#khaosrealms

[khaosrealms]

YUE LAO’S BLESSINGS / saying i love you— as if urged by the gods themselves.

KUNG LAO:

“I love you” for Kung Lao comes out as a laugh, a chuckle, deep in his chest, his arms wrapped around your shoulders. Kung Lao speaks “I love you” with every ounce of young, dumb love and affection he can muster— into your ear as he spins you around. Wrapped in his strong arms, laughing alongside him. “I love you!” Kung Lao howls out before a crowd and bellows when you explode with color, speaking it as truly as he feels it.

RAIDEN:

“I love you” is ritual for Raiden. Sacred, private. He speaks it between quiet, slow kisses, hand in your lower back, fingers through your hair. “I love you” is every bit as warm as it is electrifying from Raiden; only for your ears to hear, only for your heart to relish. His heart in his sleeve, for you to clutch onto when crossing a puddle, for you to hold. “I love you, forever and always.” Raiden whispers as a prayer; and you feel it in every kiss he gives you after.

BI-HAN:

“I love you” is the greatest sin Bi-Han has ever committed, the deepest regret, the most forbidden weakness. As if rage, the worst and truest emotion, is the only thing that can surround it. “I love you” exists so far in the back of his throat that he forces it down your’s with every kiss, with every groan. Keeps it between your mouths so no one besides you and himself can hear it; not the world, not the skies, you and him alone. “I shouldn’t love you.” Bi-Han strangles out of himself, holding it to you, and chokes it out to never be heard again.

MILEENA:

“I love you” is the most free thing Mileena has ever spoken. It is a bird, untethered from a leash or chain, uncaged, unconquerable. “I love you” feels every bit as right as your touch, as your kiss, as your embrace and pace. Mileena speaks it with strength, with passion; powerful as a pillar, as deep as the ocean. “I love you so much.” Mileena presses against your lips and presses again and again, so nothing in the world could part you two again.

[khaosrealms]

YUE LAO’S BLESSINGS (part four!) / saying i love you— as if urged by the gods themselves.

a/n: honestly i’d say i’m surprised i’m making another part of this, but that would be a lie— because here i am, with another part! thank you so much again for such a big response to my writing! to you, dear reader, i dedicate this post 🩵 !

REPTILE:

“I love you” from Syzoth is nothing more than his purest honesty. It drips out from his every pore, leaks out from the crevices of his heart and into every word and action he shows you. His stares, his touches— his kisses, his embrace. “I love you” is always knowing he’s there. To hold, to run; wherever you go, Syzoth will be there, waiting for you, wishing to be with you. Hoping, pleading that the world, as cruel as it may be, would never be as cruel to you as it has to him. “I love you, as much as you deserve more.” And even when you respond back, his pounding heart simply can’t believe he’d be allowed something so good and true.

SINDEL:

“I love you” is Sindel’s consecration to you. The promise you have made to her in choosing to bind yourself to an Empress. You won’t be her only love, you know; but the love there will be honor-held, tightly wound. “I love you” is kneeling by her feet, worshipping her warm skin and powerful eyes. It is dying to preserve her. Living to speak praise of her. Pleading for one more kiss before she leaves you to attend to her duty. “I will not forget your love.” Sindel promises, knowing she will outlive you but allowing you to stay tucked in her heart. Deep within, kept safe and warm, no matter how much it may burn her.

REIKO:

“I love you” for Reiko is fuel enough to fight battles, to win wars. You are his as truly as he is your’s. He’d survive for you, fight for you, kill for you. “I love you” is never fearing the night. Never fearing the dark. It is the purple marks he leaves on your flesh to mark you as his. The stain of his hand across your chest, the blood of his foes on your back. “They will rue the day they spoke your name.” That is Reiko’s promise to you; in all his blood-soaked glory. Stained into your lips, forever his to return to once the battle has been won.

BARAKA:

“I love you” is a choked back word, itching in the back of Baraka’s throat. A lost home, a lost title, a lost love. It’s hesitation, sitting there as he approaches. So strong— this former merchant. To command, to lead; but still diseased, still too scared to love again and lose. “I love you” is distance. Always an arms length away; a whisper away. Touch through fabric, words across tables. Gazes with so much yearning he might melt if you’d look back the very same way. “Are you well?” Baraka asks; because it’s easier than admitting he’s fallen in love again. Easier than losing you to Tarkat’s cruel kiss as well.

GERAS:

“I love you” is an odd sentiment on Geras’ tongue, like a stone being rolled by the waves; smoothed over, coaxed into the sun. It is questioning, curiosity— the first touch of mortal warmth, a paradox made true. “I love you” is time Geras spends in silence. Imagining you, thinking of you. Feeling the lines that form you; fingers across your cheek and through your hair. Understanding you and learning he knew nothing of the beauty of the many, many worlds until you gazed up at him. Smiling only at him. “Is this love?” Geras asks knowing it is the first question he’s never held an answer for. The terror it should cause, to be unlearned; but instead, smiling, back only at you.

[khaosrealms]

could you write a smoke request? i don't have that much creativity for a long scenario but it could be during his and f!reader's wedding night; if you want to turn this into a smut, feel free!

CRESCENT’S CARESS (nsfw content!) / SMOKE X FEMALE!READER

a/n: i certainly can write it, because it is the first smoke request i’ve received and i am positively thrilled to answer it! thank you very much 🩶 as a warning, again before reading: this piece contains NSFW content.

There's nothing in this world that could take his eyes off of you. Tomas is certain the second he does that this world, having gifted him nothing but its loss, would rip him away from you. His love, his beloved, the sharer of his heart, now vowed and wed together. Every kiss almost seeming to beg against your lips to remain there with him. The warmth of his hands melting into your flesh, your hips, your waist, any part of you he could touch. And when you finally part from Tomas' lips, the stain of your painted lips across his, he's desperate to return. Every ounce and piece of his adoration for you he could possibly show drowning in his eyes.

