wanted you to know this is a safe space to let it all out before we are. A confessional of sorts, if a little makeshift.'

He wet his bottom lip as his eyes darted down to you, confused.

You pointedly looked him in the eyes, before unscrewing the vial and dipping your pointer finger in. Making sure he didn't seem too uncomfortable, you leant forwards as innocuously as you could, trying not to startle him anymore than he already had been. With a swipe, you began to rub the herb mixture around the sore looking welts left around his cut leg, making a point to run your fingertips soothingly over the goose-bumps that began to rise at the feel of you against him.

'I wanted you to know- to know that you're always safe around your crew.' You did your best not to let your voice tremble, no matter how much your throat tried to choke you. You turned your head back down to his leg, trying to hide the fact that your mouth was crumpling in on itself.

He winced as your hand brushed against a tender point, and you ran the back of your knuckles over his skin in apology. He felt like he was burning alive: a fire blazing so furiously in the pit of his stomach he was sure it was gushing out, swinging around the room and warning everyone of his impending falter as he fell upon the crags of your fingers below. He had no idea how, in all the seas, you couldn't possibly see how ecstatically devastated he was to be sitting here with you.

He didn't mind dying. He wasn't scared of it. As long as you were there to enhalo his misty light in the end. As long as you were there to love him until his last breath. As long as, no matter what form he took, you were still enclosed around his heart.

'Who says I have anything to confess?', he glanced at you with heavy eyelashes, eyes bleary but sharp as he started straight into your soul. I don't have to confess it, he thought, it's so fucking painfully obvious.

How could he confess something so inexplicable? Something that wrapped around all of his bones, that wormed its way into parts of himself he thought long numb: long lost. How could someone ever articulate the feeling of life itself? It was insurmountable, far too transcendent, too impetuous for mortals to to unsnarl into words.

'Oh Izzy', you said, mouth falling into a frown at the way his hips reflexively bucked up at the feel of a new cream being slathered around his leg to try and numb the pain. He moaned, trying to mask the sound by clenching his fist into his mouth and biting desperately into his knuckles. One more touch, and he was about to fall apart. 'Your eyes are drowning in so many regrets I can barely see the stars in them anymore.'

He huffed out a laugh, looking at you with incredulous, wild eyes. He willed his hand to stop shaking as he let it rest, still clenched, by his quivering chin. 'Not in my eyes. You never could. That's not possible. Not me.'

'I could.' You were quick to reply. 'I always could. You're our guiding light, Israel Hands.'

Oh boy, if he wasn't devastated before he sure was now. His face fell immediately, and for a moment you felt your heart ache with a sore regret at the silvery tears that began to cloud in the crinkles of his eyes. But then he does something that surprised even you.

The way he opened his legs up was almost miniscule: too small for anyone who didn't know this man's quirks and intricacies and giveaways to notice, but a well aimed shot that sent a rush of heat prickling up your cheeks. Before he changed his mind and retreated into himself again, you were quick to scoot your backside over and come to rest far too intimately between the tightening leather of his inner thighs.

'You can't be surprised that we care about you', he started after a moment of comfortable silence, leaning the side of your head to rest gingerly on his intact leg. 'That the whole crew has always cared about you. Look, someone even got you a mop-', you gestured to his side, trying to make him laugh before the sun rises, and thankfully you succeeded.

He shook his head out as if trying to refocus himself as his chuckle died out in his chest. He didn't want to laugh right now. He wanted to focus on the weight on his leg: on the feel of your nose brushing on the length of seam running up to his groin. He blinked back heavy tears that spread along his lashes, sniffling coarsely. He probably should laugh, he thought. He should be fucking howling, spitting, going rabid at the irony that the one thing he had been yearning his whole life was lying right there on his lap, and he only had a few hours left in his pathetic life to savour it.

'How are you doing, by the way? Seriously', you jolt your head up to watch him quizzically. He did his best not to meet your eye, choosing instead to stare at the black grains above Jim's slumped head. 'After, you know, everything that happened with Ed-'

'You don't need to worry about me', he sniffed, but his hand twitched as he lifted it up to rest on his thigh, just above the top of your head. 'It's my job to worry about all of you. Not the other way round.'

'When are you going to get it through your thick skull that we want to worry about you. This isn't some kind of weird mandate or self-preservation tactic on our part Izzy. You may be a fucking idiot, but you're our fucking idiot. Let us take care of you too, like you've been looking out for us.'

He squeezed his eyes shut, his head beginning to shake furiously enough to send his stray silver locks clambering over his eyes. He was glad for their cover, so he wouldn't have to see the way you had lurched forward: the way you were pleading with him with your eyes, as you rose onto your knees and pressed your hands firmly around his waist, just where the joint of his legs met the soft squish of his tummy.

'Don't you shake your head at me. We all know you've been trying to direct Blackbeard's anger your way. We do!' You cocked your head, trying to follow his face as he squirmed in your grasp. Losing your patience, you gripped his jaw with your thumb and pointer finger, directing Izzy's widening eyes back your way. 'We do, Izzy. We know what you've been doing for us. What you've been sacrificing. And I'm sorry - I'm sorry that none of this is fair. I'm sorry that any of this happened at all.'

One. Two. You tapped your finger a third time, your fingernail swirling over the fine nuances of the holster running over his sawed leg.

It had always been your little secret: a shared confidence, between you and Izzy. One tap. Two. Three on each other's arms after battles, three taps there on your shoulder before you went down to your bunk, three fleeting touches burning at the back of his spine to let him know that you were alright: to let him know that he was alright.

You only stopped when you heard a brisk inhale: a sharp whistle that broke through your indulgent repose and made Roach roll over. Thankfully, a moment later, the cook's arm was splayed out across the floor again, and his leg kicked out backwards with a swift jolt up poor Button's behind. Izzy, though. Izzy, despite the surprising tenderness of the moment, was almost smouldering. The muscle by the side of his femur began to writhe underneath just the point of your fingertip, the feeling of just your warmth making him feel too feeble. Too needy to even control the rest of his body; he desperately tried to reach out a hand to shove your shoulder back and push you away, but his mind was too busy swimming with the concentration of trying to remember how to inhale.

The sharp breaths he dragged in painfully were starting to worry you, as were the wracks of his spine as he seemed to writhe backwards and forwards, back arching off the wall before collapsing back down on itself painfully again.

He felt your hand clench around his back, guiding him to sit still again. You were close, far too close - your noses almost touching, as you took a risk and used your free hand to slowly.... god, so fucking slowly he felt like he was going to split in half. He looked like a wounded animal: something terrified of being hurt as his eyes stayed trained on your approaching fingers, face wary until your fingertips touched his hair and tucked it behind his ear.

And then he felt that warmth. That warmth against the shell of his ear. He bit down hard enough on his lip to draw blood, and for once, he was glad for the taste. It was comforting. Familiar. Deserved. He wasn't one for the fucking heartache of tenderness. And god, how his heart ached.

'Come on,' you nestled yourself between his legs again and perched your elbow up on his left leg. 'People must have cared about you before. Might as well get it all out in the open. Be honest with each other now.'

He paused, before the stubbornness wormed its way in again. 'No, they haven't-'

'Well, what about your parents? Your parents must have been kind. Besides, the crew obviously cares about you. I obviously care about you. Stop being so pig-headed.''

He startled you with a laugh: he seemed to choke on it, his teeth baring as he barked it out, yet he still couldn't seem to look at you quite yet. That's alright. You had an eternity left in these few hours.

Kindness?

He couldn't remember a time before joining Stede's crew that he had ever felt such a thing, let alone let it fester in the crevices of his ribcage until he felt the dreaded thing was going to claw its way out. Perhaps, if he let himself fester in the silence for a moment, an image of his mother would squirm its way out of his long repressed memories. Clawing and scratching and digging her pointed nails to dig her way out. No, his mother had never offered him a jot of comfort. She could stay buried in that coffin he had stuffed her down into, instead of rotting inside of him. He had enough barnacles to scrape off his body as it was.

