#and so afraid of seeing himself as the monster

[shall-we-die]

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{Guilt}

What is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?

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↬[Fandom]•⊰ {Bungo Stray Dogs}࿐

↬[Warnings]•⊰ {Angst}࿐

☰[Main list]•⊰ ────┈┈{0056}┈─╮

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╰┈➤Likes/Reblogs are appreciated࿐

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↬|Atsushi|

Atsushi’s biggest guilt surrounds his past which includes the fact that he couldn’t protect himself from the abuse and torture he endured at the hands of the headmaster of the orphanage, and he still blames himself for not being able to control his ability to prevent the abuse even though it wasn't his fault. The biggest thing Atsushi feels guilty about in his relationship with his s/o is that he’s not able to protect them fully due to the weakness in his ability and that he’s afraid he might let them down one day because of it. He constantly stresses over not being able to protect them to the fullest and that guilt weighs heavily on him.

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↬|Dazai|

The biggest thing he feels guilty about would be... the people he had hurt throughout his life, the people he had used and taken advantage of, and everything he did just to try and survive and find meaning... the biggest thing he feels guilty about in a relationship with his Special One would probably be... the times where he pushed them away or do something that would affect them negatively and make them upset...

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↬|Akutagawa|

having to lie to his s/o. knowing that lying to them is not a nice thing to do and yet in this world it feels like it is necessary. and the possibility of hurting them deeply by revealing such thing worries him. even if they would not mind hearing it, he knows it would break their hearts in a way.

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↬|Chuuya|

He feels guilty about his inability to save certain people, mainly his friends. He wishes he could have a do-over and tried to prevent certain events in the past. He feels guilty for the way he treats his s/o sometimes. He tends to get temperamental, hot-headed and even possessive. Even though he loves his s/o, he knows that his temper isn’t exactly conducive to a healthy relationship.

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↬|Jouno|

The biggest thing he feels guilty about in a relationship is his unwillingness to admit to a certain vulnerability he has since he sees his ability as his only redeeming quality. To others, he tends to put up a wall when it comes to admitting he enjoys something simple, and his s/o is often left frustrated with him since he denies the fact that he enjoys something such as their touch or comfort. He sees admitting to his vulnerabilities as a weakness.

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↬|Tetchou|

If he had to pick one thing, it would probably be not being able to fully reciprocate his s/o’s feelings. He's always afraid that his actions or words are not enough, or not what they expect or need. He's constantly worried that he's falling short as a lover.

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↬|Fyodor|

(God feels guilty about nothing) I'd say that the biggest thing he feels guilty about in a relationship with his s/o, would be his inability to open up emotionally and let his loved one to close to him. He feels like if they would learn about his true self they'll see him as a broken, heartless monster and that is the very last thing he wants. So he remains closed, keeps his emotions to himself and even when he tries to open up, he can't.

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↬|Nikolai|

He feels guilty of being a bit too clingy and being quite annoying at times with his s/o. He never wants to make them feel like they have to spend time with him when they'd much rather be doing something else! And he feels like his s/o really does care for him at times, but at the same time he can't help but feels like he's not good enough. He feels really insecure that they might just leave him, and that he’s just being too clingy or something and they don't really love him. He feels like they're just trying to make him feel happy but that they really hate the things he does or how he acts.

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↬|Sigma|

Sigma always feels guilty if he ever argues with his s/o. If arguments occur, he'll try his best to be understanding and keep his cool. Even if he's right, he'll still apologize afterwards. He doesn't want to cause any pain for the other, whether intentional or not. Sigma will often try to avoid arguments with his s/o as much as possible. He knows that even if it isn't intentional, arguing can cause pain, and he never wants to cause pain to them. If conversations get heated or tense, he'll try to defuse it as quickly as possible so that things don't escalate into something bigger. Sigma believes that open communication and compromise are essential in a relationship, and he does not want to jeopardizing that.

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Coming next week

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 3

Third chapter of the Cowboy!Nikto series. Nikto has some emotions and has no idea what they mean or how to deal with them. Original Cowboy concept based on the AU by @ghouljams

A/N: Finally got enough time to work on this chapter after weeks and weeks of hectic stress with work and university. Thank you to all of those still following along with the story, I'll hopefully have the next part out soon. Fun fact: The story of a horse getting hurt running into a fence because they were so excited to see someone is from one of the silly yearlings at uni lol.

Warnings: Minor medical proceedures, Nikto getting a little jealous.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

First | Previous | Next

Nikto can’t help wondering if there’s anything that can ruin your seemingly perpetual good mood. Even with your body dripping with sweat and elbow deep inside of a cow, you’re still somehow grinning brightly at the farmer standing beside you. Doing a part of your job that some would consider... unpleasant at best, you’re able to act as if it’s the most exciting thing you’ve ever done.  

One of the other farm hands, a man about your age, if a year or two older, is acting a little too interested in what you’re doing, however, and Nikto’s jaw is aching with how hard he’s grinding his teeth together. They make a soft groaning sound as they suffer under the pressure he’s subjecting them to, but unfortunately, it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping at “Darren” when the man crowds close to you with what he must think is a suave grin.  

“Alright, I can feel the cervix now,” you hum, and he can see the way your arm twists slightly within the animal, “it’s pretty easy to manoeuvre it around.” You frown to yourself, seemingly oblivious to the way that annoying brat leans a little closer, “the reproductive tract isn’t very heavy.” 

“And what’s that mean, darlin’?” Darren asks, and Nikto can’t decide what he hates more, the tone the other man is using to address you, or the way he thinks it’s okay to place a hand on your shoulder. The gelding underneath Nikto snorts, shifting uncertainly as he likely senses the tension brewing.  

“Oh,” you blink at Darren, as if only just noticing him for the first time, “normally you wouldn’t be able to move the cervix around so easily if she was carrying a calf, I’d be able to feel at least a little weight to it.” You reach a little further into the cow, taking a few moments longer before adding, “I can also feel the horns of her uterus, and there’s no fluid I can feel inside them.”  

Darren is nodding, but his gaze is far from focused on the animal or what you’re actually saying to him.  

You pull you hand slowly from the cow, removing the palpation glove and dropping it into the bin beside the cattle crush. “Looks like this girl’s open, I’m afraid,” you say, grabbing the can of cattle paint and spraying a bright green streak across the animal’s tail, “and that’s the last of the girls done.”  

Pulling the release lever, the heifer is let out of the crush and into the holding pen with the rest of the females you’ve checked for pregnancies. While most of them have little blue marks to indicate a successful insemination, a few of the younger ones weren’t lucky enough to take this time around.  

Darren looks as though he’s about to say something further (more than likely something stupid and obnoxious), but before he can do anything more than puff up his chest, Mr. Roberts is snapping at him.  

“Darren! Get your ass into the paddock, boy!” The old man has a scowl on his face that would have recruits shaking in their boots and a voice with a harsh snarl to it from years of smoking. “The hell do I bother paying you for?” he grumbles, watching as the younger man near enough trips over himself in his haste to get back to work.  

Nikto can’t help admiring the man for his no nonsense approach to his work. He’s friendly enough toward those who work for him, and when Nikto was looking for employment, took him on board with no questions asked. The elderly cowboy has made it clear that he could care less about where someone comes from, only that they can do an honest day’s hard work.  

“Well, thank you for giving us a hand with the ladies,” the old man’s tone softens drastically, and he offers you a firm handshake, “I know those big business farms have all that fancy new technology and blood tests to make checking for calves easier, but I much prefer the old method.”  

Although he would never admit it aloud, it’s rather… sweet, the way you beam at Mr. Roberts and nod along to his words. “Of course! A blood test would be useful for determining how long the baby’s been gestating for, but there’s nothing wrong with the palpation method to find out if they’re carrying anything.” 

Roberts seems pleased by your response, offering you an elusive smile, before giving you one final nod, “I’ll see you around town in a few days, and I’ll drop your payment off at the clinic.”  

There are a few final pleasantries exchanged, all of which Nikto ignores. He was supposed to be getting the horse tacked down and set out for the day. Getting distracted by you while doing your job was just an unfortunate happenstance. He urges the gelding onward with a gentle tap to the animal’s side, leaving you to the business of packing up all of your tools in peace.  

He dismounts once reaching the stable, giving the horse a firm pat on the shoulder before leading him into one of the nearest stalls. He can’t know for certain if anyone else will need Murphy before the end of the day, seeing as the horse belongs to Roberts, but the least he can do is ensure he’s comfortable until he’s turned out for the end of the day.  

While “Murphy” isn’t exactly a name that Nikto would have chosen for a horse, given it’s a little too human for his own tastes, apparently, the gelding was named after Murphy’s Law, seeing as the poor animal seems to constantly be getting into trouble. Anything that could possibly go wrong for him can and will. He’s only just recovered from a nasty gash he’d received to the front of his chest after getting a little too excited to see Nikto coming to greet him and crashing directly into a barbed wire fence.  

Nikto starts untacking Murphy, starting with the bridle and moving his way backwards. He gives the gelding a quick brushing down and picks out his hooves to ensure there’s no stones or injuries that’ve gone unnoticed. He leaves Murphy to his dinner while he works on cleaning off the bit of the bridle and applying oil where the leather has begun to dry out. It’s a difficult job with only one properly functioning arm, but he’s not about to ask for any assistance with such a mundane chore.  

When he gets back, however, he’s startled to find you standing there, stroking Murphy’s mane while the horse happily munches on a mouthful of hay. You’re cooing at the animal happily, giggling when Murphy starts trying to nibble at your shirt once running out of food.  

You turn and offer him a smile, face still a little warm from the sun outside and with several strands of your hair poking out in odd directions. He finds that the look suits you, oddly enough.  

It’s only when you call his name that he realises that you’ve been trying to speak to him and he’s just been there staring at your face like a complete idiot. He shifts his grip on the halter he’s holding and clears his throat. “What do you need?” He settles on eventually, deciding that’s the least offensive way of telling you he hasn’t heard a word spoken to him.  

Thankfully, you don’t seem to be too upset by it. “I was just asking how poor Murphy is doing, I know he had a nasty scratch recently,” you’re looking at Nikto, but your words are said in the same, high-pitched coo you tend to use whenever you’re talking to Sputnik, accompanied by a rather overdramatic frown.  

He rolls his eyes at you, but finds he isn’t entirely annoyed by the antics. “Fine. His wound has healed well,” he says while reaching over to try and guide Murphy’s head a little closer. He may not be a trained veterinarian, but Nikto has seen plenty enough injuries in his life to be able to tell when one isn’t healing well. Murphy, of course, decides not to cooperate, instead trying to press the side of his fluffy face up against you.  

Getting the halter over the horse’s head with one hand is rather awkward, especially with the way the animal insists on moving about. You reach out, and he’s about to snap at you for trying to do it for him. He’s had enough of people trying to treat him like an infant recently, as though he’s not a dangerous killer.  It was suffocating enough when it was hospital staff and physiotherapists, but even a civilian thinking he’s too incapable to perform such a simple task? 

But then, you simply grab the buckle in one hand and hold it in position for him to secure himself.  

It would be far faster and more efficient for you to take the halter and do it yourself, yet you stand patiently without comment, and wait as he pulls the strap over the horse’s head and fastens the catch in place. He’s not sure why the thought of you specifically treating him like a weak child had him prepared to lash out quite so aggressively, especially when he’s brushed off similar actions by other people with only a few choice words and a particularly icy glare.  

You return to eagerly cooing at the horse before he can force himself to offer any kind of thanks, and he quickly pushes down the uncomfortable tangle of emotions trying to crawl their way up from his stomach.  

“Are you finished for the day?” You ask after a few moments of silence. He gives you a nod and you’re quick to ask, “how’s your girl been holding up?”  

“Our girl?” he asks slowly, forehead scrunching up. Do you think he has a partner or some kind? Why would you think there’s a girl in his life? Has he done something to make you think he’s married or dating someone?  

“Sputnik,” you clarify, and his face must do something odd because you snort at his reaction. “Why, do you have another girl?” 

Nikto can’t help automatically scoffing at the question, shaking his head at the very thought, “нет, we have no one.” He sees your eyebrows raise slightly, as if surprised by that, but you quickly school your expression back into its normal, carefree smile.  

Your expression quickly turns into something playful, however, as you add, “really? A big, handsome man like you?” He’s not sure how genuine your teasing tone is, “surely you’ve got the ladies lining up.” You have this way of joking around with him and asking questions in a way that doesn’t make him want to immediately tell you to ‘fuck off’. It’s a strange feeling, and he’s not entirely sure he likes it.  

“You are just crazy,” he counters, going to cross his arms over his chest, only to realise he can’t and instead settling for just letting them rest in place. He sees your eyes travel down the length of his damaged arm, stopping at where it abruptly ends. You don't comment on it, however, and he’s annoyed by how glad he is that you don’t. You likely didn’t even notice his injury until now, given he’s been wearing his prosthetic covered by long-sleeved clothes and gloves every other time you’ve met.  