"I need to breathe, Tomas." Yet you are smiling, and as he watches it push a chuckle out of you, he can't help but smile himself. His body heat melding into your own as he holds you within his grasp. "One more, my love-- just one more." So another kiss you allow Tomas and he divulges in your lenience. Tangling his fingers through your hair, unraveling carefully, with each second of the more than one kiss he gifts you, the pins and jewelry covering your head. "One more." He whispers, pressing his lips to your neck; coaxing each piece of your phoenix red dress off from your body. Smiling as you do the same for him, tracing the gold embroidered details over his chest. The lovely red fabric slipping from his shoulders and waist the same hue of his skin beneath your palms. Pressed down against the fabric of your shared bed; gazing up with nothing but worship as you straddle him. Coated in candle light. The bruises of his lips illuminated in sweat on your neck and your own, of rose red, over the expanse of his sharp jaw. One, there, where the scar resides on his brow; another on the beauty mark on his cheek. Scattered all over his body where your lips may reach. Even then, both out of breath, Tomas can't stop smiling, and neither can you.

"If I said the words I wished to say---" "Yes, I would kiss you again, Tomas." You relish in the moment of peace that fills with your joined laughter. Waving cool air into your burning hot cheeks; only to be whisked away onto your back by Tomas. Using your moment of weakness to lay you down, pulling you into another willing, desperate kiss. This time, you can feel him every part of him; his weight, his skin against your own, his cock pressed against your inner thigh. Even now, tangled in your arms, begging and waiting for your permission. "Please." This time, you beg to him. This time, you forfeit everything to him-- your love, your beloved, the sharer of your heart. Pressing your hips against his own, running the length of his cock over your dripping cunt. "Please--- I need you, Tomas." Grasping him in your hand, dragging his head over your clit, coated in both his and your own slick. What resistance could Tomas offer? Nothing, to his love, this night-- you belong only to him and to you, he belongs. Your Smoke, your Tomas. "Anything for you."

[khaosrealms]

Any hcs on how Nanami,Choso and Suguru shows their love towards their s/o?

I love these men so much.

TOUCHED BY BENZAITEN / how do they show their love?

a/n: thank you so so much for the jujutsu kaisen request! i know i've mostly been doing mortal kombat requests-- but getting to mix it up for y'all is the absolute best! i hope this is to your enjoyment 💛

NANAMI KENTO:

For Nanami, showing his love for you is almost as easy as breathing— once he’s settled with you in his heart, it’s instinct, constant and invigorating. His love shows in little ways; discreet ways. Keeping his hand on the small of your back while you are in a group talking. Taking something out of your hair without you noticing. A cold cup of water with ice ready by your bedside table when you wake up. Nanami loves to show his love in ways that mean something only for you. Love that isn’t for anyone else to interpret. He’ll always remember your favorite meal, your favorite drink. Always keep track of anniversaries, special days, the birthdays of people important to you. In your private moments, he shows his love most in his voice. Speaking your name as if it is the most important word in the whole of the universe. Laced with slow, deep kisses. Weighty, certain touches. His love is a foundation. Always so secure; never once questioning. If there is every a moment where you ask yourself if Nanami truly loves you, it is vanquished the second you see him amongst a crowd and the first thing he does is look for you.

CHOSO:

Choso’s love is doeish, newborn. He’s stumbling most of his way through his love for you— but it’s never out of malice. You cannot expect a man who has been birthed as an experiment to not be somewhat inexperienced in his show of adoration. Yet, when he finally comes to terms with his feelings for you, his love is complete and utter devotion. Always the first to your defense, always the first to support you. The kind of love that means learning from you; figuring out the ways he can prove to you his love. Choso loves, more than anything, with complete and utter sincerity. Learning to sew so he can patch a shirt of your’s horrendously. Clumsily stumbling through cooking so he can make a meal you’d been moaning about craving for months. Figuring out how you like him to hold you, to kiss you, to make love to you. Choso spends his every second loving you learning from you; and as much as he might trip, he always gets back up to prove it to you. Quietly, most of the time, yes— but so very passionately at all times.

GETOU SUGURU:

If Suguru is your first love, he might simply be your last with the way he treats you. And if he isn’t your last, you’ll spend your years reminiscing back on the way he loved you. Suguru’s love is honey, silky and sweet, and every bit as warming as it is refreshing. Suguru is not unabashed about showing his love of you off. Taking you to shows where you are at the foot of the stage, inches away from your favorite artist. Sitting across an exquisite table from you with his chin in his hand, watching you whilst you eat. Suguru likes to indulge you. Whether it’s with gifts or with his lips; keep you reminded that you are worth receiving more from this world, worth being spoiled. He loves like a pedestal. Holds you up high, his arms out and ready to catch you should you fall. There’s no doubt to anyone that you are his— always an arm around your waist, a hair tie you both share, a jacket you both exchange around a night out. You are his. Just as much as he is your’s.

[khaosrealms]

oh, EXCUSE me? your writing is spectacular and i'm not exaggerating!! - the way you wrote and described the first meeting between syzoth and the princess was so good that it left me wanting more!

i beg and still on my knees for more!! 🥺

LACERTA’S GEM. (PART THREE!) / SYZOTH X PRINCESS! READER.

a/n: thank you so much for the receptive response! you beg and what am i to do but give to you more content? your wish is my command! also, for any of those who see this without reading the previous parts, here you go! the first two parts + the intermission and the conversation with the princesses !

- It's been a whirlwind, the ascension from jailer to free man-- but every step of that way for Syzoth, you are there. His closest ally, his first friend, his princess. Of course the gossip is plenty even before his induction as emissary. Whispers aplenty of the moment you two had shared at the end of the battle for Outworld and the Empress' acceptance to allow a Zaterran to hold a court position. Insistent on screeching and yelping about matters that held no importance to them. Of your relationship with Syzoth and the matter of the green shifting fabric wrapped around your right arm. But you don't allow their words to poison you. You have two wonderful sisters-- and they are there for you as Syzoth is given the honor of emissary for Mileena's court. There to look amongst the court and speak of his achievements; and to challenge anyone who might speak ill of someone revered by the Empress herself.

- Pulling Syzoth and yourself away from one another becomes an impossibility from that point onwards-- in equal measure intentional as it is unintentional. Drawn to one another like song birds. Sharing your walks in one another's company, spending his nights at the door of your chamber, never entering, but leaned against the door frame. Minutes turning to hours as the two of you conversed. Wasting the time you could spend sleeping instead talking with the Zaterran whom you'd never would have met had you not parted into that alley that night of the festival. Not wasting, no, reveling; the both of you.

