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hazelfoureyes · 16 days

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⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

I managed to finish this despite, ya know, the aforementioned: (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 (keep reading)

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: Alastor x CupidFemReader, broken bones, feet washing, normal sized Luci, you know the outfit in my PFP? You’re wearing that but soft purple and the bottom half is ambiguous because idk baby whatever you feel best in it’s your story, Husk has a bad time, Alastor has a bad time, You have a bad time, Charlie has a great time 👌🏼, not choking」

Minors this one is chill but the next two imma need you to Dni 💋 ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You had made a mistake, yes, but Hell? Really?

Sure, you had dropped an arrow into the water supply of a nunnery which did lead to some unholy behaviors. But! The nuns seemed quite happy. Wasn’t that the point?

Tossing you to Hell through a hastily opened portal was honestly unprofessional. You ended up dropping three stories, upside down, in front of a butcher's shop.

In the seconds between Sera telling you, ‘You can return when you’ve made a sinner believe in true love.’ and Lute kicking you square in the chest through the hell door, you thought it wouldn’t be so hard. True, you couldn’t use your arrows as that wouldn’t be “true love” and also too easy, even gods weak to your shots, but ultimately sinners were still human. Humans were pushovers! Pliable, gentle at their hearts, desiring love and tenderness. How bad could the naughty ones be?

And then you landed shoulder first onto the pavement. It hurt. Things didn’t hurt in heaven…

Your arrows scattered, quiver spilling when you inverted. Wincing, you scrambled to grab as many as were within reach. Your right shoulder was burning, a new sensation.

You counted them by name as you gathered: Eros, Agape, Philia, Pragma, Philautia, Ludus, Storge… panic.

ErosAgapePhiliaPragmaPhilautiaLudusStorge— Mania wasn’t there. Arguably the arrow that caused you the most trouble, the sting of Mania would cause a madness that led to obsessive behaviors, possessiveness, jealousy.

Pulling yourself up, arrows clutched in one hand, the other holding the place near your collar was throbbing, your eyes were frantic in their search.

“What’s this?”

You finally looked up from the sidewalk, a man’s back to you before he turned. Bile rose and burned your throat as he pulled Mania from where it had pierced his chest pocket.

His eyes, shades of red heaven didn’t even entertain, made a simple trip from the arrow's head to your face.

The man went so still you thought for a moment he was a hologram, but you could see the tiniest rise and fall of his chest. A deer facing down a bright light, he remained frozen in place as you began to approach him.

“Excuse my manners, but that’s mine and I really need it back.” Your injured arm moved first and the pain made you see white, a cry so sharp people turned to look. He snapped back to his senses, and with an odd sound you couldn’t quite place, he seemingly disappeared into the ground.

Mania was left behind, shining smugly against the dirty pavement. You didn’t want to make a reach for it, fear flooding you. You’d never felt pain before.

You’d seen it in humans, but never in your existence had you experienced it. Would both arms hurt?

You let the left hand abandon its guarding place and grabbed the errant arrow. Tucking into an alley, you crouched and returned the arrows to their quiver with immense difficulty.

Okay, yes it was Hell but maybe you were a little paranoid. A sense of being watched wouldn't leave you even after you re-emerged from the darkness of the alley.

The enormity of your task set in as you surveyed the area. You, an obviously heavenly creature even without your wings out on display, would need time to make anyone believe in any form of love. Where would you go in the meantime? And now injured for the first time in your life? How long would that need to mend?

Expanding your view, you saw the currently defunct doomsday countdown hovering above the embassy. Perfect, holy ground would atleast keep you safe for the night, which was falling with a malignant speed.

They couldn’t have given you some time to change? Or pack a set of clothes? Your short sleeved button up a (literally) glowing shade of white was attracting too much attention, golden sandals now cloudy from various fluids across Pentagram city’s streets. Your heart shaped overalls a powdered purple, you looked like an adult child among a sea of very tired professionals.

When you got to the embassy you only had one good arm to open the heavy doors, which unfortunately didn’t budge. Perhaps you needed two? Trying to muster up some adrenaline, you began to pant. Deep breaths like the women in labour you sometimes worked your magic on.

As soon as you gripped the handle you saw something that made you jump back, muscles flexing around whatever damage you’d done in your body from the fall. A large black snake? Some demonic squid’s appendage? Something unholy grabbed hold of the handle as soon as you had and gave such a tug the doors violently shook.

You spun around to the dark neighborhood behind you. Nothing. Turning back the thing was gone. And so was all of your hope. It was locked. The tears were unwanted and unnecessary, but just-- you were hurting so much, you were dirty, you were alone, and now essentially homeless.

If there was ever a reason to cry, you decided to let yourself have this one.

The lamplights flickered and the entire street went pitch black. Because of course it did.

Hyperventilating now entirely without intention, you watched as one light to the left popped on with a static buzz. Desperate to be out of the darkness you ran to the spotlight. As soon as your foot entered the beam, the light beside it lit up. Your eyes wandered to heaven above, were they helping you? Had you not been entirely abandoned?

Of course! Yeah. They sensed you at the doors and sent off some guidance. How silly of you. Relief washed over you as you ran through the lights until your foot left one spotlight but the next hadn't popped on.

Twirling back to the embassy, you saw all of the lights shut off in succession behind you.