“Wow, so rude,” you grin, trying to playfully shove his shoulder, only to pout when he’s entirely unmoved by the action. He’s been called rude many times in his life, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself pleased to hear it from someone.  

The sound of the stable door opening has you pulling your attention away from him and toward Roberts, who has just entered. You give Murphy a quick pet to the side of the neck, and Nikto a final grin, offering up a brief, “I’ll see you around.” 

Roberts waves as you leave the stables, waiting for the large door to close before he turns to look at Nikto, one of his bushy eyebrows raised. “So, when’re you gonna marry that lovely girl?” The old man asks, leaning against the stall door with an upward twitch of his lips.  

Nikto near enough chokes on thin air, whirling around on the cowboy with a startled, “что?”  

The old man just sighs heavily, shaking his head, “just make sure you do it soon, yeah? We need another vet living out here on a permanent basis,” he ploughs on, “she already knows the area and she’s a lovely young lady.”  

As quickly as he arrived, Roberts wanders off again, heading back to work and leaving Nikto standing in the middle of the horse stall. He takes a long moment, just staring at where the old man had been a few moments ago while his brain slowly processes everything. Surely he wasn’t being serious, right?

-

Translations

“да,” - “Yes” 

"что?” - "What?"

[freyito]

ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴠᴇɪɴꜱ

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

✩ inspo: blue lips by regina spektor & werewolf's eyes by birch book

★ summary: You can't do anything as the IPC activates Boothill's kill switch.

✧ a/n: i yearn for the angst... i NEED the angst... anyways :P el oh el

🗒 cw: gn reader, written before boothill release/2.2, angst, hurt/no comfort, he accidently hurts you, there is also a gun pointed to you, depictions of depression & grieving, weight loss, proofread

✎ wc: 2.5k

Sunshine filters through the windows, hearty laughter echoes within the confines of a comfortable space, and you can still smell the petrichor, the storm that had passed long ago. You lay on your shared bed, Boothill’s cologne, the faint smell of steel and oil, and your own cologne etched into the sheets, the smell of happiness. Your vision is blocked by Boothill’s hat, he had placed it over your face, teasing you about something you had done days ago. Something about stealing his hat, so why doesn’t he just give it to you?

You retort, saying something like ‘at least I don’t eat bullets’, kicking at his shins as he sat above you. But you are met with eerie silence, and then clicking, as if he was readjusting his limbs. You take off his hat, and in front of you, he stands ridged, face flat. You lean back, raising an eyebrow and nudging his hip with your foot.

“Real funny, Boots,” You groan, nudging him again and placing his hat down. Normally, he’d tell you ‘that’s not how you lay a hat down’ and flip it, but he doesn’t react, his body shows no signs of movement whatsoever. What you thought was a joke just to scare you now concerns you, heavily. “Boothill?”

He does not respond. You hear the faint hum of machinery within him, the faint pulse of his mechanical heart. You sit up properly and wave a hand in front of his face, and his eyes do not follow. Maybe he bluescreened? You nudge him again, and you are still met with no response. You lean back and reach for your bedside table, scavenging through the top drawer. You find a USB that Boothill had told you to use if he ever bluescreened. You reach back over to jack it into his waist, but he grabs your wrist near immediately.

His grip is bruising, causing you to wince and try and wrench your hand from his. You look back up at him to ask him to let go, but the words get caught in his throat as you watch his eyes shift, click, and lock on. They don’t dilate, not the way they do when he sees you after a long day, the way his gaze softens and his eyes dilate when you smile at him, no, they lock on. Still, you ask him to let go, that it hurts, you plead, and his grip tightens.

“Boothill–” You use your feet to push him away, pulling your hand free. “Ow, ow, ow–” The feeling is akin to pulling off a jade bracelet, too tight, your fingers all squeezed together. Worse, even, given his mechanical strength. When you finally pull your hand back, your wrist and knuckles are red.

You don’t want to run, but you feel like running. How many times have you promised Boothill that he isn’t a monster? You’d be breaking that promise if you ran now, but you had no idea what Boothill was going through. Was it a virus? It had to be, he’d never hurt you. His touches were always feather light, delicate, he treated you as if you were porcelain. He was afraid of his own strength. He was afraid of himself.

For now, you stare at him, sliding your legs out from underneath him, pulling your knees to your chest. He looks down at you like a starved wolf, and you feel like cornered prey. He looks down at you. You feel… useless. Pathetic. Not once has he looked at you this way, his eyes devoid of light and full of… nothing. Nothing. For once in your relationship, a pit forms in your stomach. You’re scared. You’re afraid. And Boothill doesn’t reach out for you, he doesn’t cup your cheek and whisper ‘Oh, buttercup…’, he doesn’t run his thumb along your cheek. He simply stands there, staring down at you as if you were a target. Another thug in his way for a higher bounty.

It stings. It reaches deep inside your chest and claws past your ribs, it rips your heart open and it makes you heave. In an instant, he’s ripped from you. Just like that. Aeons, it must be a virus, please, Aeons, please, Lan, let it be a virus. You aren’t quite sure how praying works. You aren’t quite sure who to pray to in your mind, but Lan feels like the best choice.

For a couple more minutes you two stay there, staring at each other, as if locked in a stalemate. It feels like hours, stuck in a room with a stranger in place of your lover. But there must be something you can do, there has to be something you can do. It’s not like you can exactly call for help, given whoever you do call will most likely want the bounty on his head. Perhaps a mechanic will do– a great idea.

You break eye contact finally, reaching for the bedside table again. Only, this time, you get a gun pressed to your temple. You don’t dare to move any further, too shocked to even gasp or cry. In that moment, it becomes so horribly clear to you, that man in your bed is not Boothill. There is nothing more you can do, simply stay still and hope help comes, hope someone comes to save you from the wolf in your cabin, in your hideaway, your sanctuary. Your sanctuary, gone in an instant. Desecrated. A stranger in your bed, and your life on the line.

It feels like hours more before you truly start crying. You do your best to bite your lip and shut yourself up, but heavy breathing gives way to hiccups, and eventually shuddering sobs. Boothill does nothing, he does not pull the gun away from your head, he does not stop. He does not break whatever trance he’s in, no matter how badly you want him to. You are desperate to get through to him, because it is just you two, far away from the world. You can’t even fathom hurting him, you don’t want to fight back.

“Boothill– hic– pl-please,” You stutter, a weak attempt to bargain for your life. Maybe he’s still in there, maybe he can hear you. “I’m s– I’m scared.”

For a moment, he pulls the gun only a centimeter away. A small flicker of hope bursts forth and you turn your head to look at him. He pushes the barrel of his gun to your forehead now, waiting for you to move. You didn’t even have the chance to smile.

Outside, footsteps break the silence. You are partially relieved, help is here, you assure yourself. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. And yet, you want nothing more than to hide away in Boothill’s arms, curl up, shut your eyes tight, and feel his body against yours, let his fingers card through your hair, whisper sweet nothings and wish the dark away. But that wasn’t possible. Not now.

There’s three, maybe four other footsteps, now. They trek right outside your bedroom window, voices muttering… commands? You can only pick up on a few words, but none of that matters to you. You try to calm your breathing down as you hear them open your front door, walking through your house with steady steps. When they finally enter the bedroom, your heart drops. An IPC agent, who stands in the doorway. You want to shoo them off and fix Boothill on your own, but you are essentially useless in this situation.

They are clearly surprised to see you, too. They had not expected any civilians, they hadn’t expected anyone. They mutter half-assed apologies as they approach Boothill from behind. The sight of them reaching for his off switch, sending him to sleep. In that moment, you could care less that he’s finally lowered the gun to your head. The IPC doesn’t deserve to lay their hands on him, not after what they had done.

Given the fact that you were an unexpected variable, they needed to take you in for questioning. While one agent hauls off Boothill’s now limp body, another attempts to console you, asking you to come with them. You hunker down, shaking your head and refusing to move. It’s childish, but the last thing you would want to do is help them. Unfortunately, they had to drag you out of your cabin, throw you over their shoulder like you were just another hunk of metal to them.

.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .

The IPC had only questioned you because they thought you were harboring a fugitive. It turns out that they had managed to wriggle their way into Boothill’s coding and consciousness and activate his kill switch, essentially setting him to default. They did not know that you were with him, and released you from custody with a hefty sum of credits as an apology. The thing they didn’t account for is that they had taken your lover from you. They had stolen him from you. All they could say was ‘sorry’, and send you on your merry way.

The days after, you hole up in your cabin. Your bed is empty every morning, the mattress sinks with the outline of your body. Boothill’s hat sits on the bedside table, set on its rim, and most likely flattening with each hour, each day that goes by. Your sheets are tear stained, most days blur together. You only remember waking up every once in a while, crying, and going back to sleep. You can’t remember the last time you ate. You can’t think of eating. Silence fills the cabin, day in, day out. You can’t even bear the sounds of your own sobbing, your own breathing. It makes you sick. No silly censors when Boothill comes back from a long trip, no more laughter, no more tickling you to get out of bed to spend a day with him. Silence. Terrifying silence.

You tell yourself he will come home, that this is not unlike the usual routine. He’ll leave for several months, causing a little mayhem, getting into scuffles, touring around the galaxy, whatever Galaxy Rangers do. Then, he’ll come home with a toothy grin on his face, nose scrunched, eyes squinted, practically singing your name. He’ll usher you back to bed, lay down on top of you and press his ear against your chest. He always loved listening to your heartbeat, usually when he got back. But he’d do it as often as he could, the rhythm of life lulling him into a much calmer state. A happier state.

But, as the days go by, you are met with emptiness. Sunshine isn’t as sweet, it is simply another facet within human life. When you get up and look out the bedroom window, the grass is drying out, the land around the cabin is dying. There is no reason to feed the soil, a world borne of love and devotion, ripped of its source. The land is parched, and you cannot feed it.

What the IPC failed to mention, or even send word of, is that they had wiped Boothill’s hard-drive. It is only at the five month mark that you dare question where he’s been. But when you try to call him, it goes straight to voicemail. You chalk it up to the fact that perhaps he’s across the galaxy, and that the reception just… won’t work. But after a week, you start to wonder if it’s anything different. However, you refuse to contact the IPC, and you seek answers through Boothill. But even your messages don’t go through. And you truly start to worry.

One day, you awaken to a message from him. Your heart soars, shaking off the lingering exhaustion easily as you open it. But your happiness is shot, burned, and scattered. In response to your ‘I miss you. Come home soon.’ text, all you receive in response is a ‘Who are you?’.

Who are you?

Who are you?

You stare at the message for an impossibly long time, your eyes dry as you realize you’ve forgotten to blink. And when you open your eyes again, the text is still there.

Who are you?

The heartbeat against his ear, the skin beneath his fingertips, the hands in his hair, the smile on rainy days, the morning light, the very essence of what made him human, the ring on his finger. That's who you are.

Who you were.

It is scary how your life can change with just a few words. A quiet life nestled within the forest, full of life and cherished moments, wiped with a simple prompt in a system. Promises of marriage, a proper life, intimate nights. Gone. Left to wither in the furthest reaches of your mind. You want to tell him who you are, that you were the love of his life, that you were his. You wanted him to respond, tell you he was ‘just joking buttercup’, that he’ll see you in a couple of days.

Tears fall against your phone screen, typing out a pitiful ‘ajsgj’ for you. You struggle to delete it, and end up accidentally sending it in the process. What a shame. The last thing you will ever send your lover is a sad keyboard smash, something he’d surely appreciate seven months ago.

All you can do is set your phone down and go back to sleep, or try to, anyways. Curled up in a ball, you sob and writhe and cry, hoping for this to be some twisted nightmare. You will wake up to his chest against your back once more tomorrow, you tell yourself. He’ll act like he wasn’t clinging to you, brush it off and say you were dreaming, and laugh when you say you swear he was getting cozy. And when he decides to get out of bed, he’ll groan about the way you put his hat down, dust it off, and put it on. He’ll look as dashing as ever in it, smile at you and promise he’ll let you wear it later. Then he’ll drag you out of bed and tell you to stop moping around, that he’ll make you two something good for breakfast. He’ll throw all sorts of cheesy names at you; buttercup, your favorite, sweetheart, darling, baby, angel, little bird, and tickle you till you finally laugh. And at the end of the lengthy morning routine, when you two have brushed your teeth and set yourselves down on the couch to enjoy the mundane, he’ll insist on taking a nap, because ‘you just look too tired, darlin’...’. He’ll intertwine his fingers with yours, rest his head against your chest, and listen to the sound of your heartbeat.

You pray that you will wake up, that Boothill be right there. And your days will carry on just as you imagined them. You pray to Lan, you tell THEM that you miss him, that he is what you truly wish to have in this life. That he was yours. That you want him to come back home.

Lan does not answer.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[thehollowwriter]

Summary: Azul meets Finn's father, and he is very afraid.

Word count: 3872

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Mister Clearcove

"Papa wants to meet you." Said Finn, and Azul nearly choked on his tea.

"Pardon?"