It wasn't as if he had any surprisingly sweet memories of his life before. His mother had never been one for grace: her words always bit at his brain like a frenzied tempest, his actions never good enough. Once, when he was six years old, he had tottered up before the sun rose and followed his older brother down to the docks, trying to please his mother. Even so young, he had spent most of his years yearning to be seen as anything but the 'nuisance' or 'pest' his mother used to spit at his feet, and yearned to return with a line full of fish to please her. To help her with the chores that she always yammered his father had left her to rot with. Had left him. That he rotted away her youth. When he came slinking into the doorway, a nervous smile twitching at his ruddy cheeks, his mother had taken one look at the muddy, damp fringes of his trousers and had slapped him clean across the face for his troubles.

Another part of him remembered her warmth. The same that radiated off your palm as you spread your fingers across his knee; the way she would sometimes scutter into his bed at night, and he could smell the harsh sting of alcohol on her breath as she curled up and hugged him close against her chest. Of the way she would sometimes let him sit on her knee once the three of them had returned home after service, and she would brush back his growing hair and he would curl himself up to chase the stray ray of sunlight that glowed against her neck.

It had left him a Gordian mess of a man. Simultaneously spending his life seeking any kind of validation, any kind of affection, while his stubborn self-preservation did its best to push everyone away.And yet here you came, watching him with those sweet, sad eyes. Swinging the sword to undo him.

'I don't remember much about them', he replied curtly, but not unkindly. 'My father left us when I was young. I was... mainly left to my own devices.'

You nod slowly, letting his words thinking in. Letting the misery drenching every seething heave of his tongue wash over your head. 'Well', you began to rub your thumb in circles against his trousers, 'at least you have us here now. One good thing to add to the pile.'

There we go. The knot's slowly being undone.

You tried to smile, but the intensity of his gaze falling on you again unsettled you.

'You're right.' His voice was far too earnest for his own good. 'I have had one good thing in my life. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.'

You nearly jolted when you felt his hand smack down on top of yours. He had closed his eyes to try and hide himself from his discomfort, but his gloved fingers still slid between yours and squeezed despite himself. Once he was assured they were firmly intertwined: his own grasping tight enough to bust the leather at the stitching, he dared himself to finish his train of thought before he lost his nerve.

'I do... I do care about the crew. None of this was their fault, and they shouldn't have been fucking blamed for it. But I- I, I care about someone else far more than all of this twatty lot put together.'

It's a whisper into the darkness. A despairing yell of defiance against the solitude. A smothered light, long lingering and far longer forgotten. A spark of hope against the threat of ruination. It was a silver tear, glinting like starlight against his iris and falling with a content plop onto the back of your hand.

'I-I-', he stuttered out, clenching his teeth as he wills himself not to cry. 'I-'

The words refused to unlatch from his throat. Luckily, you were adept enough to notice the longing that drew a sad ache across his face.

'Izzy, I-'

'Let me finish', he stumbled out, his whole face now contorting as he struggled with the weight of it all. His bottom lip began to wobble against his will, face falling in on itself.

'I have-I have... love. For you. 'What I'm trying to say is'-, he shakes his head, chiding himself.

'Izzy, I know, it's alright. I know. I understand.' You grabbed tighter onto the back of your hand, enveloping it with your free one until his stopped shaking, begging him to realise you could see him.

'No-. No. If I don't say it now, I'm worried I never will.'

'Take your time, take your time. We have all the time in the world'. A sob finally gasped out from Izzy, chest heaving as he felt you draw his hands up towards your mouth. Still safe. Still warm. Still firmly cupped between your own, but the feel of your lips brushing against his knuckles was enough to send him reeling. The gentle peck that followed, though, was enough to finally let him break free.

A tentative finger reached out, checking for any signs of repulsion before landing awkwardly to point into the blade of your shoulder. He seemed to freeze: immobile marble frozen in fear as he seemed unaware as to what to next. After a few wary blinks, he clumsily spent a few seconds trying to manoeuvre the rest of his arm to cross across your back, before tugging your torso to lean closer towards him.

For a moment, it finally seems as if the world has skittered upright on his axis again. It felt normal. It felt right, feeling him grow comfortable with affection again as he melted, for the second time that week, into your hug. For his sake, as he burrowed his head into the pulse point of your neck until his stubble began to tickle your collar bone, you pretended not to hear the maimed whimpers that struggled past his closed lips.

The only time he moved was to raise his head up towards your nose, bumping it playfully against the tip of your own. Then another graze. A rub, and then another one, his eyes the whole time languidly drawn down to stare at your cupid's bow, until he slowly brought himself down to breathe unsteadily against your mouth. After a final moment of contemplation, he blinked placidly before closing his eyes and tilting his head to close the miniscule distance between the two of you.

His jaw was tense as you ran your finger down it, so busy trying to commit to his memory the pressure of your lips against his bottom one that he was forgetting to breath. But he didn't pull away. In fact, his hand clamped around your neck, digging almost painfully into your back as he stumblingly latched onto you, forcing himself further against your opening mouth. His hand found solace by cupping the back of your skull, chest squeezed against your breasts as he opened his lips and almost devoured you whole.

A loud 'awww!' erupted from your side, making the two of you jolt apart. The only problem was, Izzy's bottom lip had been rather firmly attached to yours. This meant that as you drew back, Izzy, in his stubborn unwillingness to let you go, let his bottom lip drag down along your inner mouth until a line of saliva connected your bottom lips, which only made the person the other side of the brig giggle even louder.

'You guys are cute', Black Pete yawned with a wakening stretch.

'Yes!', Roach chimed in as he teddy bear rolled his lanky legs round in front of him. 'I swear!', he continues, ostentatiously wiping his finger underneath his eye, 'I must be crying! I'm two seconds away from going up there and commencing our escape myself.'

With a tilt of your head that hit Izzy's chin, you looked at the cook incredulously. Izzy only gazed down at you past the crook of his nose, wonderstruck as the he let the words wash over his head.

'You. You really think you can take on all those very competent pirates up there.'

'Of course!'

'You cried for twenty minutes earlier about soup!'

Roach waved his hand unconvincingly in front of his face. 'Broth, it was broth! But I'm great with knives, remember! I have one hidden in my underwear right now!'

'Why... why is it in your underwear?', Oluwande piped in as he rested his head on the side of a barrel.

'Yeah, you weren't captured', Archie added, shuffling her own head off Jim's shoulder to look out past the bars. 'Why isn't it, I don't know, in your pocket or something.'

Even though Roach has opened his mouth to answer, his train of thought is broken by the tired grumble of another one of your friends. 'I hate to admit it, but that was actually very sweet', Lucius chimed in, twisting his lips into a shit-eating grin as he eyed the both of you up, another cigarette now firmly tucked in and freshly lit between his fingers as he took a drag.

'Is everyone on this fucking boat awake?!', Izzy cried, wrapping a hand protectively around your shoulder joint.

You snorted, burying your head protectively against the soft skin of his bellybutton. The sound of the crew beginning to argue with an increasingly impatient Izzy was like music to your ears; the monster was beginning to retreat.

No longer did it hang and shake and pierce the walls with its talons until it bled umbras. It retreated: chased away by the comely love of your crew. Of your family. Of the man who held you protectively against him, blinding you with his tender love.

[itsmealaiah]

Kinktober fic No.1

TW: profanity, slight voyeurism, heavy kink, overstimulation, monster-fucking, magical tentacles, punishment, dubcon, bratty reader

Request: none

Rating: under fifteen dni!!

Being a brat all day always got on tom's nerves, and you did it anyways. What you weren't expecting, however, was to be tied to a bed, spread-eagled, seeing multiple tentacles making their way towards you.

You squirm, thrashing against the cuffs and trying to get out, terrified. One makes their way up your leg, and you scream.

"Please, no!" you beg, your voice cracking.