Just you and the one lamp now, and the glow of some TVs in the shop window to the right. What was the meaning of this?

That weird sound you heard earlier but couldn’t place… electricity but dusty and barely contained. Your gaze was drawn to the radio in the shop window in front of you. You hadn’t noticed it until it buzzed to life. It lit up faintly, dial turning on its own until a high and smooth voice rang out, “Looking for your way to heaven? You’re in luck! The Hazbin Hotel is now accepting any and all willing to find redemption!”

This must have been the message, I mean, heaven was never good at being subtle.

“Just make your way to the left and toward the looming building atop the hill!”

Your head turned to your left and then up slightly. Bathed in red and white lights stood a behemoth of a building on the edge of a cliff.

Head still facing the hotel, your eyes flitted back to the radio.

“Reception is open 24 hours a day!”

You touched your arm, then patted at your pockets. Not a wallet or ID card on you. You were the 17th Cupid incarnation, why would you have a fucking ID card? But didn’t those places need such things? You’d seen every romcom earth had ever produced. There was always some issue with hotel check ins.

“Not a red cent needed! We literally do not care who you are!”

Oh. Wait. Was this a trap?

“Created by the Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter! A foolish young woman who genuinely believes in reforming sinners!”

Lucifer?? The former angel, yes, but the word angel carried much more weight now. Perhaps he would have a modicum of pity given your circumstances.

You took an unsteady foot forward and toward the hotel when the street lights all buzzed back to life.

The path to the hotel was long, many demons stopping you on your way but quickly losing interest after a second or two of pestering you. You gave a silent prayer to the archangels for that blessing.

It must have been nearly 1am when you finally made it to the hotel’s doors. When you entered you found an empty reception desk and a poorly written note:

Before the bell’s hammer even hit the metal, a man popped up from behind the counter.

The man.

The man you shot with Mania.

“Welcome to th-,”

You were outside and leaving the awning before he could finish, but just as quickly as you left he appeared in front of you, “Still missing your manners?”

He blocked your path with his remarkable size. Why were demons so tall? What was the use of it?

“Deer got your tongue?” He bent over unnaturally at the waist.

“What?”

“Would you like-,” he began.

You walked around him and down the driveway. He moved briskly beside you, slowly growing larger and larger until his body was several stories tall and entirely blocking the gates of the premises.

A horror. Hell was full of horrors.

He crouched, large toothy smile now baring down at you.

If you stabbed him in the eye with an arrow, which would cause the least trouble? It was a rule to never give a double love bite but this was a dire situation.

But if you were sent to hell for a little nun love fest, what would purposefully stabbing a sinner do?

He rapidly shrank, hands coming to his front to catch a summoned microphone…Cane? Staff?

“You’re injured. Just, come back inside. I promise I don’t bite without consent.” His head cocked to the side, a quiet, “Usually” tacked on.

We’re you visibly hurt? How bad was it? You looked past him to where sounds of yelling and music were rolling up the hill.

“You don’t have many options, angel.” He hissed the word through clenched teeth. Disgust almost seemed to lace his voice, but why, then, was he offering help?

“Not an angel. Cupid. Different.” Kind of. You gave the quiver a shake.

“Ah yes. That explains why you shot at me earlier.” A large hand came to your side and directed you to turn back around. He kept it there, pushing softly to keep you moving.

“I didn't shoot you.”, You huffed, crossing your arms before doubling over in pain. He stopped walking, hand resting now against your spine. Regaining your composure, you continued towards the hotel lobby, “My arrows fell out and…you caught one. With your body.”

“My pocket made quite the lucky catch. Now!” He snapped, a key appearing and floating into his hand with a sparkle of neon green, “Let’s get you to a room and cleaned up.”

“Do you work here?” You asked as he escorted you to one of the upper floors. The room was surprisingly clean and well decorated. You had expected a dingy highway motel. And while the room was largely dark wood and rich colors, it wasn’t as offensive as the rest of hell had been.

“Ah! My my, forgive me! I am Alastor, the radio demon and hotel manager here.” He bowed and offered his hand for you to place yours in. You did so without thinking, and he kissed your knuckles once but his mouth lingered over your flesh. Eyes half lidded, he glanced back up at you, “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

There was no way to reverse Cupid’s arrows. Not by force. Love could only die by the hands of the ones who held it. Others could definitely bruise it, but ultimately it was up to the beholder. Mania was a little different, obsession could be dispelled by shattering whatever illusion the holder felt.

If the holder thought someone was the epitome of genteel chastity then a show of wanton sexuality could break the spell. If someone was convinced the object of their desire was very smart and savvy then acting ignorant could make the obsession fall flat. But there was no indication he had any illusions of you. Not yet, atleast.

Mania was now his, and he would keep it in his heart until he lost it or killed it. He could, technically, be possessed by, and be in the possession of, Mania for eternity. A sinner had never been shot before, that you knew of.

He didn’t noticeably react as you took back your hand. With a hum, he snapped again and you found a chair pulled up behind you and knocking into the back of your knees. You fell into the plush armchair, watching a metal basin of steaming water slide against your feet.

“Excuse you— ExcUU-,” you pulled your legs back but he pulled harder, Alastor removing your dirty shoes and tossing them off to the side like trash.