"Papa wants to meet you." Finn repeated, munching on a biscuit. "He thinks you should come over during the holidays."

He was so casual about it, as if he were telling Azul it was going to be sunny tomorrow, and not that the possibly most terrifying man Azul had ever seen wanted to meet him.

Azul gazed at Finn wordlessly for a moment. Was this a joke? Was Finn trying to prank him?

"I...I see." Azul said slowly.

Finn did not say "just kidding" as he had hoped. Instead, he licked the crumbs from his lips and carried on sketching the possible menu designs he and Azul had brainstormed.

"You're sure he wants to meet me?" Azul blurted.

Finn put his pencil down and raised an eyebrow at him. "Of course. Papa doesn't ask to meet just anyone. Don't tell me you're scared now."

"Of course not!" Azul exclaimed, frowning. "I'm just... surprised. I didn't think he would be interested in meeting me at all."

Finn sent him a small smile. "You underestimate how interesting you are."

Azul flushed. "I suppose so. Shall we set up a date, then?"

Finn nodded. "Yeah. I'll ask Papa when he's available."

The two of them went back to what they were doing, and silence reigned once more.

Azul was awake long after curfew that night, staring at the incomplete nautilus shell earings he had spent days painstakingly crafting by hand.

He planned to give them to Finn sometime, but... should he? He didn't know.

If he were to end up in Silas Clearcove's bad books, it would make any attempts at a relationship or gaining a potential seafood supplier for the lounge quite difficult.

If they were to meet, Azul wanted to make the best impression he could. Naturally, making a good impression meant knowing the person you wanted to impress, and in order to know the person you wanted to impress, one needed to do research.

Unfortunately for Azul, Finn's father was an utter mystery. Most Atlantica residents did not like Silas and preferred to avoid him, fearful of him and his origins.

"The... the abyssal mer? I can't believe some people buy food from him, if you ask me."

"Silas? I had to move my daughter to a different elementary school because that monster's son was attending hers."

"Tainted blood, that's what he is."

Rumours, often wretched and gut-churning, did their rounds often.

Azul wasn't stupid enough to believe them, of course. Call him a sceptic, but he was quite sure Silas did not murder Finn and cause Finn to become a ghost.

Most of what Azul himself knew about Silas was through osmosis and from Finn. The basic facts were: he was a cookie cutter shark from the Abyss, he was a butcher, a single father, and was married to a powerful mage named Morrigan who died before Finn was born.

"He was a mage, too." Finn would say if asked about Morrigan. "He went to Night Raven. He was a Savanaclaw student, and then he became a teacher. He was quite talented."

The cause of Morrigan's death was something not even Finn knew, and most of the city pretended it didn't happen.

"Oh, you know, Morrigan was like, fifty when he died." Some would say. "Who knows what health complications he could've had."

Azul also attempted to ask his mother about it, but she became unusually cryptic.

"It was awful." She had said sadly, dabbing her eyes. "Simply awful. Oh, poor Silas, he was heartbroken..."

Azul made a mental note to steer clear of the topic of Morrigan in case it was a touchy subject.

Azul's own memories of Silas were few and far between. They were fuzzy, blurred by time, and unreliable. Finn swam to and from school by himself most of the time, so Azul didn't see Silas every day.

All Azul could really remember was vague parts of his appearance and a presence that made crowds part and parents whisper.

There was only one clear memory that stood out, but even that one had been tainted by age.

Azul remembered cowering behind his mother, taking a peek every now and then at the large, looming shark speaking to his mother in a low, gruff voice.

He was scarred and a bit odd looking, but what truly drew Azul's attention was the ribs of... something that decorated Silas' tail, and the twin sets of orca teeth necklaces around his neck. It was terrifying to see back then. Now, though, he was concerned his seashells would be an inadequate courting gift, considering Silas was apparently very traditional.

The lack of reliable memories left Azul to rely on individuals close to him for information, although it didn't turn up much. Silas was like his son. He kept to himself and wasn't prone to chatting .

"Old man Silas?" Floyd's expression turned thoughtful when Azul asked him about him. "Don't see him a lot. When he comes to Ma and Pa's parties, he just hangs out in the corner and stares at his glass till it's over. Then we never see him until the next one."

"He'll engage in conversation if we initiate it." Jade added. "But he doesn't say much. He's not a very talkative fellow."

Azul sighed. "Do you know anything else?"

"Well," Jade tapped his chin. "He's from the Abyss. But everybody knows that."

"He's got a legendary resting bitch face." Floyd chimed in, grinning. "It puts Finn's to shame. He looks like he'll snap your neck if you look at him wrong."

"I see."

He asked his mother about Silas next, during one of their biweekly phonecalls. She had more to say than the twins, and definitely more pleasant things too, but none of it was particularly helpful.

"Oh, Silas is a dear!" Azul's mother sounded delighted. "So helpful and hardworking, and so very polite. I keep saying he should come for dinner sometime, but he's always so busy."

"Do you know anything about his preferences?"

"Hmm. No. Sorry, dear."

"No no, it's alright. Thank you, Mama."

It seemed the only one who knew anything at all about Silas Clearcove was Finn, and Azul most certainly did not want to ask him and risk his intentions coming to light early.

Azul was frustrated that his research was inconclusive, and far more nervous than he was originally. When he finally returned home for the holidays, and the reality truly hit him, the nervousness became utter stress.

It seemed he wasn't doing as a good a job at hiding it as he hoped, since when Finn arrived to fetch him one early morning, he tilted his head to the side with a bemused smile.

"You don't need to be so nervous." Finn said as he began to lead Azul to their destination. "Papa won't bite."

***

The Clearcove property was far away from the city, starting at a sand bank and stretching on to the edge of a cliff. Only the faintest tendrils of sunlight reached down there, but it was promptly snuffed out by the towering kelp forest that stretched on for miles. The kelp swayed eerily in the ghostly quiet, lit up by only a few lanterns strung about.

It was a stark contrast to the sunlit streets and bustling noise of the city.

It gave Azul the creeps, and he suddenly understood why the rumours that spread were always so supernatural in nature. It was like they were swimming through a haunted patch of sea.

They followed a stone path through the maze of kelp and rocks and fish, keeping to the light of the lanterns. It was a long swim, and Azul wished he had better endurance.

Then, the faint scent of blood made Azul stop swimming, concerned.

Finn tugged him forward. "That's just the abattoir, don't worry."

The scent got stronger the further they went, and Azul had to clench his teeth to stop himself from darting away in terror until they got to it.

The abattoir did not look quite how Azul expected it to. Rather than a dark, dilapidated building, it was a large cave with an entrance marked by the gaping maw of a whale skull. Lanterns lit the area up brightly, making it look just a little less daunting.

Mers darted about the place, lugging in fresh kills, nets of crustaceans and molluscs, and large containers.

A few of them waved at Finn as he passed by and gave Azul a curious look, but other than that, they didn't pay their presence much mind.

Finn and Azul carried on for another half hour or so until finally, they came to a circular clearing, and the small stone path led towards a garden of coral, seagrass, and seasponge.

Nestled amongst the garden was what one could supposedly call a "house." Really, it was a large rock that had been carved into, its walls etched with little patterns that Azul was sure Finn was responsible for.

Finn swam forwards to unlock the purple coral door, then let Azul inside.

"Papa, we're here!" Finn called as they swam in. Well, Finn swam in. Azul squeezed himself in through the door, coiling his tentacles close so he didn't knock anything over. He was skinny, but the Clearcove home was undoubtedly cookie cutter shark sized.

The first thing he noticed was the smell of food. It didn't have quite as strong an aroma as food on land, but he could definitely smell it. The next thing he noticed was the cosy little lounge slash dining room he found himself in.

Pictures and paintings that were probably made by Finn when he was a child were hung up on the walls, and large clumps of sea sponge, coral, and bone formed couches and chairs.

Azul didn't have much time to take it in, as Silas then swam into the room and dusted his hands, crossing his arms, and Azul went still.

"Hello, Finn." He said. His voice was as soft as Finn's, but deeper and more gravelly. He nodded at Azul. "Ashengrotto."

"H...Hello, sir." Azul greeted, his voice coming out far more wobbly than he wanted it to.

Silas... didn't look quite how Azul remembered. From his child perspective, Silas was large, larger than life, even. Now, though, as a teenager, Azul could see Silas was not much larger than Finn. Azul himself was several times bigger than both of them.

When Azul was trying to research Silas, his mind filled in the blanks and created an image of an older looking Finn. Now, though, he could see how different they were.

Finn was chubby. Soft, pudgy, and round. His skin was absent of any marks aside from the scars on his shoulder, the freckles on his face, and the stretch marks on his stomach. His hair and body were a lively forest green that blended perfectly with his surroundings.

Silas, on the other hand, was very thin. His skin stretched just a little too taught in some places. His body was littered with scars of various degrees of severity. On his face, his abdomen, his tail, his arms, his neck... even his gills. The long, jagged scar that sliced across the gills on his neck made Azul's own gills itch.

His fins were riddled with holes and tears that hadn't healed properly. It looked painful, and it made Azul wince when he looked at them.

He was purple in hue, and his face, aged and weathered, housed the only thing he had in common with Finn appearance-wise. A pair of bright amthyst eyes that shone like gems in the light of the lanterns.

It was then that Azul knew he was looking at someone who had seen and done things he could not even begin to comprehend. Someone very dangerous and very powerful.

Azul's gaze eventually drifted to the necklaces that hung around Silas' neck. The teeth that were strung up on them were quite obviously orca teeth. Each necklace had a volute shell and a skeletal murex shell, respectively.

Courting gifts. One belonged to Silas, the other, his late husband.

Silas' necklaces were difficult to make. There was a risk involved, a certain amount of power and skill required to get the materials. Orca teeth were not small trophies.

Azul felt like Silas' gaze had frozen him in place with magic. Those eyes, so deep and knowing, made goosebumps ripple across his skin, and his heart jump into his throat.

His unique magic had a benefit that few knew about. It allowed him to sense others' magic and said magic's essence or power, and dear Seven could he sense Silas'.

It was dark and twisted, rolling off of Silas in waves of power that made something primal in Azul's mind begin to panic.

It was ancient. Pulsing. It bubbled just below the surface and promised a taste of the horrors found leagues down below.

Abyssal magic.

Silas' magic was far stronger than Azul's, far stronger than Finn's, far stronger than some of the professors at Night Raven, and it filled Azul's heart with a mix of awe and terror.

The familiar urge to take it for himself was strong, tugging at the back of his head. But he knew better. By the Sea Witch, did he know better.

Finn once told Azul that Silas never had any proper magical training of any kind. In fact, Finn was the first person on Silas' side of the family to attend school at all.

The fact that Silas still held this much power despite that... it was incredible and terrifying all at once.

The fear that filled Azul turned his veins to ice. The overwhelming knowledge that he did not have the advantage, that he did not have the most powerful magic, and that he was neither the smartest nor the strongest in the room made him feel like a guppy in the jaws of a great white.

"Azul, you look pale." Said Finn, though he was clearly more amused than worried, the bastard. "Are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine." Azul said quickly. "Just tired from the trip here."

Silas hadn't said a word at all. He simply stared at Azul, and Azul stared back.

Then Silas hummed, a deep rumbling sound, and swam back into the kitchen. Azul let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and shot a glance at Finn.

Finn smiled. "Don't mind Papa." He said. "He's not big on conversations. It might not be obvious, but he's happy to have you over. He's even letting you eat with us today."

Azul looked towards the kitchen, then back at Finn questioningly.

"That's not something he usually does." Finn clarified. "Sharing food that he hasn't sold, that is. He always says it's safest to be selfish when it comes to meals."

Azul nodded slowly. "I... I see." He murmured, overcome with the dreadful realisation that he could not skip out on whatever would be served without looking like an ungrateful brat with no manners.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Silas returned with a number of plates and platters in tow, piled high with all kinds of food.

Finn perked up, finns fluttering. "Oh, he used the vents. We're lucky today."

The... vents?

The platters were gently placed down with magic, as well as three empty plates. Azul stared at the vast amount of food, trying to see if there was anything small with few calories he could eat.

Seaweed wraps, crab rolls, whole crabs, shrimp, lobsters, mussels, clams, scallops, abalone, tuna, hake, even sushi, and so much more was available to choose from.

Azul's mouth opened and closed in surpise, and for the first time since greeting them, Silas spoke.

"I was not too sure what food you preferred. Finn told me you're quite strict with what you eat. I hope this is suitable."

Azul looked at Silas and once again felt frozen in place by that stare. Floyd wasn't kidding about him looking like he would snap your neck at any moment...

"I-" Azul had to swallow so he could try to speak clearly. "It is. Thank you, sir. You're very kind."

"Alright, then. Sit down. Choose what you want."

Azul obeyed, wondering how on earth the twins managed to make Silas sound like a stone faced introvert when he seemed more like a retired soldier or something.

Silas and Finn seated themselves opposite him. Finn, ever the food lover, happily began piling up his plate. Silas simply watched Azul, silent once again.