"It's getting late, Princess." As if either of you care. He's smiling as he speaks it; arms folded over his chest where he stands. He knows it distracts you. Brushing past him to grab your tomes for the small touches it gifts you of his biceps, gently slapping his forearm when you laugh; innocent gestures of hidden desire. Syzoth indulges it. He indulges it knowing it brings your touch, your warmth. Even now, as you gently shove his shoulder at his words, rolling your eyes, he doesn't move away. He anticipates it. You'd be blind not to notice. You've never been more thankful for the privacy your Umgadi guard has gifted you both-- or, well, was rather ordered to.

"Late? I see no sun on the horizon, Syzoth." To a nearby window, you gesture and his eyes remain on your own despite it. Not allowing himself to rid himself the sight of you for even a second to look away. It makes something hitch in your throat; and even as you laugh to cover your pause, it does nothing to hide it. Warmth swimming itself up to your cheeks as he stays there in the silence between you two. His verdant gaze briefly flitting to your lips and back up to your eyes. "Is that so?" Even when he whispers, Syzoth's voice rumbles. Resonating off his chest and into your ears; and straight down to the bottom of your stomach. "I hadn't noticed, Princess."

- Syzoth can't take his hands off of you when you finally take the leap and pull him into your chambers, shutting the door behind you both with his tail. Tossing every bit of formality and restraint in his body out to meet your hungry lips. Desperate for his touch, his taste, his cold skin, his everything. Even as his hands slip as they clutch onto the fine fabric of your bed, your body laid across, he catches himself. Standing over your willing body, gaining his breath back.

"You're beautiful, Syzoth." Shifting between his Outworlder and true form above you, his tail wrapped around your thigh, his sharpened teeth and tongue. All stained in the dark green hue of his beating lifeforce. You might just be the first person in all the realms, so full with so many lives, who has ever called him beautiful. And you might be the first person, in this cruel terrible world, he'd ever believe was telling the truth with such honeyed words. "Be true for me." "Are you sure, Princess?" He could hurt you, Syzoth thinks. His acid, his size; but all you do as he despairs is capture him into another kiss. Melting his worries, dissolving away his shifted form-- and parting to meet his crimson eyes. His scaled chest rumbling with a hissed, deep groan. "Certain."

[khaosrealms]

YUE LAO’S BLESSINGS (part two!) / saying i love you— as if urged by the gods themselves.

a/n: the reception to first blessings post has been overwhelming, so i thought— what better than to make a part two? so here it is, as was my heart’s desire 💛

KENSHI:

“I love you” for Kenshi is like a vow. They are words he speaks knowing it binds you to him and he to you. “I love you” comes with a roughness; a hesitation. Not said enough throughout his life of hardship, not given enough time to stay in his heart without the fear of loss. With every fleeting kiss, with every moment he holds on for a bit too long, with too much of his heart. “I am your’s.” Kenshi says, with every bit as much love as I love you holds.

KITANA:

“I love you” is every bit as alluring as it is secretive for Kitana. Always wanting for you, but always silent before the crowds of the royal castle. Kitana speaks it in dark quarters and behind the pale pink tree of her home’s courtyard. “I love you” is a kiss dragged over the shell of your ear, the barest brush of her fingertips over your own. Waiting for you to grab hold and embrace every piece of herself as your own. Only to be a hair’s breath away; knowing she is the daughter of an Empress. “You know better than to tempt the love of a Princess.” And yet, you still do; because you know she tempts for your love as well.

SHANG TSUNG:

“I love you” is a tool for Shang Tsung. A vice he may hold over you. It is every bit as suffocating as it is gripping. A hand around your neck as he presses his lips against your own. A kiss that never ends until you are breathless and he is smiling. “I love you” is a means to an end. A leash, a chain. He never intends it to be placed around himself; only when it is too late, when you both have bound yourselves too tight within one another does he realize. “There was never such a thing as love between us.” Shang Tsung hisses out and you know he is yours. His denial as sinister and true as his adoration.

JOHNNY CAGE:

“I love you” is Johnny’s sincerity. The truth interlaced within his every word and action; the part of himself he offers to you and only you. His love is watching out of his corner of his eye for your laughing visage, it is references made for you alone to roll your eyes at. “I love you” is setting his chin on the top of your head while you sit together. Placing his hand under your jaw to keep you there with him as you kiss. “God, I fucking love you.” Johnny groans out, wine-drunk with his love and your lips; wrapped in his arms, clutching at your hips. Every part of yours his to admire and adore.

[khaosrealms]

could you write a request for syzoth x princess!reader, who is mileena and kitana's younger sister?

LACERTA’S GEM. / SYZOTH X PRINCESS! READER.

a/n: of course! thank you so much for the request 💚 nothing better than to start a blog off with everyone’s favorite reptiloid.

- Your affection is a harshly-earned one, child of the empress you are. Living in outworld comes with its well of suitors who flaunt and throw themselves for your adoration; what greater prize than to win the love of a princess, after all? Not that anyone had succeeded, not any of members of Sindel’s court, not any of Shao’s soldiers, none yet to earn the reward of a princess’ heart. But a Zatteran?

- Whispers of gossip among Sindel’s court were as common as the act of breathing, and while you often kept your thoughts elsewhere, keeping your ears open was a whole different story. A sideshow act? A shapeshifter? Under the heat of Mileena’s recent… escapade, you knew better than to go elsewhere unaccompanied— but your curiosities got the better of you. The cover of night a perfect tool to aid in your disguise as you ventured into Outworld’s entertainment district. Finding the source of the whispers with a crowd large enough to nestle yourself within. A man— or, at the very least, what you believed was a man at first.

“Come and see! Offer coin and perhaps you will receive a glimpse of something greater than anything you’ve ever witnessed here on Outworld!” The typical sideshow fare; a disgust filling your jaw at the sight of the merchant’s grinning visage as he passes you. Offering a box to be filled with coin and trinkets for the opportunity at the sight of his performer. Verdant eyes, tattoos etched across his features, his arms. For a moment, you lock eyes, and his pupils dilate. Recognition. Verdant green eyes that are almost too soft, too kind, too tired. Still so exhausted, even as he transforms, scaled, tooth and claw. A show for a princess, he seems to say, tail heavy on the floor beneath him. You stay not a moment later. Fading into the crowd, where his eyes do not follow.

- When you return to the district where Syzoth performed not a week later with company, he’s nowhere to be seen. Not the sight of him, not even so much as a whisper, the suspicious nature of it following you as you returned to your duties. Where did he go? This gossip of the high courts who caught such an eye, where did he go? Your lack of concentration earns you Kitana’s scolding. A nip at your ear, pinched between her fingers. But still, the distraction remains, following to the days leading up to the tournament. Even the fireworks of celebration as you stood on stage, waving towards the partying citizens of Outworld with your sisters, couldn’t distract from the thought.