“You can't clean yourself with that broken collar bone. Allow me.” His hand gripped your ankles and dunked both into the water, “I insist.”

“It’s broken? How could I break a collarbone…,” the humor wasn’t lost on you, sinner washing holy feet, but your focus was entirely on the concept of a broken bone.

“Falling twenty five feet head first, apparently.” Alastor rubbed soap into your calves.

“But I don’t break.” What happened to you, what had that kick into hell done? “You saw me? Also, that isn’t dirty.” you pointed at your calf.

“Peripherally.”

Did he mean the dirt or witnessing the fall? You sat in silence while he hummed, returning your feet to their original color.

“Now,” he rose, patting his hands dry on a small towel, “Unbutton your top.”

Your expression was apparently quite loud, Alastor putting his hands up quickly, “Not like that. I’ve no interest in that sort of thing. I need to see your shoulder and upper chest.” He waited patiently, staring at you the entire time. His smile was so wide, teeth yellow and sharp. Unsettling.

He really did look like he could eat you. You’d heard of such demons.

You slipped off the straps of your overalls, and began to open your shirt. He did away with the water, coming to kneel directly to your right as he watched. You couldn’t see anything without some kind of mirror. If it was bruised or swollen, it was out of your line of sight. Long clawed hands came to the front and back of your shoulder, pressing inward. You pulled away, a firm grip now as his right hand held at the left side of your waist.

“Are you a doctor?” Hotel manager and doctor would be an unlikely combo, but the day had been odd from start to finish.

A shake of the head, “But when I was alive, I did have quite a lot of experience with the inner workings of anatomy.” You grimaced, how could he say such sinister things with such a lovely voice? “Maybe not broken. But I’d say at least a fracture. Perhaps your heavenly body didn’t take full damage. It hurts when you move your arm, correct?” You nodded.

He hummed, another click of his fingers and a fabric unfurled into his waiting hands. “Take it all the way off so I can set this.”

You were exhausted. The pain was gnawing at your nerves. No more fight in you, you just wanted rest, so you slipped off the shirt entirely and let him wrap your arm up into a simple sling. You were surprised his hands were so warm. Demons seemed like they’d be cold to the touch. Like lizards or pearls.

When he finished, you sitting in the large chair with your arm wrapped in a silky black sling, no shirt, and pastel purple heart-shaped overalls folded down your torso, you considered having another cry. You felt your chin tremble. You couldn’t recall ever crying from sadness before today.

It was just a mistake. You hadn’t meant to drop your arrow. Why were the archangels so angry? What’s some sex between nuns?

Alastor bristled, hand coming to your cheek. It was an unwelcome gesture. You batted his hand away with your only free one, but he just sighed and set it on your thigh. You pushed it off, shooting him a glare. The audacity.

You thought you saw his eye twitch.

With what little energy was left in, you stood and open the door for him, “You have been very kind and helpful. Thank you very much. You can leave now.” Oh, right, “Please.”

He stood, pausing as he passed you. He was so tall. Shoulders wide. You felt your heart rate pick up. Even with two good collarbones you knew you couldn’t take him in a fight.

Alastor leaned down to your level, you backing up and into the door, “Until the morning.”

When he said it you had thought he was just going about formalities. But he wasn’t. You awoke some hours later to a knock. When you opened the door he was looming in your doorway again.

You tried to close the door but he put his foot in the gap, then a strong hand wrapped around the door’s edge and he pushed his way into the room.

You sputtered, arm flailing a little as you choked on which reaction to give first. You were undressed, in just your under things.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself further when you get dressed. I’ll undo the sling and help.” Closing the door he then spun back around to face you, smile as bright as it was earlier that same day.

“No! Absolutely not! Leave! Please!”

As he guided your arm through the shirt, you struggled to process what had happened. One minute you were indignant and stubborn and then he was so close to you, hands warm and gentle, and then already he was untying the sling and your shirt was just there and-

“See? Wasn’t that easy? No harm in accepting help.” Alastor looked you over from top to bottom.

“Accepting? What part of any of that did I accept.” You stood bottomless in a button up, trying to get the overalls from the hanger with just your left hand. His chest pressed into your back, nearly forcing you to fall into the armoire, to assist you.

“The part where you didn’t actively fight me. I think we can call that acceptance until you learn better.” His words shook through your ribs and to your front.

Annoyance rose in your chest, what was he thinking? Humans had no right to touch you let alone a sinner. “You’re an eldritch horror, please back away from the divine creature before you.” Alastor laughed, backing away with the clothes in his hands. Hand out, you motioned for him to pass it over. He tossed it on the floor, and took a seat on the bed with crossed legs. “Oh, I see. You’re an asshole. Perfect.” Pretense gone, manners not needed.

You grabbed it with your left hand and managed to get both legs into it before slinking it up and onto your left shoulder. While you tried to figure out how to do the right side, realizing the flaw in your order of processes, Alastor leaned over and unhooked the left strap, overalls falling to the carpet with a soft thud.

You stood there for several moments, staring at him with purple fabric pooled around your ankles, him staring at you with a shiteating grin.

After finally getting dressed, preferring to not think about how, you were followed down to the lobby.

“Breakfast?” He asked, you both in the elevator as he hadn’t gone more than three feet from you since he entered your bedroom.

