#monster freez 'ems

[fitsofgloom]

It Was A Cold Chill

[fisherrprince]

hi hello i was thinking abt it bc of ur posts on vani and ven recently. what are ur thoughts on what bits of feelings vanitas gets from ventus. i am. curious tm

hello. you are in so much luck because I’ve been thinking about them somehow even more bc I just received a zine and also get to see them soon again with my friend. Hi. Hello

i tend to think it works like a sieve. Vani’s heart isn’t healed over, so it thinks it should still be getting feelings from the other part of it, which it does if they’re strong enough. He can get REALLY specific with them too — Ven’s happy because Terra gave him a strawberry tart. Ven’s relieved because he had previously been nervous but Aqua told him a story so everything is fine. — but he only ever gets the good feelings consistently (because that’s what he’s missing), and only gets the bad feelings if they overflow. At which point it kind of becomes dangerous for the both of them because they can get caught in a feedback loop of negativity and push it way worse than it needs to/they originally wanted to be and overstimulate each other just on pure Feels Angry or Feels Bad. Because!! Also! Ven can feel what vanitas does Only if it overflows from his side, only if they’re close proximity, and only the really nasty feelings. Most of them slough off into unversed or chimera unversed so this rarely ever happens, and it only becomes a problem when they’re too close and too busy and too upset. Like their boss fight. u could probably feel the nasty energy radiating off them

anyways I was getting off track vani can feel positive emotions from ven a lot and he can only really understand them when they’re happening and he ceases to really get it once they leave. His negativity reacts to ven’s positivity like fire and wood. It’s like depression+sisyphus’ eldritch madness. yaaaaay. Like this

Vanitas genuinely hates him. For a lot of reasons not the least of which is it hurts him to keep being taunted and never given the reward. but in those moments of feeling happiness maybe he can pretend the feelings are his and cherish them for a moment…

[skyward-floored]

Incredibles AU Wars discovering his powers as a kid, circa 1960s;

Pffft that’d be pretty funny XD I mean he can’t make snow come alive, but boy can you imagine all those strips with the killer monster snow goons with him? And Sky I suppose. Time would be so done with them.

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Monster You Know

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: For your own safety, the strongest sorcerer of today kidnaps you.

Word Count: 6.9k

(Warnings: implied masturbation, implied nsfw, implied noncon recording, death of a minor character.....im pretty sure i missed a warning so lemme know any pls)

Instead of waking up in a bed, you find yourself on the floor.

It's not a comfortable spot to sleep in. The carpet is clean, but it's odd because you don't have this type of carpet in your room. Actually, this isn't your room at all. 

But the panic doesn't really set in until you realize your arms are bound. 

You don't notice him until he speaks. You're too busy yanking on the metal, pulling your hand as hard as you could. The cuffs don't even budge. 

"If you keep yanking your arms like that, you might break 'em." 

He's tall, rivaling the door he just walked through. He looks a couple of years older than you, but his white hair can't be natural, not at his age. His blue eyes are lax. The worst part is how relaxed he looks. He has an eased posture and a pretty smile. He's amused, watching you like you’re a pesky mouse trapped in a bucket. 

You don’t know him. You’re stuck in an unfamiliar room, chained to the floor, and you don’t know this man. 

Escape isn’t possible. So you resort to the next best thing: you plead. 

“Who are you?” Your voice is light and wavers on every syllable. “Where-Where am I? Did you bring me here? Please don’t-“

”You always this talkative in the morning?” He dodges your question with a lax grin. “Anyway, uh, sorry about this-“ he gestures to your tied-up form “-I would've used a talisman, but those won’t work on you for obvious reasons. The handcuffs aren’t too tight, are they?” 

He steps closer, and you scream. It’s shrill, filled with a type of fear that makes your blood freeze because you don’t know this man, you don’t know where you are, and he’s getting closer. 

“Okay okay, I get it!” He manages to say over your pleas for help, but he steps back, and it’s enough to quiet your fear. “Obviously, you need some more time alone, so I’m gonna give you a couple more hours. Feel free to take a mint!” He cheerily points to the nightstand. 

He leaves as quickly as he enters. The door shuts but doesn’t lock. You’d be relieved if you weren’t still incapacitated. 

You look around the room. Nothing of value, nothing that you could reach and grab. Apart from a chair, the only other pieces of furniture were a heavy-looking bed and a bolted-down nightstand. Your kidnapper was certainly meticulous. 

The restraints have just enough slack for you to lean over. You peer at the nightstand. A plastic bowl, too flimsy to be made into a weapon. It contains wrapped-white candies. You gingerly pick one up. 

They’re sugar-free. 

He returns to the mints scattered all over the floor. 

“Okay.” He notes, gracefully stepping over the mess. “Clearly, you aren’t a fan of peppermint. 'you a wintergreen kinda’ person?” 

You don’t look at him. You’ve been in the same position you had been in for hours, sitting curled on the floor. By then, your desperation was starting to show through. 

“Please just let me go.” You mutter, your voice so low, it’s a miracle he can hear you. “I don’t have any money. I have nothing to offer.”

”Well, that’s good because I don’t want your money.” He says. “I know this looks pretty bad, but this is for your sake more than mine.”

You look at him just as he squats down to your height. You shift away. he smiles.

”Do you know what sorcerer's are?” 

You blink. 

“It’s fine if you don’t; we all start somewhere, right? A sorcerer is someone who can manipulate cursed energy. I’m a sorcerer! I don’t wanna brag too much, but I’m pretty good at it.” 

He laughs like he’s telling a joke, and you suddenly realize that you were kidnapped by someone who believes he’s a wizard. 

“Guess you’re still lost, huh? How about I just show you instead?” He points to an ironed-out shirt hanging on a rack. You follow his finger. 

He didn't move. There was no machinery. The shirt just crinkled by itself before it dropped to the floor. 

You gape. The man grins. 

"Pretty amazing, right? That's cursed energy, or, my power if you wanna be less technical." 

"Cursed energy." You whisper, a repetition of his words rather than any actual understanding. He beams regardless. 

"Yeah! Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but let's just start with the basics for now. Baby steps." 

Your dread doesn't fade. Earlier, you feared what a man could do to you, tied and defenseless. Now, you wondered what this man wouldn't do to you. 

"Okay, then....why?" You warily ask him. "Why tell me any of this? What's the point?" 

"An excellent question!" He commends you, as though he were your teacher and not your jailor. "See, cursed energy is a bit complicated, but it's extremely effective. In almost every case, it's the solution. Except for you." 

You shrink back. 

"What-what does that mean?"

His grin turns feline. He's enjoying this; seeing you shake, waver beneath his eyes. 

"Exactly what I said: you aren't affected by cursed energy. A sorcerer could use their technique on you, and there won't even be a scratch on your body. You're basically the Eraserhead of the Jujutsu World." 

You stare at him. He hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh. 

"I'm not great at explanations. How about we just have a hands-on experience?" 

He extends his hands. A purple orb crackles to life, slowly gaining mass. 

"Not too big," he says, though it's clear he isn't speaking to you, "don't wanna wreck the room." 

He adjusts his angle so it's facing you. Your eyes widen, and the desperation to wrangle yourself out of the handcuffs grows stronger. 

"Wait, stop!" You pleads fall on deaf ears. "Okay okay. I believe you. I believe you-" He flicks his fingers. You close your eyes just before impact. 

You expected something. Electricity, a shock. Pain. Your body being eviscerated in milliseconds. 

Nothing. Not even a gust of wind. 

When your eyes open, he's grinning at you. 

"See?" He says, "Not even a scratch." 

He's right. Your clothes aren't even rustled, but the evidence is there. The carpet below you is shaved and cleaned off. And the wall closest to you has cracks on it.

You look back up at him. 

"I said I believed you." 

He shrugs. "Doesn't hurt to make sure we're on the same page." His smile is starting to look less scary and more annoying. 

Your mind still struggles to keep up with all the information you've been given. The typhoon of anxiety is coursing through you. 

"So, then....why this?" You mention to the handcuffs. 

"Just a little confirmation you won't go crazy and destroy the place." He supplies happily. "If jujutsu doesn't work on you, then bindings and talismans definitely won't do a thing. Looking back, abduction probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world. I would've figured something else out, but time wasn't on our side in this case. Especially if we wanted you alive." 

You pale at that. He notices. 

"What, you thought I'd be the only person who noticed you? You're an anomaly. In our world, that's dangerous. Also, the bounty on your head is a pretty nice incentive for people to get the job done." 

"A bounty?"

He grins, and the number he gives makes your mouth hang open. 

"Yup, pretty crazy, right? Anyway, until everything settles down, you and I are roomies!" He claps. "Isn't that exciting!?" 

You glance at him. Then, in the room. Then, at your cuffs. Everything was going so fast. The only constant was him. 

"So, I'm not really a prisoner?" You ask. "I could just...leave, right?" 

"Sure you could. If you hear all that and still wanna go, I won't stop you. Promise." He nods. "But you'd be dead as soon as you step out of the apartment." 

It's not a threat. It's a promise. And not from him. That makes it worse. 

This is insane. All of this is insane; who'd believe any of it? But his powers....that can't be faked. As well as everything that he told you. Why would he lie? What reason could he have to deceive you? 

"Okay," you say hesitantly, "just one more thing." 

The man leans in. 

"What's your name?" 

He smiles. 

Becoming Gojo's roommate was an easy transition. 

You’ve always been someone who goes with the flow. Becoming someone's consenting captive isn't a struggle once you get used to it. A few days in and you and your 'captor' have fallen into an easy rhythm. It's easy to grow trusting of him, especially when there are others who can vouch for him. 

"You should be arrested." Ieiri mumbles, checking your wrists. 

"What? I can't believe you're upset with me." Gojo responds though he doesn't sound very panicked. "I was desperate!" 

Ieiri shakes her head, continuing wrapping your wrists. Amid your panic during the first few hours in Gojo's apartment, you managed to sprain your wrists, trying to yank yourself out of the handcuffs. You wince when she presses on your bruised skin. 

"Sorry," she says, voice flat. You smile anyway. 

Ieiri was also a sorcerer, but she had a different technique. Instead of Gojo's destruction, hers revolved around healing. You've never really seen it in action ("My technique won't work on you; even then, it's a sprained wrist. You'll live."), but it sounded pretty powerful. 

"I'm not upset." Ieiri continues. "But I'm surprised you're going along with all this." That sentence is directed at you. 

You shrug while trying to keep still for her. "He was pretty convincing." 

Ieiri raises a brow, before ultimately deciding she doesn't care. 

"Again, I'm very sorry about all this." Ijichi pipes up. Ever since he entered Gojo's flat, he's been doing nothing but begging for your forgiveness for Gojo's abrupt actions. Apologetic, but not very shocked. You're assuming this isn't the first time Gojo has done something like this. 

Gojo's allies were very different from each other, you ultimately decided. 

“We thought we’d have more time to approach you,” he continues with a nervous smile, “we never expected the clans to move so quickly.” 

“Clans?” You ask, “What clans?” 

Ijichi gives Gojo a look. Gojo looks away, whistling. Eventually, Ijichi’s shoulders drop. 

“Some minor clans with dwindling jujitsu sorcerers.” He gives. “And then the bounty happened and well…” he trails off. 

You nod. “So, when will everything go back to normal?”

Gojo grins. Ieiri sighs. It’s Ijichi who gives the most concrete response. 

You look at the three of them. “Or will things ever go back to normal?”

”It’s hard to say,” Ijichi says, “news travels fast in the jujutsu world, but it’s not improbable. Miyashiro will let us know eventually.” 

"Miyashiro?” 

To answer your question, Ijichi pulls out his phone. You stare at a picture of yourself. But you know you’ve never been in that restaurant before. 

“It’s his technique.” Ijichi tells you. “Flesh manipulation. For the time being, Miyashiro will pose as you and can hopefully air out any potential bounty hunters. He’s the perfect man for the job.” 

You nod, a bit skeptical. “Isn’t this a bit dangerous? Aren’t people trying to kill me?” 

Ijichi tucks away his phone. “Miyashiro is one our best. He'll be fine.” He assures. 

Satisfied with your answers, you nod. Ieiri pulls away after she finishes wrapping your hand. Gojo claps his hands together. 

“See, roomie? You’re in great hands!” He chirps. You nod, if only to seem compliant. 

Apart from Gojo himself, Ieiri and Ijichi are the only ones who know about your predicament, his most trusted people. The rest of the world is unaware that there's someone posing as you, nor that you've gone into hiding. Not your friends. Not even your family. ("It's for the best," Ijichi explained when you voiced your worries, "but we promise, once the bounty is down, we'll return you back to your life. It'll be like nothing ever happened.").

Settling in barely takes a week. Gojo's nice enough to lend you his room, more than happy to set up in the living room. Despite how you two 'met', he's quickly proven to be a nice guy. 

Nice. Just nice. 

To be honest, you don't know all that much about Gojo. He's letting you stay in his home, but you don't see him all that much. Gojo is gone pretty much all day. Sometimes, he's gone for days on end. The apartment feels more like yours than his. 

"I'm the strongest." He told you when you asked. You don't know what he means by that, so you didn't pry. 

Despite the awkwardness, you don't mind the distant relationship. The man probably has his day packed with hunting down demons and this school he talked about. 

The change doesn't happen until two weeks after you move in. 

You weren't allowed to have a phone, nor any internet access, so you mostly spent your time doing hobbies. You've always wanted to learn to crochet, and now you finally had time to actually learn. Drawing also took some hours out of your day. And eventually, you moved onto cooking. 

Ijichi was more than happy to grab you the grocery items when you asked. When you insisted on paying him back, he declined profusely. He was actually the one who organized getting your things and really moving you in. You have another thing you owe these people. 

Cooking was a steep learning curve. Before, you'd only made simple sandwiches and curries, so the food starting out wasn't the best. But you enjoyed the journey more, rather than the end result. Pretty soon, you became pretty good at it. 

Gojo wasn't home often these days, so you jump when the front door clicks open. He takes off that blindfold he's always wearing, blinking a couple times before his blue gaze settles on you in the kitchen. 

"What's all this?" He cocks his head. He isn't smiling. 

Oh no. You remembered getting permission to use his kitchen, but maybe he hadn't expected you to go this far? The kitchen is a mess. There's flour everywhere. You still hadn't washed the cutting board, nor the knives. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I-I can clean up and-" 

He waves his hand. "It's fine. I'm not mad, I just..." He drifts off. 

You suddenly have a feeling that you might've misread this entire situation. 

"Would you like some?" You ask. "I think I made too much." 

"I could eat," he says.

You smile. 

A few moments later, the two of you are settled on the table. Gojo's never been so quiet before. In the short time you've known him, he's always been boisterous and playful. Now, he's silent. Staring at the food. 

You hold your breath when he takes his first bite. 

"It's good." He says, his mouth full. It's cute. "Really, really good. Damn." 

You laugh out of nerves. 

"You think so? I'm glad! It was my first time trying out this recipe and I wasn't sure if it'd turn out well and..." you're rambling, you know that. You can't help yourself. 

"No, it's good. Real good," he says. It's silent again, but not as uncomfortable this time. The only thing you hear is the clanking of silverware and the hum of the lights. Outside the window, the city lights twinkle. 

You're on your last bite when he speaks again. 

"'been a while since I've had a homecooked meal." He starts with a slight laugh. "Kinda' forgot what it's like." 

You think of the fridge. How it was only ever stacked with protein shakes and instant meals. Gojo was a sorcerer. The strongest. You think you get what that means now. 

"I wouldn't mind doing this more often," you say. 

He looks at you with the prettiest blue you've ever seen. The color of a bright cloudless sky. 

"I think I'd like that." 

Who ever said the phrase 'the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach' was onto something. Your friendship with Gojo bloomed after that night. On the seldom nights he came home, dinner was made and sitting on the table. It took a few days for the two of you to warm up enough to talk to each other. Once Gojo got going, it was a lot harder to shut him up. He talked about his school, his work as a teacher for other jujutsu sorcerers. You liked the way he talked about his students. Nothing but pride and affection .

On the nights he didn't come home, you'd save the leftovers in the fridge. They were usually gone by the morning. 

He was around a lot more after that night. Not that you minded, it was his house. You just didn't get a few things about him. For example, that blindfold of his. Why wear it when it was clear he couldn't see with it on? 

You decide to bring it up the third time he nearly runs you over.

"It's part of my technique." He explains. "The six eyes. They're basically cursed energy x-rays. The blindfold just limits their strength." 