- It took practically every ounce of power and demand you could manage to pull away from the festivities. Turning away your umgadi guard with some sort of dismissive lie, preening to your sisters that you would return before the people would so much as notice you missing— of course, Kitana and Mileena are hardly fooled, and when you dive into the crowds, between alleys and fragrant carts, they know what exactly it is that festers at your mind. The Zaterran. The shapeshifter with tired eyes and scaled flesh. The one who stands before you, as you duck into a quiet alley, as caught off-guard as you are of him.

“Princess.” There’s a tenseness in his jaw that follows through to his voice. Ready to leap away, as if found doing something he’d hardly been meant to do. His fists tensing by his sides. He’d looked exhausted before, yes, but now— he’d looked almost drained. A small spark of hope twinkling in his eyes. Whatever it is he’d been through, you’re certain it’s something he’s refusing to return back to. When you step back, you can see with your own eyes how his muscles loosen in relief.

“I thought Zaterran’s stayed beneath ground.” Your interest catches him, and for a moment he stutters, before opening his mouth to speak once more. “Most do, Princess. You have seen yourself that I am not most, however.” So he did recognize you that day. In the same way that you yourself recognize that you both are surely not where you are meant to be. “A good reason, I hope?” “In the name of truth. A reason no better.” “Then above ground you’ll stay, if that is such.”

- You never forget the appreciation in his eyes at that moment. A relief so deep it falls into his shoulders and neck, relaxing, time of tension wasted away. By the time you blink, the man has already continued his climb onto the buildings above; but not before you catch his attention once more, one hand cupped by your mouth to echo your words towards him. “What is your name, Zaterran!” Stopping him in his tracks, those verdant eyes locking onto your’s once more.

“My name is Syzoth, Princess!” Syzoth. What an odd name for such an intriguing man. “I would ask for your’s, but I’m afraid it’s difficult not to know of it!” His words form a bubble in your chest, a chuckle spilling out from between your lips that cause a smile to crack on his weary features. That glimmer of hope shining in his eye. He’s gone by the time another firework cracks across the sky above you, but a small warmth of the meeting remains. Nestled there in your cheek. Syzoth. What luck to meet him again.

[khaosrealms]

GENERAL’S CUR. (NSFW CONTENT) / SHAO X SOLDIER! READER.

a/n: nothing but savage thoughts have been in my mind since i locked eyes with shao and as a result, here is the result of that. enjoy ! ❣️

- Everyone knows the General has his favorites. Just as one might favor a weapon, the boy he adopted from the Kafallah War, or just as one might favor a pet— you. The soldier who just slightly too weak to overwhelm him, the soldier who barks in his ear to get his attention. Any other General would have disposed of you; make good on their word of your insolence. But not General Shao, not you. No— he had a much better use for you and that mouth of your’s.

- Under the guise of conversation, Shao invites you to his war quarters. Postured on his large, throne-like chair. Not so much as standing up as he barked for you to enter as you pounded on his door. Backlit in the warm, golden light of the torches that illuminated parchments of siege maps and private missives. Draped in his combat attire. The very essence of a war god; the taste of your own saliva coating and filling your throat.

“Sit.” There’s wine in Shao’s tongue, some aged finery he’s earned in Sindel’s favor amongst her court. You can hear it in the deep rumbles off his chest as he breathes in and out; watching your every step as you walk towards one of the chairs parallel to the general. A hawk to his prey. Crimson slits dilating— and contracting as you bend your knees to sit. “No. Not there.” All it takes is one finger, thick and clawed, pointed downwards. “You know where.”

- There’s no argument. Shao is your general, and you, his loyal devoted soldier— you both know that denial isn’t something you’d planned on anyways. Bark and yelp you might, but deny yourself? Shao wouldn’t allow a good soldier of his to think of restraint. Kneeled before him, between his legs, the sight of his cock strained against the fabric of his pants. Twitching at the warmth of your breath. He’s spent every moment since you’ve entered the room staring at you, and right now, Shao can’t look away. You’d lost all thought of resistance the second you’d taken to your knees.

“Who was it that taught you discipline, soldier?” He agonizes you with control. Slipping himself in and out your mouth, just enough to coat himself in your tongue, but not enough to suppress your whining to take him whole. You can take it, Shao knows. He's trained the shape of his cock into your throat; spent his hours warming himself in your insolent mouth. And you craved it, of course you did-- because every time he calls, you return. Lapping up the taste of his precum as he drags himself out from your throat, coated in your saliva. "Your general, wasn't it?" He gives you only a moment to breathe. Watching as you hungrily pant air back into your system. But not so desperate as to pull away. No- you stay there despite it. Gazing up at your General and his saliva-drenched cock, every part of you aching for him to return. "I taught you so well." You take him so well every time. Swallowing every drop, not so much as shedding a tear as Shao ruts into your mouth to clean himself off on your tongue. He'll reward you, you're certain. Not today-- no. But eventually you'll earn it; a seat right on his lap for hours on end. For now, you can remain sat there till Shao's done training each part of you to be his own.

[khaosrealms]

Im literally vibrating in my chair please a part two of that Syzoth fic please I need them interacting more ♥️♥️

LACERTA’S GEM. (PART TWO!) / SYZOTH X PRINCESS! READER.

a/n: it brings me nothing but joy to know you enjoyed the first part! i am happy to please— so of course, here is your part two! 💚

- After your second encounter with Syzoth, it wasn’t long until you made acquaintance with one another soon after. Returning to the stage, chin held high and hands tucked behind you with excitement, only to see your dear sister Kitana on the floor and Tanya engaged in kombat with the very man you’d just let go. Thinking nothing of the possibility that this might be the reason for his flighty disposition. Your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach as you ran to your older sister’s side, inspecting for newfound bruises or cuts. But nothing— dull hits, nothing but enough to deter her from continuing a fight. Whatever it was Syzoth was doing, it wasn’t in the name of hurting your family.