“No, no appetite. I need to find Lucifer.” You were sure he could help somehow. Somehow he could do….something. Details about Lucifer’s powers and abilities, his strengths and skills were all kept hush-hush. But if nothing else, you could find someone who understood your position.

Your hand was being vigorously shaken before the elevator doors even closed behind you. Charlie Morningstar was not what you expected. Chipper and bright, she was bursting with energy.

“Gentle, Charlie. Our dear Cupid is injured.” Alastor’s hand came to the small of your back. You reached back with your left hand and knocked it off of you.

“Like, the real actual cupid?!” Charlie’s eyes were shining, you could almost see the hearts floating up around her face. You felt Alastor’s hand again, now on your hip. You took three steps to the right, slipping from his fingertips.

“Yes, that is exactly what I-.” You were cut off, Charlie launching into a speech about sinners and heaven and redemption and so much more you couldn’t process.

The energy she gave us was very angelic, which was confusing. Until you saw her father entering the common area.

The most hated creature in all of creation. Your best hope for a tiny sliver of comfort.

Alastor’s hand reached for yours, fingers trapping your wrist and stopping you from approaching the king of hell.

You shook your arm. His hold stayed. You tugged. He was unaffected, talking to Charlie now about your injury as if you weren’t right there.

As Cupid, or at least as a cupid, you weren’t physically strong. You really weren’t meant to exist for a long time, just for as long as your body held up to repeated trips to the human realm. But, in heaven, you were never capable of being harmed. And of course, on earth, you weren’t really corporeal so no harm could come to you. You weren’t built for tug of war with a 7 foot tall demon.

“Mr. Devil! Sir!” You waved your foot, shouting out to the normal sized man. As he saw you, his eyes widened, “Hello there! Sorry to be a bother, I’m from heaven and-” You jerked your hand free, power walking to Lucifer, “I’m here on punishment. It’s a pleasure to meet another member of Elysium’s caretakers. Former or otherwise.”

Flustered, Lucifer fumbled with his phone before dropping it. “Oh! Shit! H-hello!”

You reached down to retrieve it for him, seeing black and red shoes behind you as you did.

“What — why are you here?” Lucifer was looking at Alastor now, which was great news because for a second you thought he was talking to you. A sneaking feeling leaked into your chest that heaven hadn’t actually told him you were coming.

“Just keeping an eye on my guest! As you can see she got injured and I’ve taken to the task of her safety while she’s in hell.”

“No one asked him to do that, sir.” Your smile was strained, you could feel Alastor’s shoulder was touching yours. You looked to where you were connected and then back to Lucifer, “Are all sinners like this?”

“Honestly? Yes. They’re all pretty terrible.” Lucifer sighed, “What did you do?”

A cold sweat, “Misused an arrow. I can’t leave hell until I make a demon who doesn’t already believe in true love…believe in it.”

“Oh no! That’s— you’re gonna be here awhile.” Lucifer pulled at his collar in a mock attempt to release the awkward heat of the conversation. He saw you wither, and Alastor seemed to bloom, so he quickly changed pace, “But! Uhhh, you can totally do it! Charlie has some of the best of the worst here. If I can ever help, just ask!” Nervous laughter that did not put you at ease. He seemed so silly. So sweet and easily flustered.

You felt your hope dash for a second time in less than a day. How long would you be in hell? How long was awhile?

“She is my responsibility now. She won’t be needing anything from you, your majesty.”

A darkness came over you as the two demons began to bicker. You now had your own obsessed shadow; a large and creepy sinner following you around. How on earth could you get close enough to a demon to complete your task? Convincing someone of true love would require trust and time. This would be impossible with Alastor attached to your side.

You spent the first week in hell in the hotel. Everytime you got the courage to leave and explore the areas outside, you’d find yourself shadow portaled “back to safety” by Alastor. It was like the human film ‘Groundhog Day’, always starting over back in the lobby.

No matter where you went in the hotel, he was either beside you or where you had been headed. You saw the sky less often than Alastor’s grin and you couldn’t stand it. You took to hiding, leaning against darkened stairwell corners and sitting on the floor of the ladies restroom.

It bought you a little time to yourself, but the second you moved he was there again. Asking if you were a lost little doe, hand reaching for your waist to pull you near him, red eyes threatening to swallow you whole.

Toward the end of the week, while helping you get dressed as he did daily, Alastor took a step back. “I could get you some new clothes. Cannibal town has the finest duds.” He lifted the lace that lined the top of your pocket, “You stick out. No demon is going to let you trick them into believing in true love like this.”

You could have screamed. No, no demon would even approach you with Alastor standing behind you. It absolutely wasn’t the clothes. You politely rejected the offer and went about your day.

The next morning you awoke to find your floor littered with strips of something. Flinging open the armoire you found two empty hangers. You turned back, noticing the white and purple color to the fabric confetti.

The march to Alastor’s room was easy, as it was 10 feet in front of your door. He had placed you directly across from him, because, ya know, Mania.

He clearly hadn’t expected you to leave your room in your underwear, eyes like saucers as he yanked you in.

“What in heaven are you doing?! Anyone could see you.” He hissed, closing the door with a little too much force.