Tom ignored his pleas, watching intently as the tentacle penetrated deeper. His eyes never left your face, drinking in the mix of fear and arousal. Your body betrayed you, your cock swelling despite your protests. of fear. The tentacle inside of you twisted, the movements deliberate and calculated, designed to elicit the maximum response from your body.

Your breaths grew ragged as the tentacle filled you, stretching you to your limits. The coldness of the slimy appendage was a stark contrast to the heat of your own body, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You felt violated, yet oddly fascinated by the sensation. Your mind screamed for it to stop, but your body was responding to the intrusion, seeming to welcome it.

Tom took a step back, watching as more tentacles joined the first, slithering over your body, each one finding a new place to invade. One coiled around your throat, not tight enough to choke, but enough to remind him of your captor's control. Another tentacle wrapped around your cock, stroking it with a cold, mechanical precision that had you whimpering and squirming in its bonds.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as the tentacle inside you began to pulse, mimicking the rhythm of a heartbeat, filling you completely. You could feel the others probing at your mouth, nostrils, and ears, each one bringing a new wave of sensation that you never knew existed. The panic slowly gave way to a strange curiosity, your body succumbing to the inescapable allure of the alien appendages. The pain morphed into something else, something dark and primal that resonated deep within you, a perverse symphony of pleasure and fear.

The tentacles grew more aggressive, their movements more erratic as the night progressed. Your cries had turned to moans, your body a canvas of pleasure and pain. Your skin was slick with sweat, your eyes glazed over with lust as you were claimed by the monstrous tentacles. Tom's own arousal grew, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants as he observed the scene unfolding before him.

Your body tensed, the tentacle around your cock squeezing tighter. You could feel the pressure building, the unstoppable wave of pleasure that was about to crash over you. You didn't want this, didn't want to give in to the monstrous creation that had taken you over, but your body had other ideas. With a gasp, you felt the orgasm ripping through you, a white-hot explosion of sensation that left you trembling and gasping.

And that was just the beginning of a very long night ahead.

[redeyerhaenyra]

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

Summary: It's been a month since you've broken up with the moon knight system, and you start to notice someone.. watching you

Warnings: Stalking, breaking and entering, kidnapping, yandere themes, angst, no beta we die like harrow

Notes: So after all the positive responses on this post I just had to create in headcanon form- for those who want to listen to the song that inspired this fic, here :)

Breaking up with the moon boys was the hardest thing you'd ever had to do, but it did need to be done.

With the near constant dissappearing to do Khonshu's bidding, sometimes for weeks on end, with only a note or a text to tell you where they were and then radio silence, it was just too much for you. Your heart couldn't take waiting for them, worrying that they would never return, even if Khonshu was protecting them.

And so, you had begun the process of moving out during the time they were away on a mission.

Marc had come home to find your clothes, trinkets, anything that would indicate your presence gone.

You were there though.

Normally you'd be so happy to see him again, running up to him and kissing him with all your might.

Today, instead, you sadly smiled at him.

"Baby, what's up?" Marc had asked, gently holding your forearms after you had rejected his hug. He could tell you were upset.

"Baby?" "I'm leaving, Marc. I'm sorry."

He had stared at you, dumbfounded. You swallowed down your tears- "I can't do this anymore." You didn't have to explain, you knew what he meant.

You waited anxiously for his response, instead spying his eyes roll back into his head, and now you were faced with Steven and oh god, his eyes, they were already tearing up.

Coward, you thought of Marc, which was admittedly a little harsh but breaking up with them would be so much harder facing Steven's sorrowful gaze.

Steven looked terrified, moving to cup your face in his hands and you had to physically move back to stop him.

"D-darlin', please, what'cha talkin' about?" "I'm sorry steven-" "Please don't leave us love, please, 'can't do it without you please-"

"Stop it." You'd said firmly, Steven sobbed. You couldn't help but take his hands in yours, ever wanting to comfort him.

"Steven.. I will always love you," "Then why'd you have to leave!?" "Because I can't do this anymore!!"

You were both crying now. "I-i can't take waiting for you to never come home to me anymore, Steven, I can't do it."

Steven's gazed was fixed on the ground, his tears dripping onto the floorboards. You gave his hands one final squeeze, before pulling away.

"I will always love you, all of you, but my heart cannot take it anymore.. goodbye."

The strength with which it took to pull yourself away from Steven should have won you a medal, and you couldn't stop yourself from crying even more as you left him.

That was a month ago- with the help of a few friends you'd found yourself a decently priced flat for rent on the other side of London. Far enough away, you hoped.

It wasn't far enough. Jake had found out where you lived within days of you leaving. He knew it was wrong, but the part of him that didn't care grew and grew into something monstrous. At this stage the other boys weren't saying anything to disapprove of his actions, and so he continued to watch you.

He'd drive circles around your block to relearn your new routine, and you hadn't yet realised it was his cab you kept seeing.

The one person you actually hadn't said goodbye to was Jake- he hadn't fronted when you'd left, and you would always wonder if he was there, just choosing not to show himself. But if he wasn't? He'd have woken up to the discovery that you weren't together anymore and you'd always feel guilty for that.

But... you tried to move on with your life, as best you could.

It felt wrong to start dating again, but your friends had urged you to, even if it was a one night thing.

The guy you'd matched with on bumble was nice enough, smart, good looking- he wasn't them though. While he was polite and friendly during your dinner date, he wasn't your boys.

He'd walked you home, and you'd set up a second date. All things considered it was successful- but you just felt.. wrong about the whole thing. Like you were cheating, even though you weren't.

You'd guessed it wasn't all that successful, as he'd ghosted you a day or so after your date.

It was a week or so later that you'd seen the news report of his body having turned up in the Thames. God how awful! He hadn't ghosted you- the poor guy had been murdered.

Jake had really earned a bollocking off of Steven and Marc for that one, but he knew they were relieved you wouldn't be seeing that man again.

You'd decided to halt the dating game after that, for a while at least.

You were lonely though, there was no denying. Having no one to cuddle up to in bed sucked.

And so.. the logical conclusion was a pet, no?

Eventually, you found a young, ginger tomcat named "Franklin" in a nearby animal shelter and you just fell in love, you brought him home the same day.

He was great, not exactly filling the whole in your heart left by three men but you certainly adored him, and who wouldn't say no to curling up in bed with a cat every evening? Certainly not you.

One day, you'd left work for your lunch break only for the horrifying realisation to hit you: You'd forgot to feed Franklin that morning! You rushed home as fast you could- only to discover that, you had fed him, even when you were sure you hadn't.

And yet there he was, munching on his bowl of kibble.

Something squeaked under your foot- you looked down- oh, it was one of Franklin's toys. You threw it across the room for him to play with but- hang on... you didn't remember buying him that toy.

You shook your head free of thoughts that you were going mad- everyone forgets things, even buying specific cat toys. Or maybe one of your friends had left it when they'd been over- it didn't matter.

You moved to leave your flat and return to work- only to find your door lock jammed.

The locksmith you'd hurriedly called in was able to fix it in a jiffy, though advised that the jam was probably due to a break in, and that you should change your locks.

A chill ran down your spine- you checked and double checked, nothing of value had been stolen, but someone had been in your home! Is that who had fed Franklin? Who'd left him the toy?

You changed the locks, and threw out the strange toy.

Jake couldn't stop watching you. It was becoming more and more of a problem.

He was ignoring Khonshu and actively pushing Marc and Steven out when they tried to front, knowing they'd put and end to his antics.

But none of them could deny that they wanted, needed you back. Jake just considered himself the only one with the balls to get you back.

There was no warmth in his life now that you weren't there. Steven's flat no longer felt like home without your t-shirts in the laundry, or the brand of coffee you love but Marc hates in the cupboards.

He knew he ought to leave his little girl alone, but the fact remained you were his little girl. Jake would stop at nothing to have his bebita back.

Now it was two months since you'd broken up with the system. Life wasn't perfect, but you were chugging along.

You turned the lights on in your flat, yawning. Work was tough today, but it was Friday, and you had some left over popcorn in the cupboard. Film night~!