Azul avoided his gaze and selected some Sushi (where did Silas get rice from?) and a few oysters.

He paused when he got to the lobster, which he was not going to eat due to the hugh cholesterol by the way, and stared at it. It... it wasn't raw. It was cooked..?

"Hypothermic vents." Said Silas, noticing Azul's confused expression. "They work like an oven or a place to boil food if you use them correctly."

Azul's eyes widened in surpise. "Really? That's... That's incredible. I would never have thought to use thermal vents to cook food. How do you not burn anything?"

"I use magic to alter the heat." Silas explained quietly, his lips quirking up a bit. "It's something my grandfathers taught me."

"So I assume you alter the heat to different temperatures to allow for different methods and cook times?" Azul asked curiously.

Silas nodded.

"Incredible. Have you not thought of selling this? You would intrigue a lot of people with something as rare as cooked food. I-" Azul hesitated, realising Finn was raising his eyebrows at him. "I-If you want to, of course."

Silas gazed at Azul for a moment, and Azul began to panic internally, cursing at himself and his inability to shut up about business.

"You are your mother's son," Silas finally rumbled, sounding more amused than angry. "I'll tell you what I've told your mother. I have no interest in monetizing this."

Blood rushed to Azul's cheeks, and his fear and panic turned into embarrassment.

"Idiot." He snapped at himself. "You ruined a nice conversation."

Silas didn't say anything further, so Azul went back to picking at his sushi, taking little bites every now and then.

The urge to say something, anything, to fill the awful silence was overwhelming, but neither Silas nor Finn were particularly talkative, and Azul didn't want to be the irritating chatterbox of the group.

Finn was currently tearing through his meal, absolutely delighted at the special use of the vents. He cracked open a scallop and popped the meat into his mouth with a happy sigh.

Silas hadn't eaten a single thing. Apart from the occasional glance at Finn, his eyes were completely trained on Azul.

His gaze was intense. Terrifying. It was as if he were mentally taking Azul apart, looking for flaws, for weakness. Azul wondered if this was how his fellow classmates felt when he made deals with them.

"Finn's told me a lot about you." Silas said suddenly, and Azul gulped.

"He... He has?"

"Yes. He quite likes you-"

"Papa!" Finn squeaked, flustered. "You didn't need to say that part."

"-and I hear you're starting a restaurant of your own at school?"

"Ah- yes." Azul nearly choked out, relieved. Now, this was something to talk about. "Mostro Lounge. An establishment for gentlemen, neutral ground between the dorms of Night Raven College where you can wind down after a long day."

Silas hummed. "What a clever idea. My husband attended Night Raven when he was your age. I remember he once told me he wished he didn't have to go all the way to town to eat something that wasn't served at the cafeteria."

Azul puffed up at the compliment, glad to finally feel like he had some semblance of control. "Why yes, it is a pain, especially if you don't have time for such trips. The comfort and satisfaction of my fellow students is my primary goal, and I hope to achieve that with Mostro Lounge."

Silas' lips quirked upwards again. "How kind of you," He said, and Azul was pretty sure he didn't entirely mean it. He sounded too... knowing. "I hope you're successful."

Azul couldn't hold back the smirk that crossed onto his face. "Believe me, sir, I will be."

Silas nodded but didn't answer, and Azul went back to eating.

"Finn," Silas said after a while, turning his head to his son, who had been quietly listening to the conversation while digging into a small lobster. "Could you please tell Timo to move his hunt to the fourth quadrant for me?"

Finn looked a little confused, but he nodded anyway. "Sure." He said, then sent a small smile Azul's way. "I'll be back in a bit."

He disappeared out the door, and Azul was suddenly very aware that he was alone with Silas Clearcove watching him like he wanted to take a bite out of him.

Azul put his hands on his lap to hide the fact that they were shaking and stared back at Silas like a deer in headlights.

"You've built quite a reputation for yourself around here over the years, Azul." Silas said. "With those little deals of yours. Your magic is quite impressive, I must say."

There was a long pause, and Silas tapped his long black claws against the table.

"I was concerned at first when Finn started telling me about you." He said. "You're quite a greedy young man. But... I trust Finn's judgement. I'm not going to sit here and threaten you or tell you not to hurt Finn. I know you won't. However,"

Silas' eyes narrowed. "I'm well aware that you like... collecting magic, shall we say. Abyssal magic seems to have piqued your interest recently. Listen to me carefully. Finn is not to make contracts with you, and you are not to try to convince him to do so. You're a smart boy, Azul. I'm sure you understand."

The unspoken implication hung in the air, and Azul understood it all too well. He's heard the rumours, and while he wasn't sure how true they were, he'd rather not risk having his magic sucked dry.

'He's like a magic parasite.'

'He'll suck you dry until you're nothing but a husk'

'If he can't take your magic, then he'll take your soul.'

The voices of Azul's old classmates echoed in his mind.

"I understand, sir." He said, feeling a little sick.

Finn returned shortly after, informing Silas that Timo had moved his hunt.

"I hope you didn't scare you too much." He whispered as he swam past Azul.

Azul just laughed.

***

After Silas gave Azul that little warning, the old mer was much more relaxed, though most of the conversation was still carried by Azul and Finn.

The day seemed to fly by now that the fear that had swallowed Azul whole began to ebb, and soon it was late afternoon and time for Azul to leave. He needed to be home before sundown.

"I'll come visit you." Finn said softly before Azul could exit through the door."

Azul smiled a bit. "Thank you, I suppose." He murmured, feeling his cheeks burn once again.

"Thank you for having me over, Mister Clearcove." He said to Silas, bowing his head. "I greatly appreciate your hospitality."

Silas hummed in acknowledgement. "I'm always happy to Finn's friends over. Get home safe, now, Azul, and..." His voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. "Be careful with those contracts of yours, alright?"

Azul blinked, confused.

"Of course, sir."

-End

...........................................

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the fear of god being put in Azul! I had a lot fun writing this.

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly

@jovieinramshackle @galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00

@krenenbaker @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @am0nline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @ramshacklerumble @elysia-nsimp

@skrimpyskimpy @casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @the-banana-0verlord @skriblee-ksk

@poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch @tixdixl (lemme know if you'd rather not be tagged :))

@quartztwst if you're interested in Azul being scared shitless lmao

[yan-lorkai]

Yandere!Alucard x Male reader, very very obsessed and possessive, he wants to claim you for himself, turn you and drink your blood...but he has to struggle with controlling himself, otherwise you'll turn into a ghoul due to the vampire rule

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡Alucard is utterly consumed by his obsession. He knows it, Integra knows it. Even you know about it. And as a creature of darkness, Alucard isn't bound by mere morals about what is right and what is not. He know he loves you and that's enough for him. As a vampire, every aspect of his existence revolves around the desire to claim and possess, and when you caught his sight then he want to claim and possess you. Body and mind, everything is his since day one.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You were his since your eyes connected, you were his since his name flowed through your lips when you greet him politely. You were his and nothing you could do will change that.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Alucard's possessiveness knows no bounds. He constantly monitors your every move as if he was your second shadow, fiercely guarding you from any potential threats, both human and supernatural - and when he couldn't be there with you, he usually let Baskerville roam freely to guard you instead or he'll just trap you in his room. He'll go to extreme lengths to eliminate anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship. Doesn't matter who it is, your friend, your classmate or boss. Even your family isn't safe from him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Though he is quite lenient with you to an extent. Maybe your family can be spared from him if you give him something, anything at all. A kiss, a hug, your time and company. Your blood. Or you, preferably you since everything else comes with you. He wants to be closer to you, want to hold you and never let you, all the while he teases you for being a little afraid of him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Alucard always take you with him while he is on a mission, buying you anything you want and professing his love for you all the while maintaining a chillingly possessive behavior over you - yes, even while he is all bloody after killing a few ghouls and vampires. But hey, it's the thought that matters! Alucard know that humans in general like affection so he give you plenty.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He is very similar to a cat, nuzzling onto your neck, touching you to feel your warmth. He also likes to steal a few kisses or whispers dark promises to you. Your safety and well-being are Alucard's top priorities, but his methods of protection can be suffocating and controlling.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He is loveable when he wants to be. Often times he is not, teasing and mocking and rilling you up to later suck on your blood. Sweet, hot blood trailing down his messy face while he drink it, almost incapable of stopping. You have to physically fight him if you want to make him separate from you. Otherwise he is like a leech, always sucking and nibbling and kissing and biting. The worst part is it feels so good.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He likes to hold your head on his hand, turning your neck to the side just a little to feast on it. And his hold is gentle, reverent words escaping his bloody lips between bites. Despite his intense hunger for you, Alucard often has to remember himself to not get carried away. Otherwise you'll be a ghoul instead of his little consort when he turn you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ And by no means he'll do something like that. A ghoul is nothing more than an empty casket of who one used to be and he don't want that destiny for you. Dear, lively you who sometimes is as skittish as a frightened bunny and sometimes as bold as a fox, testing the waters to see how he react. Though he doesn't mind at all, trying to compromise with you about you can or can't do, letting you have a little freedom. He isn't a monster... Right?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Overall, Alucard likes to control what you do, with who you're with and where are you. It's just his love, you know? And he hasn't felt this way in a long time so he want to protect you and love you as deserve.

[yanderes-galore]

Could I request from your prompt list:

4.) "My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it."

And/or

12.) "You were never meant to see that! Oh, what have I done...."

With Overwatch's Cole Cassidy. Preferably with a darling they've been living with in a surprisingly normal life with up until this point? He's managed to hide his yandere tendencies and live a totally normal life with them up until now?

Thank you,

~♠️

I can try, sure! Here's you catching Cole Cassidy red handed in some dark acts :) Wasn't entirely sure about plot so I hope this works-

Yandere! Cole Cassidy Prompts 4 + 12

"My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it."

"You were never meant to see that! Oh, what have I done...."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Violence, Manipulation, Jealousy, Murder mentioned, Coercion, General yandere themes, Secret picture taking, Possible OOC Cole, Consensual relationship turned forced.

Cole had been doing his best to hide his... behavior ever since he scored you as his. You were his little darling partner and he was determined to keep things that way. He told himself he'd behave once he got you as his.

Well... He lied to himself... and you.

Cole still seemed to keep his stalking habit. He still seemed to seethe with jealousy when some guy came up to you. With you being his... he thought he could stop.

Yet no matter how much he distracted himself with your sweet touch and smell, he still felt dangerous. When you weren't looking, he still beat up those too close to you. He still used his gun to get rid of the more troublesome issues and he did it all while lying to you.

Perhaps he could stop himself, maybe he really is just another monster. Yet he managed to tell himself that he could hide it and that everything would be okay. He convinced himself he can continue with this because you loved him now.

You haven't found out anything yet...

Until now.

"Shoot... Honey, please listen to me!" Cole panics when he sees your distraught face. In your hands are a select few items he was hoping to keep hidden. Photos of you... newspapers on crimes he's committed... the belongings of those who got in his way... trophies..

"What the hell is all of this!?" You yell, fear in your voice as you stare down at the mess of incriminating evidence. Cole watches as you drop the items on the floor before trying to approach. He couldn't keep it hidden forever, could he?

"You were never meant to see that! Oh, what have I done...."Cole mutters to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. You poor thing... you looked all scared of him and it was all his fault. He could've improved....

He really should've burned those items while he still could.

"You are not the man I've met and fell in love with!" You cry, tears streaming down your face as you back away. Cole notices you back off and steps closer. There's no way he's losing you now.

"Oh baby... Of course I'm the man you fell in love with!" Cole comforts, stepping closer like approaching a scared animal. "My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it."

"Get away from me!" You growl, Cole's gaze darkening in response.

"Afraid I can't do that, Darlin'." Cole sighs before cornering you against a wall. You squeal a bit as he pulls you against his chest.

"You have no idea how hard I had to work to get you..." Cole whispers in your ear. "However, now you're mine. You'll ALWAYS be mine... I just wish you didn't have to learn the truth."

Cole chuckles when he sees you struggle. It's a shame, really. You two could've been perfect together. Now he has to work even harder to keep you to himself.

"Now... you and I are going to pretend this never happened, alright?" Cole continues, gaze never leaving yours as he stares you down. "I'll burn those items you dropped and we can be happy, okay?"

You want to refuse... yet you force yourself to nod when Cole frowns in anger.

"Good..." Cole praises, kissing your forehead softly.

"I knew you'd come around for me, Darlin'."

[honestlyvan]

(Crossposted to Dreamwidth)

The thing that makes me the most "run around in circles" crazy about Initiation is that Alan wrote the Casey of the Dark Place into the story to help him, and then made it so that Casey knows even less about what is going on than Alan does.

Alan never gives Casey the opportunity to get past step fucking one to help him, explains nothing to him, and Casey ends up with no idea what he's even doing here, no idea what his assigned purpose is, no idea what his narrative goals are. He's an actor given no script, no stage direction, to the point that Casey doesn't even know they're in a story, and it makes him sink deeper into depression with every passing loop with no knowledge to ground him.