“Whose fault is that?!” You seethed in return. Anger was something you rarely ever felt but he was inspiring new things in you. “Someone shredded my clothes.”

Alastor’s ears folded back, eyes looking to the left and up, “Odd. Are you sure? Maybe you accidentally threw them away.” That devilish grin you’d come to expect. He knew damn well how stupid that was.

You stomped your foot, if you had two working hands you’d try to rip his antlers off, “Are you serious?!” You turned to leave, kicking the door before attempting to open it.

A large hand pressed back on the door, slamming it shut. His breath was dropping down the back of your neck despite his considerable height, “You will not be leaving this room in such a state of undress, my dear.”

His voice was so low and close, had anyone ever spoken to you with such a commanding tone? A new feeling twitched in you. You blocked it out.

“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” said too softly.

His other hand came to press on the door, too. An arm to either side of you, trapped, as he leaned in. You pressed yourself against the door to make distance from his body.

“Oh, I absolutely do. Who is going to stop me? You?” Alastor’s voice had noticeably dropped an octave as he whispered what felt like a challenge against your hair.

Who indeed…you had no strength, an arrow would either be useless or complicate things. Lucifer seemed preoccupied and jittery. Heaven wasn’t returning your prayers.

He took your silence as an answer.

“Exactly. Now, I’ll only ask nicely once.” His hands left, warmth on your neck fading. You turned to look at him, sensing his eyes burning holes into your back.

He was holding a two piece set. Older style, 1920s American maybe. Black and burgundy. When did he have time to get this when every hour seemed to be spent near you?

“May I help you get dressed?”

You’d gotten quite close with the few residents who didn’t run at the sight of Alastor. Husk was one of them. You became fast friends, often drinking and lamenting about Alastor’s general existence as Alastor sat some 15 feet away on the sofa. Still not allowed outside the hotel gates, your second week you spent many hours at the bar talking to the surprisingly kind grump.

To your delight Alastor didn’t seem bothered by it, oddly, as long as you were in eyesight he seemed content.

You thought maybe his mania was already waning. Sure you hadn’t attempted to leave the hotel, and you hadn’t argued when he dressed you, but…Ah, hm. Fuck.

Mania can look like Love when you don't struggle against it. A fly motionless in a web can elude the spider for a little bit.

Don't push against the restraints and you can forget they are there entirely.

But push you did, accidentally. Husk was making some new cocktails, trying to enjoy himself and be creative.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He grinned.

“Good?”

He took another sip before handing the glass to you. You grabbed it, taking a taste. Sweet but a bite as it went down. Something with citrus. When you looked up from the glass, he was gone.

A choking noise from behind the bar made you stand up in your seat, eyes flying from Husk to Alastor. A glowing green leash dragging Husk across the floor, his hands desperately pulling at the collar as he struggled to breath.

“Stop!” You shouted, crawling over the bar and grabbing the chain with your good arm. You tried to pull back, to slow the choking force, but got pulled along with it. “Alastor!” You screamed as your shoulder hit the floor and sent searing pain down your arm.

You could hear Husk gasp, the green glow disappearing from past your clenched eyelids.

“Why can’t you-,” Alastor started to speak a he came to your side. Husk scurried away, crawling back from the demon. You hit the hand Alastor offered you but were surprised to see his face painted with concern.

“I said stop.” After rolling to your feet you began to march away. “Every time I find something nice in this piece of shit domain you remind me I’m in hell.”

You had almost made it to your room when a hand pulled you by the good shoulder and pushed you against the wall. It still hurt.

“Don’t you know? Sharing a drink, it’s as close to a kiss as you could get without bringing your mouth to his.”

“It was a drink, Alastor. You had no right.”

His hand settled on your throat. No grip, just a gentle placement, “I have every right.” His brows knit together in worry, in confusion. “What should I do to make you understand me?” His hand came to your chin, thumb ghosting over your lips.

“If I let you go too far, someone will surely take you. Who wouldn’t? Please. Stop pushing me so much.” His eyes were almost loving as they shined down at you. His breath was picking up. You could hear the desperation in his voice.

Those damned eyes were unrelenting in their stare into your own. There was no creature in presence or audacity in heaven like Alastor. You’d never encountered anything like him.

“Of all the Love you had to take a stray hit from, Mania really was the cruelest accident.” You held your hand at the crook of your neck, wondering if you did more damage. No, if he did more damage.

“Mania? Is that the arrow I caught? How fitting.” His finger pulled down on your bottom lip. You’d seen this movie, you’d been there for these scenes in dorm rooms and under rainy awnings, in darkened beds and sunny fields. You could move, no part of him was actually holding you physically. “Yes, maybe I am obsessed. But whose fault is that? Will you take responsibility for it?” His chest was shaking with every breath. Why didn’t you move? Just walk away. Knock off that touch as you had been doing. You hadn’t noticed how quickly you were breathing, too, until his hand was pulling your chin up and towards his face.

It only came out as a whisper, half said as it was only half meant, “don’t.”

A laugh, “At least pretend you mean it.”

Your knees came together in some desperate attempt to stop the feeling creeping up your legs and to your lap, “Apologize to Husk.”

“Why would I ever do such a thing?” His breath was so warm on your mouth, face tilted to keep his nose from hitting yours.