"Franklin? Baby? Mummy's home~!" You cooed, knowing that he always came bounding up and purring whenever you came home.

But.. he didn't. Your flat was silent. No distant meowing or the jingle of the bell on his collar. Nothing.

"Franklin?" You stepped further into your flat, worry seeping through you.

"Franklin..?!" Your tone became more and more erratic with the realisation that Franklin wasn't home- and then someone had covered your eyes with their hand, and pressed a strange scented cloth to your mouth. You kicked and screamed and struggled but it was no use- the chloroform had knocked you out in seconds.

Jake held you tenderly to his chest as you faded into unconsciousness. Steven had earlier expressed his distaste at this plan, but neither him or Marc said anything now, so close to having you again.

You woke the next day, nauseous and tired. The distant meowing you heard gave you comfort- it had all been a bad dream.

But when you opened your eyes, you were met with the horrifying scene of Steven's flat, not your own. So familiar, in any other situation you would have been glad to be here.

You shifted to sit up, eyes working their way down to notice your ankle tied to the bed with the restraint normally reserved for Steven.

You choked back a sob- a hum ripping your gaze to the other end of the room.

There lay Franklin, enjoying some pets from the man who's lap he laid on.

Jake Lockley stared back at you, you could tell it was him, you could always tell between them.

"Buenos dias, hermosa." His voice was rich like coffee, normally so comforting but now? It sent a shudder down your spine.

"You and I have some things to discuss, sí?"

[rogueshadow1124]

LOST AND FOUND

[Ryomen Sukuna x reader]

Summary: back in the heiran era Y/N and Sukuna found each other but Y/N disappeared just as quickly. Now it's far in the future, a new era, but what was to come.

Word count: 1595

Warnings: none.

In the ancient era of the Heian Period, Ryomen Sukuna ruled over all with an iron fist. He was the undisputed King of Curses, feared by all who dared to cross his path. His power was legendary, his cruelty unmatched. The very mention of his name caused shudders of terror to ripple through the land. But there was one person who had not feared him—one person whose presence softened the jagged edges of his monstrous soul. Y/N Y/L/N.

Y/N was a mystery, a wanderer who had appeared one fateful day in Sukuna’s life, completely oblivious to the terror he commanded. She had stumbled into his domain, her life fragile and flickering, yet her spirit unyielding. For reasons even Sukuna couldn’t explain, he had spared her, kept her by his side instead of obliterating her as he had done to so many before. Over time, their bond deepened, and for the first time, the King of Curses felt something strange, something foreign—a tenderness that gnawed at the darkness in his heart.

But just as quickly as she had appeared, Y/N vanished, slipping from his grasp without a trace. The years that followed were filled with rage, frustration, and a hollowness that Sukuna could never fill. His wrath grew more terrifying, his cruelty more sadistic, all because the one person who had brought him any semblance of peace was gone. Eventually, Sukuna was defeated, executed by the combined forces of Japan’s most powerful sorcerers, but even as his body was sealed, his mind lingered on Y/N.

He never forgot her.

Centuries later, Sukuna awoke in the body of a boy named Yuji Itadori. The world had changed—its people, its culture, and its technology—but the dark, brooding anger that swirled within Sukuna remained the same. Itadori was nothing more than a vessel, a container for Sukuna's immense power. In this new world, Sukuna sought nothing but the restoration of his former strength, eager to reign over the weak and claim his place as the King of Curses once again.

But something unexpected happened.

As Sukuna adapted to this unfamiliar time, bound to the whims of the young and surprisingly resilient Yuji, he began to notice an eerie familiarity. A presence, almost imperceptible at first, haunted his senses like a whisper from a past he had long tried to bury. For weeks, it was nothing more than a feeling—a fleeting sensation of déjà vu. But one day, while Itadori was on a mission with his comrades, Sukuna sensed it clearly, an unmistakable tug in the pit of his soul.

It was Y/N.

The air was heavy with the scent of rain as Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, and Nobara Kugisaki approached an abandoned shrine in the heart of Tokyo. The sky was dark, thick clouds rumbling with the threat of a storm. The mission had been simple enough—exorcise a low-level curse that had been terrorizing the area. But the closer they got to the shrine, the more uneasy Itadori felt.

Suddenly, Sukuna stirred within him, more forceful than ever before.

"Itadori," Sukuna’s voice dripped with an uncharacteristic urgency, “stop.”

"What? Why?" Itadori muttered, confused by the sudden demand.

"Stop moving. There’s something here… something I need to see."

Despite his better judgment, Itadori hesitated, coming to a halt as the others glanced back at him, perplexed.

“Is something wrong?” Fushiguro asked, his brows furrowed in suspicion.

But Itadori’s focus was inward, grappling with the sudden shift in Sukuna’s demeanor. The curse had never been like this—never this intense, this… frantic.

Before he could respond, the air in front of them shimmered. The faint outline of a figure emerged from the shadows, bathed in the dim light of the setting sun. A woman, her silhouette familiar in ways that sent chills down Itadori’s spine.

She stepped into the light, her form becoming clearer, and Sukuna—locked deep within the confines of his vessel—felt the earth shatter beneath him.

It was her. It was Y/N.

Sukuna’s heart, if such a thing still existed in that hollow chest of his, slammed against his ribs. He had convinced himself that Y/N was gone, lost to time like the rest of his ancient past. Yet here she stood, in the same flesh, the same soft features that had once haunted his dreams. Her eyes, wide and confused, scanned the group before landing on Itadori.

On him.

On Sukuna.

"Who are you?" Nobara asked, her voice steady, though tinged with wariness.

The woman’s gaze never left Itadori, and Sukuna knew she recognized him—or rather, what was inside of him. It was as if she could see through the boy, beyond the surface, and into the dark pit where Sukuna's soul resided.

Y/N’s voice trembled when she finally spoke, “Ryomen... Sukuna?”

The sound of her voice—it was like a knife twisting in his chest. How many years had passed? How was she still here? How could she still be alive?

Itadori could feel Sukuna’s overwhelming surge of emotions, emotions that he had never associated with the malevolent curse. For once, the King of Curses wasn’t angry, wasn’t vengeful—he was something else. Shocked? Unsettled?

Sukuna forced himself to the surface, taking control of Itadori’s body with a wave of energy that made the boy's companions stumble back.

"Sukuna!" Fushiguro growled, his fists clenching in preparation for a fight.

But Sukuna wasn’t interested in them. His eyes were fixed on Y/N, his gaze sharp and disbelieving as he towered over her, standing in a body that wasn’t truly his.

“How are you here?” Sukuna’s voice was low, dangerous, yet laced with something akin to wonder. “You should be dead. Long dead.”

Y/N’s eyes were wide, brimming with the weight of centuries of memories. She stepped forward, her face pale but resolute, as if searching for some remnant of the man she had once known within the demon now inhabiting a stranger’s body.

“I—I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice fragile, trembling. “I don’t know how I’m here. One day I was in your time, and the next… everything was different. I’ve been searching for answers, for you… ever since.”

Sukuna’s expression hardened, though his emotions swirled chaotically beneath the surface. His memories of Y/N—of the years they had spent together—came rushing back, vivid and raw. She had been the only person to ever see him as something other than a monster, and it had driven him mad when she disappeared.

He had scoured the earth, razed villages, and destroyed kingdoms, all in a vain attempt to find her, to reclaim what had been taken from him. Yet, even in his most vicious moments, he had never imagined she would be here—in this time, in this world.

"You left," Sukuna growled, the bitterness in his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You vanished without a trace. Why?"

Y/N’s face twisted in pain as she tried to piece together the fragmented memories of her past. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t even remember what happened. One moment I was with you, and the next… everything was gone. I was alone. I’ve been alone for centuries.”

Her words hit Sukuna harder than he expected. Centuries. She had been alive all this time, wandering a world that had forgotten her. The thought of her suffering, of her searching for him while he had been sealed away, ignited something deep within him—a fury that had nothing to do with curses or power.