And it's impossible to tell if this is because Alan didn't realise that he had the perfect opportunity to write Casey like the Diver, a living repository of Alan's accumulating knowledge about the Dark Place, a seeing-eye dog to guide him through the dark -- or if Alan did try that, and it somehow went so horribly wrong that now he and Casey can't both survive in the same narrative line without trying to kill each other -- or if Alan did try that, and it went horribly right, and now the Dark Presence can't let Casey live because Alan's bespoke perfect little detective is too good at finding out useful things.

And instead, in the story we currently have, Alan made up a guy for a specific purpose of helping him, but because Alan is the protagonist, because it's his story, his fault, his duty and his job to get himself out of it, he doesn't even let Casey fulfil his narrative purpose. What the hell else is Casey supposed to do, Alan, other than the thing you literally made him for? He's the detective -- he's supposed to solve things.

[lesbiradshaw]

the scene of liam collapsed onto the forest floor in front of scott sobbing about how he’s scared of what’s happening to him not because of the fangs or the claws but because he thinks his parents already view him as a monster breaks me a little inside every time.

[coffinliqueur]

Oh my god rolewise Jacob Custos is the Josh Joshington of The Quarry.

[silkythewriter]

Vox and alastor with an undeserving to be in hell reader!

Warnings!:non!

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note!;I THINK TUMBLER ACTUALLY HATES ME (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)(｡•́︿•̀｡)it keeps not letting me edit my drafts, it’s happened like 3 times already this week alone!,…BUT ANYWAY I LOVE THIS IDEA I REALLY HOPE YOY ENJOY!!!!♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Summary!: alastor and Vox x reader WHOs I. Hell for a minor sin/crime

❤️Written by silkythewriter do not steal or repost any other platform please! <3❤️

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

“Each time I find myself

Flat on my face

I pick myself up and get back in the race!”

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

!📺✨Vox✨📺!

When you first admitted what you did that counted as a “sin” he was flabbergasted! He thought they must’ve made a mistake. All be it one that was in favor since he got to be damned with you. But still!

Out of every monster known to man kind one who’ve committed acts that are despicable. You, one who can barely hurt a damn fly get sent with them?

At first he thought you were genuinely just joking. And he actually laughed! Like audible chuckled before waiting for the actual reason, which never came, and he soon realized you were being serious!

He always questioned why you use to refuse to kill, or at least scare people into respect. But then you explained how you refused to be like the rest of the sinners.

He utterly dumb founded you made it this far without spilling a bit of blood, at least for survival!

He becomes more overprotective as if he wasn’t before, good luck with that!

Cause now he knows your rules, he knows you won’t budge. Nothing would get you to change your mind. So he made sure to keep eyes on you 24/7, you may be nice, but the other sinners in this damned place definitely aren’t. And he knows that from experience

Would neither confirm or deny he put a small tracker in an item you carry every where.

This man has enemy’s as you’ve seen, demons, overlords, rival company’s, it’s a headache an a half for him. Not that he hates protecting you and your values! No never!, but the nerve of the people who think they even have a chance to lay a hand on you.

Gives you the lastest phone from his series, and yes he will text you and blow up ur phone up if he can see you through cameras around the city.

Even if you put it on silent he wouldn’t put behind himself to over load it and just show up on your phone screen.

Sometimes he’s just so confused how you can be so nice, or at worst passive to those who are poking at you. He thinks your a saint, even if you aren’t, an maybe you have a short temper still the way you hold yourself form blowing up is astonishing!

Sometimes he jokes about how if you were to go to Charlie you would be redeemed in a day. And at night sometimes he thinks about it and it scares him to know there’s a possibility for you to go where he will probably never be able to follow you too

He loves you to the depths and the crooks of hell, and he’ll be damned again if he lets anyone hurt you. He sees you as a small soft light in the red cover world, and he will do anything before anyone can put out that light.

He makes sure to keep a good distance between you and Val, a BIG distance.

He’s always on the edge about people around you, how can’t he? He can’t trust all these “disgusting and repulsive” sinners in hell around you. The thought alone cringes him out and stresses him.

He knows to some degree he isn’t exactly better then them sin wise, but he makes sure to do his best for you while infornt of you, he cares about his image, and wouldn’t be afraid to scare someone into discipline. BUT he will tone it down, just for you ♥(⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)♥

He has you under wraps, from the public eye in this case. As much as he’s one to show off his earnings, he loves you a little to much and knows well people will use you as a advantage. He loves to show off but you something just for him behind close doors for now before he can work something out

NOW if the public were to already know, he show off by showing how untouchable you were, demons knew better to approach you seeing as how fast he is to get rid of those stupid enough to try something.

Overall he respects your morals of not wanting to stoop as low as other sinners. But it dose make him more protective of you, your like a rare gem. There’s only a handful of people like you, and even then the numbers decrees daily, so he dose his most to make sure you safe and happy <3

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

!🎙️✨Alastor✨🎙️!

Like Vix he humors it at first! Playing around with it before Laughing with his usual staticky voice as he stared at you with his unnerving smile. You guys quite literally stared at each other for a hot minute waiting for the other to say something.

It took you clearing your throat for him to realize you weren’t just trying to get a chuckle outta him.

And for the first time since you met him you caught a hint of confusion, making you explain that it was genuinely what you did.

He quite literally burst out laughing, you, someone who probably did something everyone did once is in this horrid place stuck with the horrid monsters ever! Just for that single act alone.

He will admit he found it a bit amusing how you refused to kill or lay a hand on anyone. Refusing to stoop to other people’s levels. Now that for him is pure gold of entreatment! He’s seen people like you, say the same exact thing then crumble when backed I to a Corner.

But for the first time, for all the decades he’s been damned here, he’s seen you stick to what you’ve stated. You were very much quite a spectacle!

Now finding new amusement, he decided to protect you, cause someone like you were sure to be a one time experience. Aside from loving you of course

Now with your name being accosted with him alone is a shield in if its self. Barely any one approached you, aside from those playing with their afterlives of course.

If you ever feel a looming shadow or presence it’s most likely one of his shadows. Like Vox he is gonna have his eyes on you almost always

Although he loves you he will play around to get a reaction out of you. All for the fun of it!, he knows you cringe when he talks about his cannibalism tendencies he just loves seeing your cute little face scrunch up!

Even though with all of that he is a gentleman and will make sure no one is to bother you.

He’s quite impressed you made it this far without getting killed, I mean of course you have him but if you arrived to hell and didn’t met him immediately he’d be quite impressed and surprised one you both do meet

He indulges himself in the horrible aspects of hell, with no remorse or shame what so ever either. So although he dose respect your wishes he won’t stop or calm down his tendencies.. （；へ：）but on the bright side he’ll make sure your far away or he goes off to other part of the city and do whatever he wishes. But your likely to see on the news either way… (￣▽￣💧

He dose enjoy the more civil and nice talks he has with you though! He finds it nice to take a break from all the crude talk on the street from other sinners and have a nice conversation!

Great listener let me tell you, he’ll happily sit there as you explain your day away! He honestly enjoys hearing you genuinely happy!, although his a chatter box himself but he enjoys listening to you more then anyone or anything else!

Watches you be nice to the most repulsive, and rude demon like it’s nothing. Even when disrespected you find a way to calm down the situation and nicely at that. Of course the demon doesn’t live long once their out of your sight, but still! He’s pleasantly surprised.

He finds it rather weird that your nice just for the sake of being nice but still it’s definitely a nice refresher from all the horrible people down in hell!

You catch his eye rather quickly with how you stick out from others (in a good way! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ) and his eyes end up on you, you mainly have all his attention almost always if he isn’t off doing something!, your his light just live Vox he’ll make sure you’ll shine bright as ever and won’t go out.

Not everyone can catch it but in some rare moments he’ll be seen just staring at you as you happily talk away to Charlie. And for the smallest second you can see his unnerving smile turn into a soft smirk, eyes only on you and his mind filled with only you. This happens on the regular, it’s just he’s quick to cover up so no one sees!

Overall he loves you, even with some differences between your views he’ll still do his best to make you comfortable. Aside from teasing you here and there! But other then that he’ll protect you, your one of kind. And he loves having things no one else can.

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

AHHHH HELLOOOOO OH GORSH I MADE IT JUST IN TIME THIS TOOK SO LOBG TO DO CAUSE I KEPT HAVING TO DELETE AND REWRITE ON A NEW DRAFT AUGHHH I HOPE TUMBLR FIXES THIS BUG, BUT ANYWAY TYSM FOR REQUESTING PLEASE COME AGAIN!!!\(^ヮ^)/’

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water Pt. II

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: the aftermath of letting him in

pt.I

(art credits: @yunonoaii)

warnings: 18+ content

“…what. the. fuck.” You mutter to yourself, watching the scene before you unfold.

“mmm, how about letting me in now? promise i won’t bite you too hard” His eyes were dangerously seductive.

Your desktop fan and the slight rustling sound of (what you could only assume was) him touching himself filled the eerie silence of your office space.

However, he could still tell that you were hesitant to let him in, especially considering what he just did to D.D.D.

“how about this, sweetheart we-“

“if i open this door.” You cut him off. He shuts up quickly and halts his movements with a blank stare. His eyes watching you intently.

“you come straight to me, or else i swear to fuck. it will not be a good time for you. you copy?” Your hands were firmly grasping the edge of the desk as you stared the man in his color changing eyes.

“i promise” He kisses the window and you give him one last short lived glare before unlocking the door for him.

BZZT!

He slowly turns away from you and walks toward the door and you felt relieved to hear a light knock a few seconds later before he let himself in.

“see? you can trust the milkman” He grins.

He was a mess. Between the torn clothing, the blood, and his unzipped slacks that displayed his black briefs holding back a huge bulge, he honestly looked like something out of a wet dream.

“this is quite a small space… you think i’ll be alright in here?” He closed the door behind himself and strides toward you.

“you don’t have any choice but to be alright” You retort and he chortles.

“i love this mouth of yours… i’ve never crossed paths with a human as bold as you…” He tilts his head, placing a hand under your chin to lift it a bit.

“unless you’re actually scared… and using this boldness as a tactic..?” His irises turn white once again and his grip on your chin tightened slightly.

Though you were enduring a near death experience right now, being that you were this close to a doppelgänger, you were unbelievably horny.

“tactics?” You start. You already knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip just by moving, so you used a more… inappropriate approach.

You took a step closer to him, closing in the 2 foot gap that sat between the two of you and you placed your palm over his hard-on.

His grip immediately loosened a bit and his fingers twitched against your skin. What a reaction that was…

You feel more confident, realizing that he’s just another horny good looking guy. “is there a reason i should be afraid of you?” You ask, hand squeezing around him and a finger rubbing his tip.

He shudders and his hand falls from your chin and rests around your throat. His forehead tapped against yours, and your eyes were fixed on each other. “…you really are something”

“wish i could say the same for you“ You start, breaking the eye contact to look at his lips and sharp canines. “you’re just a slutty and messy excuse of a monster” Your words would probably be venom to anyone else, but this only riled him up more.

You felt his throbbing under your palm and grin to yourself before being greedily pulled into a kiss. For a brief moment, you could taste a metallic bloody taste on his tongue.

You moaned at the warmth of his mouth and felt his hands rested on your hips, rubbing circles into the area.

You release yourself from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth and a smile. “desperate, are we?” You tease.

“painfully…” His eyes glistened. “what’ll it take to get those pretty lips to go a little lower?”

“show me what yours can do first and i’ll see about returning the favor” You challenge. His eyes go back and forth between yours before he kisses you again.

This time however, he started to undo your uniform. Groaning so deeply that you felt the rumble in your throat. His skilled hands loosened your belt and your slacks came down and off.

Next he lowered himself and lifted you a bit to get off your socks and shoes, making him get more sloppy and needy within the kiss.

At this point he was squatting and you were standing over him, holding both sides of his face. His hands travelled up and down your leg as he stayed in his position and this time, he’s the one to break the kiss.

You were both breathing heavily, and staring each other down. You almost forgot your resolve and let him fuck you right then and there.

But you had to stay strong, for both of you guys’ sake. You take a deep breath in and til your head.

“well, you gonna show me? or are just sit there and look delirious from a simple kiss?” You teased.

“…may i?” He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, gesturing toward your leg.

“go ahead”

“hold on to something right”

“why am i h- shit!” You would’ve fell right to the ground if it wasn’t for the shelf behind you that held last months documents. Albeit, they’re scattered over the floor now.

Your legs were snatched from underneath you and each one was hooked over the man’s shoulders. His warm breath against you felt sinister. It sent a slight chill up your spine.

His eyes stared down at your sex and he licked his lips, looking more excited than you did for this. “don’t let go” He says before using gis fingers to spread you sticky lips.

His tongue pressed hard into you and drug from your hole, up to your clit. You bit your lip at the warmth and felt your back arch against your will.