“What a terrible reply!” You slid down the wall and slipped under his arms, “If you shadow work your way into this room I will fuck that horny spider on camera just to spite you.” You opened your door, pausing to make sure he was still down the hall, “Angel on Angel, working title.”

Your whole body went slack, the sounds of a wild animal loose in the hallway rocking the door as you took shaky steps to the bed, paintings on the walls rattling as he did unseen damage. Sounds of an unknown, unholy animal raging just past the thin drywall.

Had you ever seen Mania work so quickly with so little fuel? Hand coming to your mouth, a burning where his finger touched you.

No one had touched your lips before. No one could ever hope to. Humans were beyond the realm of feeling you, and you didn’t allow kissing with the partners you took in heaven. Personal rule. As in, it was too personal.

The lights in your room flickered, briefly shrouding you in darkness before coming back to life.

Deja vu.

Oh.

What had he introduced himself as? The radio demon? It wasn’t heaven who brought you to the hotel. Of course not.

No. Obviously not.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor

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raitonsfw · 3 months

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tags: true form sukuna, two dicks, dubcon, masturbation, breeding kink, dacryphilia, rough blowjob/intercourse, curse fucking, mention of itadori’s body, and some manipulation. (tags bc it's true form sukuna and contains more than my usual thirsts)

thinking about sukuna ryōmen...

and the sheer annoyance of itadori’s body plaguing him as he fails to get himself off yet again. god, he missed his true form– two cocks lying heavily against his tummy, nearly touching his licked mouth open there and he begged to be able to someday be inside his own skin again.

he craved the desperation he used to instill in people when he’d whip them out, two of his hands folded against his hips whilst the other two held out his prized possessions. it was a real power trip for him, seeing the way their mouths bob open in an attempt to try to take both at once; only for them to ultimately fit one in their mouth.

as he pumped himself languidly, lying dreadfully still in itadori’s dorm bed, he thought of you and what you would do if you were ever graced with his true form. would you cower in fear or would you drop to your knees before him, begs and pleads spilling pathetically from your wretched mouth?

he imagined the latter– you’d submit to him, in more ways than one. your tiny hands wouldn’t even be able to wrap around one of his cocks, forget about the other one; could you even fit it in your mouth? he’d have to shove it in, make you take it with no remorse. one of his four palms would cup the crown of your head, keeping you pliant for him as he greedily fed you his huge cock.

and of course you’d gag around him whilst your hand would grab at his other cock that rested against your stuffed cheek, dripping precum all over your shoulder. he imagined you’d think it was lonely, needing some relief too as the one in your mouth started to slide against your tongue. he wouldn't be nice about it either, the back of your throat would definitely be bruised by the end of the night.

if there was ever an end, because the next thing you knew– his cocks would be stretching out your tight little cunt. all of his hands would be holding you flush against him, two around your neck and the other two gripping your waist as he pounded mercilessly into you from behind, not a single ounce of regret flooding his mind.

his hands on your waist would curve up to your breasts, fondling them as the mouths he bore on his palms opened up. they’d suckle your nipples between their teeth, reddening them as they pulled harshly and you would nearly collapse from the pleasured pain you felt– from his hands, his cocks, his entire presence that shielded you down into the pit of the mattress.

you’d whine out tiny complaints that mixed with moans, begging him to slow down as his two cocks would ram straight against your cervix, desperate to nearly break through and flood your womb and all he’d say to you was, ‘what? you humans can’t take two dicks at once? nah, you can fucking take it… c’mon, that’s it–! fucking cry for me.’

his release pressed him soon after as he watched you weep into the pillows– he needed to cum inside you and breed you, could a curse like him even impregnate you? who knew, but he’d be determined to find out as you clenched around both of his cocks with a wanton cry. as the king of curses, how wonderful it would be if he were to have an offspring to rule beside him– especially a child of your being, something so disastrously human yet so wonderfully cursed.

as sukuna imagined how you’d take his seed so fucking willingly, itadori’s uniform would be completely soiled– and itadori wouldn’t even know why as he came to.

a/n: decided this needed warning tags cuz it's true form sukuna. i had a damn dream about him last night and he hasn't left my mind the entire day so this came about.

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mimicmimikyuwrites · 2 months

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A New Beginning - Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader

Summary: The birth of your daughter with Lucifer brings some of his fears to the surface as he meets her for the first time, but you're there to help him.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Fluff, some angst, but mostly fluff

The moment she came into the world you knew you'd always love her. Your sweet baby girl looked a lot like her father, and while she had gotten your eyes, everything else seemed to have come from Lucifer. She had the most stunning golden hair you had ever seen, and the lighter streaks of blonde running through it only added to her beauty. Her chubby little cheeks were the most adorable shade of a bright, rosy red, and when she smiled you felt a happiness stronger than you had ever experienced before.

She was perfect.

"God, she looks so much like Charlie when she was born." Gently leaning over, Lucifer held out a finger, and your daughter grabbed onto it, curious eyes looking up at him. "Hi, my baby," he cooed, gently taking her from you, and holding her in his arms. "You're so precious."

You melted at the sight, a warmth filling you as you watched the scene in front of you. He was being careful with her, almost as if he was afraid she'd break at any moment, and the soft way he spoke to her made you fall in love with him all over again. You had always thought you made the right choice all those months ago when you asked him to have a baby with you, and your belief only grew as you looked at them.