"Why didn’t you come for me sooner?" Sukuna’s voice was dangerously low, but there was an undercurrent of desperation in it.

Y/N shook her head, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I didn’t know where to look. I didn’t know if you were even alive. I’ve been trying—trying to find you, to understand why I’m still here, why I haven’t aged or died.”

For the first time in his long, violent existence, Sukuna found himself at a loss for words. The King of Curses, the monster that had terrorized the Heian era, stood frozen in the face of something he had never known how to confront—vulnerability. Y/N was the only person who had ever made him feel anything beyond the lust for power and destruction, and now, centuries later, she stood before him, just as broken as he was.

In a rare moment of clarity, Sukuna released his grip on Itadori’s body, allowing the boy to regain control. Itadori stumbled, gasping for air, his eyes wide in confusion as he tried to process what had just happened.

But Y/N’s gaze never left Sukuna, even as Itadori looked at her with bewilderment. She knew who she was speaking to, even if the body was not his own.

“Ryomen,” she whispered, her voice soft and aching. “I never stopped searching for you.”

Itadori, still recovering from the sudden loss of control, glanced between Y/N and his comrades, unsure of what to do. But before he could say anything, Y/N stepped closer, her hand trembling as she reached out to touch Itadori’s chest—Sukuna’s chest.

“I don’t know why fate has brought us here,” she murmured, her fingers ghosting over Itadori’s shirt as if she were trying to reach the man buried beneath. “But I’ve been waiting for this moment for longer than I can remember.”

And for the first time in centuries, Sukuna—the King of Curses, the most feared being to have ever walked the earth—felt something other than rage. It was the faintest glimmer of hope, a small flicker in the endless darkness that consumed him.

It was Y/N. And she was here.

[hyperfix-wip]

Octobie Halloween: The Demon in the Dark pt. 1

Pairing: Demon! Hobie Brown x fem!Witch! Reader

Summary: Forced to summon a demon by your master's bidding, you stare face to face with a powerful entity as it takes an interest in you.

Word count: 4.8k

Author's Note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN WEEKEND! This particular piece leaned a lot more into the horror aspect of Halloween than I expected, and it does depict some triggering moments, so please read at your own risk. Part 2 will be uploaded within the next few days. Event is by @the-kr8tor and banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment.

Tags: Demon!Hobie, Witch!Reader, fem!Reader, Demons, Witches, Halloween, Depictions of Monster Appearance, Horror, TW Depictions of Violence, TW Depictions of Abuse, TW Mentions of Abuse, TW Blood, Suggestive Content

Your mother once told you that angels and demons were two beings of the same coin, as blasphemous as it may seem to others. Angels, who people assume would be the most ethereal of beings, can have the most devilish and monstrous forms, while demons can hide their wickedness with the most angelic of faces.

As witches, your mother had warned you of the risks of summoning such creatures– especially demons. When you make a deal with a demon, you can achieve your greatest of desires in exchange for something of equal value. However, you must be wary of what you wish for when dealing with a demon. Fickle and selfish by nature, they could twist your words and wishes into the worst nightmares that would change your fate and ruin your life.

Your mother’s warnings could not have rung in your mind in a more opportune time than at this moment, when one such demon stood in front of you in the bloody summoning circle you drew in your dark, barren room. 

Pools of molten gold shined through the dark smoke before the smoke dissipated, revealing a tall, lean man enrobed in black. Black tendrils trailed down from his head down his back, the ends of them slowly slithering along the bloodied lines of the summoning circle under his feet. Marks of webbing and spiders scattered across his skin, and ornate pieces of gold line along the skin on his face– gold balls lined along his eyebrows, numerous earrings pierced along his pointed ears, and a gold ring hung from his septum. Sharp, blackened claws peeked through the black sleeves of his robe, which shifted between silken fabric and dark shadows, while a golden aura wrapped around his body.

He was the most beautiful and terrifying sight you had ever seen.

His presence overwhelmed you, fear chaining your kneeling body down to the stone floor in front of the towering demon. Tears ran down your dirty, haggard face while your breath grew shallow and shaky. Images of your potential death flickered in your mind– his claws tearing through your tattered rags and flesh, his moving tendrils wrapping around your throat until your neck broke, blood draining from you while he devoured your corpse…

Dear god, you thought to yourself, you are going to die.

Your bloodied, gnarled hands tremble against the summoning circle, the one you were forced to make, no matter how much you frantically begged your master not to, while a sudden urge to retch creeped up to the back of your throat.

The demon himself tilted his head to the side as he peered down at the terrified mortal in front of him, a flicker of curiosity and compassion softening his golden eyes, before he finally opened his mouth.

“Why have you summoned me, mortal?”

A shiver ran down your spine, the smooth, deep timbre of his voice rumbling around the small stone cell of a room. Despite his overpowering presence over you, his voice is calm, dare you say comforting, and you struggled not to hiccup a sob in front of him. Swallowing down the burning bile and growing lump in the back of your throat, you shakily take a breath before forcing your own voice out.

“O-o powerful fallen angel, fol-follower of all-all things dark and taboo…please have mercy on me–”

SLAM!

You flinched and crumpled onto the stone floor with a fearful cry while someone pounds against the wooden door behind you.

“You damn wretch!” an angry male voice boomed through the wooden door and echoed against the stone walls. “Have you summoned the demon yet?!”

You curled up into a ball and trembled in front of the aforementioned demon, hyperventilating from the waves of stress and anxiety washing over your body, while a sudden chill weighed down on your body and a deep growl rumbled in front of you. Underneath you, small tendrils slowly reached up to your face from the shadows, ghosting along your cheeks while you trembled and froze in fear.

Another slam echoed through the room, this time the wooden door hitting against the stone wall, and a scream ripped through your throat before you cowered and crawled away to a dark, faraway corner. You trembled and curled yourself into the cold, hard crevice as an old, portly man in a gold-trimmed coat and breeches sauntered into the room. The man, your master, set his beady eyes on the demon, and his mustachioed lips curl up into an arrogant smile as he takes his tophat off.

“O great demon,” your master greeted the demon as he stepped closer before giving him a slight bow. “I have sought out far and wide for your presence…”

The demon’s face curled up into a disgusted scowl while his tendrils slowly writhe behind him, his nose flaring up in response to the old man approaching him, the man’s odor assaulting the demon’s senses.

“And for what reason did you seek me out, worm?”

The demon’s calm voice turned cold and sharp, cutting through the air like a knife while the room grew more frigid and tense. The demon crossed his arms over his broad chest and stared down at your master with utter disdain.

Your master’s eye twitched from the blatant disrespect from the demon, and you trembled from the thought of the growing wrath hidden behind that cursed smile of your master’s, but he managed to maintain his composure in front of the demon.

“I seek your assistance, Great One,” your master answered through gritted teeth, “assistance to obtain power.”

The demon’s face gradually drops to a stoic deadpan, as if unimpressed by the man’s proposition. His golden eyes then drift over to you trembling in the corner, too terrified to speak while you watch the conversation, and they briefly softened at the sight of you before they hardened back at your master.

“Is that all?” the demon asked with an uninterested tone, slowly tilting his head to the side until a loud crack echoed in the room. “Then in exchange for this power, what do you offer me?”

A wicked grin curled up on your master’s lips before his beady eyes finally turned to you in the corner, and your stomach dropped as he began to stomp over to you.

“Oh god, no, please–” you whimpered out before you let out a pained yelp as your master grabbed a handful of your chopped up hair and dragged you back in front of the demon. Your master forced your head down onto the stone floor, a throbbing pain surging into your head, and you bit back another cry as you kneel in front of the monster in front of you.

“Behold– a young witch for you,” your master sneered at you as he yanked your choppy, tangled hair again and forced you to look up at the demon. “This little slave can give you more power once you consume her.”

Blood trickled down from your forehead as terror screamed in your wavering eyes, tears welling up and threatening to run down your face again.