- From that point onwards, it was all about picking the pieces of whatever the hell was going on. Betrayal from General Shao and Shang Tsung, allyship with mortals from Earthrealm, and— the small increments of time you’d begun to find with Syzoth. Assisting where the battle might require you; during the silent period before the execution of a plan, that’s where he spoke most with you. Hesitantly, at first, for you were positive he believed you held some ire for him that day at the festival stage. Ashamed, from the way he spoke to the way he’d bent his head.

“Princess, if I may?” You never enjoyed it, that fervent necessity those who knew of your place in Outworld had to being near your presence. If I may, with all due respect, if you’ll excuse me, even here, far from your mother’s court, overseeing what would soon be a battlefield, that courtesy did not leave. So you do not answer, rather, you wait— and slowly, you can see the hesitation drip in and drip out from Syzoth’s disposition. Carrying him to a seat a slight ways beside you. Hands folded between his thighs, holding words between his lips that remain knotted there before finally releasing; an undertone of hesitation throughout. “Am I disrupting your peace?” You almost want to chuckle, if it didn’t seem it’d rattle the Zaterran beyond your desire.

“You are not.” Short, to tug him towards continuing, and enough to make his shoulders loosen. “I’m simply thinking, Syzoth. Why do you ask?” You’d spend a majority of the time from the days since avoiding his gaze, not of wrath, but almost— out of hesitation. Hesitation to accept his role in all this, hesitation, knowing the man who your mother, the Empress, took council from was the very man who enslaved him. “I’m afraid I may have soiled what.. little fate you had of me when we had met, that day of the festival.” Ah yes, that day. How could you have possibly forgotten? The day a shapeshifting Zaterran nearly conquered Outworld itself. He can’t help but shift when you chuckle at his words, nervous, perhaps— but less so when you turn to look at him, finally, and a small smile sits there on your lips.

“You had your reasons, Syzoth, I know of that now. And my dear sister forgives you, so why too shouldn’t I?” You wouldn’t admit that there’s a part of you that stirs when Syzoth finally allows himself to smile. A swirling of something warm in your chest as he breathes a sigh of relief, the dark circles beneath his eyes creasing with his grin. “That brings me more solace than you could imagine, Princess.” And to you, as well, simply seeing how much the assurance placed him at ease. “Perhaps then, we could.. speak to one another? Pass the time?”

- You’d discover more and more of Syzoth as the time continued to pass. His life as a Zaterran, his isolation due to his abilities, his family, now lost, the simple pleasures he enjoy in life, and him, of you. Your life as the youngest daughter of Empress Sindel, the isolation due to your royal status, your family, forever by your side. Opposite reflections of one another, a kind of magnetism in knowing just how different you were from one another. And even though your sister Mileena had teased you, asking if you’d planned to make a Zeterran a part of the royal lineage, you continued to make his company. Waiting, during the moments of silence, for Syzoth to appear. At times, in his true form, where you’d request time to admire, and at times, in his shifted form, where you’d find yourself chuckling at the true parts of him that’d peek through to his human body.

- When the titan Shang Tsung is defeated, there’s a peace that finally falls over Outerworld. Like a taut rubber band being reeled back. The first person you celebrate with, barring your own blood, is Syzoth. Looking for him, perhaps without even realizing, amongst the crowd of those who had remained; and there he was, looking back at you, relief painted in his eyes like two emeralds. You hadn’t planned on hugging him when you raced to him, but fueled purely with adrenaline, you embrace him, ignoring the gazes of those watching with quiet shock. His hands stuck to his side before they find themselves wrapped around your waist, clutching, as if it had been years since another soul dared hold him. Better you ignore the sound of Johnny cooing tediously.

“Are you alright, Syzoth?” “I am unhurt, Princess. And you?” “A few bruises, but nothing I cannot withstand.” He smelled of blood and sweat, and his face, caked in dirt, flushed a dark, leafy green. You’d never met a man who’d blushed with such a hue. You never would meet anyone again like Syzoth, and the thought made your heart thump anxiously in your chest. Even as you parted, clearing your throat as you returned your hands to yourself. “What will you do now, now that you are free again?” The thought seems to paralyze him. A fugitive of Outworld, a freak to his people, perhaps he hadn’t thought of anything but simply making it through the battle alive. “I do not know, Princess. Truthfully.” He muttered, hands clasped in front of him. Tensing, flexing, as if somehow the answer would squeeze out from between his fingers.

Instead, you offer. Your hand gently resting atop his, colder than you’d expected, but stiff no longer. “I’m sure my sister Mileena would be delighted to have you amongst her confidants as the new Empress.” There again, that glimmer of hope in his eyes, and there once more, that warmth, bubbling in your chest. You cannot help but smile at the sight of it. “I can be very convincing when it comes to the things I want.” Of him being apart of her court, of course, but it doesn’t stop the true intentions behind your words from slipping past. A rush of red splayed over your cheeks that Syzoth notices with ease. Greeted by his own visage, hints of green coming to his ears. “An enticing offer, Princess.” Sly Zaterran. “Enticing enough to say yes?” You’d be crushed if the answer was anything but. Yet, with simply one look, Syzoth’s smile is enough to tell you his answer. “The first Zaterran among the Empress’ court. It certainly would be something, wouldn’t it?”

[khaosrealms]

YUE LAO’S BLESSINGS (part five!) / saying i love you— as if urged by the gods themselves.

a/n: i just realized it’s been an month since i’ve released another blessings post and as such, another must be published! thank you so much as always for the wonderful support!! ♥️

SMOKE:

“I love you” from Tomas is every bit as sweet as it is earnest. It is standing back, waiting for you, while others have continued past. An arm wrapped around your waist as you sleep. A piece of hair he tucks behind your ear. “I love you” is wrestling on the floor of the Lin Kuei training room; sweat-covered and half-naked but laughing and throwing one another around. Hands pinned by sides, moments spent catching your breath, smiling as you struggle to gain composure. “Stay here with me.” Tomas whispers after a kiss. His pinky interlocked with yours; the warmth of his breath on your cheeks. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

LI MEI:

“I love you” is difficult from Li Mei, at first. There’s insecurity— shame. Resisting your touch. Jaw locked as you cross gazes. Watching your fingers wander over her gauntlets and holding her breath as you brush over skin. “I love you” is sitting together, speaking for hours over a drink, not taking a sip but feeling intoxicated in another’s presence. Her hand on your thigh. Yours on her hip. Under her protection, her touch, her warm and inviting kiss. Away from every other person in that room but her and watchful, wanting eye. "Will you have me?" Li Mei asks, centimeters away from your lips. Tucked in an alley where the only space left is filled with your bodies; curled around one another.