You were lounged on the sofa watching TV while he was plopped right next to you. He's switched his blindfold for his glasses. 

"Oh," you say when it clicks, "and since I block people's abilities you..." 

"Yup! Can't see you at all!" Gojo happily fills in. "It doesn't help that you're so quiet. Maybe I should put a bell on you." 

You laugh, but it doesn't sound like he was joking. 

"What's it like?" You ask, turning to him, "Seeing the way, you see? What-what do you see?"

"Everything." Gojo shrugs. 

You frown. "That's not very descriptive." 

He laughs. "Here, wanna try?" He takes off his glasses, handing them over. "These things are real popular with the ladies." 

He's avoiding the question, but you don't bother chasing him for it. Instead, you grab the lenses, pulling them over your eyes. You expect to see the secrets of the universe. Instead, you see nothing but darkness. Though, that might be the point.  

"Everything, hm?" You ask, when you take them off. "That sounds exhausting." 

He takes them back with a grin. "It is! My eyes hurt so so much! You should pity me and make matcha tiramisu." 

You laugh, drawing back. "That's what this is about? To guilt trip me into making dessert for you?" 

"Did it work?" 

You think for a moment.

"Get me the ingredients, and I'll see." 

He cheers but doesn't fully answer your question until the episode ends when you've bid him goodnight and are about to return to the bedroom. 

"You're blurry from far away." 

When you look at him, his glasses are gone, tucked under his collar. It's night, but the sky still stares down at you. His usual smile is gone, stretched into a line you can't place. 

"I can see down to molecules, atoms. Not you." 

You look at him, his eyes. The beautiful curse they are. 

You force yourself to take the first step. Then another. Then another. When you're right in front of him, when he's towering over you, you open to your mouth. 

"What do you see, Gojo?" 

"Everything." He honestly replies. 

Everything. Not just cursed energy. Down to cells, molecules, atoms. You can't fathom how much that is, the essence of everything. What's that like? Being able to see the universe so much that it hurts? So much so that it makes him want to wear a blindfold and never see anything again. 

But you're blurry. Gojo can't see you the way he sees others. 

You reach your hands up slowly like you're approaching a wild animal. In some ways, maybe that's what Gojo is: unpredictable, able to wield the power of space—power that's useless against you. 

You cover his eyes. He doesn't stop you. 

"What do you see, Satoru?" 

He doesn't speak, and you're afraid he's forgotten how. 

"Nothing." Quiet, barely more than a whisper.

He slouches ever so slightly, leaning into your hands like some weight's been lifted. It makes you smile. 

When you try to pull your hands away, his wrap around your wrist, keeping you there. So you stay—for as long as he wants. 

It starts something of a tradition between the two of you. Not every night, not even most nights, but every so often, Satoru would grow quiet, shift in a particular way. You hoped it was therapeutic for him, a break rather than a glimpse of what could have been. You hoped you were helping. 

And, if you were torturing him, hopefully, you won't be for long. 

"How much longer do you think I have to do this?" You ask. 

He hums, clearly not paying attention. You two were in the kitchen, making some sweet he saw trending on the internet. Well, you were doing all the work. Satoru kept trying to steal the batter. 

"You know. Sleeping under your roof, eating all your food, stealing you bed." You urge, while whisking. 

"You're acting like I've been keeping you in the attic, roomie." Satoru pouts. "C'mon, I haven't been that bad, have I?" 

"I'm asking for your sake rather than mine," you tell him. "I'm sure you'll be thrilled to have your house back, and your bed. When will everything settle down?" 

His blindfold is on, as it usually is. To help him out, you've taken to wearing squeaky slippers around the house. He'd offered to buy you one of those cat collars with bells. You declined. 

He's looking in your direction. You know he can't see you, but you can still feel his eyes on you. It's a strange feeling. 

"There's talks of taking down the bounty," Satoru finally says, losing his playful tone, "just rumors, nothing concrete. Worst comes to worst, we'll have to relocate you somewhere overseas." 

Yeah, you were worried about that. Leaving everything behind, your home, your friends, your family, because your life was in danger. You hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. 

"We have a couple of options, though," Satoru says, "negotiations, for one." 

You perk up at that. "Negotiations?" You ask. 

He nods. "Right now, you're under my protection. Unofficially. I could pull some strings, get those old geezers at the academy to take you in as some special assistant." 

You tilt your head. "Like at the school that you teach, right?" 

He nods. "We have a case like yours attending the school, too. I think you and him would get along." 

"Your ability could be pretty useful to us. You might even get out in the field every so often." Satoru continues. "A special technique like that would be wasted down here." 

Special. He's said that before. You can't remember when, but you know he's right. You're an anomaly, but you can use your abilities for good. But could you really do that? Risk your life every day? Lose pieces of yourself like that?

"I don't really feel special," you say, "I don't want to be special either." You glance at him. "Is that a bad thing?" 

Even blindfolded, somehow, his eyes find yours. 

"No," he says, no judgment in his voice, "it just makes you human." 

Relief. You can feel it sinking through your veins. Part of you feels guilty. Satoru is right; you could do a lot. But you...you don't want to end up like him. 

That makes you feel even worse, but then you catch something in his tone. 

"You sound like you're not very human," you say back. You're teasing, but it falls flat. 

He hums. It's not quite the response you were looking for. It takes a second for him to start up again. 

"When I was younger, people used to call me creepy." 

You stare at him. 

"What?." 

He grins, but it's not his usual one. 

"It's true." He shrugs. "Mostly, it was 'cause of my eyes. They called them unnerving. Monstrous. My folks were always a creative bunch." He says it so casually, but you can hear the bite on his voice. It's phrased as a joke, but it isn't.

You put down your whisk, giving him your full attention. 

"That's not true," you respond, "you know that, right? You aren't a monster. Monsters aren't as kind as you are." 

"Oh?" He tilts his head. "Maybe I'm using my kindness as a lure to trap you. Guess you just fell for it, roomie. 'thought you were smarter than that." You roll your eyes. 

"Okay, fine, I yield. You're a monster. But out of all the monsters in the world, I'd pick you." 

For a moment, there's silence in the kitchen. Then- 

"So cheesy!" Satoru laughs. He reaches over, roughly pinching your cheek. "Who knew you could say such cute things, roomie." 

You slap his hands away, now extremely annoyed. 

"Nevermind. I take it back," you retort. "I'd run away as far as I could from you." 

"Good, you should," he replies. "I won't stop you." 

You scoff. 

"Maybe that's why everyone thought you were creepy." You go back to your whisking. "It's not your eyes, you just say a lot of ominous shit." 

Despite how peaceful it is, making desert, cooking, and acting domestic, it can't last forever. The world was still hunting for you, and it had no problems reminding you of that. 

One night, you wake up to the sounds of hushed talking. 

It's coming from the living room. Multiple voices. Quiet but urgent. You're used to the noise. Satoru has this habit of blasting terrible soap operas at 2 am. You don't think that man sleeps. Over time, you've gotten used to at least one disturbance. 

But this feels different. It's enough to rub the sleep out of your eyes, making you pad over to the hall. 

They hear you before they see you. Satoru's apartment has creaky floorboards. Ijichi tugs on the collar of his shirt nervously. Ieiri just looks away. Satoru is leaning back against the couch, legs crossed. He's frowning. That's how you know something isn't right. 

"Is everything okay?" You ask anyway. 

Ijichi gives a tight grin. 

"Everything's fine." He's quick to console. "We-we were just-" 

"Stop." Satoru immediately cuts in. He's wearing his blindfold. You can't tell what he's thinking. 

"We're not hiding it. Everyone involved should know." 

Ijichi deflates. You think Ieiri sneers. 

Satoru beckons you closer with long fingers. You step forward. They're sitting around a computer. You peek at the screen.

Instantly, you wish you hadn't. 

There were pictures of you. Dead. Your body parts were strewn across the floor. Your hands were broken in every other way. Your legs were in pieces. Your head snapped clean off, blood oozing from your appendages like you were just a packet of liquid. One of your eyes was missing from its socket. The other was crushed. But it wasn't you, it was- 

"Miyashiro. At least, what's left of him." Satoru gives.  

The doppelganger, the guy who was covering for you. He was supposed to be one of their best; what happened to him? 

What was going to happen to you? 

They're talking again. At least, you think they are. Their words are muffled, filtered through water. You can't make out what anyone is saying. Your heart's beating too fast. It's pounding through your ears. You can only stare at the picture, what was left of him. Someone's touching you. A hand on your back. 

"Roomie, hey," Satoru's voice comes.

The pounding stops. You look up at him. 

Angelic. It's the only word you could think of. His snow-white hair was pretty, falling elegantly down his face. He'd taken his blindfold off. Blue eyes, sparkling, cleansing. Purifying, like the Ganges river. 

How could anyone think a beautiful sight like this was monstrous? 

He calls your name, your real name, and you break. 

You cling to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. And you're sobbing, tears of everything flowing down your face. 

Hands, hesitant, unsure, rest on your back. And then Satoru's holding you as tightly as he can.

He's warm. It's all you can think as you shake in his hold. 

He's warm. 

"I won't have to worry about that if I just gave in, hm?" You ask. 

It was a couple of days later from your episode. Satoru had convinced you to give one of his soap operas a shot. On-screen, a woman slapped her cheating husband. 

Satoru was lounging beside you, feet propped up on the coffee table. You want to tell him off, but it's his house. 

"If you went to the school, you mean?" He asks. "Probably. You'd be a lot freer. Won't have to sit in a cramped apartment all day. 'sides, jujutsu tech is always on the lookout for fresh talent. The higher-ups would be ecstatic to have someone like you under their thumb." 

"But I'd have to become a sorcerer." You say the unspoken. 

Gojo nods. "Yeah, you would." 

And you don't want that. To face curses, to face death every day. You know you can't handle that. You aren't strong, like Satoru. 

"I'm sorry," you say. 

He laughs. "For what?" 

You shrug as the on-screen couple makes up again. "For being...a coward, I guess."

He thinks for a moment. 

"It's not about bravery," he says in the end, "being a sorcerer is just...that. A sorcerer. It's a job. A title. Only a special few can do it. The crazy ones." 

His tone gets a bit playful. 

"No offense, roomie, but I don't think you got enough crazy in you." 

"That's a compliment, actually." You correct. He ignores you. 

"'sides, I like you staying here." Satoru declares, stretching his arms out on the couch. "Who'd feed me? It'd be horrible to go back to ramen again." 

You roll your eyes. "Right. Who else will wake at 2 am because of your whining to make wagashi?" 

"See! You get it!" Satoru grins. You can't force the smile off your face. 

The husband's mistress has entered the set. The wife is confident that her husband will choose her. She's left heartbroken all over again. You don't get how she couldn't see it. The red flags were all there, and still, she was left blindsided. Never saw it coming. She trusts too easily, you decided. 

"Also, I like having you here," Satoru says. 

You glance at him. He's watching the screen. 

"It's...nice." He admits after a bit. "To have company like this. It reminds me of back when I was younger. When the two of us lived in the dorms." 

When he was a student? Who was he talking about? You don't pry. It's clear he isn't talking to you. 

"I'm glad you're here," Satoru says. 

Lightly, you bump shoulders with him. Infinity doesn't stop you. 

"You're a sweet monster." You tell him. 

He gives a secret grin. 

Every once in a while, Gojo peeks into the bedroom while you're sleeping. 

He's subtle about it, doesn't make too much noise. You're a light sleeper, so it takes little to nothing to wake you up. 

He doesn't do anything. He stands there, shuffles here and there, hovering by the foot of the bed. You just pretend to be asleep in those cases, evening out your breaths, closing your eyes. It's always the same. He loiters around for a minute, and then he's shutting the door behind him. 

It's strange, but you try not to think too much of it. He was probably looking for something. It's his room after all. 

It's just...strange. 

You find it when you're looking through his book shelf. 

He doesn't have anything interesting to read. It's mainly just historical novels. You're perusing through one before a photograph falls out of the pages. 

It's tiny, barely larger than your palm. It only takes a second to realize what you're looking at. 

"Found your baby pictures." You gleefully tell Satoru when he comes back. 

"What?" He tilts his head; you wave the photo in front of him. When he tries to take it, you pull back. 

"Tiny Satoru!" You squeal. "Who knew you were once so small? I always thought you were born six feet over." 

It's a simple photograph, a little aged, but still clear. Satoru looks about eight, standing between a man and a woman. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. He isn't wearing sunglasses or a blindfold. Doll-like blue eyes. You don't feel like you're looking at a child. He's too-

"Are those your parents?" You ask, letting him take the photograph from you. 

"No," he says, "my caretakers." 

Caretakers. Not nannies, or anything else. It felt so clinical. You lean against his shoulder, still staring at the photograph. 

"You look cute." You finally say. When you peak over, a hint of a smile is twitching on his face. "But I totally agree with everyone. You look creepy. Like one of those children from the exorcist. Climbing over the walls." 

"I never grew out of that phase." Satoru ponders. You laugh. 

"What was it like?" You ask. "You said you're from a clan, right?" 

"Exhausting." Satoru groans. "Never a break from training. I should go back and sue my folks for child abuse. I could get millions." 

"I could help you with that." You pipe in. "I've never gone to law school, but I feel like I'd make a great lawyer." 

"I'll keep that in mind." He promises teasingly before his smile fades. 

"But that's the norm for most kids in jujutsu." He sighs. "Gotta' be perfect. Gotta' be the best, right from the beginning. There's a student I know who had a rough start, but she's the best in her class. Her clan didn't care about her potential. Those kids are all scary talented, they just need a bit of nurturing, that's all." 

You stare at him. He catches you. 

"What?" He asks, before his eyes widen. "Do I have a pimple?" 

You shake your head. "For some reason, I feel like that's impossible for you." You tease.

"I'm just admiring you, I think. For being such a kind person." 

"I thought we agreed I was a monster." Satoru points out. 

This again. You roll your eyes. 

"Fine, a good monster." You correct. "A monster, I know." 

"The monster you know." He repeats

You want to ask him why he's so insistent on that. For some reason, you hold your voice. 

Satoru's apartment had two bathrooms. Lately, the one in the bedroom has had some issues. 

It's been awkward lately trying to share the only working bathroom. Satoru and you shower at around the same time, so you've opted to hold back your morning routine a little later. You still manage to catch each other. The amount of times you've accidentally caught him walking around with nothing but a towel around his waist would be too mortifying to admit. 

But, so far, it's working. And you can't complain since you at least have one working bathroom. It's the little things. 

Tonight, you wake up to your bladder urging you to move. And yet, your body still wants to sleep. You check the time. It's nearly 2 in the morning.

It takes a while to pull yourself up, unraveling yourself from the covers before you're trudging out the bedroom. Satoru's apartment is so dark. It's a completely different look compared to daytime. You feel your way with the walls, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. When you peek over at the living room, Satoru isn't there. He must not be coming home tonight. 

The bathroom is shut, but there's a sliver of light bleeding under the door. Fuck, you did not shut the lights off last time. You need to be less careless. 

At first, you think Satoru's hurt. 

He looks hurt. He's hunched over, shaking shoulders, harsh breathing. You can only see his back, but he looks like he's in agony. You're about to step forward, ask what happened, and then you catch a glimpse of what he's clutching. 

Pretty, blue, laced panties. 

Your panties. 

And you're close enough to hear his voice whispering your name. Over and over again. 

"Fuck, fuck, baby, need you, just lemme-just lemme, all mine, all mine-"

He doubles over, tightening his grip on the edge of the sink. Your panties are damp. 

You flinch, and in your moment of panic, you step back. Creaky floorboards. 

Satoru looks up in the mirror. You don't move. 

He takes his time. Placing his phone down. Adjusting his pants, washing his hands. You can only stand there, frozen. Staring. Staring until he's in front of you, looking right back. 

You might have forgiven him if he had fumbled, laughed it off, became bashful. A human reaction. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. His eyes mirror that photograph. Doll-like, absolutely empty. 

Monstrous. 

Your eyes water. He turns blurry for a second. 

Satoru steps aside. You wordlessly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't bother locking. 

You don't know how long you stay there, quiet, shaking, your mind trying to piece together what you just saw. You stay there for hours. You stay there for seconds. Time stretches on like infinity itself, yet even then, it's too short. 

You're alone with him. It's a thought you never even had until now. You're alone with him. 

Satoru is outside. You don't look at him, staring at the floor, looking at the carpet, counting each strand. You keep your head down when you return to the bedroom. 