“ha~ this all you got? Thought you said you’d be bet- anghh~!” Your eyes widen and your mouth drops at the new feeling below.

“you were saying?” He mumbles into you. His tongue was longer with a pointy tip, and his lips were wrapped tightly around your clit.

The pleasure was almost overwhelming. You could definitely admit that he made you eat your words and replace them with loud endless moans.

As you felt yourself getting closer you began to grind your hips over his face, chasing after your high.

“don’t stop” You could barely get out the last word before the wave of immense overstimulating pleasure came over you.

You curse and take in a few deep breaths, calming yourself down a bit, and only then did he let your clit go with a ‘pop’, making your legs to twitch.

“that wasn’t fair” You jokingly glare at him, the sweat making your skin shine and chilly from the fan air.

“i told you i was better” He wipes his chin with his thumb and licks it clean without breaking the eye contact.

“you have to be some sort of… sex demon” You shake your head in disbelief.

“maybe i am?” He lets you tug him closer by his tie and give him another sloppy kiss. The change in size of his tongue being just below too much for you as it explored your mouth.

“well let’s see how long you can last then… hm?” You ask, beginning to leave a trail of light kisses on his next before a harsh bite.

You could feel him shudder and decided to have him sit in your office chair. “let me borrow this..” You say, undoing his tie while he sat.

You spin the chair around and bring both of his arms to the back and tie them to the chair. When you spin his back around, his had such a mischievous grin that you went ahead and addressed.

“yes, i know you could probably get out of that in a heartbeat” You start and roll your eyes. He chuckles, amused at your awareness. “but, will you?” It was your turn to put on the sly grin now. The second he managed to break free from his restraint, would be the moment you’d send him off.

“…” He read your face, bit knowing if he should say something sly or not.

“right, thought so” You smile and give him a few taps on the cheek.

You kneel between the man’s legs, finally addressing the large and throbbing penis before you.

“god you’re hard… you weren’t kidding when you said you needed help” You joke, rubbing his wet tip through his boxers with you finger.

He grunted a bit and readjusted himself in his seat. You look up at him before pressing harshly on it with your thumb.

“oh fuck you~” He throws his head back and you giggle.

You reach for the hem of his briefs and tug at them, signaling him to lift his hips. Once he’s exposed, you could really see the girth and length of him.

He was veiny, thick… bright pink tip, and god knows how long it was.

You put your hand around the base, it was warm and nearly pulsating. Your pace was moderate, giving him just enough to work with. You knew it was a nice steady pace when his hips slightly jerked up for more friction.

“needy boy wanting to fuck my hand? this wasn’t even the main event you asked for, love” You coo, strengthening the grip you had on him by a smidge.

“i can’t help that you know how to use those hands of yours so well” He remarks, still facing the ceiling.

You pump your fist higher up and use your own skilled tongue to drag along his vein.

“@$?!~” He moaned and immediately looked down at you with a snarl. An almost threatening one telling you that he wanted more.

And were you planning on giving it to him? Absolutely not.

You stare right back at him and smirk, using the same motion and occasionally sucking the pre cum from its leaky pink source.

“i’m gonna cum” Your eyes welled a bit at the large shaft triggering your gag reflex. But he was close so you would endure the slight pain.

His thrust his hips up a few times and you force your head as far as you could before completely stopping.

“fuck- why’d you stop” His voice was almost a whisper and suddenly thick white ropes shot into the air and landed on his thigh.

“oh i’m sorry, i’ll keep going” You reach for his most sensitive spots, overstimulating him into a nervous laughter as he begged you to stop.

It was fun watching him experience more than he could handle, but all good things come to an end.

He sighs in relief, sweaty, heaving, and dazed.

“can i be freed now?” He asks.

“sure, why not. looks like you’re done here anyway” You shrug.

“who’s done?” He stands up, simply snapping the tie apart.

“oh… you’ve still got more in you?”

“im the milkman, i never run out” He suddenly picks you up and sits on you on the desk. Jesus, these things are strong.

You wrap your hands around your neck, suddenly feeling the arousal for another round yourself.

His hands find your slick entrance, teasing the outside and slipping two cold slender fingers into you.

“mmm!” You mean into the kiss, holding onto his forearm as he fingered you at an inhumane pace. You break away and cat h your breath trying to slow him down a bit.

“i don’t want to cum from this, put it in” You say.

“yes ma’am” He lines himself up without your entrance and slowly pushes himself in with a moan. You could every centimeter of the stretch as he went deeper.

You tapped the back of your head onto the window behind you and felt him kissing on your neck and collarbone.

“fuck you’re big” Your voice slightly shook as you stated the obvious.

“and you’re so warm and wet inside, i ashamed to admit that i almost came putting it in” He chuckled before biting back another groan.

RIIIIING

RIIIIING

You snap your head in the direction of the phone and see D.D.D. calling.

Shit.

“stop, i have to take this.” He halts his thrusts and you grab the phone. “hello?”

“agent number” A deep voice says over the phone.

“5 5 8 4 3 7” You state clearly.

“thank you agent (Y/N), we’re calling about a few M.I.A. cleaners? it says in our system that you were the last to call. is everything alright?”

“ye-es~” You feel something rubbing your g-spot and look over at Francis. ‘stop, now.’ You mouth silently. He just smirks and speeds up.

“are you sure? you sound like you’re being threatened” The man on the phone asks.

“mhm~, im fine sir, just a little shaky” You put your hand over the phone speaker and look at Francis.

“what the fuck is wrong with you??” You ask, interrupting yourself with a few moans.

“just a little thirsty for some water” He thrusts harder, causing him to hit your g-spot, and your clit back to back.

You cover your mouth with your shirt and moan into it, hearing the buzz of a voice on the phone. Honestly you should be scared, they could show any minute, but right now, you could care less.

“im gonna cum” You whisper, still being mindful of the potential listeners.

“yeah?” He grabs a young and stands straight up, slamming you down into his cock. You let out something just short of a scream into the crook of his neck and find yourself twitching and shaking in his grip.

You heard a splash and felt him fill you up with his seed. You both were a moaning, groaning mess, heavily breathing in place.

“(Y/N), do you copy?……. we’re on our way” The phone then hangs up and the low buzzy voice is replaced with a prominent beep.

“you have to go, they’re coming” You lazily try to leave his strong hold with a tired push against his chest.

“but first” He puts you back on the desk where you rest your back against the cold glass window. “a drink..” His tongue grows longer right infont of you, and cleans you from your ankles to your navel, and of course he ran it over the bundle of nerves he’s been abusing all night, making your body jolt.

“you’re so delicious… i wish i could always taste you” His tongue goes back to its normal size.

“well i’ll get going now… i’ll be seeing you again soon, love. i’ll try not to cause too much trouble next time…” He gives you a peppery kiss on the nose and leaves.

Well, that’s one way to end your day shift…

[gremlingottoosilly]

What lies within (Tentacle!Monster!Konig x fem!Reader)

It's mating season for monster hybrids. Unfortunately for you, the colonel didn't have time to dump his eggs everywhere. TW and tags: Non-con, size difference, oviposition, monster hybrids, forced breeding, belly bulging, yandere Konig, possessive Konig, tentacles, double penetration. Word count: 3278

The brave new world of opportunities for monsters.

The illustrious life for those who are not afraid of being a hunter in the billion flocks of weak, stupid prey. 

There are endless possibilities for the ones who decide to serve in the various armed forces specifically tailored to monsters. 

And loads of other bullshit that König had to endure every day on the briefs. Propaganda, advertisement, and weak attempts to make a new generation of monster hybrids abandon their old ways and join either army or contracting forces, making them glorified mercenaries. Jaided and disillusioned, the colonel long abandoned the thoughts that service can be fun, that it can bring him something other than money and occasional bullets in various places. 

“Most inclusive workplaces for monsters,” his ass. They were fed bullshit on top of other bullshit, and he is already tired of war – but there isn’t much he can do besides it. The payment is nice, he gets to eat his enemies and tears through entire units of squishy, weak humans who make perfect snacks from their useless fucking bodies. 

— So. Abandoned by your team, ja? 

Unfortunately for him, sometimes war operations meant that he was not supposed to eat prisoners – he was supposed to take them, hoard them into rounds, and send them for either ransom or whatever higher-ups wanted to do with them. Sometimes, it’s torture for information, sometimes, it’s attempts to bring them to their side if they are worth it. 

Sometimes, he just looked in the eyes of a soft, squishy little prey and just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. 

Well…” sometimes” is a very big word. He had never once thought about keeping the POW for himself before he met this stupidly beautiful, soft nurse with a perfect face, nice pair of legs in that ugly baggy uniform, and the most beautiful scent in the entire…

He never thought of keeping the prisoner for himself before he met you. 

It was supposed to be an easy mission for you – he can see it from your lack of normal armor. Either you had no idea that KorTac had their own plans for whatever you wanted to do here, or your contractor is extremely cheap. He likes either way – you smell like a human, and he likes dumb humans who would make perfect victims. You smell and look weak, trembling, perfect fucking pray for someone like him. König didn’t feel the need to transform for this battle. Your team ran away like a bunch of bunnies before he ever fired his first shot, but he could still feel his tentacles slowly stir under his hood. He can feel his body transforming without the need to – and he feels the pressure in his lower stomach. 

When was the last time he was able to put his eggs somewhere other that cold, unforgiving air? 

Even the bagginess of your uniform doesn’t obscure him from looking at the sway of your hips, at the perfect surface of your tummy, and feeling the smell of your ripe, fertile body. Having a strong sense of smell always came like a curse in the team of monsters where showering after a mission isn’t something that is done by many, buy König can appreciate his nose now – he can smell how perfect you are for breeding. How scared, too. 

Poor thing, probably terrified of his. König knows how he looks, even in his human form – tall, broad, bigger than any man you saw before, so much more muscular that even with your military training as a combat nurse, he could still break your spine with one hand. His size is something that made it impossible to find a partner normal ways – monsters are naturally too dominant to ever submit to him, and humans are simply too scared to deal with someone like him. He isn’t surprised, no – if anything, he understands completely. 

You sob, your voice is melting with incomprehensible pleas and little whines. You are shaking under him – a poor, dumb girl who wasn’t aware that her best shot at surviving was to try and shoot his crotch off before he pulled a gun out of your hands. 

— Pl…please, you can’t…you can’t do this! It’s a crime, I was on medical duty, it’s…

König likes humans because they are dumb. Civilian humans are even cuter – run around, thinking their lives are protected by sets of laws and rules that, in fact, don’t apply to the strong – and you, in your full half-military half-civvie glory, are fucking perfect. You whine and sib, tears running down your face when he presses you under him. Your hand hits the hard rocks of the ground, and he shifts slightly, dragging you closer to a softer patch of grass. 

He laughs when you are trying to scramble from under him, your lower half is pinned by his weight – he is surprised you can still move. You move your pelvis, trying to get out – and he moans quietly when you start rubbing your crotch against his. You freeze, fear spreading on your face – god, he missed that feeling. When was the last time he got to actually breed someone? Or even just have sex with someone as cute? 

— You really think so, Schatzen? That rules will protect you? 

He moves his crotch against yours, making you sob a bit more. You’re sweet and compliant, and he just loves breaking soft things like you – it’s a desire to break, to destroy, to make you his. He knows that, technically, forcing himself on women from enemy lines really is a war crime. He also knows that if he’d managed to breed you with his eggs, monster laws would never allow you to separate after mating. 

Besides, it's not like he is going to let you go, so you could tell on him. König never believed in love at first sight, but you would be a perfect vessel for his eggs and his tentacles – what else would he need from a wife, right? 

— You’re pretty. 

He says plainly, his hand goes to rub your chest through the fabric of your uniform. You won’t need those ugly clothes anymore – he’d make sure to buy you something nice and frail that won’t make you too uncomfortable to carry his eggs. Maybe a soft, frail dress or some of those cute maternity clothes when your body starts to change. He can’t wait to see his breasts swelling with milk – even if his unfertilized eggs won’t need it, he certainly would. Even if you’re too weak to handle his load, he’d make sure to get you a nice, firm plug and keep you on his tentacles constantly. 

You start to sob even more when you understand what he is trying to do – when he rips your pants to reveal the softness of your cunt and the fragility of your [anties, you actually manage to push your legs against his dick a good few times. He is too aroused to notice – if anything, he likes how fiery you are, your little yells and loud screams for help. No one will come to aid you – he barked the orders for his soldiers to go and fuck around somewhere else while he was busy devouring his little prize. Colonel doesn’t like having an audience – if anything, he is saving your dignity right now. If anything, he is remarkably soft when he pushes one of his long, red tendrils down your body, massaging your pussy through your panties. 

You’re moist already when his tentacle finds a way to your labia. What a slutty nurse you are – getting off the enemy colonel breeding you in the middle of the battlefield. Your tears mean nothing when he is too busy massaging and pressing and playing with your sticky, puffy folds – poor girl, so deprived of attention that even the weird texture of his extensions only fuels your desire. 