RAIN:

“I love you” for Rain is something he’s seldom to ever put into words. Ambition drives the man, and in some ways, it drives his affection for you too. Hours he spends studying the things you adore so he may impress you with his knowledge of it. Your favorite foods, sights, tastes. The way you preen as he lifts your chin with his finger, the way you blush when he remarks your name in a certain tone. “I love you” is keeping you by his side, tempting you to push your own desires. Believing you capable of greater, believe you both capable of so much more. “I will make this world worthy of you.” Zeffeero swears, cupping your cheeks, warming them with his hands. Promising, with every bit of power and ambition in his being, to make this world bend for you.

NITARA:

“I love you” are fool’s words for Nitara. Words that are duty-bound to her Vaeternian people. You are her prey— and one can never love their prey, at the very least, not with words. “I love you” exists in every semblance of Nitara’s touch; no matter how much she might say otherwise. The way she wraps her wings around you as she feeds. The way she kisses your wounds and paints her lips with your blood— loving the hue more than anything, gazing at it in reflections, thinking of you, tasting of you. It’s in her refusal to allow you to be touched by any other being. Claiming you as her’s, loving you as her own. “You’re mine.” Nitara speaks, her words sounding more like pleading than demanding. Her claws pressed sweetly against your skin, her heart pressed against yours.

GENERAL SHAO:

“I love you” from Shao is decided long before you realize you are his. It’s a claim; a grasp you are wrapped around in. It is charming, intense. Conversations where he waits for you to speak so he may bare his gaze down on you. Waiting for you to crack, smiling when you stutter. “I love you” is watching you struggle against his grasp when he wraps his arms around you. Chuckling as you beat weakly at his arms. Watching you gaze up at him, smaller, weaker, perfect there in the center of his palm. Knowing he could make you so much more. Knowing you’d continue to fight against him no matter how pathetic you might be. “Is that all?” Shao goads, watching you struggle to get up after a brawl. Eyes red with desire, hungry with expectation. So determined to watch you demolish everything in your path to get back to him.

[khaosrealms]

Meeting Havik in the midst of a mosh-pit is like meeting a human pin cushion. He’s the sponge for crowd killers— always leaving with a bloody nose and dislocated shoulders. He’s at every show you’ve been to, every set you make a detour to, and he’s always in the mosh pit. Almost enticing you to enter as you stand at the edge. Dropping to the ground by your feet and being dragged up laughing, bleeding, coughing. He’s there, standing across from you as bodies meet bodies and when you step forward, drawn into the music, bashing your skull against the air— Havik is there, waiting for you to begin swinging. Slamming his shoulders into your’s, clutching onto the back of your shirt as you head bang, throwing you into the air and back onto your feet as you fall. Covered in his blood and your sweat. Bellowing with laughter as the drums crash to an end. Your ears ringing as your senses return. “I want to see you again.” He says, clutching onto your forearms, so much taller, barely breathing but so certain. “I want you beat me till I bleed.”

[khaosrealms]

A CAPTAIN’S OFFER. / john price x reader —- after a hard day’s work, sometimes the only choice you have is to follow your coworkers to a local cigar bar.

a/n: this was something i had stewing in my old docs page that i never finished or released so, with the release of modern warfare 3– please enjoy! i thought you all might deserve some captain loving 🧡 perhaps some sade will accent the experience of this for you all.

“You might just be the first and only person to ever reject a cigar in a cigar lounge, you know that?”

You could play the fool and pretend this wasn’t your ploy, but you’d known the second he’d made the first approach that you had been made.

He’d caught your eye two months back when you first visited the lounge with a pair of coworkers. Cigarettes weren’t your choice of oral remedy but it was for your acquaintances and so— you’d budged. It was a nice-looking place, low light and the alcohol was fine but not cheap. It seemed like it’d be a one-and-done type deal. The kind where you’d talk about the night in off-hand reflections with your acquaintances about how work had been going. “It was really nice”, you’d say, and they would say “That’s great!” in proper response. Rinse and repeat ad nauseam.

You felt ill-fit here. Talking between the smoke and droplets of alcohol that would occasionally spray in your direction from their lips. Retreat seemed inevitable. All the air tasted of under your tongue was burnt ash and chemicals.

Maybe you’d drifted to him almost out of reflex. To something actually alive and breathing sitting there at the bar.

He’d been wearing a beanie then. Black t-shirt and rustic pants. Partially, you’d say he seemed almost— plain. Purposefully. No watch, no rings. Quiet voice, rich and smooth, that type that seemed to dip into the background. An accent, out of state, out of country. Transparent. But it was the scent of him that hooked you. Aromatic, like a dozen spices all pushing out from his lungs, springing out from the cigar smoke that left his lips. Warm earth and rich cacao. You weren’t the type to stare but you could admit that there were occasions. A necessity, perhaps. He’d been with a companion, a woman of fair hair, and you couldn’t help but feel that it made you hesitant.

He was gone by the time you’d left the bathroom to wash your hands.

The convincing took a bundle of confidence and a cupful of energy you hardly had left after your shifts but your coworkers were allowing. Three times you had gone, once without sight and twice with glimpses, and everytime he’d share the company of the same woman. Older than him, but you knew better than to assume, so you hesitated once more. Peeks. Moments. Taking an empty cup to the bartender to make their job easy for the sake of taking one last look. And he’d give. The slightest bit. Enough to let you know, but not enough to allow. You’d asked, once, when he’d left in silence, who he was out with out of curiosity and slight inebriation, and the only answer you’d received was a chuckle and five words.

“Funny. He’d said you’d ask.” Motherfucker.

The bar was empty when you’d arrived, stagnant, bustling elsewhere, but the hustle of the lounge never traveled even close to the bartender. It felt planned, but you knew it was a mentality— you wanted it to be empty. So you ignored the few passersby, the occasional patrons who’d come by requesting a drink, the scent of expensive cologne and cheap product. You’d thumbed through the pages of the drink menu for the good half hour. Sampled a wine, finished a cocktail, sipped through an two thirds of an old fashioned. It almost felt discouraging. Almost, if you weren’t so certain today would be different.

You’d been nursing the last sips of your drink when a hand wandered in from the corner of your eye. And when you lifted a hand to motion against accepting the offering, the face that held it was smiling. Almost betting your response. The scent of his tobacco held between his fingers almost as rich and warm as the smell of it soaked into the fabric of his sleeve.