He follows. You say nothing. You don't look. You don't look, even when the covers shift and he gets into bed behind you. You don't look, even when there's a hand on your shoulder. You don't look, even when there's a chest pressed against your back. 

You shiver, you shake. You don't look. He says nothing, even when you break down completely. 

You wake up alone the next morning. 

You don't waste a second. You're stumbling through the room, picking up your clothes, packing everything that you need. You're so panicked that you manage to knock over an alarm clock. 

It's habit to reach down and pick it up. Learned politeness to scrutinize it to make sure it isn't broken. 

A black dot stares back at you. 

A camera. 

Horrible memories of last night come back. He was watching something on his phone. 

You feel nauseous, about to give all over the floor. You need to go. You needed to get out of there. 

The apartment is silent, like it always is when Satoru isn't here. You just hadn't noticed how cold it was, lifeless. It makes the pit on your stomach gap. You expect the windows to be bolted shut. They aren't. Sunlight streams through the glass. The front door is unbarred too. 

It's easy to leave. 

You stop anyway. One question. 

Where would you go? 

You can't go back home. Miyashiro's body still haunts you. His soul in your body, torn apart with such hatred and vitriol. Those people were still looking for you. The only reason you were still alive was because Miyashiro took your death bed. 

You'd die if you went back home. 

You can't go to jujutsu tech. You'd be expected to lay down your life, serve a maskless force that pretended to do good. You'd certainly die. Ripped apart by curses. 

You'd be slaughtered if you went to the school.

Every route is treacherous, nearly impossible, full of dangers and unknowns. 

At least, you know what Satoru wants. 

He's made it clear since the beginning. You were just willfully ignorant. Oblivious on purpose. More than happy to ignore the red flags because you knew he was a kind person to his students, ignoring the dichotomy of his actions. 

Two things can be right at once. 

Satoru won't stop you if you run. He told you that himself. You could leave if you wanted, and he won't follow. But every other path is filled with an intangible value, and Satoru is the monster you know. 

Your hand falls away from the doorknob. 

You get started on dinner.

You're still there when Satoru comes back. You say nothing. Neither does he. Dinner is a quiet affair. He doesn't talk about his day, he doesn't talk about his students. When you wash the plates, he's quietly standing behind you. When you get out of the shower, he's waiting outside the bathroom. 

You can't bring yourself to look at him until you get into bed. Your eyes trail up, past his legs, his shoulders, his neck. Looking into Satoru's crystal blue eyes. 

Blank. Numb. Empty. 

You think of the cameras. You think of your stolen underwear. 

You think of how much his eyes must hurt right then. 

You raise one hand out, grasping the sleeve of his shirt. It's barely a tug, but the monster follows like he's weightless, crawling into bed. He's too big to hold properly, but he sinks into your body anyway. His forehead rests against your chest. His eyes close. You don't feel that ice anymore. 

“What do you see, Satoru?” 

“Nothing.” A pause. A stilted breath. 

“Nothing but you.” 

He was right in the end. Satoru is a monster. There's no other word that can describe him. Inhuman, far above humanity itself. But he's the monster you'd pick, every single time.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Their reaction to tears (Stan & Ford)

Stan

Perhaps from the outside it seems that Stan is not a very sentimental guy. It’s wrong. Yeah, hugs make him feel nervous if they go on too long, and feelings? He’s spent most of his life avoiding those altogether. So when Stan sees you crying, his first reaction is to freeze. He’s really lost. And it’s you, so he can’t just brush it off or pretend it’ll go away. Not when you’re standing there, your shoulders shaking like that.

“Aw, kid. . .” he finally steps closer, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly feeling out of place. His eyes flicker over you, taking in your trembling hands, the hiccuping breaths.

He doesn't ask you for an explanation, he doesn't force you to pour out your soul. He knows that sometimes silence is better than any conversation, but the way he rubs slow circles into your back, the way his chin rests atop your head, you know he’s there. It's not very graceful embrace. It’s more like you’re getting wrapped up in a bear hug that’s meant to keep the rest of the world out. He squeezes you tight, maybe a little too tight, because that’s all he knows how to do. Hold on and hope it helps.

“Shh, it’s alright. I gotcha,” he mutters into your hair, though he sure as hell doesn’t know how to handle your tears, but he’s trying. “Whoever made you feel like this? I’ll knock ‘em into next Tuesday, swear to god.”

You let out a half-laugh, half-sob at that, and he pulls back just enough to glance down at you, raising an eyebrow like he’s confused by the sound. “What? You think I’m joking? I’ll even wear brass knuckles for the occasion.” his thumb brushes away a stray tear. He frowns, like maybe he’s mad at himself for not fixing it faster, for not knowing what to say to make it all go away. “C’mon, sweetie,” now his voice a little softer, “You’re tougher than this. You’ve got me. Ain’t nobody messes with you when I’m around, okay?”

“It’s. . . It’s so stupid, Stan, i don’t even know-“ you try to explain, sobbing and bursting into tears.

“Tell me, who do I gotta rough up for this? ’Cause I can call in some favors. I know a guy who knows a guy.”

You sniffle, laugh breaking through and he grins at that, just a little. He hates seeing you cry, but getting you to smile, even if it’s weak, that’s the goal.

“There we go,” he says, all smug and proud. “See? That’s better. You keep cryin’ like that and I’m gonna have to start cryin’, and trust me, you don’t wanna see that. I’m an ugly crier.”

Stan stares at you a bit longer than usual before continuing. “You know, tears aren’t your best look,” he says after a moment, his thumb brushes your cheek, wiping your tears in a way that’s more careful, gentle, than you’d expect. “You’ve got a real pretty face, baby, but it’s kinda hard to see it through all this mess.”

You laugh, even if just a little, because that’s. . . That’s just Stan. He’ll drag you out of your darkest moments, even if he has to fight the whole damn world to do it.

Ford

Ford is a man of deep thought, logic and intellect. But when he sees you break down in front of him, crying softly, trembling and sobbing, it shakes something in him that’s far beyond logic. His heart stumbles. The man who’s faced interdimensional monsters, who’s braved the edges of space and time, suddenly feels lost when he sees you like this.

At first, he doesn’t move. He’s watching you, brow furrowed, processing. Ford wants to understand, to fix, but emotions aren’t equations and you are something far more complex than anything described in his journals.

“Hey. . . hey,” he whispers, finally reaching out, his voice soft, calm, quiet. He’s cautious, careful, like he’s afraid of overwhelming you. His hand hovers for a moment before settling lightly on your arm. “What’s wrong? what happened?” Ford asks because he needs to know. He needs to dissect the situation, to piece together what’s hurting you so he can find a solution. But there’s more to it than just answers for him.

When you can’t quite form words, when your tears keep spilling, he gently pulls you closer, his hand resting on your back as he guides you to sit with him. His touch is gentle as he slowly, soothingly runs his thumb over your shoulder.

“You don’t have to talk yet,” he speaks, his breath brushing against your temple. “I’m here.” and those words, so simple, carry so much weight coming from him. Because Ford isn’t a man who offers empty promises. If he says he’s here, he means it in every sense.

And then, because Ford can’t help the way his mind works, he begins talking in that soothing voice of his. “You know,” he starts in a thoughtful tone. “tears are a natural response to emotional stress. It’s. . . it’s a sign of strength, not weakness. Your body is releasing what it can’t hold anymore.”

Ford is not trying to seem all smart and logical, it’s just how he comforts, by giving you the understanding you deserve, by showing you that it’s okay to feel everything you’re feeling, by explaining you. And when you hear him, his hand moves to gently wipe away your tears with the pad of his thumb, so careful, like he’s touching something sacred.

“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together,” Ford promises you. “You’re not alone in this.” he kisses your forehead, slowly, letting you feel his presence. And when you’re breathing just a little steadier, Ford tilts your chin up, his eyes searching yours, and there’s nothing but warmth in his gaze. “You’re going to be alright.” he says, and somehow, you know he means it.

[specialgrades]

CRiTiCAL HiT ! ⏤ select genshin men and their sensitive spots

arataki itto, wriothesley, neuvillette

➜ ┊: cw ! porn without plot, monster fucking… kinda, dom!reader, nipple play, premature ejaculation, pet names ( sugar, baby, darling, my love ), reader’s gender not specified but is topping neuvillette ( could be read as a strap or a dick ), hair pulling, neuv is kinda ooc but we're gonna ignore that for now, cumming untouched, not beta read we die like men

notes. whoa hey. i'm kinda popping off recently. anyway this is only three characters cause they're the only ones i'm horny for. if you think i have a particular favourite you're probably right. dividers by cafekitsune as per usual, backbone of tumblr fr!

ARATAKi iTTO — horns

such a big man reduced to a whimpering mess if you stroke his horns! god forbid you do it while he’s already experiencing other stimuli…

itto’s grunts and groans mixed in with your own moans as his hips snapped against yours. his hair falling in his face as he hung his head, fangs almost piercing his lip with how hard he’s biting it. your hands gripping at the sheets as he makes it his mission to rearrange your guts. one particular thrust has his tip hitting that spot deep inside you directly; a broken scream leaving you as your hands flew up to him for anything to ground yourself with. fingers wrapping around his red oni horns, tugging as he keeps hitting that spot. itto moans loudly, hips stuttering. “sugar, don— oh fuck—!” you tug again, oblivious to his protests until you feel him cum inside of you a lot quicker than usual. his body shakes as he does, whimpers leaving him. he knew his horns were sensitive, but not that much; and god did it feel good. you blink at him, hands still holding onto his horns. “did you jus’... cum from having your horns touched?” you manage, shuttering as he slowly fucks his cum deeper into you. “sensitive— ah-!” he yelps when you tug again. any semblance of dominance he had slipped away as you played with his horns. his cock twitched back to life at record speed, his hips moving on their own. “fuck sugar, don’t stop… tug ‘em harder— jus’ like that, fuck! fuck…” he cums again, crying out as he did.

WRiOTHESLEY — chest

wrio never knew that his chest was that sensitive, he always just ignored that part of his body during his own time. your wandering hands change that…

wriothesley’s kisses were always hungry, sloppy. he doesn’t have much experience, but his eagerness to devour you every time your lips connect isn’t something you’d trade for the world. he helps you tug his tie off and undo his vest, the fabric hanging loosely off of his shoulders. all without breaking the kiss you had pulled him into a few minutes prior. your fingers work on the buttons of his dress shirt while he toys with the hem of your shirt. same fingers pushing under the fabric of his shirt, index fingers brushing against his nipples as you moved. wriothesley surprised himself with the moan that escaped him when they did, freezing up for a second. he feels you smirk against him, fingers brushing over his nipples again. he caught the moan this time— though barely— shaky noises escaping him as his nipples hardened under your touch. his slacks feeling even tighter than they did when you began undressing him. “sensitive, are we?” you ask against his lips. he’s trying to focus and doesn’t respond instantly; causing you to lightly pinch the buds. he whines, body unsure if it wants to push against or pull away from the sensation. “y-yes! don’t—” he breaks the kiss as he tosses his head back, eyes squeezed shut and bottom lip tugged between his teeth. you look down to his pants, part of the light grey turned a darker shade from how much he’s leaking just from your teasing. “let’s see…” you let go of his chest to walk him back against his desk. he had fully intended to fuck you against it not even five minutes ago, but the tables had turned. he felt your gaze on the evident bulge in his pants, wiggling his hips in hopes it’d get you to touch him. you did, but not where he wanted you to. pushing his shirt and vest from his shoulders to fully expose his torso, you went for his chest again. whimpers and moans spilled from him as you toyed with the sensitive skin. a particularly loud moan that caused him to bite his hand to silence himself when your tongue flicked against the left one. he felt the coil in his stomach tighten as your tongue swirled around the bud, your fingers tweaking the one your mouth wasn’t on. he shrugged the rest of his shirt off, hand gripping your shoulder as he thrusted his hips up into nothing. “baby ‘m gonna— please— fuck fuck fuck-!” he gripped you tight as he came untouched, cum soaking his underwear and pants. he shuttered when you gave one last pinch to his nipples, breathing hard when you pulled away. “hm… cute.” you surmise, running your finger along the wet spot of his pants. he pulled away from your touch, sensitivity heightened. you smiled at him, cupping his face gently. “think you got one more in you, baby?”

NEUViLLETTE — ears

it’s law that pointy elf ears are sensitive. argue with a wall. the iudex is no exception…

neuvillette buried his head into the pillows, shaky breaths turning into moans as the sound of skin hitting skin. he felt your lips on his nape and shoulder— licking, biting, sucking the skin there as you fucked into him. his cocks rubbing against the pillow you put under his hips and staining the cotton. pulling away from his shoulder after nursing the bruises you left, your eyes focus on the pointy ears of the iudex. your curiosity got the better of you and before you could stop yourself, your tongue darted out to lick at the shell of his ear. neuvillette shuttered and moaned, hole clenching as pleasure ran through his body. “darling not there plea—” he cut himself off with a moan when the mixture of you hitting his prostate and your tongue running along his ear made his entire body light on fire. “your weak spot, hm?” you muse, your voice rumbling against his skin. he moaned, nodding as he moved his hips to get more friction on his dicks and to fuck back against you. “please…” he mumbles, so close with the mixture of all the stimuli happening at once. “more…” he begs weakly. he doesn’t expect you to give in so easily, but he’s been so good all day you cave; pulling back until just the tip was inside him before harshly snapping your hips against his ass. you lightly bit the tip of his ear as you did, tongue still running along the cartilage. the iudex cried out, arching further into the mattress as he felt the coil begin to snap. “please let me cum darling, please ‘s too much please-!” he cries, trying so hard to hold back from cumming until you give him the green light. “so soon, neuvi? your ears that sensitive?” he nodded, rain hitting the window as you brought him closer to the edge. you hum, breath hot on his ear. “go on, my love…” you lick his ear again. “cum.” he does almost instantly, crying out as he makes a mess of the pillow and his stomach. he collapsed onto the mattress, small shocks going through his body from the intensity of his orgasm. you give him a minute before sitting up, hand wrapping around his hair and horns. with a tug he’s pulled flush to your chest. high pitched yelp left him as you did, feeling your breath against his other ear now. “let’s see where else you’re sensitive, hm?”

[ladydostoevsky]

Idk of request are still opens, but if no you can just ignore this haha.

Sooo can you do an escenario of hua cheng x male!reader x xie lian where the reader was the best friend of xie lian before xian le fell and like with the power of character backstory they knew hua cheng aswell.

That was like the context, but my request is like:

After the 800 years of previous events, xie lian, hua cheng and the reader meet again at the banyue arc(with xie lian meeting hua cheng fisrt ofc) and when they saw the reader (who ill suppose died by saving xie lian from something and u know, ✨️drama✨️) they can't belive it cus his soul should have been banished and welp. After the end of the thing (timeskip) when the reader tries to leave after helping em' with the mission, both xie lian and hua chen stop him from doing so. But why did M/N tried to leave as fast as possible? Hoho, well let's say he accidentaly inhaled a flowers scent wich had an strong afrodasic and didn't want to make a fool of himself in front of his dearest friends and tried to leave (failling miserably) and we all know both of our bois are so fricking touch starved at this point and here is where the smut makes it's presentation. (idk much about that so u can just wite it however you'd like, but reader should be the bottom oh yes hahah)

ik its a large request so if its too much just ignore me haha 😭.

A tender touch🌺

Xie Lian & Hua Cheng x m!reader

Warnings: nsfw, 18+, novel and donghua spoilers, little bit violence, breeding, m!sex

A/N: I’m not the best when it comes to smut, especially when it’s threesome so warning, this is really cringe🥲 but I hope you like it

The floor of the temple was icy, freezing, just like the atmosphere which surrounded them. Fear seeped through y/n, who was kneeling on the cold ground, before the altar of a temple on which Xie Lian was chained on. He didn’t know if he was more afraid of the creature, the monster with white half crying-smiling mask or this thing hurting Xie Lian - his prince, his best friend, his beloved. The latter. In his hand, was the little ghostfire who tried to keep them out of the temple and warn them. y/n felt pity for it.