The demon’s face hardened even more in front of the two mortals while shadowy tendrils slowly rose up from the floor. Golden eyes burned against the darkness, like the sun glaring down and beating down your skin until it festered, before he spoke again.

“That is what you offer me in exchange for my services? A slave?”

The demon’s voice was low and dangerous, and the tension in the room continued to weigh down and crush you as some of his tendrils tensed up and writhed. His clawed hands balled up into fists, his knuckles practically white from how tightly clenched they were.

Your master, ignorant of the looming danger and tension in the room, merely stared up at the glowering demon with a salesman-like grin as he threw you back down onto the ground. “She may be a dirty, pathetic little bitch, but she has her…use.”

You choked out a shaky breath as you curled up on the ground again, the overbearing presence of the powerful demon and the reality of the situation hitting you in full force, while your master continued his offer.

“As she is my property, if we are to enter a contract, I will transfer my ownership over her to you…”

The demon’s eyes narrowed into slits, and a low growl rumbled deep in his chest as his dark power emitted from his body. You trembled and struggled to breathe as your skin crawled from the menacing aura, your fingers itching to claw your skin to be free from the festering sensation.

“You would give her to me? To do as I wish with her?”

Your blood ran cold from the demon’s voice, low with a dangerous edge, as the demon slowly bent down to your master’s eye level, looming over the pig-like man with a cold glare. Much to your dread, your master still stood in front of the demon, ignorant of the latter’s brewing ire.

“Of course!” You master proclaimed with a clap of his hands. “She is no use to me now, not when she has done her job of summoning you to me.”

Your eyes nervously looked up from the ground, and blood drained from your face as the demon’s mouth slowly curled up into a sinister smirk. His eyes glowed brighter in the dark, and the air in the room crackled with a dark aura.

“Hm…that is a tempting deal,” the demon mused with a low chuckle, and you shudder at what could be running in the monster’s mind. “I suppose that can be arranged.”

The demon leans closer to the mortal man with a sneer. “But be warned, worm. This little witch is mine now, and I will do as I please with her. I will not return her to you. Intact or otherwise.”

He continued to loom over your master with a feral look in his eyes, as if daring the insignificant, pathetic excuse of a mortal to object.

Your master, none the wiser of the demon’s extent of his contempt, grinned wickedly. “Marvelous! We have a deal then!”

As soon as those words left your now-former master’s mouth, dark energy exploded in the room and overtook the whole space. The air grew stifling for you as you struggled to push yourself up, and dread crashed into your body once your eyes landed on the demon’s mouth transforming into a grin with spider-like fangs.

“Good. Now leave us,” the demon growled. “Your presence is no longer needed.”

The mortal man’s smile instantly dropped at the demon’s words.

“But what about the details of our contract–”

The demon roared at the man, who fell and crumpled onto the ground before quickly running out of the stone room with his tail between his legs and slamming the wooden door behind him. Dread clawed up from your chest from the final slam of the door, and you struggled to keep your trembling down under the demon’s shadow before you nervously turned around to face him alone.

The fangs slowly retracted into the demon’s mouth, and his glowing eyes dimmed down as his gaze drifted to you cowering on the floor. He took a slow, deep breath, and the dark energy slowly dissipated from the room before he slowly crouched down in front of you. You tried to crawl back and away from the demon, but small tendrils shapeshifted from his shadow and wrapped around your limbs.

“Do not move.”

His voice grew soft and careful, the complete opposite from his earlier interaction with your master– well, former master. His eyes shifted from a cold, metallic gold into a warmed honey-amber while he gazed down at you, as if memorizing your very presence in front of him, before his clawed hand reached to your chin to tilt your head up and had you meet his almost predatory eyes.

“You are mine now, little witch,” he whispered to you as his long, nimble finger caressed along your jaw and his thumb carefully brushed against the seam of your bottom lip. “You summoned a demon, little one, and now you are mine to do with as I please.” 

A cold chill ran down your spine as the demon leaned closer to your face, his nose brushing against your cheek and gently inhaling your scent. Bile burned in the back of your throat again while your face curled up to prevent any welling tears from rolling down your cheeks again. A quiet tut echoed from the demon’s mouth while his hand left your chin and reached up to your cheek, his clawed finger tenderly brushing a tear away from one of your eyes.

“There, there now, little one. No need to cry,” the demon quietly reassured you as his hand cupped your cheek before he brushed his lips against the other.

Your body seized at the unexpected kiss, tears instantly spilling down your cheeks again, but the demon just shushed you as he slowly kissed the tears away from your face. Terror and confusion plagued your mind, caught off guard by the sweet, loving action from the horrifying demon.

“Relax, little one,” the demon whispered against your skin, “I will not hurt you…”

He continued to press more kisses along your face– your cheeks, your forehead, your brow bones, your eyelids. His other arm wrapped around you and pulled you against his chest, easily holding you still against him while he pressed more kisses against your face and drank in your presence. The demon could practically feel the magical power thrumming in your veins, the sweet, untapped potential that he now owned, before he reluctantly pulled away slightly from you and gazed down with a tender smile.

“What is your name, little witch?” his voice rumbled against you with curiosity.

Despite the softer, calming approach from the demon, you still trembled in trepidation as you muttered your name to him. His smile grew as he repeated it to you, your name like honey on his lips, before he gently brushed a strand of your hair from your face.

“Your name suits you, little one…”

Your heart skipped a beat from his words, and for a moment you found yourself enthralled by his beauty before the fear in your mind forced your eyes away from him.

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest before he caressed your face again and turned your gaze back at him. “Do I terrify you, young witch?”

His pools of amber-gold entranced you, but your fear of him still lingered in your head as you anxiously nod. “Y-yes…”

A low hum vibrated from the back of his throat before he leaned his head down to look at you closer. “And why is that?” he asked, his tone gentler than you would expect from the demon.

A lump clung to the back of your throat, but you struggled to swallow it down before forcing yourself to answer.

“Y-you are a powerful demon,” you croaked out, “and– and demons are not-notorious for killing and ea-eating humans, regardless if-if the person summoned or-or made a contract with them…”

A small hiccup snuck up on you as more tears welled up in your eyes under his gaze.

“You…you hold my life in your hands.”

The demon slowly wrapped his arms around you as you stumbled with your words, his face furrowing into a pensive frown from the fear lingering in you. For reasons unknown, the idea of you fearing him made his chest clench.

“And would you believe me if I said I will not harm you?”

A brief urge to lie to the demon surged up to your tongue. A lie of you not fearing for your life, of not thinking a demon would harm you.

However, you heard of that promise of safety before– that hideous lie that cost you your mother’s life and your freedom.

You swallow the bittersweet lie down the walls of your throat before uttering your answer.

“...no.”

The demon clenched his jaw at your response, and for a brief moment his eyes flickered with dejection before he pulled away from you slightly again.

“Why not?” he simply asked, and you questioned yourself if you heard a hint of disappointment and concern in his voice.

The fear in your body slowly faded away the more you spoke to the demon, but it still resided in your chest as you answered. “There are…there are those with less power than you who have said that to me before.”

You looked down from his gaze to the black robes draped across his broad chest, your eyes drifting to the thin, golden web-like stitching along the fabric to tamp the vulnerability welling up in your chest. “They lied, of course.”

Your body tensed up a bit when his arms wrapped around you tighter, but somehow that brought you a small sense of comfort. Your heart slowly crawled up to the back of your throat while the back of your eyes started to burn, but you swallowed the bitter lump down your throat again and blinked away the sting in your eyes. “If they were capable of doing that, I cannot even imagine what you could do to me…”

A low growl rumbled in the demon’s chest as the tendrils on his head started to writhe with agitation, his mind painting a picture of whatever horrors he could think of that could be inflicted on the young witch in his arms. He immediately thought of the pig-like man who gladly threw you away to him, and outrage surged in his heart, something he never thought he would feel throbbing in his chest again.