So fragile, so perfect – and so, so wet that your adorable white panties are already become transparent, sticking to your soft pussy. When he takes you home, he’d make sure to forbid you from wearing any underwear at all – you would meet him dressing in nothing but his shirts, a hand on your tummy to support the weight of your eggs. Walls of your pussy clenching on the plug he’d make to insert in you every morning. 

— Don’t…please, don’t, n…

You whine ever so sweetly, trying to close your legs so he won’t be able to touch you. It’s futile, just one of his tendrils is ten times stronger than your hands. He gets through your closed legs, buried in the moistness of your sweet, perfect pussy. You taste heavenly – just one minute enough to make him hungrier than before. König’s mating season was often postponed due to constant adrenaline rushes and things he takes to enhance his battle abilities – but he can feel eggs pressing at the inside of his body now, preparing to be released in the sweet heat of your body. But he has to prepare you first. 

— Quiet now. It won’t hurt unless you want it to. 

His tendrils are coming to moisten your pussy even more – sweet numbness filling your body from the lower stomach and right to your head. Knowing that you must feel dizzy and just a tad bit dumb, König can’t wait but chuckle. He likes you empty-headed, adorable dumbness in your eyes. He knows that he doesn’t know you, that you might even already have a boyfriend on the civil side of your life – but he doesn’t care. His mind doesn’t easily fall for just anyone,  but if he saw a perfect vessel in you, there is no escape. At least he is nice enough to be gentle. 

You whimper slightly when he pushes the first tendril inside of you. Too impatient to use his hands or tongue to make you feel a bit more at ease – after all, you are still on the battlefield, even if your friends abandoned you to get picked up by KorTac. Too impatient to soothe you with his words, he uses one of his smaller, thinner tentacles to push your pussy walls, make you squeeze him and milk for all his worth. You are wet, but not enough to take him without crying. Hot and soft, the cold texture of his extensions contrasts with your body too much – you are shaking, he can feel slight vibrations at the soft walls of yours. 

Fitting him like a glove, too perfect to exist – he just wants to take you with him, to flip you on your tummy and push all of his tentacles inside. You’re tight and warm, you make him go crazy from desire. It’s weird how a strong and mighty colonel can be so charmed by just some enemy nurse, but when you whine slightly and try to adjust your body to fit more comfortably under him, he just knows that he has to take you. That, no matter how much you are crying and praying for him to stop, you want to be used by him. Perhaps, with certain training, you would want his eggs, too. 

Second tendril caught you by surprise. Just when you started to adjust to the weird, slimy feeling of something writhing inside of you, spreading your tight walls around it and clashing with the heat of your insides, a second, bigger one started to press on your clenched folds. You wanted to beg, to ask him to stop – you’re too tight for this, too small, you would never be able to take even just one of his tentacles, you were…

But his tendrils press easily, he accesses lube spreading between your legs. You are sobbing from the feeling, and he is laughing. His hand goes to rip the upper part of your clothing, revealing your midriff. Fingers pressing on your tummy, just to feel his tentacles inside – he laughs when the skin of your stomach is tensed up, revealing the outlines of his extension. God, he can’t wait to make your body swell from him. Even though the eggs are not bearing his children, he can imagine you and a bunch of little ones – you’d look much better like this than pretending to be a nurse. Honestly, what were you even trying to do on the battlefield? 

— Stay still, ja? 

— Too much! Please, n…no more…

— Poor thing. You’ll feel so much better after I add the third one. 

He knows that he is overstepping a bit, that your body isn’t used to taking something as big as his tentacles – but König also knows that his pre-cum makes you feel dizzy warm. Acting like a natural aphrodisiac, you won't be able to resist relaxing under him. The lubricant is enough to allow his other tentacle to force himself in your ass – he isn’t going to breed that hole yet, but it doesn't mean that he can’t use it. 

He groans loudly when your asshole clenches around him – he had to stretch you quite a bit, that sweet numbness of his precum isn’t making you relaxed enough to take him whole, but he is managing, one agonizing centimeter after another. At the point you’re out of breath, with your face all flushed, he already knows he fucking won – he knows that you, poor, fragile thing, isn’t going anywhere. He would say that he feels horrible about forcing you like this – but this is the start of a new, better life for you. Being the bride of a monster of his rank is a dream for any lowly human like you. Can go as far as to say you’re lucky he ever laid his eyes on you. 

— Stop, please…’s too much. 

— You feel good, Katzen. Relax, and you’ll be even better. 

— I don’t…please, just let me go, I…

— Is this your first time with a monster? 

— Yes. 

— Gut. Would break you in for me. 

He laughs at your whimpers, his hand goes to cradle your face in an almost soft expression. He gently presses his fingers across your skin, making you all nice and warm for him – he wants to kiss you all over, but the only thing he can do in his more monstrous form is to press one of his shorter tentacles against your lips, mocking the way normal people kiss. You sob, but he presses the tip on your mouth, passing it through your teeth – you would feel better after ingesting his pre-cum, can even clench around him so more, chasing your own pleasure. 

König wants you to feel good, so he presses his hand against your face, allowing you to tremble and cry as much as you want. He wants to be nice to you, so his other hand presses on your clit, finding the tense bud and breaking the nothingness between your legs. You tremble even more when he starts to spread your folds around his fingers, both of his tentacles working to milk your holes and spread you as much as possible. 

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when both of the tendrils working on your pussy suddenly change their direction – they start to spread your walls instead of just fucking it. You feel exposed and vulnerable, he can see the pink flesh and glossiness of your cunt. It’s embarrassing for you, and he knows it – but god, you’re too fucking perfect to pass. 

You don’t even manage to ask him what he is doing when you feel something much larger pressing against your pussy. The biggest of his tentacles – almost as thick as an arm, pushing inside of you. He had a purpose, a desire to do something with you that you could never understand – silly humans know nothing about his biological need to push his eggs somewhere, of course, but you’re just fucking perfect. Too perfect to pass on this opportunity. 

You plead and cry when he presses further, a little bump on your tummy is obvious now, with each centimeter of his tendril pushing. When he finally bottoms inside of you, pressing directly against your cervix, you are too fucked out to even think. 

It’s painful, you think. Three thick tentacles roam inside your pussy, pushing and grinding against your gummy, tight walls – and another one of his extensions in your ass, writhing and massaging your insides. 

It’s pleasurable, you feel. The tentacles are uneven, cold, each little bump makes you cry out from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling is something you could never achieve with a normal dick. He cradles your face and chuckles softly when you moan and cry at the same time when he gently presses his red tendril against your soft lips, and you part them because you don’t want to resist anymore. Because you can’t resist anymore. 

— So good for me. Such a good girl, liked being fucked by the enemy. 

— I don’t like it! He laughs at your misery, pushing his tentacles back only to fuck you harder. He can feel the tension multiply in his stomach – he feels the movement of eggs forming from inside and pushing down the biggest one of his tendrils. 

When you first feel the pressure of an egg in your pussy, you want to scream. 

You scratch on his hands like a wild cat, clenching on him like crazy. If he didn’t see horror and shock on your face, he’d think you wanted him. You are tight, tighter than you were before – your pussy is closing around him, not letting him go, and he can only smile to himself when he feels every little bump sending electric shocks right into your core when you feel his eggs traveling from the start of his tendrils down, to your soft, welcoming womb. 

God, you will look perfect, all swollen and helpless – he can bring you a fucking collar, maybe push you on his lap and parade you as his precious wife for everyone to see. His scent lingers on your body, no matter if you want it or not. Silly human, you try to fight him like you didn’t lose the moment you let him pin your body. So perfect, he thinks of where you were before he found you. How many partners do you have, and how well would you play the role of his little breeding machine.

 He massages your tummy, with each egg taking its place in your womb. Soothes tense skin and whispers sweet promises in your ear when you cry and try to push him away. So perfect, so sweet for him – he doesn’t know the fuck he lived without you. 

When the last egg takes its place, making you bulge from all the weight inside of you, he can finally calm himself down enough to bring his human form partially. When he finally retracted his tentacles from your tired, sensitive body, not forgetting to press against your clit a good few times to prolong your unwanted, exhausting orgasm, he could finally press a kiss on your lips. 

You’re a mess – torn clothes, covered in cum and thick transparent slime, trembling and crying softly. You close your pussy around every one of his eggs like a good girl, and he knows you would be a perfect mating partner – but god, you need a good shower and soft mattress so he can try to fuck you again in his human form, and steal all the hugs and silly affections he wanted. 

— Will you let me go? 

He laughs, picking you up swiftly. So fragile in his hands, he doesn’t even want to think about letting you roam freely. 

— Of course not, Schatzen. Just get used to it, ja? 

[fox-guardian]

hey guys did you know that um. did you know. first of all did you know i'm losing my mind, secondly, do y'all remember in tma how when someone reads a written statement, they don't really Stop unless they're interrupted? and they read the whole thing easy cheesy, no issues with reading whatever words are there? like. jon literally could read french for a whole statement and was Fine. granted, that's Jon, but like nobody else struggled with pronunciations and whatnot (that i can recall)

presumably, this is an eye thing. either as employees of the institute, or because everyone there is just also eye-aligned in some degree (melanie had the ghost hunting show, the eye is fond of martin, etc)

and then there's tim in season 3 ep 86

[Sigh] Statement of… uh, Benjamin Hatendi… Hateendi? Regarding a… [papers rustling] a blanket. Dead friend. Monster. Regarding his unavoidable and gruesome end. How he tried to hide. He couldn’t. Statement is from… 1983, March 2nd. And I guess… [long sigh] I guess I’m doing this one. Tim Stoker. Archival assistant… Archival prisoner at the Magnus Institute.

correct me if im wrong but i don't recall anyone struggling with pronunciations before this bit. but that's not even the biggest thing here, that's just a lil Taste, a lil Flavor.

note the phrasing there. "Regarding his unavoidable and gruesome end." why would he say this when the written text on the statement says this:

Uh, right. Benjamin Hatendi’s account of… [rustling pages] oh for… a, a strange encounter. Er, statement date, March 2nd, 1983. Melanie King recording. Apparently.

"a strange encounter". that's it. nothing about an unavoidable death, just a "strange encounter". Tim Why Did You Say That.

why would our dear timothy bimothy, who is being pushed to the brink, who is becoming rapidly more depressed and losing hope, say this?

this isn't the only time he's said some weirdly grim shit tho (ep 104)

There was never really any hope for me, though, was there? This was how it was always going to go.

and then there's this bit from elias apparently having Looked into tim (also 104)

TIM All right, hit me with your X-ray eyes then, boss. What do you see? ELIAS Disruption. An unpredictable, angry man with nothing left but the desire to feel in some way revenged. TIM [Sarcastic] Ooh, terrifying! Surely only magic could have let you see so deep inside my very soul.

"nothing left" but the desire to feel revenged. and tim doesn't dispute this, because it's true.

when he first joined the institute he did so in order to look for answers about danny, but then he stopped seriously looking. and now that the circus is back, this is all the drive he has left. not looking for answers, just wanting revenge. closure. an end, if you will.

this is Literally It For Him. a couple lines later he suggests elias kill him, he's At The Breaking Point.

he is so tired, he's lost all hope, and he's saying all this grim shit about "unavoidable death" and "this is how it was always going to go" like hmmmm sounds familiar doesn't it. DOESN'T IT (<- is going insane)

(ep 11) [....] despite the rapid response of the paramedics and how much of his medical history I had immediately to hand, there was nothing I could do to save him. (ep 11) I have no responsibility to try and prevent whatever fate is coming for you. Based on my previous experience, such a thing is likely impossible anyway,[....] (ep 121) There. That was it. That was our fate; where we would always be.

hmmmm sounds a bit like oliver huh? everyone's favorite ex-accountant avatar of the end?? right??

but then there's this last bit i have from ep 86.

why did he stop reading the statement

Statement. “My parents never let me have a nightlight. I was always afraid, but they were ju–” Ugh, this is stupid.

why did he do that. again, correct me if im wrong but when else has someone just Stopped Reading like that without someone or something else interrupting them? why could tim just stop himself?

my theory is this: at this point, tim is completely gone from being aligned with the eye. he no longer seeks to know what happened to danny, he just wants closure. he doesn't wanna do any statement work, and he keeps mentioning these tidbits about hopelessness and the inevitability of terrible events, specifically death.

the eye isn't compelling him to read the statements like it does the others, because it doesn't have as strong a hold anymore. the grip is slipping from him. and by the time the unknowing rolls around, maybe it's lost him for good. maybe he finally fell into a different power he never meant to serve, and yet, he does.

and maybe. just maybe. because i'm so not in denial. but MAYBE. he did die in the unknowing. but maybe he got better.

basically end!tim truthers rise up, this is how end!tim kayaking with his bf oliver banks can still win, etc etc I'm Going Feral <3

[angelltheninth]

20. “You're still holding back, just let go.”

Maybe for a big burly monster afraid of their little love seeing them go feral for the first time and accidentally hurting them in the peak of their pleasure?