He bowed down, his forehead touching the ground. ‘’Please. I beg you. Take me. Have mercy on His Highness. Whatever you plan to do, please take me instead of him.’’ y/n straightened himself a little and looked with teary eyes towards the white clothed creature, pleading, ‘’I beg you… punish me for whatever he has done,’’ he whispered desperately. ‘’Y/N! STOP IT! I FORBID YOU TO SAY ANOTHER WORD. YOU WILL NOT SACRIFICE YOURSELF FOR ME!’’ Xie Lian screamed. The creature laughed out loud, slowly moving towards yn, like a predator. ‘’DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM, YOU FUCKER. LEAVE HIM OUT OF THIS.’’ The Crown Prince screamed but to no avail, the creature ignored him. y/n gulped as he got closer. ‘’My my, are you a brave one,’’ he stopped right in front of him and crouched down to be on the same eye level, the little ghost still in his hand, ‘’and so stupid. Willing to give your life for someone else's sins and choices.’’

y/n eyes widened slightly after the realization. He whispered to the mask in front of him, ‘’kill me instead then.’’ The little fire started to glow even more, little sounds coming from it. ‘’Oh I will. Let’s see what face His Highness will make after it.’’ The next second Fang Xin pierced through y/n.

y/n looked at the ground, in shame and sadness. He didn’t dare to look His Highness in the eyes, or even San Lang, who he knew was actually Hua Cheng. ‘’I don’t understand…how?’’ The Crown Prince was in shock, in disbelief. Xie Lian saw his best friend being killed in front of his eyes by White No-Face. Same as Xie Lian, Hua Cheng felt some kind of betrayal and hurt, he - being a little pitiful and weak ghostfire - also was in that temple and saw everything. If he really somehow survived, why didn’t he come looking for His Highness? It has been 800 years…

‘’Tell me, how are you here? What happened to you?’’ Xie Lian asked, his earlier shock turning into a sadness. y/n looked at San Lang then Xie Lian. ‘’Did you really think he would have let me die? That easily? My life was worse than hell, a constant torture after that night.’’ He looked away from them, towards the darkness of the cave. All hidden and locked up memories coming back to him. ‘’He did that only to torment and manipulate you. And me.’’ Xie Lian let out a sight he realized he was holding. Hua Cheng’s eyes were full of sorrow. They looked at each other then back to y/n.

He looked at Xie Lian, ‘’I’m sorry, Your Highness. After that, I didn’t dare to show my face anymore. Not like the monster would have let me. I was afraid. I hated myself for I couldn’t save you in the end. I blame myself till this day. You had to go through so much because I was too weak to protect you.’’ Hua Cheng’s dead heart warmed in that moment. After all, he felt the exact same way. He blamed himself for not protecting the two when they needed it the most. But he is here now, and he will protect them for eternity, from now on.

‘’Can you forgive me, Your Highness? I understand if you don’t want to or-’’ Xie Lian gave a sad smile and moved closer to y/n. ‘’There is nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong. It was never your fault, it was White No-Face who did this. I just wish you hadn't been there. I’m sorry you had to go through this, because of me.’’ The prince leaned closer and hugged his former friend. It took the man by surprise but gladly accepted it. The warmth of his best friend being so foreign to him. He locked eyes with San Lang who looked at him with sadness. y/n gave him a sweet smile of reassurance, for which the Ghost King smiled back.

After that the three stuck together the whole mission. y/n and San Lang got to know each other more, surprisingly they clicked immediately. Hua Cheng and Xie Lian still didn’t know how y/n survived that night. He wasn’t a god, neither a ghost so what was he? But they understood that it was not their business if y/n didn’t want to tell them.

Currently, everyone was looking for the Banyue Fern to use as an antidote for the scorpion-tailed snake’s venom. Unfortunately, y/n had strayed too far from the others. He realized it when he found flowers that shouldn’t be growing in a desert. They were bright, colorful and smelled so nicely. They were tempting. They were so very familiar…

NO! The land of the tender! They were the tender flowers that contained strong aphrodisiacs. The moment he realized he backed off. Thank the heavens that these flowers didn’t speak or he would have surely done something he couldn’t even imagine. He ran back to the others, hoping that the aphrodisiac didn’t make it to his system.

After all the hell was over and the mission completed, Earth Master Ming Yi and Wind Master Shi Qingxuan came to take Pei Xiu back to heaven realm. The gods exchanged a few words. Beside Hua Cheng, y/n felt ill. His body temperature had risen after the tender flowers. He was sweating and his knees felt weak. He holds one hand in front of his lower face to hide his reddened face and to seal his mouth. Hua Cheng turned to him, concerned, ‘’y/n? Is everything alright? You seem… sick.’’ Only thing he could do was nod his head and turn away from him.

With every passing second he could feel more sweat forming on his skin, he wanted to let out sounds he thought he could never form. He felt a painful pulsing between his legs. Seeing Xie Lian and Hua Cheng next to him didn’t help, it made it all worse. Slowly, he started to back off but Hua Cheng grabbed his forearm before he could escape. Xie Lian walked over to them. ‘’y/n, what’s wrong?’’ He walked to him and put his palm on his forehead to feel his temperature. ‘’You are burning! You must have a fewer.’’ Feeling his prince’s touch he put his hand over his mouth even harder. He let out weird noises that neither of the two understood. y/n shook his head. ‘’Gege, we have to get him somewhere else. I don’t think it’s sickness.’’

The two brought y/n to an old empty house of Banyue. They put him on the floor, making him sit against a wall. Only sound that was heard was y/n’s constant breathing. With shaky hands he tried to open his robe. ‘’Y-you two… you h-have to leave.’’ Xie Lian was first to react. He crouched down in front of him, ‘’we will not. Tell us what happened?’’

He helped y/n and tore the robe’s front open so he could get some cold air. His fingers brushed against y/n’s hot skin which made him let out a little whine. Xie Lian’s breath stuck, but he didn’t back off. ‘’T-the flowers, t-tender…’’ the arousal he felt made it hard to talk. San Lang came next to Xie Lian and put his hand on y/n’s chest, feeling his fast heartbeat. y/n wrapped his fingers around San Lang’s wrist, not wanting him to pull away.

‘’That’s what I thought,’’ Hua Cheng whispered, mostly to himself. ‘’Please…’’ y/n’s other hand made it to his hard erection. His hand was quickly replaced with Xie Lian’s, ‘’you helped us today so well, it’s only fair if we help you now.’’ The prince and the Ghost King gave a knowing smile to each other. Hua Cheng tore the whole robe to shreds, freeing the whole body beneath it free to the cold air of Banyue. Xie Lian leaned in and kissed his old friend, his- no- their beloved.

His tongue taking the lead and exploring every corner he could find. His fingers ran delicately over y/n soft pink nipples. The man didn’t see the point to hold back anymore and let out all the sounds that were stuck in his throat. Hua Cheng also leaned closer and wrapped his fingers around y/n’s precum leaking cock. He slightly pressed on to the pink tip which made y/n whine against Xie Lian’s mouth.

‘’Don’t worry, love. We will take good care of you,’’ whispered Hua Cheng. Xie Lian leaned back, a string of saliva connecting the two. ‘’Have I ever told you how beautiful you are, y/n?’’ Xie Lian said while taking off his white robe. Hua Cheng followed and his red clothing was thrown somewhere he could care less. This time Xie Lian took y/n's pulsing cock and started slowly moving his hand up and down. San Lang latched his mouth onto y/n’s sensitive nipple, kissing and teasing it. y/n moaned their names, feeling himself nearing. ‘’X-Xie Lian…nghh San L-Lang, I’m g-gonna cum.’’ Xie Lian’s other hand played with y/n’s smooth hair, ’’cum for us, dear.’’ He came without a second thought.

The Crown Prince gave him a sweet, loving smile, pecked his darling’s soft lips and started moving towards his abdomen, leaving butterfly kisses behind. He took all of y/n in his mouth, swallowing his cum in the process. With his experience in sword swallowing in the past it wasn’t very hard. He had no gag reflex.

While Xie Lian was busy with y/n’s cock, San Lang used his own precum and saliva as a lube and smeared it on his own hard cock. y/n felt his second orgasm coming. In ecstasy he grabbed Xie Lian’s hair, not wanting him to pull away. ‘’Y-your Highness…mm,’’ The prince started to run his fingers gently across y/n’s body. Being so hot, bothered and sensitive, this act threw him over the edge again and he came deep into Xie Lian’s mouth. ‘’Xie Lian…’’ he breathed out a whisper, barely hearable. ‘’Such a good boy, aren’t you? So good for us,’’ Hua Cheng teased with his low voice. The man beneath let out a desperate whine, knowing what’s coming next. The black haired king leaned closer, giving him a gentle kiss on his forehead and lips. ‘’I’ll try to be gentle.’’ Xie Lian went to y/n’s neck and started to suck marks into his skin.

San Lang positioned himself in front of y/n’s unprepared entrance and slowly entered. Feeling soft and thigh walls around him he let out a grunt, entering inch by inch. y/n let out loud cries from the pain. Tears started to drip down from the corners of his eyes. Xie Lian shushed him, assuring that everything was alright. He kissed the tears away and started to abuse his mouth with his tongue again. When Hua Cheng was finally all in, and confirmed that y/n wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, he started moving his hips. At the beginning it was slow and gentle, as time went by he started to speed up. Rocking in and out like an animal in heat.

He pulled y/n’s legs more towards him to hit that one spot that surely made his darling lose it. y/n grabbed onto Xie Lian to steady himself. ‘’Gods y/n…’’ San Lang moaned, feeling his peak coming. He pressed y/n into a mating position, to look him into his beautiful tear stained eyes while he cums deep into his gore. y/n screamed, feeling overstimulated. ‘’S-San L-Lang… p-please,’’ with a few more pumps he came inside.

After a few moments he pulled out, panting. Feeling himself coming down from his high. He watched how some of his seed tried to come out of y/n. He pushed it back inside with his fingers, smiling, feeling some kind of pride. ‘’You are so beautiful like this. Now my beloved…’’ Xie Lian moved away from his side and placed himself on top of y/n. He already knew that it was going to be a long night.

[bits-and-babs]

Your fics are amazing! Would you ever write about König?

𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐃 — 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

synopsis : rumours of an elite soldier have the base reeling. murmurings of 'monster' and 'freak'. what happens when you come face to face with the beast, only to find he's nothing like the whispers cautioned?

pairing : könig x f!reader

warnings : 18+ mdni. war, violence, graphic gory imagery, self-conscious könig baby, little bit of hand kink, basic bitch smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, size kink, tight fit, sugar-sweet teeth rotting smut. this feels so basic… but I was struggling. please note, kilgore is a name previously linked to könig. I have used it as a codename 🙂

könig masterlist ୨୧ main masterlist ୨୧ join taglist ୨୧ ask

Warfare training preps for the inevitable—those moments you need to fire a weapon and how to camouflage and navigate enemy territory without detection. These inescapable horrors are 'another day in the office' by the time you enter the field, the prickling chill of fear driven out of your system. Whistling RPGs are not dissimilar to the scream of your Drill Sergeant's commands, the cold, hard ground of a dilapidated building no more uncomfortable than the standard-issue barracks mattress you would ease your wearing bones into after training. 

Fear, beaten out of each man and woman that slipped on the uniform, held no commonplace in the military. Weapons, the call to war, brutality and sirens did little to raise the blood pressure. 

Whispers held far more weight and struck unease into the hearts of even the most desensitised of fighters. 

It was inarguable that each military in every country, at any time, had its own 'boogeyman'. Notorious fighters with absurdly large kill counts consisting of three digits that inevitably earned a bounty for their head, funded by the enemy—elite warriors who acquired a legendary reputation that ultimately became horror stories. The Ghost of Kyiv, The American Sniper Chris Kyle. These military cryptids kept their enemies awake at night, baying for blood and begging for the piles of bodies they left behind to stop growing. 

After years in the SAS, you were beginning to think that there was no such thing. Each soldier was prolific, brutally efficient and inarguably the best of the elite forces. It was only upon entering Task Force 141, a genuinely mean feat, that you began to hear the unshunnable, hushed whispers of Kilgore. 

“Did you hear about Berlin?” 

“Kilgore? Yeah, heard he blew away a whole Al-Qatala cell.”

“Twelve of ‘em. The hostages were traumatised.”

These mumblings had persisted for months, consistently updated with crazy tales of whole garrisons blown to smitheries by this massacre-happy hulking mass of pure military precision. You, like the rest of 141, elected to ignore the gossip. This was a battlefield, filled with elite soldiers, not a school playground. 

                            ✰

Austrian mud splatters your camo-clad shins as you sprint through the forest terrain, your heart lurching in your chest as your rain-soaked fingers almost fumble your gun to the sodden ground. It’s freezing cold, the gush of rain edging on a flurry of sleet as lightning cracks above your head. Clothes soaked through, the moisture and icy wind form something of a ‘Pact of Steel’, working together to deep freeze the marrow of your bones. 

As you slip in the mud again, heel skidding across the slick soil, you realise how dire the situation truly is. Separated from 141 during the firefight, you’d navigated north. You continued running for the safe house once discovering your coms had been dispatched by a stray bullet— that certainly would have ripped through your heart and dispatched you instantly if not for the layers of plastic settled over it. 

Thunder rumbles in the clouds above, the boom reminiscent of a distant air strike. Slurried earth gives way beneath your feet as you push on. Exhaustion gnaws at your joints as you scramble for safety, bested only by the adrenaline that buzzed in your ear like a vicious drill sergeant. “Move it! Do you wanna die?! Well fucking move!” 

You can hear their boots in the mud, the advancing Al-Qatala mercenaries chasing after you and shooting blindly at your heels, competing with the distance and dense foliage. You’re like an injured fox, feverish bloodhounds nipping at the end of your tail— what could they do with an SAS hostage? How much leverage would it buy? 

Bullets whistle by your feet, the proximity of some enough to set your hair on end. They’re closing in, jowls dripping with slobber as they attempt to close their teeth around you. Just a little mor—

Crack. 

Chaos erupts behind you, the thump of a body and a flurry of shouts. Panicked voices overlay each other in different languages, Urzik and Persian. You scramble for cover behind a treetrunk, the bark cutting at your palms as you brace for incoming fire. 

"Kilgore!" Someone shouts, and your blood runs cold, eyes wide as they dart around the foliage for the legendary soldier. The whizzing of high-powered bullets persists, dropping Al-Qatala mercenaries into the mud beneath them. You hear the yelled orders, Urzik fighters urged to retreat.

You're unsure if one fails to hear the directive over the din of warfare, but you hear the advancing feet of the mercenary advancing on your position—the squelch of the mud beneath the rubber sole of his combat boots. You scramble with your weapon, checking the gun's safety and readying for a one-shot shoot-out. 

When a bullet shreds through a victim's head, the sound is reminiscent of a watermelon being cracked open. It's a sickening crunch. A wet spray of warm blood cuts through the downpour of rain, splattering across your face. Some of it is solid, brain matter and shards of cranium. 

It's not silent by any means. The rain continues to beat against the floor, pattering in the puddles that had formed in sole-shaped prints in the soaked earth. Cracks of thunder sound in the distance, and the droplets drum against the leaves in the forest's canopy. However, the sounds of the firefight cease. 

"You can come out," a voice calls to you. Accented; Germanic. You hesitate for a moment, once again strengthening your grip on the gun you'd clung to. Your lungs strain with the sudden intake of breath, ribs crushed beneath your tac-vest. "Ghost sent me." 

Easing your head out from behind the tree trunk, you marvel, somewhat horrified, at the gigantic, hulking build of the man who stood in the clearing. Fallen enemy combatants surround him, a blanket of corpses draped across the turbid forest floor. A black veil covers his face, and his equipment litters his tac-vest. 

You'd be lying if you said you were unperturbed by the sight. Instead, fear lurches in the pit of your stomach, and you freeze in place. It's only when your eyes catch the crystal white slicing through crimson on the patch sewn into his shoulder that the airy voice, which certainly doesn't match his enormous frame, brings you a sense of safety. 

"The safe house is ahead. We could get you warm–– clean you up?"

                            ✰

Staring into the bubbling pan of water settled over the small fire, you relish in the warmth that creeps across your chilled body. Still, you're soaked, the damp clinging to the threads of your clothes. The scent of iron still assaults your nose, the water that you pick off the fire cautiously heated enough to scrub the blood from your face. 

Kilgore, who informed you upon entering the safehouse preferred to be called by his name König, had seated himself in the corner of the large, relatively empty room. He looked ridiculous like this, attempting to compact his body into the crevice. You don't doubt it's an attempt to ease the nervous energy bleeding through your pores, your hands trembling as you attempt to dip the rag he had gifted you into the hot water. 

"Did..." You swallow thickly, glancing up at the Austrian, "Did you tell the Lieutenant where we are?" 