“I am not like that disgusting little worm,” he snarled, his golden eyes burning into your eyes with disdain for the mortal man. “I am nothing like that pathetic recreant.”

The demon slowly rose to his feet and picked you up to your own, his tendrils slowly wrapping around your waist to keep you up while his clawed hands gently cupped your cheeks to keep your eyes on him.

“I can be cruel. I can be violent. I can be merciless if I want to. But I have no desire to hurt you, little one.”

A shiver ran down your spine as your hands rested on his chest and clutched onto his robes, but hesitation still lingered in your mind.

“...what do you plan on doing to me then?”

A small smirk curled up on the demon’s lips while his black-stained thumb caressed your cheek. “Now that would be telling.”

Another rumble in his chest vibrated against you before one of his hands reached down to grab yours. “Suffice it to say I require your time. Your energy…”

He lifted your hand, revealing your gnarled, bleeding fingertips and broken nails, before pulling it close to his lips. “Your blood…”

His golden eyes glowed as his lips gently wrapped around your thumb and sucked the red ichor off it, his tongue slowly swirling around the digit and savoring the sweet taste of your blood before he pulled his mouth away with a flick of his tongue.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat when your eyes landed on the now-healed thumb, and you quickly darted your eyes back to his pools of warm amber. Your legs gave out, but his tendrils kept you up while he gazed down at you with a brazen smirk.

The blood on his tongue was stronger than the demon anticipated, the dying magical power from the exposed wound sending an addictive rush through his veins, briefly dilating his pupils before they returned to normal. A small huff of laughter slipped through his lips before he pulled your hands to his lips and pressed some kisses along your fingertips.

“I promise you, little one, I will treat you with far more care than any lowly human could once we enter into our contract. Would you not agree, my sweet little witch?”

You stared up at the bewitching demon with a dazed nod, but you soon snapped out of it once you processed his words. “Wait– our contract? I thought you were going to make one with–”

“That vile tick was not the one who summoned me,” the demon interrupted with repugnance as he pulled you closer. “And even if it did, its wish is far too mundane and vague for it to come into fruition the way the little pest would wish.”

The demon’s face curled up into a scowl before he leaned his face to the crook of your neck. “Even the mere thought of that lout reminds me of that disgusting odor he was emitting.”

A slight shudder wracked the demon’s body before he breathed in your scent and traced his nose along your throat. A soft groan reverberated in his throat before his lips grazed against your skin, relishing the way you gradually melted in his arms with a shiver. “My dear, you taste so sweet…”

He brushed another kiss against your neck, lingering on the sensation of your pulse thrumming against his lips. “Your blood, your skin…better than any ambrosia I ever had. Better than any feast…”

His lips trailed down lower on your neck, savoring the breathless gasps catching in your throat, until he reached your shoulder. “I am almost tempted to have a bite, but the mere thought of defacing your body with my teeth…it would just be a waste.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you rolled your head back with a whimper while he planted more kisses along your skin and wrapped his arms back around your body. A wave of warmth gently washed over you as you clutched onto his robes, lulling you in a dazed state as your fear ebbed out of your body.

A smirk slowly curled up on the demon’s lips as he pulled away a bit from your neck before a clawed finger tentatively hooked under the collar of your ratty, patched-up dress and slowly pulled it to the side. “No, I would prefer to take my time to…taste…you…”

He slowly trailed off once his eyes landed on your skin that was underneath your rags. It was marred with purple and yellow bruises, thin red whip lines, overlapping skin and burns, and–the most damning of all to the demon– a small circular brand on your left bosom.

You gradually came to once you felt the gentle dragging of the ratty fabric against your shoulder, and your blood ran cold the moment your eyes landed on the hardened glare of his eyes on your skin. The air in the room suddenly grew cold and full of dark energy again, crackling and swirling around the both of you as shadowy tendrils shot up from the shadows around the visibly irate demon.

“What the hell is that?” the demon asked, his voice barely above a hoarse mutter. “That small circle on your skin…”

Your tongue weighed heavy in your mouth like lead as you trembled in his arms again, but you swallowed the bile burning down your throat before you reluctantly responded.

“...My brand. M-my mast–”

You almost heaved at the memory of when your former master pulled the blaring hot branding iron from his fireplace, but you blinked away the tears and attempted to breathe evenly in front of the demon. “My- my former master…he did- did not want a l-large branding on me…he wanted some-something subtle.”

The demon’s eyes sharpen, and the golden hue of his irises gradually bled out into the whites of his eyes while his pupils started to split up until they transformed into spider-like eyes.

“That little vermin…branded you?”

A wave of dark energy exploded from the demon as more tendrils shot up from the darkness, some of them straightening and stabbing down into the stone walls like powerful spider legs. Rage coursed through the demon’s veins as his voice ripped through his throat.

“How dare–when I see that disgusting fucking creature, I will tear it apart limb from limb while hexing it to stay alive–”

You quickly clutched your hands on his shoulders before you coughed up blood on his chest, the sudden rush of dark energy slamming against you like a train that you overheard your former master talking about. Ichor and iron clung inside your mouth, but you gripped onto him while staring up at him with tears in your eyes, wheezing and struggling to breathe in the thick miasma the demon exuded.

The demon’s eyes landed on you and your bloody mouth before they instantly reverted back to normal, and all the shadowy tendrils and dark energy evaporated in thin air. Panic flooded the demon’s eyes as he frantically pulled you into a tight embrace.

“Little one– little one– I am so sorry, I did not– I did not mean to– Fuck– please, please forgive me–”

You gasped out some breaths while coughing up some coagulated blood, sputtering it out of your mouth while your hands shakily squeezed his shoulders in an attempt to massage them. You blinked away more involuntary tears while your bloodied lips pressed against his shoulder, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly melt away while he clung to you like a lifeline. His hand hesitantly slid up to caress the back of your head, his black clawed fingers carefully running through your hair, before he pressed his lips against your temple.

“Fuck, I-I did not mean to– did not mean to hurt you, never meant to harm you,” the demon muttered into your hair. “Damn it, please forgive me, little one…”

You only nodded with a whimper in response before you pressed another kiss on his shoulder. The demon shuddered from the tender touch of your lips before he gently pulled you away to peer down at you with remorse in his eyes.

“What do you desire, little one?” he whispered as his other hand trailed up from your waist to your lips to wipe your blood off. “What would you like me to do? I will give you anything– anything– to make this up to you.”

His face pinched up into a pained expression the more he gazed down at you while a golden aura slowly emitted from his figure. “Would you like revenge on that filth that harmed you? Would you like to unlock your potential power? What would you like me to do for you, my dear?...”

Labored breaths puffed out from your blood-stained lips before you shakily reached up to cup his face, and you looked up at him with forgiveness in your wavering eyes.

“Just…just want to be safe,” you rasped out, your emotions welling up in your chest and rising up to the back of your throat. “Just- just keep me safe from now on…”

A flash of pain and affection pooled in his golden-amber eyes as the golden aura around his body glowed brighter from your request, and he slowly nodded before pulling you into a gentle, lingering kiss. You fluttered your eyes as you accepted his wordless apology, and you melted and grew languid in his arms.

This kiss did not revile you, did not make you vomit until your throat burned, did not make you want to cut your tongue out to bleed and be rid of your life.

This kiss made you feel warm, a gentle comfort blanketing over you, lingering over your heart before he reluctantly pulled away. His eyes softened as he carefully pulled at your tattered collar again, watching the hideous brand be overtaken by a golden light on your chest before fading away into a large black mark of a spider.

Your chest slowly eased up until you could breathe evenly again, and your eyes widened at the sight of golden light enveloping the tips of your fingers and radiating under your rags before fading away into black web-like marks. While you were distracted by your healed wounds and new markings, more black tendrils slowly rose from the demon’s shadow again and gently wrapped around your body. The demon tenderly gazed down at you as he pulled his arms away before you slowly started to skin into the warm darkness with the tendrils. The familiar chill of fear was nowhere in you in that moment, only a dazed, reverent acceptance as a small smile barely curled up on your lips.