“You might just be the first and only person to ever reject a cigar in a cigar lounge, you know that?” You’d come to expect the type of anger that came with rejection. The men who’d frequent the cigar bar and scoff at being told no. But not him, no. He’d seemed almost pleased. “Never had a taste for them, that’s all.”

He took response as a sign of approval. Sliding into the seat beside you without the need for hesitation, filling the open gap in there with ease. He’d foregone the hat this time and it’d done wonders at softening his features— but failed to make him any less as catching as he’d been from the moment you’d seen him across that bar two months prior. You’d never realized how blue his eyes were, but here, up close, they were dilated enough to skim the touch of dusk. They smiled with him as he spoke; slight wrinkles that tugged at the ends of his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Late thirties, maybe forties. Sitting beside him, you can only pretend the rush of blood to your cheeks was from your drinks alone.

“Perhaps—” There’s a heft to him as he adjusts in his chair and sets his untouched cigar on the bar counter between you both. Musculature that shows momentarily in the hint of skin you get from his wrist as his sleeve lifts. Gazing down for a moment at him and his offering. “No one’s ever taken the time to help you acquire it.” A taste. “If you’re willing.” There’s no curtailing the smile that sticks to his words. It’s no question; it’s a request, one he knows you’d be willing to accept. One that he’s hoping you will.

“Do the honors.” You abandon your last sips of scotch in favor of partaking in his poison. Pushing the glass towards the end of the counter; canting your seat in his direction. He follows in your movements. With his eyes, with his hips. Inclining himself towards your presence as he trimmed the end off the cigar. Catching it in the palm of his hand and setting it down out of sight.

“Here.” He’s so very precise, you’ve noticed. A measured slowness as he raises the cigar up to your nose; allowing you to breathe in the scent of the tobacco. “Smell.” Hypnotizing. With his words and his voice. When you inhale, the dry scent of maple and black pepper greets you. Teasing an aroma of dark cacao in the back of your throat. You do not miss the look of satisfaction that settles in his eyes as he leans back to light the cigar. Illuminating his features with warm, golden light. When the first puffs of his smoke clears and all that’s left is his form, legs wide and arm rested, it almost seems to be his own words left unspoken. Come, he says. Don’t hesitate now. So you resist— and lean forward, just enough to force him to lean as well. Turning the smoldering cigar towards your lips.

“Don’t inhale.” He rumbles, the vibrations of his voice following to the tips of his fingertips as you breathe in. The taste of molasses and dark chocolate laying itself over the expanse of your tongue. “Out.” You obey without hesitation, and the smell of almond stays in your nose as you exhale; blowing rolling smoke out onto the top of his strong hand. You resist the urge to cough, but it teases at your throat and in noticing, the man can’t help but chuckle. All but a stranger nowadays to that pain.

“Taste enough to catch your interest?” He can try and feign innocence. Maybe all he could mean would be of the cigars and the bar the two of you sat within, but you can still taste the sweetness on your saliva as you breathe in once more. The sensation of him; there at the back of your throat. You catch the corner of his lip tug when you lean back as well. See the blue in his eyes turn navy when the side of your shoe rests against his calf.

“I might have to savor it with something else to keep it down...” A good bourbon, maybe a fine scotch. Or maybe, a name— your long pause leaving him the room to fill it. “John.” So simple. It almost seems as elusive as the rest of him. “John.” And so simple, you know it’ll roll off your tongue just fine for hours. “What do you think?” After two months, it’d be a miracle if he’d get you to stop. But, guessing from the look in his eye, he looks hopeful you won’t. “A bottle should be enough, I’d say.”

[khaosrealms]

howdy! if you're up for it could you do some headcanons or lil scenes for Nitara with a fae fem s/o? thinking a sort of trickster, illusion faery. maybe helps lure hapless victims to feed her beloved and such.

TUATH DÉ FOLA. / NITARA X FAE! READER

a/n: i am ALWAYS up for nitara imagines! i will be combining aspects of the ask you had spent after this one-- one genderfluid, playful and devoted fae coming right up!

- At first, you had been a choice of victim for Nitara. Another blood bag to add to the list of the many, many mouths she needed to feed back at Vaeternus. A strong, healthy body flowing with life force she could sample and return with pride. But something had stopped in her tracks as she stalked you; your own action, your own hunt. Watching as you began to lure a young traveler out from the common roads. Coaxing him into the dark forests, pulling him away from any semblance of escape. When Nitara reveals herself to you, there’s a gleam to her eye. A proposal.

- At first, it truly is simply business. Your ability to lure in hapless victims, Nitara's brutal service to her people. One way or another, you both got what you wanted-- and you made a good team, complementing one another's personal goals and desires. She was captivating. Her gore, her hunger, her dedication to her people; and as much as you didn't believe it was possible, you eventually realized you'd begun to fall for Nitara.

- Your vampiress, your Vaeternan, your Nitara. So willing you are to do her bidding, so willing she is to reward you. To kiss your lips and cover them in the blood of her feed. To wrap you in her wings and carry you high in the air, always ready to catch you, always testing how far she can take you. Wrapped around her clawed fingertip; completely and utterly devoted to her. And she loves it, every part of it. The worship, the exaltation. She loves that despite all the lengths she must take to help the people of her realm— you are there, smiling, wishing nothing more than to be of service to her.

“Come back home with me. Come to Vaeternus.” Nitara’s fingers always find their way across your skin. She likes the sound of it, nails dragged across warm, beating flesh; and she likes that it makes your skin prickle with anticipation. Her eyes set on your’s; searching for an answer in those mischievous hues. “And what will you give me in return, hm?” Always needing an offering, tricky fae. But Nitara does not hush your odd way— she only smiles, the sharp ends of her teeth poking out from between her lips. “Me.” Everything you could have ever wanted. “Is that enough for you?”

- Of course it’s enough for you. And though she’s far from returning home, her mission a great plethora of bodies away from completion, the promise of possibility is enough. You are bound to Nitara. In all your playful, cruel ways— they belong to her. Even as she takes to the deliberation of a sorcerer named Quan Chi, you remain by Nitara’s side. Even if it’s evil, even if it’s against everything the world could possibly consider moral; it does not matter. Because she is there. Because the taste of her lips, drenched in red hot blood, is as sweet as dark cherries against your own.