"Mhm-hm," he nods slowly, his jade eyes watching you from beneath the face veil. They're sharp and bright, contrasting so strongly against his uniform's muted and inky shades. "He's planning evac." 

You scrub the gore from your face, wincing as you feel the shards of bone scrape across your face. König's eyes bore into you from the other side of the room, watching you struggle to remove what was left of the grime the rain had failed to wash away. 

"I've-... Heard a lot about you," you speak to him, attempting to cross the vast space he had consciously put between you. His green eyes gaze at you, unblinking as he watches your expression. König is trying to read you, trying to comprehend how you feel. He's cautious, trying not to push you outside of your comfort zone. 

"About Berlin?" He asks, and his voice is so soft that it reminds you of a child attempting to speak after being reprimanded by their parents–– wary of a second bout of raised voices. 

"Yes," you mumble, dipping the crimson rag into the water before laying it across your skin again, "About Berlin." 

König hums softly, casting his eyes to the aged, wooden floorboards. The woodlice have chewed through them, moss growing in some parts. You can see he appears uncomfortable, his knuckles white from the fists that form in his lap. 

"I didn't mean to scare anyone," König admits in a whisper, catching you off guard. His shoulders sag slightly, and you see him pick at loose threads in the knees of his camo trousers. 

"N-No... I meant to say how courageous it was," you point out, watching his fidgeting hands still suddenly, "You risked your life for those hostages... saved them singlehandedly. No one else would have done that." 

Hesitant silence settles between you both, König considering your words carefully as he stares at his lap. You can't see his face, the veil concealing all but his eyes, though you're almost sure he's stunned by your comment. It takes him a moment to discern his next step, but he finally lifts his body from the wooden chair he'd pulled into the corner. It creaks with the shift in weight distribution, floorboards straining as he walks across the space towards you. 

"You also saved me," you point out, watching him kneel before you, "Faced a whole cell..."

König steals your words from your mouth when his huge hand settles around the bloodied rag in your palm. He doesn't speak at; first, silence hanging between you once again as he dips the cloth into the water. Then, he soaks it until it drips, droplets pinging off the surface, and wrings it out. His dorsal muscles ripple beneath the backs of his palm, veins a ballpoint colour and standing out against his pale skin. 

"Ghost asked me to," he mumbles, carefully holding the damp fabric and slowly reaching for your face. He gives you time to pull away–– you don't. 

"You could have ignored him," you whisper, suddenly breathless with this proximity. He still towers over you, even balanced on his knees, head and shoulders slumped over you. You can see the ocean green of his eyes clearly, the halo of brown flecks that cover the circumference of his pupil. His eyelashes flutter when he blinks, so pretty and oddly feminine. 

The pressure of the cloth against your skull is so delicate. König appears to be afraid of hurting you, gently brushing away the flecks of blood in your hairline. He shakes his head gently, considering your kind words. "What kind of man would I be, Leibchen?" his voice is airy, tone flimsy.

Those stunning eyes take a moment to gaze into yours, searching for your answer. Instead, all you manage is a weak shrug. 

"Were... Are they afraid of you?" You whisper to him, struggling to find the words to broach a topic that appears to affect König so profoundly. It's his turn to answer wordlessly, offering an equally frail nod. 

König takes your chin ever so gently in his hand, his palm almost eclipsing the lower half of your face, and turns your head in search of further blood-spatter. He sweeps the makeshift face-cloth over your skin, focusing on removing the grime altogether. 

You'd heard the cruel rumours, the whispers of 'monster' and 'freak'. This König you'd met couldn't possibly be the same they uttered about maliciously. He held a child-like kindness, the brutality of the job seemingly doing little to chip away at his humanity. The same couldn't be said about the others. 

"König," you whisper his name softly, watching as he continues to focus on clearing up your skin. His soothing touch smoothes across your temple now, removing some mud speckles. "Don't listen to them."

You can see his eyes soften, once again turning to yours as you reach to fiddle with the edge of his veil. Upon tracing the border between the pads of your thumb and forefinger, you find that it's t-shirt material, the zigzag seam stitching rough against your touch like barbed wire. "They haven't seen you like I have." 

Those eyes gleam with amusement, little crows-feet creases forming in the corners. He's smiling, and your heart stutters against your chest. 

"That right, Leibchen? I've had a mask on this whole time."

The gentle teasing lilt to his tone makes you lightheaded, urging you forward with your frankly ridiculous plan. You begin to lift the edge of his veil upwards. You take it slowly, his pupils dancing across the bare skin of your face as you reveal the point of his chin. His skin is equally as pale there, barely exposed to sunlight.

König doesn't stop you as you continue to lift the fabric from his face, exposing the curve of his lower lip. The skin there is soft and plush, little creases in the flesh making your heart thud awkwardly against your ribs. Finally, you stop at his cupid's bow, so soft and subtle it's barely there at all. 

You can feel his gaze warming your skin as you trace his lips with your eyes. Hesitation holds you still, uncertain about the final step of this stupid plan. König, as ever, doesn't push you. Doesn't even breathe. When you lean forward, the tip of your nose brushing his own that still lay beneath the cloth, you hear a sharp yet gentle inhalation. It triggers goosebumps across your forearms, butterflies battering the pit of your stomach. 

Soft. His lips are so soft when you mould your own to their shape. König's veil tickles the skin of your face when you kiss him, and you feel his gigantic hands settle on either side of your neck as he begins to return your affections. They swallow you, and your pulse leaps against his palm. 

König smiles, and the kiss turns toothy and a little lopsided. You can't help but giggle nervously, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as he presses gentle pecks to the edge of your mouth. Despite his massive, intimidating frame, each action is deliberate and soft. 

"... Are your clothes still wet, Schatz?" He's breathless despite his seemingly put-together appearance, his nose bumping yours as he interrupts your answer for another fragile kiss. "We could get you out of them." 

                            ✰

Your standard-issue military t-shirt slips and falls from the cot's mattress as König gently pulls your hips towards the edge. His fingerprints have already bruised into your thighs despite his attempts to be gentle. When he'd begun to panic, you told him not to worry–– he'd already bruised up your neck with his teeth and lips; what was a couple more?

Butterflying your legs out for him, König groans softly as you expose your glistening cunt for him. You're shy, covering your face with your hands as his fingers massage the soft, malleable flesh of the inside of your thighs. 

"Schatz," he whispers, and you peer through the gaps of your fingers. König gazes down between your legs, green eyes gleaming as he positions his cock between your folds. "So beautiful." 

It's ridiculous, you think, staring down between your legs. König is huge in every sense, the shaft of his cock thick and veiny and drowning out the seam of your sex as König shifts his hips forward to swipe the length of him across your weeping cunt. You can't help your mind running away with itself–– surely he needed a weapons license to carry that thing-?

A weak chuckle sounds above you, and you crane your neck to catch his eye. "I will take it slow, Schatz, I promise you."

You believe him. He had been so delicate with you this whole time, laying you down gently on the bed, careful when removing your gear and your clothes not to let the material snag on your nose or chin. 

König's hand disappears beneath the face veil, spitting into his palm before he smoothes it over the head of his cock. He groans, eyelids fluttering beneath the mask as he drags his hand over the length. It's a pretty sight, you think, such a colossal man shuddering in bliss. When he sweeps his cock through your folds again, he carefully taps the tip of his dick against your clit to illicit a whimper. 

"Mhmm, gentle. I promise you," he repeats, inching the tip of his cock down until it settles at your entrance. The soles of your feet find purchase on König's hips, and he massages your calves gently as he begins to inch into you at your nod of approval. 

Oh, Christ. 

König stretches you the moment he sinks inside. There's a delicious burn, one that has you lifting your hips with a whimper as you equally try to escape and dive into it. He's wheezing, eyes glued to where your bodies meet as he watches you flutter around his size. 

"Ha-So tight, Schatz," he groans loudly, stopping when you firmly grip the bedsheets. He notes your expression of slight pain, the tears welling in your eyes as your body attempts to accommodate the intrusion. König seemingly can't help the flurry of apologies that fall from his mouth as he leans over you, settling his thumb against your clit in an attempt to ease you open. "Here. I want you to feel good, Engel." 

The tremors in your thighs rattle against his hips as he circles your clit slowly. It's blissful, the sticky, warm arousal that blooms through your abdomen as he teases at the sensitive nerves. You arch your back against the mattress, moaning out his name breathlessly as he continues to inch his cock further into you. You barely notice when he finally settles the rest of him inside, wailing softly when it twitches and knocks something earthshattering inside you. 

"O-Oh fuck––" you choke on your curse when König shifts his hips forward, jutting into your cervix and winding you suddenly. You probably look ridiculous, eyes rolling back into your skull as you claw at the vast expanse of his chest. You drag pink lines down the pale skin, drawing blood to the surface, but it does little to phase König this far along.  

"Good, Liebling?" He murmurs, continuing to assault your clit. You can barely form a coherent sentence in response, drooling around a string of 'yes, yes, yes'. It's all he needs to find comfort in advancing, easing the length of him out of your weeping cunt before driving it back in at an achingly slow pace. 

You want to slam your fist against his pectorals and insist he go faster, but you're not sure you're ready for it when he slides into you balls deep. It's as though he's settling among your lungs, filling you so good that you're seeing static in your line of vision. 

The sound of a desperate groan from above barely brings you back down to earth, noting how he's staring at your face. His pupils are blown wide, almost devouring the green of his irises. It takes you a moment to realise you're drooling, his slow and steady pace already pushing you to a mindless edge. 

"Oh-" you moan, digging your nails into his abs. They ripple beneath your touch with each deliberate thrust, and König hisses at the sharp sting and the crescent moon indents they leave behind. "F-Fuck, König- Too much-!"

"It's too much?" He wheezes, eyes searching your face. You desperately shake your head, terrified he'll pull away from you despite the inching arousal building at the base of your spine. Wrapping your legs around his hips, your heels press into the small of his back and hook him in place despite your protests. 

It sparks something feral in the hulking man, his hips surging forwards and jolting you up the mattress. Your breath escapes you in a squeak, arousal soaring and buzzing thickly in your abdomen as König mumbles in German, his soft voice coming out all gritty under the strain of his exertions and bliss. 

"Mhmmm- fuck-" you babble, eyes rolling again as you lift your hips to meet his. He sinks impossibly deeper, and your breath stutters as you feel the telltale tug of your orgasm. "Oh God- König, I'm-"

"Tell me," König whispers, rutting up inside you. He doesn't bother to inch out of you now, repeatedly battering so deep inside you that you struggle to inhale as your orgasm approaches fast. 

"Hngngg- hah-ah- I'mgonna- c-cum-" you choke with each sudden thrust, his thumb quickening its pace against your arcing clit. Perhaps he shifts his hips slightly or reaches even deeper than before, but he brushes against something utterly debilitating, and you cum with a loud shriek of his name. 

It bursts through you with blistering heat, your fingernails sinking deep into the curves of his bicep as you brace against the waves of bliss that crash over you. König keeps fucking into you, your walls squeezing tight around him as his thumb persists in its assault on your throbbing clit. Tears stream down your face, and König can't hold on much longer as you strangle his cock. 

"Hah-Shit-" he slurs, his voice barely reaching your ears as he buries himself as deep as you can take him. He cums with a haggard moan, body trembling as his cock spurts inside of you. There's so much of it, too, leaking out of you before he even manages to move. 

Both of you take a moment, both stunned by the overwhelming ecstasy. König doesn't bother withdrawing from your heat as he slumps beside you, turning you on your side to face him. He offers no words, burying his face into the crook of your neck and holding you tightly. 

Your chest heaves as you suck in oxygen, skin prickling with heat as König encases you in his massive arms. You don't need the sheets, his body-heat burning hot beside you as you press your skin to his.

No words need to be said, you think. König had offered his feelings in the form of his reverent touches and delivered his thanks for your kindness in the delicate kisses he'd pressed to your lips as he carried you into the bedroom. 

As you lay in the dark, settled into König's side, you trace your fingers over the curved scars, the bulletholes that have healed over against his ribs. They rise and fall beneath your touch, lungs expanding and deflating with each breath. It's a sobering moment, the thrumming of his pulse against your palm reminding you of his humanity despite the whispers at the base that had insisted upon his bestiality. 

You realise those who speak cruelly of him and ruin his self-worth don't understand their impact. To them, he's a cryptid–– his very existence called into question. They hadn't seen him with their own eyes, only heard the mind-boggling tales of his startlingly impressive missions and monstrous size. 

They hadn't felt his heart, the way it fluttered against your touch when you'd offered compliments. Hadn't experienced the soft plush of his lips pressing into your own in heartbreakingly sweet kisses. He was no monster. 

And when Lieutenant Riley came for you the following day, choosing to ignore the marks left on your skin and the way you hesitated before climbing into the helicopter to offer the Austrian a gentle wave and a promise that you would return, you began the mission to rewrite his story. To change hearts and minds.  

It didn't take long at all.

"Did you hear about Kilgore?"

"I did! He saved a member of 141. Incredibly brave–– I heard the situation was dire."

"She spoke very highly of him. Said we could count on him."

"I certainly wouldn't mind fighting alongside someone so dependable and courageous." 

join the taglist here

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[shiratamahatsumiyo]

TWST with Blood Mage reader (Part 2)

I didn't know I reached a hundred followers. Thank you so much, guys!

Warning: Gore and Slight Language

• Everyone in the room waited in anticipation for the Dark Mirror's statement in hopes of finally ending the ceremony, But the mirror did not respond. The mirror's stoic face suddenly expressed fear and a judgemental expression seconds later. The mirror then replied...

Dark Mirror: "...This soul... Does not belong in any of the dorms."

• The crowd in the room gasped in shock and loud whispers filled the room. Crowley stuttered in confusion and asked the mirror for the reason.

Dark Mirror: "...They have a powerful yet fearful magic that exceeds the average young student... Their flow of magic power fluctuates in every vein, bone, flesh... Too difficult to discern the difference between physical and magical strength..."

Crowley: "I-i do not understand, I... Is what you are trying to say is that they are... Dangerous?"

Dark Mirror: "... That may be. But they are also gifted in an art form of magic that not a single student can master..."

Crowley: "I-i see. Well... BloodMage! Yuu, was it?"

BloodMage! Yuu: "Yes?"

Crowley: "What kind of mage are you?"

BloodMage: "...I don't know myself."

Dark Mirror: "There is still room for improvement... They must learn to harness that magic... To control it... Until then, they cannot be placed in any dorm."

• With that said, the mirror's face disappeared. The students in cloaks stared at you in disbelief and stepped away from you. The way they are cautious is not new to you. They are always scared...

Crowley: "Oh! Woe is me, woe is me! What do I do? In all experience of being headmaster, I have never thought I'd encounter this kind of problem... Sh-should I send them back?"

Grim, escaping: "Fnyagh! If you're not gonna take 'em, then take me instead!"

Crowley: "What the-- Stop, raccoon! You shall not escape!"

Grim: "The Great Grim's ain't a raccoon! And I got magic much more powerful than that guy! Just watch me!"

• The little monster escaped from Crowley's lash and floated in the middle of the room. He puffed up his furry chest to inhale some air and blew enormous blue flames. All the students ran to evade his attack, some ran towards safety, others pull out of their magical pens. The fighting students struggle to contain him as Grim levitated from corner to another one.

Crowley: "SOMEBODY CATCH THAT MONSTER!"

????: "Aren't you the headmage?"

?????: "...Ugh, how troublesome..."

???: "Stop with your complaining. You know you can end this yourself. Doesn't that thing look like a nice plump snack?"

?????: "Nah, too much work."

????: "Headmaster Crowley, do not worry. You can count on me to capture it. Without hurting the poor thing, of course!"

????: "That's Azul for you. Always showing off and always reaping the plus points."

• While the so-called powerful students (you assumed) bicker with each other, you see the boy with tan skin and silver hair struggling to avoid Grim's attacks and tripped. Before Grim could breathe out another barrage of flames, you quickly stood in front of the boy and shield him from the fire... Besides, you need to use your magic anyway.

BloodMage! Yuu: "...Are you alright?"

?????: *cough*, *cough* "Y-yeah, I think so..."

BloodMage! Yuu: "Good. You need to get up."

?????: "Right. Thanks a lot for...for........ W-W-W -WHAAAaa!!"

• The boy paused mid-sentence as he took your hand to get up, only to feel... Something wet and boney? He looked up in horror to see flesh clinging to whatever's left of your right arm. Blood dripping down from your upper torso, showing your now scorched left shoulder its inner muscles and veins.