“I will not harm you again, little witch,” the demon reassured you as his shadow gradually swallowed you up. “No one will harm you. Ever again. You are now under my protection. Do you understand?”

You only nod in response as his tendrils snaked up and wrapped up around your body more and carefully pulled you into the shadow. One of them reached up around your neck and caressed your cheek, as if comforting you while darkness creeped up in your vision of the merciful demon and engulfed you.

[bones4thecats]

I'm not sure if you accepting RoR request but can I request Shiva, Buddha, Qin Shi Huang and Nikola Tesla with a fem reader that's Nyarlathotep? (crawling chaos from HP Lovecraft) she looks normal and even cute most of the time but she can be very much terrifying when turning into her cosmic horror form or if she wants to just mess around with the gods (mostly Zeus and Odin) by messing with their heads most of the time and they can't do much because she's an outer god but around them she's very sweet and helpful and ties her best to push away her violent tendencies for their sake

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Shiva, Buddha, Qin Shi Huang, and Nikola Tesla Name: {Character} with a Nyarlathotep! Reader Requester: Anonymous

A/N: At this point, I may as well make a page dedicated to my H.P. Lovecraft-themed Reader pieces, since I've written like three pieces now! It's ironic because of how much I love reading about these characters, lmao

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🪩 This man thrives on destruction, he's the God of it for crying out loud!

🪩 When he first met you, you and your father, Azathoth, were attending the Gods' Council meeting, and you were one of the Gods who decided to spare Humanity, and when asked by him, you just replied with a sly

" Oh, I do not wish for them to live because of pity or love, silly! Quite the opposite, actually! Humans have caused so much chaos and madness, it's wonderful! And, I plan on keeping them for as long as I find them enjoyable. Now, ta-ta~ "

🪩 He'd be lying if he said he didn't find you a hint alluring, you looked far cuter than what was written down, you were always described as a being that looked more 'monstrous' and 'hideous' than anything Humanity could've created

🪩 Shiva and you would normally speak whenever necessary, but, after a while, your more distant bond grew into a blooming friendship and eventual marriage!

🪩 This God definitely doesn't care about how mad you sound with your words, he just fears that maybe one day you'll either say something to the wrong person or you'll end up going unstoppable with madness and get annihilated by a stronger being

🪩 Whenever Loki messes around with Shiva, you end up messing with his mind a lot, prompting Odin to knock you away, which makes you target him, much to his birds' annoyance

🪩 Shiva tried pushing his own violent tendencies away for you and his fellow wives' sake, and because of this, he ends up having a special day every month for him to go out and let out those thoughts and actions, and, when he notices just how much pressure was building on you, he'd take you with him

" Go ahead and blow that massive boulder up! Good job, my Being of Chaos! "

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🍭 This guy was concerned when he first met you, you were seemingly more insane than the other Gods he met, and that included those such as Loki, and we all know how crazy that guy is

🍭 The only reason this guy even spoke to you was because of how strongly your father stood with the destruction of Humanity, every. single. time. that the Gods voted

🍭 Buddha was getting annoyed with how ignorant and oblivious your father was, and he could tell you were as well, and when he asked you about how you truly felt about your father, you acknowledged him, unlike many different Gods, and spoke to him calmly with hidden insanity

" My father is quite ignorant and, to be honest, sometimes even I wonder how in the name of the universe he has so much power. But, let me be honest with you, Buddha. Because of this, he's fun to manipulate. But, don't tell anyone about that, yeah? Yeah! Alright, gotta go, bye! "

🍭 He was quite off-put when he asked Brunhilde about you, and when she said how dangerous and hideous of a being you were, he was confused, you were adorable and seemingly sweet

🍭 Your God-friend and you were some of the only Gods who voted for Humanity's safety, though, you both kept it to yourselves, not wishing to have a certain someone's rage on your asses

🍭 When Ragnarok commenced, you teleported to speak to Brunhilde, telling her your plan of siding with Humanity during the Gods' strongest point to break them down mentally, you did love to watch them struggle, after all!

🍭 After finding out that Buddha was siding with Humanity, you jumped down, causing many to believe you were fighting against him, but, when you announced your defect to their side, your father's rage knew no bounds

" Oh, father, just how much of an ignorant prick can you be? Humanity does have some, decent, qualities to them. And while I may never fully understand them, I will try my best to do so. Anyways, have fun fighting, my dear! "

🍭 Much like Shiva, he appreciates how much you try staying sane around him and the Human Fighters, it lets him know just how much you do care about him

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👑 When Qin first met you, it was because one of your father's minions accidentally caused mass destruction to his home, leaving many lives in ruin and an emperor very, very, upset

👑 You attending the small meeting with your father, though you spent your time screwing around with the nearby humans, causing the ruler to ignore your father's rambles of incoherentness

👑 While he initially disliked how unsettlingly cute yet sadistic you were, once he got to know you a bit better, thanks to some well-spent time on Earth by yourself, he began to see you for what you really were

👑 Being raised by such a cruel yet idiotic being, you really didn't have the best examples when it came to interactions with other brings, heck, you had some of the most horrendous relationships with your two siblings, Nameless Mist and Darkness

👑 During one of your first meetings while on decent terms, he asked you exactly what you were going to do, since he had heard about Ragnarok forming from one of the guards of his

" Ragnarok? It sounds pretty pathetic to me, honestly. Though, I suppose watching the smug smirks of those so called Gods fade would make me smile myself. I kid, I kid! Oh, you see right through me, emperor! Honestly, really it's a funny thing, but, I may side with Humanity in the downfall, you know how I am! "

👑 Qin disliked how cruel and hostile you were with pretty much anyone, but, when he noticed how much softer and seemingly polite you were with his fellow fighters, he would smile to himself

👑 You must really care about him if it meant you were trying to push back the only thing you ever knew behind just so he could be happier and not driven to the brink of insanity himself from stress

" Why am I so kind with the mortals? I figured I was being sneaky with my behavior, oh well! They're far weaker appearing then they really are, I suppose. And I respect that, to a degree. I'm not going soft, damn you! "

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🧪 Nikola Tesla, the man known on Earth as the 'Ultimate Mad Scientist of His Time', and his title alone was enough to interest you

🧪 Once you learned of where he resided in Valhalla, you took a small trip there, leaving a simply written note on the table your father sat at daily, and setting a straight-lined course there

🧪 He was just working on his newest invention when his doors slammed open, making him jump and snap his head back to see a fairly tall humanoid-being standing there

🧪 While he stared at you, you smiled and ran up to him, allowing your form to float above him and ask if he was indeed the human known as 'Nikola Tesla'

🧪 Once reassuring his identity, you began asking about his work, from how he made something so complicated look so seemingly simple, despite the multitude of horrendously long equation written on his chalkboard

🧪 Due to his own curiosity, Nikola had to push himself to ask who and what you were, in which you just laughed and answered him with a honey-coated voice

" Who am I? That's quite surprising, dearest mortal! I am Y/N, the offspring of the Outer God, Azathoth, and the God of Madness, at least in many's eyes I am. Humans are different creatures... ANYWAYS! How about you explain about that, uh, what did you call it again? Ah, yes! The electric engineering, how does that work again? "

🧪 Nikola was very off-put by how devoted you were to being by his side to learn everything he was working on, and, in all honesty, he kinda enjoyed having you around to speak to, it made him feel a little less lonely

🧪 While he was being scolded by Brunhilde for speaking to a God who was said to have only sided with Humanity to make them suffer at their own hands, he couldn't help but argue back with how you were far more gentle with his fellow scientists when working on his armory

" Brunhilde. While I agree with the fact that their father isn't ideal in the slightest, Y/N is going behind his and the multitude of Gods' backs just to help me and my fellow geniuses win Ragnarok. You may not trust them, but I do. Now, I recommend you leave before they arrive, it may get ugly, and I do not wish for their aura to destroy our hard work. "