Maybe they just need some gentle reassurance from their darling human. ❤️

Big monsters are always the biggest sweethearts.

Pairing: Male!Monster x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, feral behavior, size difference, reassurance, creampie, mating press, grunting/growling/snarling, self-doubt, fear of losing control, mating cycle

A/N: Big monsters needs so much care, people don't see that.

He always got antsy and on edge when his mating cycle was coming up

Never let you close to him during this period, not trusting himself to hold back enough to not hurt you

Can always be heard pacing, snarling, complaining about how damn exhausting this cycle is and how much he wants to skink his cock into a pussy

You would have happily done so, offered it multiple times

He always refused, too scared

Was very protective and would protect you from anyone who would hurt you, including from himself

Always aware of his superior size and strength he often held back during sex even when he was fully in control

During his next mating cycle you immediately ask him to stay with you, that you want him to spend it with you, at worst you'd get bites and scratches not end up broken, he didn't have to hold back, he could let go

But you don't know that and neither does he

So how can he take that risk and then look at you in the eye if he hurts you

He is a little unsure still but his instincts are starting to drive him mad

Should he hurt you he wants you to do anything you need to do in order to get away from him

Things start off well, quite like usual actually, with him working you up until your pussy is wet enough for his big monster cock

As soon as the tip pushes past your entrance he pushes in the rest, too quickly for your pussy to have time to adjust to the intrusion of his cock

First thing he does is apologize profusely

His big body is pressed against yours, you can feel his heart beating against your palm, you can see his fangs as he snarls all in an attempt to hold still

Just the slightest clench of your pussy around him has him flooding your pussy with him

Normally he would last longer but it's been so long since he was with someone while in his mating cycle

That being the case he was still rock hard and didn't want to stop until he made you come too

Despite his best efforts he gave in to his breeding instincts and pushed your legs up so he could push his cock in balls deep into your cunt

You never heard the noise that reverberated from his chest when you told him he didn't need to pull out, that he could creampie you as many times as his mating cycle demanded it

[pseudowho]

Post-ShibuyaAU! Grey Nanami Kento Headcanons

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

As an accompaniment to my story, Grey (link here); an AU where Nanami survives Shibuya exploration because I'm never going to be over his loss.

Warnings: Severe injury (burns, eye loss), PTSD, alcohol use, depression, light smut, angst, AU headcanons

Part 2 of Greynami Headcanons link here

Christmas Greynami Headcanons, link here

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Before he meets you:

AU!Nanami Kento who meanders, severely burned, skin still on fire with agony, with blurred vision to another atrium, thronging with transfigured humans.

AU!Nanami Kento who fights until the end, embracing his death, until Yuuji arrives at the eleventh hour.

AU!Nanami Kento who, despite being healed by Shoko, faces a grisly recovery, forever physically and psychologically scarred by the events of Shibuya.

AU!Nanami Kento who drinks more heavily than ever, trying to scare away the nightmares; waking up in cold sweats, burning alive and screaming.

AU!Nanami Kento who turns viciously on the hierarchy of Jujutsu High, blaming them for sending their staff and students to Shibuya like lambs to the slaughter.

AU!Nanami Kento who hands his notice in shortly after Shibuya; bitterly recognising the monsters of the world in the various forms, wishing to hunt freely without being at the beck and call of Jujutsu High.

AU!Nanami Kento, who embraces the vigilante life, still saving privately earned money for his early retirement.

AU!Nanami Kento with bruises on his thighs, cuts on his hands, because his depth perception fails him in day-to-day activities now .

AU!Nanami Kento who took up the cold-baths-in-your-clothes idea from Higuruma Hiromi, because his burns still prickle so tenderly even after being healed.

AU!Nanami Kento who looks in the mirror once a day and once only, disgusted by what he sees.

AU!Nanami Kento who is still on speed-dial for every student and every assistant at Jujutsu High, who begrudge him nothing, and still love him dearly.

AU!Nanami Kento who doesn't even need to use his Cursed energy to hunt down rapists, murderers and abusers.

AU!Nanami Kento who is informed by Ijichi of the goings-on in the school; where students are sent and when, if anyone is being sent to re-recruit him...which is how he learns you are being sent for him.

AU!Nanami Kento who throws himself into work, isolating himself from the world, bitter and jaded and so desperately lonely.

After he meets you:

AU!Nanami Kento who seduces you when you hunt him down, sensing a kindred spirit, and someone to keep him company even if just for one night.

AU!Nanami Kento who is surprised to wake to see you still there, soft, naked, and pressed against him.

AU!Nanami Kento who almost cries when you press soft kisses over his eye patch, not disgusted, not afraid.

AU!Nanami Kento who treats you like a queen, throwing his whole heart and soul into romancing you, never hesitating in his choice.

AU!Nanami Kento who eventually stops covering himself up at home, exiting the bathroom in just a towel, no eye patch, his good eye smiling softly at you, curled in his shirt on his sofa.

AU!Nanami Kento who re-embraces the music from his teenage years, insisting you listen to MCR, Tool, and Fall out Boy while you cook together, singing along badly, flour everywhere.

AU!Nanami Kento who, the first time he had a vicious nightmare with you in his bed, was ashamed and took himself alone out of the house for a walk in the dead of night.

AU!Nanami Kento who doesn't make it to the door alone the second time; your hand winds in his and you wrap a scarf gently around him, walking arm in arm through the orange glow of the streetlights until he feels calm enough to attempt sleep again.

AU!Nanami Kento who knew he loved you before; but now loves you obsessively, sweetly, deeply.

AU!Nanami Kento who gasps to life in the morning, feeling your warm mouth travel down his scarred abdomen below the covers, groaning in ecstasy as you take him into your mouth, his fingers tangling in your hair, relearning how to feel joy and pleasure.

AU!Nanami Kento who no longer hides his face in your neck while he rolls his hips gently against yours, drinking in your facial expressions and soft sighs as he takes you to the edge again and again.

AU!Nanami Kento who doesn't let you go to any of your kills alone; he comes with you, protecting you at every turn, but refuses to split your payment with him.

AU!Nanami Kento who doesn't know you've perfected a minor reverse-cursed healing technique, and you use it to heal the eye patch sores on his face while he sleeps.

AU!Nanami Kento who introduces you to Yuuji; Yuuji smiles so widely with pure honest joy, and Kento feels his heart might burst with pride.

AU!Nanami Kento who only semi-ironically considers Nobara a member of the One-Eyed Club, like him. Nobara loves it. She has badges made. Kento has one under his lapel at all points.

AU!Nanami Kento who learns that you always carry aloe-vera gel and a spare eye patch when you go out together, and his heart clenches with appreciation for you.

AU!Nanami Kento who, in return, starts carrying around pads and hair ties for you, but won't carry an umbrella; he knows you always bring one, and you'll be forced to share the same umbrella.

AU!Nanami Kento who loves when you buy clothes for him, choosing good materials and long sleeves which won't irritate his scars.

AU!Nanami Kento who is so proud to walk out of the coffee shop with two coffees and pastries now, instead of the lonely one.

AU!Nanami Kento who falls asleep against you when you wash his hair and tight scars in the bath, and definitely falls asleep with his head in your lap while you massage aloe into his burns.

AU!Nanami Kento who sees kids staring at his eye patch; he kneels down and quietly tells them that he's a pirate, but the good kind.

AU!Nanami Kento who suffers dreadful depression and flashbacks as Halloween approaches the first year you're together; by the second year, he agrees to dress up as the Phantom of the Opera and Christine together.

AU!Nanami Kento who has dinner with Ijichi, Ino, Higuruma and Kusakabe often.

AU!Nanami Kento, who knows Ijichi will always make a Jujutsu High car available for him, even though he's no longer employed by them. Ijichi, who always has Nanami Kento's back, and would fight anyone to the death for him.

AU!Nanami Kento who no longer sees himself as defined by his trauma, but instead as defined by the love you give him, and he gives you in return.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Sigh. I adore Greynami.

Part 2 of Greynami Headcanons link here

@silkspunweb My smutty muse, and partner in crime, thank you ❤️

[feyascorner]

before my nails dig

summary. in which one of Astarion's especially vivid nightmares results in him waking up to Tav at the mercy of his own hands...and the shame that comes with it.

warnings. angst, fluff, comfort

pairing. Astarion x GN!reader

a/n. someone pls get this man therapy that's all i ask,,, also this takes place sometime during act 3 before you confront cazador!! first post too so pls forgive typos

Had breathing always been this hard?

It's not like he had to breathe anyway. The undead have more perks than one would think, and having no need for air was one that became particularly useful in unexpected ways. Yet as he stands in Cazador's dungeon again--a place he longs to rid from the darkest corners of his mind--all he can do is stumble over his own breath, crimson eyes darting around frantically in search of an exit.

And suddenly, his siblings are at the mercy of the ascension, floating helplessly in the chains of a red aura--Cazador's aura. Despite the chaos, Astarion's eyes narrow in on the one pedestal with no occupant, and he realizes it's his own designated place.

It's getting harder to breathe now.

A breath creeps up behind his shoulder, sending pure dread throughout his entire body as he hears Cazador's voice far too close than he ever wanted it to be.

"Wake up, child. This is all you've ever been meant for."

Astarion whips around and lunges at the man, his hands wrapping viciously around the throat he's fantasized about ripping apart for the past two hundred years. His nails dig into the flesh of the vampire lord's neck, leaving indents in the shape of crescent moons, just enough to cause panic but not enough to draw blood. But Cazador only cackles, his eyes staring right into Astarion's as he hollers over and over again.

"Wake up."

"Wake up!"

"--Astarion!"

The spawn's eyes snap open, recognition finally flooding his expression as he finds himself staring down at you. The very face he sees in the softest of dreams, the lips he longs to kiss at every waking moment, and the eyes that gaze at him with the love and adoration he's been missing for most of his wretched eternal life. Though he'd never admit it, you saved him. From the moment he'd threatened your life at the nautiloid crash to the moment he held you close to his chest in the confines of his tent, he would be by your side until you tired of him and threw him away.

All he wanted--all he could wish for--was only a fraction of it in return. And you'd given him that, and so much more.

But now, you're scared. Terrified, even. Of him.

With horror, he realizes his fingers are digging into your throat. Your precious, tender throat that you offer him not for something in return, but simply because you care for him.

All at once as he tears his hands away, he wants to cut them off and bury himself in his own grave again. He doesn't meet your eyes, afraid of what disgust might be held in them, but he knows you're too kind for that. Too kind to see the kind of monster he is.

You're gasping for your breath, and his stomach knots in a way that would have sent him hurling if it weren't for the fact that he's too occupied drinking in what he's done. To you.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, Astarion," you choke out, perching on both your elbows as you struggle to recover. Even now, all you seem to care about is him. He almost hates you for it--hates you for not stabbing a stake through his heart the moment his hands met your neck. "Astarion-"

"Your throat," he croaks, despising the slight crack of his voice as he reaches for your cheek, but stops before he even gets close. He doesn't trust himself to open his mouth again.

"It's okay, really, I can just get Shadowheart to heal me," you shake your head, and he finds himself in disbelief as you crawl toward him, tossing the sheets to the side. He shifts the slightest away and you understand, immediately sitting back down. You look like you want to say something, but you close your mouth and watch him patiently, as if waiting for him to make the first move.

After a suffocating silence, he turns his back to you. "I'll be sleeping elsewhere tonight."

He intends of never sharing a room with you again, in fear of what he could possibly do to you as a result of his selfish desires to keep you close, and you seem to pick up on the tone of his words. You always do. "Astarion, please."

"I do apologize, sincerely. I'll form a better apology tomorrow, but for now, I'll fetch Shadowheart or that damned wizard and-"

He fights the urge to shiver when he feels your hand on his. How you manage to have such an impact on him with a simple touch he does not know, and does not care because all he wants is more. To pull you close, to beg you to keep him, to use him, to punch him, strangle him for all he cared, in hopes you'll even consider ever speaking to him again. Instead, he turns to look at you.

Gods, you're beautiful.

Even with those terrible bruises he'd go to hell and earth to take back, your beauty in unmatched with anything he's ever seen. Even with the bed hair and the anxiousness pursing your lips, he can't bring himself to look away again.

"Please stay. I'm not mad, nor afraid."

The words sound like honey on your tongue.

"Please," You say again, slowly this time. "Stay."

His chest feels tight, threatening to tear itself apart as his voice comes out in a crooked whisper. "I could have killed you."

"You didn't."

"If you died too, I don't know--what would I even do with myself? What would I-" He hates it when he sounds like this. Vulnerable, or as Cazador liked to call it: pathetic. But he can't help the words tumbling out his blasted mouth with the way you're gazing at him with nothing but worry. Somehow, with you, it feels strange.

Refreshing, almost.

Your hand squeezes around his as if to remind him you're still here. He meets your eyes again and it's all it takes to break what little will he has left, as he lets you pull him close in a crushing hug--one that's all too welcomed.

And as the two of you lie awake in each other's embrace, he thanks all the gods he doesn't worship for putting you on his path.