• The boy screamed in terror, drawing attention from bystanders and running students. Everything seemed to freeze in motion as they witness the gore that you displayed. The monster even stopped his ruckus to look at what he's done. Some students fainted, some ran to get the infirmary ghosts, some holding their vomit in disgust at your exposed bloody burnt skin which the ceremonial robes can no longer hide.

???: "G-GREAT SEVENS!"

???: "AAAAAHHHH!!!"

???: "CALL THE INFIRMARY GHOSTS NOW!"

???: "THEY'RE DYING!"

???: "EVERYTHINGISFINEEVERYTHINGISFINEEVERYTHINGISFINE"

???: "DON'T LOOK HERE!"

???: "I WANNA GO HOME!"

???: "CAPTURE THAT MONSTER IMMEDIATELY! HE KILLED SOMEONE!"

Grim: ".....W...What have I done..... Th-this isn't supposed to happen.... No no no........."

BloodMage! Yuu: ".......Cell Siphon."

Grim: "I-i-it was an accident--... F-FNYAGH!?"

• Now that you have access to your blood magic, you use your blood cells to cast a spell, Cell Siphon, on Grim. The monster is suddenly put in a trance as the blood in his tiny body forces him to come closer to you. Finally, your puddle of blood starts to levitate around you and formed into a makeshift cage for Grim.

BloodMage! Yuu: "Huh... That was easy."

• You were expecting Grim to fight back but the fiery feline only sit there in the cage with his ears drooped down, and his eyes not meeting yours. You approach the headmage and handed him the cage. The headmage's mouth is agape and his wide eyes kept looking at you and back to the cage, trying to piece together what the fuck just happened. You assume that everyone else is also holding the same expression.

?????: "I apologize Headmaster, but I'm afraid Malleus Draconian has forgotten to-- OH MY FUCKING SEVENS."

• The short fae entered the room, not expecting to see scorched walls, everyone standing in shock, and you looking at him like you didn't mind the melted flesh and eyeball still dangling from your face.

[yandere--stuck]

If you're still taking requests, would you be able to do something again with Arkhamverse Joker?? (Or even Scarecrow, ANYTHING with that skinny lil horror boy please) I love ALL of your Batman work.

Just give me anything, I'm starving for some dark and creepy batvillians.

“Alright, sweetheart, just tell me who did it,” The Joker cooed from behind you, his hands resting at the plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

Both you and The Clown stood in front of the maw of the Sionis Steel Mill. You hadn't been outside in so long. The thought of making a run for it flitted through your mind, but you just as quickly discarded it. Joker was holding you pretty tight, but even if you broke free from his grip, presented before you was a line of Joker's men desperate to do anything to gain their boss's favor. And even if you made it through all that, you were smack dab in the middle of Arkham City. If the elements or starvation didn't get to you first, it'd be the other inmates - especially if they had gotten any inkling you might be precious to The Clown Prince of Crime.

Somehow, beyond all odds, you were the most safe in the arms of Gotham's most dangerous criminal.

Even with the multiple layers covering you, the wind cut through you like a blade. You'd been dressed in specially made pajamas the Joker commissioned, layers of winter clothing, and a large blanket he'd wrapped you up in before escorting you outside. And it made looking upon Joker's gang all the more uncomfortable. 

Compared to you, Joker's men wore precious little. Tank tops or sleeveless hoodies, some wearing no top at all, old worn pants, and their very own clown masks. You couldn't see their eyes, but you imagined that behind their masks, they glowered at you. Why wouldn't they hate you? After all, you were why they were freezing out here. Their boss had given them orders to never, under any circumstances, allow any harm to be brought unto you.

And then, Joker found the bruises.

“I don't want to get anyone in trouble,” You insisted, craving your neck to attempt eye contact with The Joker.

“Nobody's in trouble,” The Clown nuzzled you, voice almost a purr. “I just want to know who did it.”

You bit your lip. Something burned and swirled like a whirlpool in your stomach, rising to your chest. “It was my fault. I bumped into something.”

“Darling, it's okay. I'm not mad. Just point ‘em out for me.”

Your lips quivered and you screed your eyes shut. Burying your face in your hands, your whole body shook. You couldn't do this. You didn't want to. Sure, the guy roughed you up, but at least he didn't fucking kill you. And maybe whoever did it was a criminal at best or monster at worst, but you didn't want someone to die at the hands of The Joker because of you. You weren't supposed to be here. You were supposed to be in Gotham proper, living your ordinary life and not in Joker's base. You weren't supposed to be the object of Joker's obsession. You shouldn't have had to be transported around by goons, goons who were already frustrated and pissed as it was, and only exacerbated by their boss’ obsession with you and threatening them if he even thinks they're looking at you.

God, why was this happening to you? You just want to go home! You couldn't even scream, couldn't even cry, not now, not like this-

One hand released its grip on your shoulder to press against your back and brush soothing circles against you.

“Honey, baby, sweetie-darling, there's no reason to be upset!” Joker hushed. “You're not in any trouble. I'm not mad. I just want to know."

Still shaking, you dared to turn and meet the Clown's gaze. Puffing out a cloudy mist in the icy cold air, you ventured, “You promise you're not angry?”

The Joker beamed, holding up a hand. “Scout's honor!”

The both of you stared at each other for a long moment. His pupils were dilated, acidic green eyes nearly swallowed up by his dilated pupils. He stared back at you with utter adoration. 

Really, him being angry would have been less terrifying.

With a shaky exhale, you nodded. Ripping your eyes from him, you surveyed the crowd. The man in question wasn't hard to find. You knew the mask well. Lime green hair, a red clown nose, red, painted-on cuts and marks across the mask.

He was one of the henchmen ordered to transport you from one part of the base to another. You'd been terrified, shaking, near hyperventilating, and scared stiff to the spot. And he had grabbed you tight enough to bruise and shoved you through the halls, the other goons following behind. Just remembering it lit a spark of fear and anger in your gut. And even still, you hesitated to call him out.

Shivering, you slowly raised a finger to point at him, your digit like a death mark.

“Him,” you breathed out.

“Him?” Joker asked, pointing at the same man.

You nodded. You fought the urge to squeeze your eyes closed as The Joker waved him over.

The masked man approached both of you. You couldn't help but lean further into Joker. You tried to convince yourself it was the cold. He stopped a few feet away, but Joker motioned him even closer, until he was almost right on top of you both.

“This true, Bud?” Joker asked.

The masked man held his tongue for a moment. His whole body seemed tense. And if you had to guess, he was likely glaring daggers at you from behind the mask. And then finally, a soft sigh escaped him, body relaxing as he nodded. 

“Yeah, boss,” he admitted. “It was me.”

“And do you have anything to say to my darling here?”

Your breath caught in your throat as the goon turned directly toward you. You tried to keep totally still. Don't flinch. Don't show fear. You could feel his gaze burn into you. And Joker's grip tightened on your shoulder. Maybe reassuringly. Maybe possessively. 

The masked goon paused, simply staring at you, before he gave a lazy nod. “Yeah. ‘M sorry.”

Huh. That wasn't so bad. Turning to look at Joker you saw him nodding. A relieved smile began to bloom onto your face as you turned back to-

The sound of unfolding metal hit your ears. A gloved hand stretched out and yanking through hair. The stumbling forward of a body and. Your eyes widened as Joker grunted, pocket knife sinking into the man's throat.

He held it there for a moment, looking deep into the eyes of the man behind the mask, before wrenching the knife out. Blood spurted from the man’s neck as he gurgle, clutching his throat. Again, Joker struck, plunging deep into the man's neck and ripping it out. Again. Again. Again. And all you could do was watch, eyes the size of dinner plates and mouth agape in horror.

You finally found the ability to move your body again, and you hunkered down, hiding your eyes with your hands and stumbling back as Joker continued his assault. You shivered and shuddered, beginning to cry. You couldn't see it anymore, but you could hear the sounds of the blade meeting flesh, the desperate and violent gurgles of someone drowning in their own blood, the quick and sharp grunts of Joker as he plunged his knife in and out in and out in and out in and out-

You couldn't tell how long it went on, only that at some point, you couldn't hear anything else besides Joker's shaky breathing and the harsh whistling of the wind. Your hands and cheeks stung from cold and tears.

When you dared to uncover your eyes, The Joker was looking back at you. As if he was waiting for you to see - to see your attacker's head barely connected to his neck, near decapitated. The moment he saw the recognition in your eyes, the man's body was dropped like it was nothing.

"But, but," You stuttered, mouth trying to catch up with your mind. "You said, you said you weren't mad?'

"Not at you, darling," he smiled adoringly. "Never at you."

The Joker pocketed his bloody knife and clapped his hands free, addressing his men. “Now, let that be a lesson for all of you,” the clown leaned over to wrap an arm around your shoulder. You quickly cuddled into his hold (but only because of the cold. Only that and nothing more). Joker finished with a grin, “anyone who hurts my darling gets the same.”

Breathing heavily, your eyes surveyed the reactions of the henchmen. For some reason, you felt torn on how you felt about them. Pitied Joker's treatment of them, but was highly aware of their perspective of you being an obstacle, inconvenience, or even enemy-

You nearly jumped as Joker brought you out of thoughts by a kiss to the cheek. You were quickly turned around, The Joker guiding you inside and nuzzling against your cheek.

“You must be so stressed out, dear! C’mon, let's get warmed up inside and watch some cartoons!"

And when you're both inside, curled up together in a mound of blankets and cartoons playing on the screen, you tried to convince yourself tje obly reason you held him back was out of fear and to keep out the cold.

[gaal-dornick]

i don't deserve this. i don't think anyone deserves this. no, i mean that anyone would do shit for me when all i ever do is let 'em down. i hate him for leaving. but how am i any better? you didn't let me down when i was freezing to death in alaska. the only way out is through.

MONARCH: LEGACY OF MONSTERS (2023) | 1.05: The Way Out

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Two

One

So, this part was kinda supposed to be attached to part one, but I got tired and the part was getting too long so here we are lmao

Anyway, we get a few parents revealed here, but most are still a mystery

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

---

Eddie is on the other side of the park and wondering if he has enough time to see that fake Parthenon when he hears the unmistakable sound of a harpy's shriek. Those things have nearly eaten him enough times at camp for their bird screams to be seared into his memory. And if he's hearing the overgrown chicken, that means it's found those demigod kids before he could.

Fuck.

He whirls around just in time to see the harpy shoot above the trees, wings flared and feathers bristling, before dive-bombing whichever unlucky kid it's decided to eat first.

"Motherfucking shit bitch," Eddie mutters, taking off across the grass to where the harpy dived.

On the bright side, he managed to find the kids pretty quick; he'd only been in Athens for a few hours. On the fucked up side, he might only be able to sneak one or two kids away from the monster. Which, like, he'd love to save more of them, but he's not exactly the best fighter. He's the best runner and hider. This is why he's sent on these missions: the camp has learned that stealth and hiding usually bring more kids into safety than straight-up attacking monsters.

Eddie skirts around a tree, just barely missing the branch that threatens to whack his head off. He can hear music (something light and jumpy, soft and clear) and kids shouting in what he assumes to be fear. Just based on the sound, he's not going to be able to sneak those kids away. They're probably right in front of the harpy.

He'll have to be a distraction so they can run. "I'm gonna fucking die today," Eddie says, resigned and annoyed all at once. He reaches up and tears off the guitar pic and chain around his neck, the small triangle bursting outwards into a shield with straps that wrap around his arm.

It's ready to withstand some harpy claws by the time Eddie gracefully trips over a tree root and reflexively tucks and rolls over his shoulder. He pops up from the ground, eyes trained to the harpy, and freezes as three very important things become incredibly obvious.

One: the kids are not, in fact, shouting in fear. They're shouting with excitement, cheering at the fight happening before them. Eddie watches as a boy wearing a baseball cap punches the air and shouts, "Get 'em, Steve! Fuck the bird up!" His words are quickly followed by two girls jokingly shouting, "Language!" in return before laughing.

Two: the song playing is coming from a Bluetooth speaker on the blankets. It's a pop song. At least, it sounds like one. It's definitely old, though, and he only knows the name (Dancing in the Moonlight, by Toploader) because one of the muses' kids sang it once at a campfire night when Eddie first arrived at the camp.

Three: the most gorgeous boy Eddie has ever seen is currently beating the ever-loving shit out of the harpy with a nail bat. His mouth is pulled back into a vicious grin, his hair is somehow unaffected by the violent swings, and Eddie can somehow tell he's dragging this fight out with the harpy to blow off some steam.

"Oh! Steve!" one of the kids shouts, a girl with a beanie covering her hair. Her hat seems to be shifting just slightly, but Eddie thinks it might be a trick of the light. "Hit her to the music, like one of those movie fight scenes."

Then Eddie hears the boy, Steve, laugh. The sound is bright and clear and pierces right through Eddie's chest. "Sure thing, kiddo," Steve says, sliding back a step and twirling the bat in his hand. He tilts his head, listening to the song and catching the drums and keyboard, and then jumps right back onto the harpy.

And he does it. He starts swinging and landing hits on the harpy in time with the drums. Steve roundhouse kicks the harpy in the chest right as a guitar solo starts, his foot making contact with the first strum. Feathers are bursting in the air around Steve, brushing by him and creating brief, tiny dappled shadows over his face. The way he fights is like a dance, especially when he has music to follow and an audience to entertain.

Here's the thing: Eddie has never been one to keep his imagination in check. Why would he? Some of his best songs have been inspired by daydreams. So, when he sees the most gorgeous boy in the world beating a harpy's ass with a violent yet graceful dance, Eddie really can't be blamed for daydreaming.

The bright sun is replaced by a full moon, the park has become the shore by the lake at camp, and the audience of kids has disappeared completely. It's just him and Steve at the lake, smiling at each other and dancing, trading off lead between them. Eddie spins Steve and Steve dips Eddie. Somewhere, Dancing in the Moonlight is playing softly, nearly drowned out by their quiet laughter and whispered jokes and the waves of the lake brushing against the shore.

Oh. Oh.

That stupid prophecy. It was talking about this. The oracle predicted this moment and, apparently, considered it important enough to actually tell Eddie about it months ago. And he's spent this entire time trying to fight that obscure prophecy, trying to turn it into something bitter and filled with rage when it's just...just Steve. And Eddie doesn't know Steve yet, sure, but not even the gods could stop him from giving it a shot.

"YES!"

Eddie blinks, dragged harshly from his daydream by the kids shouting with joy as Steve brings the bat down on the harpy's head. The monster bursts into that familiar puff of smoke and mist and dust, and the kids cheer even louder.

Steve grins and stands up straight, rolling his shoulders and cockily resting the bat on his shoulder. He starts to turn toward the kids only to stop when he's facing Eddie, their eyes meeting and catching right as the song finishes playing.

----

The rush of joy and adrenaline at beating the harpy is still surging through Steve when he sees the guy his age standing a few feet away, staring at them with wide eyes. For a brief moment, Steve thinks he's a human who just happens to be able to see monsters, too. They've run into a person like that before. Then he notices the shield on the guy's arm and realizes he must be like them to some degree.

Steve blinks, his shoulders tensing slightly as he studies the other boy. Hair that definitely needs a more specialized shampoo, big brown eyes, and a whole grunge kinda vibe that Steve finds inexplicably attractive. He could spend another hour staring at the guy, but then one of the kids leaps onto his back, laughing right in his ear and nearly making him go deaf.

"That was so awesome!" Dustin shouts, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist as the other kids rush to surround him.

El grabs his free hand, smiling up at him. "Thank you for dance fighting," she says, her words almost drowned out by the other kids shouting their favorite parts and Max insisting she could have helped with the fight.

Steve grins a little wider, feeling his adrenaline drain as the relief of keeping his kids safe takes its place. "She shouldn't have interrupted our day off," he says, stubbornly keeping his eyes on the kids instead of the guy still staring at them. "C'mon, we need to keep moving."

"Where are you going?"

The guy's voice is a little rough, and Steve thinks he'd be able to pick it out from any crowd after hearing it just once. He looks over at the guy, frowning slightly. "I don't think it's your business," he says, trying to ignore the part of him that feels bad.

Thankfully, the guy doesn't seem to care. He just shrugs and takes a few steps closer. "Oh, I don't know, big boy. I think your gaggle of demigods is definitely my business," he says.

"Is that a threat?" Steve asks, really hoping it isn't. It would be a shame to punch the guy's face.