[khaosrealms]

I love the Syzoth X Princess!Reader so much I can't even- ❤️❤️❤️ Is it alright if I request something similar but with the Lin Kuei trio? Syzoth falling in love with Sub-Zero, Scorpion, and Smoke's younger sister? I imagine her joining the Outworld investigation bc "Lord Liu Kang, you're sending two of the least stealthiest people in our group for a covert op? With all respect, why in the world did you think this was a good idea?" Basically pressuring the local demi-god into letting her tag along, and the mission going to hell anyway. Super-ninja be damned, the chaos cannot be contained. I also imagine Johnny isn't going to let that fact go anytime soon.

NUWA’S RAZOR. / SYZOTH X LIN KUEI! READER.

a/n: of course it is alright to ask for such a request, that is why i’m here! thank you so much for sending the ask— i am happy to respond 💚

- Perhaps it comes with the territory of being the sole sister of a family of boys. A sense of responsibility likened to that of a mother coordinating a group of toddlers. Younger than your brothers you may be, but hardly inept and hardly easily swayed enough to be told by your Lord when your presence is unneeded. What else was he to expect, when you spent the many of your living years upon Outworld’s soil doing everything in your power to prevent your brothers from slaughtering one another where they stood? If there was anyone more capable of investigating Outworld with discretion, it is you.

“Look at them, my Lord.” You utter, gazing upon his champions. A cabbage farmer, a former yakuza, a deadbeat stage fool. Men who can hardly so much as breathe before taking a bite at one another’s necks. Well, at the very least— with Kung Lao, it was more to take a nip at your own. Easier to control. “If it is recognition you fear, you know you may trust me to remain hidden much better than these… Earthrealmers you have chosen.” You do not miss the gasp of insult that escapes Johnny’s lips; rather, you choose ignorance. Searching for answers in Liu Kang’s glowing eyes. Yet nothing speaks, so it is words you are forced to accept. Words that come in what you imagine is a form of sigh from your Lord’s lips. “No one is to know that you are Lin Kuei.”

- And also, perhaps, you should have simply chosen to let the Earthrealmers suffer their own given fate. The bickering, the clumsy coordination, Tarkat, Shang Tsung, by god, Kenshi’s own eyes. By the time that you awake in a cell, dank and filthy with the smell of corpses and gore, you feel as if that day, you’d been better suited to remaining at home. Continuing your daily training as you’d had for years on end. But instead, waking with an ache in your head so deep it rushes to your spine and forces you up, you realize you no longer had that privilege. Here, instead, you were residing within Shang Tsung’s true laboratory— soon to be faced with the horror of being taken apart and made into whatever greeted your eyes through the cell’s bars.

- You’d been the second in the cell to awake, after Kenshi, woken by virtue of true and utter pain, gouged of his sight; and Baraka, awake since his capture, there to fill the hours alongside you both while you stew in your fate. You’d learned from the former merchant that your jailer had passed prior to your awakening. And now, all five of you await for his return, well— some of you. Johnny and Kung Lao were deep sleepers, it seemed. For now, the ones in the waking world, Baraka, Kenshi, and yourself, filled the rancid air with words. Jailer, you wondered. A chance to flee, bars wide enough to wrench a hand through, threaten for freedom. Options, all waiting for you to spring upon the man who chose to align himself with Shang Tsung and would die for his choice.

- Nearly, you do it. When Johnny finally rouses, stumbling to Kenshi’s side, your jailer appears. Dressed in green, red fabric tied around his bicep, and a tattooed arm that reaches in just enough to be held and twisted around. But it is Baraka who makes the first move, his word that gives you enough pause to listen and discover the true nature of your jailer. Not a herald for Shang Tsung’s cause— a slave to it. His family in the clutches of a man who would slaughter them if so much as a whisper of betrayal left him. A shapeshifter, a Zaterran. Syzoth, a name you only learn due to Shang Tsung’s arrival after fighting the hoards of his creations. A sorcerer who revealed your jailer’s only purpose for remaining in enslavement was a lie. His family dead “many moons ago”. Suffering for no cause but for Shang Tsung’s cruel ambition. Here to die alongside the five of you; suffocating in toxins.

“I should’ve simply stayed with my brothers.” You can’t seem to get the rancid smell of Shang Tsung’s labratory out from your lungs; no matter how hard you breathe in the air of Outerworld. Johnny cackling out a laugh. And too, that smell sitting in the newfound companion of Syzoth. But rather, more so— the scent of despair. Enough to give you pause; to bite back Bi-Han’s insults and instead lean towards Kuai Liang’s guidance. “…He will get what he is due.” A momentary sentiment, but you can see his eyes flicker. Heard, even in the abyss of his mourning. “I am sorry, for your grave loss.” For a moment, he reminds you of Tomas. A sort of kindness in a place where it should have no place coexisting. “Thank you.” “Thank me once we get what you are owed.”

- From that time forth, an agreement formed between you both. To seize the moment, to make Shang Tsung fear the hour for which his own actions would smite him, and you would be there— to assist in that vengeance. A blood pact, almost; shaken hands on even. A source of comedy for Johnny, who found nothing but delight of the thought of the ‘big bad serious ninja’ actually shaking someone’s hand. Syzoth simply shared in your confusion. A mutual link of attitude towards the odd Earthrealmer. If a bit more lenient of his callousness than yourself.

- In Syzoth, you suppose what you find is a… reasoning for balance. You’d cared for your family, always, yes— but you never considered what truly was at stake had someone taken them away. If, like your father, all those you loved were slaughtered. Would you still find the determination to keep going once they were gone? Would you still fair with that kindness he holds when the two of you speak during the night? Still passionate about living beyond vengeance against Shang Tsung— enough to laugh with the Earthrealmers where you failed to join. Too set in Lin Kuei ways; the silence of it, the tight grip of it that these days Bi-Han holds over it as grandmaster. You’d never considered it before. That it was possible you could be swayed. That it would be a Zaterran who would make you question the way of the Lin Kuei as it was.

[khaosrealms]

LEE.

i wish i had the visual artistic talent to draw because i definitely would be doing a mk1 self insert so i can kiss all these fruity mk men and women.

[khaosrealms]

LEE.

holy moly in fucking deed, this kind of response isn’t at all what i expected when i started this blog! thank you so much to everyone who has been reading my works. i can’t thank you enough 🩵🩵