"Darling?" Lucifer asked you. "Are you crying?"

You sniffled, nodding in response. It was beautiful. The two loves of your life in front of you had brought you to tears of joy. You loved them so, so much. "I'm just so happy, Lucifer. You're such a great dad."

Your husband looked away, avoiding your gaze, smiling sadly. "I'm not—I could've–" He sighed, unable to find the words. He handed her back to you, and you tilted your head slightly in confusion as he took a few steps back and began to nervously fidget with his cane.

"I could've done better with Charlie." He looked at your baby, the same sad, pained smile on his face. "I'm probably going to fuck up with this one, too." He let out a small, humorless, bitter laugh. You frowned.

"Lucifer, honey." You motioned for him to come closer, and he did, letting you hold his face in one of your hands. "Not all of it's your fault, okay?" You reassured him. He had told you about Lilith, and how she would distance him from Charlie, and how that ultimately helped lead up to his current, rocky father-daughter relationship with her.

He fought back tears. "I–I know you're not Lilith, but–fuck—I'm scared that the same thing's gonna happen, or that I'll screw up some other way. I want to be a good father. I need to be a good father. For her."

"And you will be." You promised. "I can already tell how much you love her, and I know you'll do an amazing job. Think of this as a new beginning for you. A chance to do even better."

He frowned, still filled with self-doubt, but nodded in agreement. This would be a new start for him, and he wouldn't waste his chance. His frown turned into a grin as your daughter reached out her tiny hands towards him, wanting to be held by her father again, and he gladly took her from you.

"Oh!" He said suddenly, letting out a small laugh as he realized something. "We never gave her a name!" He was right. Amid all the emotions, both good and bad, you had both managed to forget about her name.

"What should we—"

"Stella." You decided, cutting him off. She was your little star, your bright light in the darkness, and the cosmic-themed name fit her excellently. A wonderful name for the wonderful little girl you had brought into the world.

"Stella." He said, testing the name out. "I like it." He smiled down at her. "I'll be the best dad you could ever ask for, Stella. I promise."

You knew he wouldn't let her down. She was his new beginning, and he'd stay true to his word.

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666writingcafe · 4 days

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Top Secret!!!!!

A Group Chat Involving Everyone but MC and Luke

Solomon: It's nearly time for me to give MC their preliminary exam. How many stars is MC up to?

Mammon: you serious, bro????

Mammon: you haven't kept track of mc's stars????

Mammon: old man alert

Satan: Four.

Solomon: Thank you, Satan. What other three virtues have been rewarded?

Diavolo: Gratitude from me.

Simeon: Patience from me and generosity from Luke.

Solomon: So, chastity, diligence, and humility remain. I was thinking of having us play Tail Thieves.

Asmo: I love you, Solomon, but no.

Solomon: What's wrong with Tail Thieves?

Asmo: One, it's a childish game.

Lucifer: ^

Asmo: Two, do you not remember how MC behaved the last time you tested them? They were BORED OUT OF THEIR MIND, and it impacted their performance as a result.

Beel: That's true.

Asmo: Any twists you come up with are going to be too predictable.

Solomon: *glaring crow sticker*

Solomon: I'm SURE you have a better idea.

Asmo: I do, actually.

Asmo: It involves testing their chastity.

Solomon: Go on...

Asmo: We'll seduce them.

Mammon: that's a stupid idea!!!!

Levi: youre just saying that because youre jealous

Belphie: *laughing emoji*

Beel: *gif of someone doing a spit-take*

Asmo: I'm being serious.

Asmo: During their last stay in the Devildom, I managed to charm them, which gained me access to their deepest desires.

Asmo: They have fantasies involving all of us. Tempting them with those will be the ultimate test of their chastity. If they're able to resist, then they earn the star.

Lucifer: That's actually a well thought-out idea.

Barbatos: ^

Diavolo: ^^

Solomon: *glaring crow sticker*

Solomon: Fine.

Solomon: Who's participating?

Levi: mammon and i are out

Mammon: speak for yourself!!!! the fuck???

Levi: if this is meant to really test mc then everyone has to commit to the bit and you and i both know that youd tap out the minute mc looks at you sideways

Mammon: *glaring crow sticker*

Levi: while ive gained some confidence i still wouldnt be able to maintain my composure long enough to complete something like this

Asmo: I will provide the necessary information, but I myself will not be seducing MC, as much as it pains me to say.

Satan: Of course it would pain you to say that.

Asmo: *eye roll emoji*

Solomon: Do you want to judge with me?

Asmo: I mean, I kinda figured we would, so...

Barbatos: My participation will depend on what I'm meant to reenact.

Asmo: Are you afraid it would conflict with your duties?

Barbatos: Yes.

Diavolo: Well, if you're worried about me stopping you, don't. It wouldn't be fair of me to expect you to sit this out if I'm planning on participating.

Mammon: WHAT??????

Levi: bro

Levi: he literally jumped out a castle window to be with mc

Levi: he's THIRSTY

Belphie: Unfortunately.

Asmo: Not to be the bossy brother, but Lucifer, you aren't allowed to back out.

Lucifer: Wasn't planning on it. I know where I stand in MC's mind.