The boy blinks, pausing like he's reconsidering how his words sounded. "Shit, yeah, that did sound bad," he says, frowning and tugging on a lock of hair. He pulls it in front of his mouth, a few more seconds passing before he says, "I'm gonna start again."

The guy clears his throat and the retracts his shield. It shrinks down into a guitar pic on a chain that he latches around his neck. "Okay," he says, "Eddie Munson, son of Hermes, future rockstar, and your guide to Camp Half-Blood."

"Future rockstar?" Max asks, her voice low and sardonic.

"Hermes has kids?" Mike asks.

"I've never heard of Camp Half-Blood," Steve says, pushing forward and herding the kids to stand behind him. He stores Eddie's name for later, forcing himself to focus on the whole Potential Threat to His Kids thing.

Eddie nods like this is something he's expected. "That's fine. Lucky for you, pretty boy, I'm here to explain it all."

"Pretty boy," Steve mumbles, doing his absolute best to not think about his face heating up.

From behind him, he hears Lucas groan, "Aww, man, they're gonna be gross."

Thankfully, Eddie doesn't pay them any mind. "Camp Half-Blood is a safe haven for demigods like us. It's got a barrier around it that keeps monsters out, and we make sure everyone is trained to fight monsters and survive as adults," he explains, grinning at Steve.

"Wait, how many more of us are there?" Will asks, poking his head around Steve to look at Eddie with wide eyes.

"Oh, hundreds. The gods aren't exactly known for keeping it in their pants."

"So, we'll be safe at this camp?" Steve asks slowly.

"Safe as can be, big boy."

"Is it demigods only?" Steve asks.

Eddie nods once, flashing a grin. "Of course. We've got one Olympian who helps run the camp as, like, a punishment thing. He doesn't do much, actually. But we've also got some nymphs and Chiron. Uh, there are a few monsters in the forest, but they aren't too dangerous. They're mostly for training. The main thing is that big dangerous monsters can't get to us, and the Mist keeps humans from stumbling on the camp, too."

Honestly? It sounds way too good to be true. Steve has spent years running across this country and back, collecting the kids along the way and struggling to keep them alive. How is he only now learning about some camp that's built just for kids like them?

"The Mist?" Dustin asks, pushing around Steve. He'd be halfway to Eddie if Steve didn't grab his shirt and drag him back. "What's the Mist?"

"It's, like, this camouflage thing that keeps humans from noticing monsters and our powers," Eddie explains, vaguely sweeping his hand in the direction of a few other park-goers. "It's why nobody started screaming when you beat that harpy."

"Oh, that's what it's called," Dustin says, his grin saying he's about to grill Eddie for all his knowledge if Steve doesn't stop him.

Eddie nods and looks over the kids before settling his gaze on Steve again. "You and the kids will be safe there," he says.

"I wouldn't mind settling down," Will says, tugging on Steve's sleeve and looking up at him hopefully.

The other kids nod in agreement, and El squeezes Steve's hand. "It sounds like it'll be safe for me, too," she whispers.

Gods, is it tempting. No more running around, a place they can actually settle down and call home. He could get a full night of sleep for once instead of waking up every other hour to check their surroundings. He wouldn't need to worry about food or clothes or what to do if the kids get sick.

Steve frowns slightly, thinking for a moment before looking back at Eddie. "What happens when we get there?" he asks.

"You'll be given the grand tour by yours truly," Eddie says, playfully bowing to Steve and the kids. "Then, you'll get sorted into cabins and start training."

"How will we be sorted?" Lucas asks. He sounds genuinely curious, so Steve swallows back his retort that they certainly won't be separated if he has anything to say about it.

"By your godly parent. So, pretty boy here will probably go into the Aphrodite cabin," Eddie says, winking playfully at Steve.

"Aphrodite isn't his mother," El says, pushing closer to Steve as the other kids agree.

Eddie blinks. "Uh, who is?"

Steve hesitates, studying Eddie for a few seconds before looking at the kids. This isn't something he should reveal without a general consensus from them. What he gets is a few shrugs, an exasperated sigh from Lucas, and some nods. "My dad is Zeus," Steve says, looking back at Eddie.

"Dude," Eddie breathes, his eyes wide as though his entire world has been shaken, "How the fuck are you alive?"

And Steve can't help it. He laughs, shrugging off the nerves he'd felt earlier because he just can't bring himself to mistrust Eddie. "It's a bit of a long story," he says, "but I could tell it to you on the way to Camp Half-Blood."

The way Eddie lights up is enough to slightly calm the ever-present anxiety that hums through Steve's veins. Maybe this won't be a disaster.

Tag List (there is definitely still room, so just let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie

[dadyscumslutprincess20]

Hi love your writing I wanted to request that uhm.. gosh how do I explain this

So in season 1 reader and cha Hyun soo were friends , she somehow gets along with his monster side often chatting with him. So reader notices signs of becoming a monster and decides to burn herself (you know for the greater good).

She leaves a letter addressed to Hyun soo and also his monster side about how much she loves them and she's sorry for being a coward (or you can change it that she makes a video addressed to the both of them )

Fast forward to season 2 let's say ah yi and Hyun soo are getting attacked by monsters and Hyun is low key losing and is about to get punched by one of the monsters until the monster catches on fire

Revealing reader who is alive so yeah that's the request

Omg I love this 💕

Cha Hyun su x Fem!Reader

Regular : Hyun su , Reader

Bold : Purple , Readers Monster

Bold : Regular, Hyun su monster

Genre: angst , romance

Warning ⚠️ : death , suicide , strong language

Small summary: It’s been while since you became close with Hyun su , even having your moments with his monster side , slowly growing a crush for both Hyun su and his monster with in him .. while Hyun su was upstairs getting supplies for the survivors of Green Home as your nose starts to bleed while your in the bathroom.. but it wasn’t the first time either

It’s been about 4 months since the apocalypse started, during those few months you started to become close to everyone that remained alive in Green Home

More so Hyun su, you both met when everything first started since you happen to live a door down from his apartment , you ran into him while you were heading down stairs to the small convenience/grocery store to get a few items you needed to finish your dinner

Steeping out of your apartment as your shoes crunched against something causing you to look down as you saw a trail of ramen noodles scattered all across the floor leading toward the apartment next door , slowly following the trail as you stopped in you tracks seeing that the person from the apartment over also came out , squinting your eyes as you analyze the boy since you never s em him before before you heard a noise from the apartment you were now in front of both tuning to see what the noise was you see a weird , deformed arm snatched what seemed to be a cats head as blood was all over the floor

After that you and Hyun su just seemed to grow closer , there was times were you would even chat with the monster inside him as he seemed like a cool person in your eyes .. just a bit misunderstood

Letting out a sigh as you shake the thoughts out of your head , looking into the mirror as your body freezes, eyes becoming wide as you stare at your reflection… your nose was bleeding a unnatural amount of blood as you start to slightly panic , quickly turning on the warm water front he sink using your head to quickly wipe away the blood before any one came in the bathroom

After 15 minutes of cleaning your car you slowly turn off the water as you stare at your reflection, body becoming numb as you notice your eyes becomes completely black as you start to hear a voice playing in your head causing your to shiver

‘You know .. you can those me for ever Reader’

‘Shut the fuck up’ you slightly cry out trying to ignore whatever she had to say to you

‘ Do you really think he’ll love you..’ the voice in your head says as it taunts you with amused laced in its voice

‘I mean .. who would ever love someone that couldn’t even protect their younger siblings from their crazies parents’ the voice continues to taunt you as you let out silent cries , covering your mouth with one hand as you stare at your reflection, a second version of you now appears beside you , wide smile on her face as her black eyes stares into your brown one through the reflection

‘Or that you watched as your younger siblings were tortured to in front of you , how your parents sold you off to a stranger, but you decided to leave which causes the death of you pore brother and sister’

“Shut up” you cry out , soon coming to your senses as you feel a touch to your shoulder causing you to jump as you let out a soft gasp

Turing to see that it was Eun-yu , checking to see if you were okay , giving her quick nod yes as you quickly wipe away your tears heading out of the bathroom ignoring as Eun-yu called after you

Quickly heading for your back pack that was left on your stepping mat as you unzip it open taking out your sketch book along with your pencil that you decided to bring down with you , taking a sit on your mat as you quietly start to think to your self letting out a soft sigh as your head start to move along the paper

Making a small sign that read ‘Play Me’ as you place the letter down on your bed , picking up your phone as your powered it on , sighing with happiness as the screen came to life , quickly unlocking your phone , making sure to take the lock off for anyone who came across your phone

Heading for the camera icon on your phone as you press for the rescued screen easing your phone enough that your face is shown as you fix your hair to your best ability before the video started to play recording anything from this point

“H-Hi Hyun su.. umm, I don’t know where to start exactly” you say as you look at your lap for a few seconds before looking back at the camera showing biting your lip a bit out of nervousness

“ well let’s start off by saying I really enjoyed our time together.. you made me happy and I haven’t felt happy in a long time” you say with a slight smile still looking into the camera as you start to speak again

“ And some where during that time I started to like not only you but the other side of you to.. and it hurts me to keep this from you..” you say as tears start to form in your eyes quickly using your free hand to wipe the tears away

“ but I’m turning.. and I been for a while now , I just didn’t know how to tell you , I’m afraid that if I turn I’ll hurt the people I started to care so much for.. so it best if I just end it here, I don’t want to live with the fear of hurting anyone .. especially you, my biggest fear is to turn into a monster that lost their memory, I rather die with them .. you know” you say with a small smile as you look into the camera

“I’ll forever love you both Hyun su..” you say smile still on your face as tears fall down your face , ending the video as you place the phone on top of the note , you knew he would find it , since he always came to you after finishing a mission

Standing to your feet as you head for the small fire place that was made it the sleeping area , seeing that you were the only one in the area , as you take a sit a few centimeters away from the fire , eyes watching as the fire makes popping and sparking sounds

‘It’s for the best’ you thought , hand slowly raising as you become in a trance arm slowly reaches close to the fire as the flames slowly starts to connect to your skin burning your clothes in the process as wi thin a few seconds your body becomes covered in flames as you fall back letting out a plain full scream felling as your life starts to slowly sift away , not hearing the bloody screams of horro that now filled the room as the taming survivors stare at you in horror , as Eun-Yu and Ji- soo rushes to you quickly throwing a blanket over you as they try their best to put out the fire … but it was to late … you were already gone as the room now feel silent

Eun-yu slowly raising to her feet as she stares at your cover formed in horror , tears following down her face as Ji-soo slowly removes the burned blanket.. only to see your burned up body , as your mouth was still open from the painful screams , eyes string at the door frame as every one starts to get goosebumps

After a while they buried your body , Hyun su soon coming down not to long after screaching for your missing figure as you always met him at the door .. heading for your rock as he stops in his tracks .. seeing a note on your bed with your phone on top as he looks at it with curiosity

Slowly heading for your bed as he carefully sits down his spear , taking a seat on your bed eyes not leave your phone or the note once as he notices it say ‘play me’ , slowly reaching for the phone as he hesitantly opens the phone seeing it was left on a video that was made 30 minutes ago , slowly pressing play as his eyes starts to build with tears as the video shortly comes to a end , Eun - yu standing in the door frame eyes still filled with tears

“She killed her self while you were gone… she knew” Eun - Yu says as she leaves the room shortly after leaving a broken Hyun su

It’s been a year now since Hyun su last say you as his heart still brakes at the thought , sitting on a near by vehicle only a couple feet away as he watches Ah-yi , who plays with her small monster friend that she made a while ago

She was 14 years old now and Hyun su could remember how small she was not to long ago , she was like a daughter to him and since Readers death she was the only thing that he had left and he did anything he could to protect her

Although there was times were he felt like he was being watched , even his monster side started to notice but could never figure out who or what it was , when ever they tried to find the person or thing it seemed to leave in a block of an eye with Hyun su not being able to get not even a glance at the figure .. but he knew he was being watched

As he continued to watch Ah-yo he started to get a weird feeling , like there was something bad going to happen , shaking his head at the thought thinking he was just overreacting

Sliding off the vehicle as he standing to his feet as he slowly walks towards Ah-yo and he friend , but before he could get any closer he heard guns shoots soon following by multiple voices

Freezing in his spot as he soon realizes what was going on as he feels the monster with in his start to take control quickly running for Ah-you , picking her up in a swift motion as the guns shoots follow after Hyun su , keeping a tight hold of Ah-yi as he dodges every bullet his way , making sure her friend was keeping up the pace as he make a quick turn coming to a blocked off road full of sink holes

Putting Ah-yi down as he pushes he behind him along with her small friend , as he arm quickly turns into a wing , hitting the closet two men in front of him as he notices they aren’t soldiers but survivors

“Stay back , I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you” Hyu su says eyes staring at each of the fifteen men , voice laces with venom was he holds a cold expression

As one of the men let’s put a loud laugh as he signaling the men to attack but before they could get any closer or Hyun su could attack , a burst of flames that seemed to come from the ground as the the men set ablaze letting out blood cradling screams

Dropping to their knees as Hyun su’s blue eyes watches them out of confusion and curiosity, eyes slowly poking up as he noticed a figure slowly walking towards him , eyes being wide as the figure walks through the men the were screaming from pain as the flames slowly took their lives

There you stood , short hair that was always cut in a bob now past your shoulders , your hair now held into a bushy ponytail to the back of your head

Eyes examining your figure as he notices your no longing wear a oversized sweater and jeans , you were now in shorts that’s showed off your curves , and a half tank top that showed off your lowered stomach and your huge breast , high thigh boots that had a 3-4 inch heel that stopped mid thigh

Looking towards your face as he sees your lips shining in the sun for the lip gloss you wore , looking into your eyes as he gives off a smile smile , your eyes shined a bright green mixed with your natural brown color

“Your alive” Hyun su says eyes now back to normal as he walks closer towards you quickly pulling your in to a hug giving you a passionate kiss as he slowly pulls away , as Ah-yi watches with adoration wondering if you were the one he talked so much about

[huramuna]

selkie's song - chapter 1.

night's watch aemond x wildling shapeshifter ofc work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

this is wholly inspired by @lonelymagpies depiction of Night's Watch Aemond. please go check out their beautiful work here!

i am also partial to selkies bc irish 🤭 i'm going to take some liberties with wildling lore since we don't know too too much about them and mix some of my own heritage into it (indigenous american and irish) , which i feel would meld really well.

previous | next chapter

word count: 2.2k

content: smut (eventually, specifics will be under the cut of chapters with it), enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, ofc is a menace to Aemond and he kind of likes it

who is she? - I MONSTER • dead! - my chemical romance

The blood of the dragon runs hot and thick, pulsing through Targaryen veins like molten lava. His mother always snuggled him as a child, citing him as her own personal furnace. 

If only that would come in handy now. Aemond thought he knew cold, way up in the skies, skimming the clouds upon Vhagar’s back, feeling the chill away from the heat of the earth. A frigid autumn breeze going through his window, causing him to bundle up in two blankets— although he usually kicked them off sometime during the night. 

But this— this was cold. Ball freezing, bone chilling, blue lipped cold. He was stuck up in the ass of the North, stationed at the wall, dressed all in black. He puffed up the collar of his cloak, trying to find some respite from the gales of glacial air. 

“Saddle up, Targaryen,” the lord commander grunted. He was a broad man, some disgraced Northman who rose his way up the ranks of the Night’s watch. Aemond could hardly remember his name, “We’re goin’ beyond the wall. Scouts said wildlings gettin’ too close.” 

“Mm.” Aemond grumbled in response, not wanting to waste his energy talking to the ogre of a man when it could be better used for warmth.

The stable boy, no older than nine name days, tugged his palfrey to him, “I’ve got ‘em all tacked  up for ya, prince.” 

“Oy, Ryam,” the lord commander snapped. Lord Ennard Fir, that was the commander’s name, “He ain’t no prince anymore, so stop callin’ him as such. He’s just one of us now, eh? A man in black.” 

Ryam nodded slowly, handing the reins to Aemond. The boy’s face was tinged red as he puffed air into his cupped hands, trying to keep warm. He was a boy from the south, just like Aemond— a butcher’s bastard boy, Ryam Waters. He had accompanied the now scorned prince on his ride up the Kingsroad. He reminded Aemond greatly of Daeron.

“Stay warm, boy,” Aemond said, giving the youngster a stiff nod of his head, “Take the fur from my bed, it’ll help.” 

Ryam puffed out his chest, “Uh huh, your grace,” he giggled, speaking the title in secret. 

It almost made a smile come to Aemond’s lips. Almost. He tried to remember the last time he smiled– it was on that fateful day near Storm’s End, over Shipbreaker’s bay. He was taunting Lucerys, finally being the stronger one, the one who had control. He laughed and smiled like a madman, chasing his nephew on his puny hatchling of a dragon. He felt like a god.

Then Vhagar snapped her jaws, ignoring Aemond’s commands. The sickening crunch of Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon still lived in his mind. It played in his dreams, making them into nightmares. He constantly woke up in a cold sweat, muttering, “It was an accident, it was an accident, I didn’t mean it.”

His eye began to ache and he clenched his jaw as he mounted his horse. Glancing around, he saw that five other men were joining him. He tugged his hood up slightly before his hand rested on his blade. He donned two weapons; a standard issue castle-steel short sword, and the Catspaw blade. He had watched his father carry it for years, he watched his mother brandish it in his name and cut Rhaenyra— and now it was his. 

Not by precedent or bestowment, he actually stole it. When he was being sent to take the black, he pilfered it from Daemon’s chambers. The old fucker already had one ancestral blade, he didn’t need two. It was the only thing he had left of home, besides the sapphire in his socket and his eyepatch. It was gorgeous crafted Valyrian steel and he always kept it on his person. 

His thumb grazed over the ruby gem on the hilt of the dagger absentmindedly as they descended on their journey, spurring their horses further across the threshold of the wall. Lord Fir was at the front, with Aemond holding up the back in their procession of ingrates and outcasts. 

If he told his younger self that he was to be lumped in with bastards, thieves, rapers and ne’er-do-wells, he would’ve laughed in his own face. It was a ridiculous notion for a Targaryen prince to be even entertaining the idea. And yet, here he was. Living it out. 

He wondered what his mother was doing currently. Had she taken Helaena and Aegon to Oldtown with the children? Did she stay in the Red Keep to be squashed under Rhaenyra’s heel? 

“Aemond Targaryen, you stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, protector of the realm,” Ser Westerling had shouted, “You stand accused of treason, conspiracy to commit usurpation, and nepoticide. You murdered Lucerys Velaryon in cold blood above the skies of Shipbreaker Bay.” 

Aemond had been in chains, his face haggard and stubbled from not being able to shave. They stripped him of his eyepatch and sapphire at the hearing, sending him down to his knees with his barren eye socket to behold. 

“How do you plead to these charges?” Ser Harrold asked. 

Aemond said nothing. 

Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne, tapping her finger incessantly against the metal, “Brother. I’ve granted you the courtesy of allowing a hearing to your… crimes, rather than simply sending you to the block. Mayhaps I was too lenient on my decision to let you say your piece.” 

Aemond still said nothing, looking down at the ground. He heard his mother shuffling near him, off to the side in the throne room, murmuring something hurriedly to someone. 

“I have nothing to say. Lucerys is dead— nothing I can say will bring him back or undo what’s been done.” he finally grit out, his voice hoarse from disuse. 

“So, you have no objection to being punished for your crimes? The crime of Kinslaying is the most cursed,” Rhaenyra said, leaning forward, “Mayhaps I will grant you a death by dragon— I would honor you the same way you so graciously honored Lucerys, hm? Mayhaps have Syrax and Caraxes rip you limb from limb and scatter your parts over Blackwater Bay.” 

Aemond didn’t respond.

“Y-your grace,” Alicent spoke up, walking to Aemond and standing in front of him, “Please, have mercy upon him. Your son wouldn’t have wanted this—“

“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT MY SON WOULD’VE WANTED,” Rhaenyra bellowed, standing up from her seat, “Your son took away his ability to want anything, and for that there should be repercussions! A son for a son.” 

“Rhaenyra, please,” Alicent murmured, “Please, I can’t lose him— it… it was an accident. Aemond, tell her it was an accident!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to admit their family’s greatest fear was true; they did not have complete control over their dragons. 

Rhaenyra gazed at Aemond’s pained expression, then at Alicent, “He will be punished. But I would not become a Kinslayer— I do not wish to be as accursed as you, brother,” she strode back to the throne, twisting the rings on her fingers, “He will take the black and be sent to the wall. He will have no titles, no land, no wife or children. He will have nothing for the rest of his life except for the Night’s Watch.” 

Alicent was stunned, as was Aemond. He wondered if he would’ve preferred death. 

“In addition,” Rhaenyra continued, “His claim to his dragon, Vhagar, will be severed. He will undergo the Valyrian ceremony for it.” 

“You can’t,” Aemond growled, “You can’t!” he panicked— Vhagar had been the only thing he ever achieved in his life, truly. He lost his eye for her. 

“Take him back to his cell and prepare him for the ride up the Kingsroad.” she said with finality, looking down at her hand as she sat back on the throne. 

Aemond saw— she had been pricked by the throne, blood beading at the tip of her finger. 

Mayhaps there are still small mercies in this world. 

A particularly strong gust of cold air snapped him back to reality, his hand still itching over his dagger. They reached the thick treeline that stretched out for miles, their horses trudging through the snow. 

They were at least ten miles out from the wall now, the Seven Kingdoms left truly well behind them. A small river trickled near them and Aemond saw the shadows of fish— large ones at that. 

He had been in the Night’s Watch for at least seven moons now, and this was his first expedition outside of the wall. It felt like a whole different world— a world without laws, without political duty, without fights of succession over a throne made of swords— there was something freeing about being here. It was only a remnant of what he felt soaring the skies on Vhagar, but it would have to do. 

The wind whistled through the branches of the trees, fresh snow beginning to fall. He heard a fly buzzing near his ear. No, that couldn’t be right. Surely there weren’t flies in the cold? 

It wasn’t right— another fly whizzed past him, sticking into the man in front of him. Those were the arrows. 

“Ambush! Wildlings!” Lord Fir shouted, reeling in his horse. 

Aemond went to unsheathe his sword when his horse went haywire, rearing up on its hind legs. “Lykiri, lykiri!” Be calm, be calm. He shouted at the horse, tugging at the reins as the wildlings descended upon them. He felt like he was above Storm’s End once more, screaming for Vhagar to heed his commands—

His horse bucked him off, sending him tumbling into a deep snow drift. He dropped his sword somewhere aside— his hand immediately went to his waist, gripping around the Catspaw dagger. 

A breath of relief washed over him as he rolled and hid behind a tree, unsheathing the dagger. He twirled it around, waiting for someone, anyone to cross his path. 

He then felt the cool pressure of a blade against his throat. 

“Don’t move, crow,” a voice said. It was almost diminutive, soft in tone— but it was threatening all the same, “I don’t need to paint the snow red with your blood just yet. Drop the dagger.” 

Begrudgingly, he dropped the Valyrian steel into the snow. 

“Now turn around, slowly. Keep your hands out.” 

He turned around, expecting to see an ugly wildling in his gaze. He had only heard the tales of them, that they were more ugly than not. 

His breath caught in his throat as he looked upon her— she was small, much smaller than he, her skin somewhat pale and cool toned, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. It was her eyes that caught him— one was a deep, rich brown, and the other was a light blue, with fragments and shards of brown in it, like a mountain against a clear sky. Her hair, dark chocolate brown with one streak of white in it, was tied into a haphazard braid. She wore earrings made of the lower jaw of some small mammal, inlaid with opals. She was holding a dragonglass dagger to his throat, the hilt of it carved from a deer’s antler, encrusted with a matching moonstone. 

She wore a long, white coat— it looked to be the skin of some animal, but Aemond couldn’t tell which. It was spotted and fluffed. 

His brow narrowed as he noticed that she was soaking wet, dripping water from her nose and hair, the sheen of moisture shining from her skin.

He could only imagine how astonished he looked staring at her— but she stared back at him in the same manner, her eyes wide. She had huge eyes, Gods be good. 

“Fucking hell, you’ve got a purple eye.” she murmured. 

“You should see my other eye.”

A harsh crack across his face— she had slapped him, “Don’t be a pig.” 

Aemond blinked profusely, “By the Seven— I meant my actual other eye,” he grunted, “May I?” he gestured to his eyepatch. 

“… better be worth it, crow.” she murmured, nodding slowly. 

He lifted his eyepatch off, revealing the sapphire underneath. 

Her lips were slightly agape as she ogled at him, “You’re a fancy crow, aren’t you?”

“Hm.” he grumbled. 

She retrieved the Catspaw dagger from the ground, stowing it at her hip, “I’ll be keepin’ this for right now.” 

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” he asked, perplexed as to why he wasn’t dead yet. 

“Not yet— you got interesting eyes, I wanna show my papa,” she retrieved a leather cord from her belt and wrapped it keenly around his wrists, “Caught myself a crow.” she hummed, seemingly entertained with herself. 

Aemond rolled his eye, letting her hoist him up into a standing position. He towered over her, to which she didn’t seem too bothered about. 

She led him past the battle, which was now over. He saw three of his Night’s Watch brothers slain, and it looks like two others had run off like cravens, including Lord Commander Fir. 

“Where are you taking me?” 

“My tribe,” she replied, stringing him along. 

“Your… tribe,” he repeated, “And what is your name?”

“Euna. And you, crow?” 

“Aemond.”

[nivisdreaming]

Skittish

Eddie didn’t think there was anyone outside of Hellfire in the school who liked D&D, and he’s okay with his little group of hyperactive teens. Then, he finds you, drawing what is undeniably a D&D monster. And he is hooked.

• Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader

• Tags: Fluff, Meet-Cuteish?, Drabble, She/her for reader

• WC: ~700

“Wait. Hold on. That’s not- is that? Are you drawing a beholder?” Eddie stops dead in his tracks, quick to lean over head of the girl he’s speaking to in order to get a better look at the sketchbook.

She flinches backwards, nearly ramming her head back into his chest. “No! Definitely not!” She slams the sketchbook shut and pulls it underneath her chin, wrapping her arms across it tightly and tugging her knees up to her chest to hide the leather-bound book from view as much as possible. “P-please don’t try to take it,” she squeaks.

Eddie is quick to pull back, realizing in his eagerness he has ended up towering over the poor girl. He puts his hands up in a show of surrender. “Woah woah, slow down, I have no intention of taking it! It was just really good, ya know? Could I look?” He lowers his voice to a much softer tone. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I may be a freak, but I’m not a monster sweetheart.”

There’s a gentle whine as she unfurls herself from her defensive stance, but she returns the book to its place on the table and opens it to the previous page. On it is an almost completed pencil sketch of a beholder, with miniature doodles of 20-sided dice, swords, and bows decorating the page border. With only a slight anxious glance at the curly-haired man next to her, she pulled the pencil from behind her ear and began adding to the shading. Internally, she sighs in relief at the excuse to look anywhere besides the sad puppy dog eyes Eddie gave her when he scared her. He’s adorable. That’s so unfair. Why do you get to be adorable and tall? People really should only get to pick one of those. Unfair.

“You drew this?! It looks out straight of the D&D manual, that’s awesome!” Eddie plops down in the seat next to her and sets down his lunch tray in favor of leaning in closer to the book, leaving their faces parallel to each other. “I’ve never seen you at Hellfire before, do you play with a friend group or something?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t actually play. My brother did though, and he left all the books to me when he left for college, so I started reading them after school.” She mutters as she continues to draw. The repetitive movement helps lull her anxiety a bit, and she feels her guard lowering with the release of her scrunched up shoulders. “I’ve seen you with the hellfire crowd, but-“ She sighs. “You know how vampires can’t come inside somewhere unless they’re invited in? I’m kind of like that. Groups are intimidating, and I get skittish.” He shifts impossibly closer to peek over her ever-moving pencil, and a strand of his hair brushes her cheek and sends a chill down her spine.

“You should join us sometime, skitty kitty, we don’t bite,” Eddie snickers. She feels him turning his head so more of his hair teases the side of her face, and she swears he’s so close she can feel his breath now. “You know, you’re blushing pretty hard there. Is it the compliments on your drawings, or is something else up? Hmmm?” Her hand freezes for the first time since she reopened the book.

“I- um…nothing,” She lifts her pencil to her mouth and begins to anxiously tap it against her lip. “Yeah, sure, I’ll join you all,” The tapping continues.

On instinct, Eddie’s hand reaches out and carefully removes the pencil from her hand, taking it in his own. He smirks when she looks up from the sketch to his eyes, shoots her a wink, and kisses the top of the pencil lightly. Her tucks it back behind her ear with a lingering touch. “Fridays, after school, in the drama room. Bring these drawings if you feel comfortable, the kids will love ‘em and I’d love to see more of them.” She gulps and fights the urge to nod with too much eagerness, and he slides out of his seat, gives her a wave, and returns to his usual table to eat his lunch.

To be honest, she isn’t sure she is capable of forming another coherent thought for the entirety of the lunch period.

[reminiscingtonight]

Bedtime Stories

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 711

A/N: A prequel will be coming soon!

[WOSO Masterlist]

You had just parted ways with Georgia when you walked into a scene that’s more amusing than anything else. Simply speaking, Ella’s already throwing you “help me” eyes when you walk into the lounge.

You take one look at her before you’re quietly chuckling to yourself.

“(Y/N)! What do I do?” Ella hisses quietly.

The problem Ella’s found herself in is that Leah fast asleep, head rested upon her shoulder, arms lightly wrapped around her side. 

“She got all pissy and mad that you gave me your sweatshirt. Even tried to get me to give it to her.”

Earlier tonight, as all of you were leaving the stadium, you remember seeing Ella shivering on the walk out to the bus. It was an automatic response to hand her your sweatshirt. To be honest, you had totally forgotten that you had given it to the younger girl. You were dragged into a meeting with some of the staff and Sarina seconds after getting back to the hotel. You thought you’d let Leah have the night off from her co-captain duties, but you didn’t realize that Leah would get so territorial in your absence. 

You roll your eyes. “Leah’s a drama queen. Glad to see you kept hold of it.”

“Yeah, but now she’s fallen asleep on me!”

The slight raise of her voice makes Leah stir and the brunette instantly freezes. It seems to be a false alarm though, as Leah settles back down, tightening her grip on Ella. 

“Up and at ‘em, Tooney.”

The younger girl’s eyes widen. “What? No! I’m not gonna risk waking Leah up and having her get mad at me again!”

Your eye twitches. “Leave Leah’s moodiness to me. Now do you want to be free of the snuggle monster or not?”

Leah’s well known for being cranky when she’s tired. Despite this, she often finds it hard to fall asleep. For some reason, you’re the only person she’s comfortable to fall asleep around. Though, maybe it’s the effect of your sweatshirt hanging off Ella’s frame that’s lulled her to sleep this time. 

Ella seems to think to herself, eventually resigning to the fact that she’s going to have to wake Leah up to get her off of her. Sighing, she shifts in her seat, instantly freezing again when an annoyed voice floats to your ears. 

“Tooney, if you’re not going to give me the hoodie, you might as well stay still and let me sleep,” Leah tiredly mutters, eyes not even cracking open.

Ella throws you a look. 

Hiding your amusement, you lean down, running your hand through Leah’s hair.  “Hi sleepy head,” you grin. “How bout you let Ella go back to her room?”

Hazy blue eyes instantly flash open. Leah sits up, albeit a little sluggishly, hands latching onto the front of your shirt. 

Another thing you’ve gotten to love about your girlfriend, Leah gets extremely clingy when she’s tired. 

Backing up a bit, you let Ella slip out from under Leah’s hands. The younger girl scurries away, quickly throwing you a relieved look before she departs. It’s a mix of your own exhaustion and Leah’s tugging hands that has you settling in Ella’s recently vacated seat.

The second you’re seated, Leah presses herself against you, head tucking into the crook of your neck as she tries to find a comfortable position. 

“You took too long,” she mumbles, eyes already slipping close again.

“Sorry,” you laugh, shifting so Leah can rest against you more comfortably. “Next time we can suffer through the meetings together.”

Leah mumbles something else, but it turns sluggish, your co-captain already slipping out of consciousness again. The heat emanating from the body next to you has your own eyes feeling heavy themselves, and soon you can’t fight the sweet call of sleep yourself.  

The last thing you remember is the warmth of Leah’s body lulling you to sleep and an expanding love for the girl curled up against you. 

Your team finds the two of you the next morning, still in the same position as the night before. Leah’s face is red with all of their teasing, but the way she keeps her body pressed against yours tells you everything you need to know about the real way she’s feeling.