Satan: You know, I think I might chill with Mammon and Levi. I thought about joining in the fun, but I don't think I have it in me to see things through.

Satan: And before anyone chimes in, no, it's not because Lucifer confirmed his participation.

Belphie: We know. If it was, you'd be trying to one-up him.

Satan: Thank you, Belphie. I TOTALLY wanted that out there. *eye roll emoji*

Beel: I'm in.

Belphie: Quick question: would it be fair of me to participate?

Asmo: Actually, you'd be PERFECT for this. You can argue that you know MC more intimately than ANY of us. You'd know what buttons to push to make them really sweat.

Belphie: Okay, cool. I'll do it, then.

Simeon: Me too.

Levi: lol what

Mammon: ayo, do you even KNOW how to seduce someone, simeon?

Simeon: How do you think I'm able to write some of the scenes in TSL?

Levi: well okay then

Solomon: So, to confirm: Lucifer, Beel, Belphie, Diavolo, and Simeon are definite participants, Barbatos is a maybe, and Mammon, Levi, and Satan are sitting this out?

Nine people liked Solomon's message.

Mammon: the three of us can keep an eye on luke. we can either help him run the cafe or take him out someplace fun.

Levi: you know you seem awfully chummy towards luke lately

Mammon: we bonded during our fairy hunt.

Asmo: Then that settles it. Solomon and I will meet with the volunteers for further discussion.

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ixiot-ghostrebel · 1 year

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Sagau but the reader gets reallyangry evry time when someone insults sucrose,venti,nahida and fischil...... so the former sages of academia are now seeing the reader riding on azdaha screaming how they will wrath of the rock, or anyone who badmouths sucrose and fischil feels like reader screaming that they will sufere while zhongli and ei holds them back, but when someone try to insult reader.......reader just gets bored and gose to sleep and acolaytes have wtf face

When Someone Insults Sucrose, Venti, & Nahida... Vs When Someone Insults Reader

Anon, you know for a fact things are about to go down when Reader hears the insults directed at these characters. For all we know—if reader wasn't be held back they probably would actually murder some people.

OH, and this one's going to be VERY LONG, so be prepared! This was also the reason why I had to get rid of Fischl—that and it was also because my motivation decided to die on me—

(Disclaimers: Might be OOC, (perhaps) Mentions of Violence, & Quest Spoilers!)

Sucrose

The moment she gets insulted for how shy and unusual her experiments were, you can literally tell her confidence breaking. You can see it in the way her ears began to droop more and how she starts fumbling with her stuff.

And, you treasure Sucrose A LOT. What are you going to do, sit there on the side lines? NOT do anything?

"Hey, you lot!" You march up to the insulters out of your hiding place. "What do you think you're doing, insulting one of my acolytes?"

This gets the gossipers to shut up immediately. They are shivering as they hear your voice, flaring with anger and hatred to the bone.

"Y-Your Grace! We were just...uhm—just...commenting! Yes, just commenting on, uh—"

"Shut up. This. INSTANT!" Your voice rings out through the street of Mondstadt. Sucrose's eyes were wide as she sees you, the Almighty Creator, stand up for her. "DO THIS AGAIN, AND I WILL SLIT YOUR THROAT OUT, YOU HEAR ME?"

Yeah, the gossipers are getting absolute PSTD from this. They are never recovering from this incident. Sucrose, upon hearing the threat, quickly runs up to you, to hold you back from actually hurting them.

Yes, you were raising your fists. Who wouldn't want to punch them? They were acting ignorant!

"P-please, Your Grace! Let's not get violent!" Sucrose tries to persuade you from not doing anything murderous—she doesn't want to have to report to the Knights of Favonius that the Creator themself has committed first-degree murder on the streets right before her eyes.

You sigh, relenting. You won't do it if Sucrose won't like it, but if anyone asked you, they absolutely deserved losing their vocal cords.

"Fine." You turn back to the gossipers, who were cowering on the table they were at. "You both, get out of here. If this happens again, I will do what I threatened to do. Or worse."

That's what gets the moving. After several panicked confirmations ("Yes, Your Grace!" "Understood, Your Grace!" "This won't happen again, Your Grace!"), they leave.

But if you were the one that got insulted? Sucrose would be so horrified of the audacity of these people! How could they say such things about the Creator?

She would be even more horrified to realize that you were there, hearing it all. So, instead of telling off the gossipers, she runs up to you to make sure you were okay. Your feelings matter more than those idiots!

"Your Grace, are you okay? I'm so sorry for what they're saying! Please know that they're not true!" She would say gently, and Sucrose would be ultimately surprised to see you actually pretty chill about the entire incident.

"Hm? Yeah, why wouldn't I be okay?—Oh, are you talking about those people over there?" You point at the gossipers, still insulting and calling you names. "Yeah, they're actually pretty amusing."

Shookth. That's what Sucrose's expression is. Absolute shock. You would expect someone like the Almighty Creator to be enraged or upset by this kind of behavior from your own people, but no, you're just sitting there, at a table near the Good Hunter, listening to some dudes piling up random trash on the table like it's some Live Soap Opera.

"U-uhm, pardon me, Your Grace...but are you not affected by what they're saying?" Sucrose can't help but be puzzled at your reaction. It's not exactly...what people would expect, you know?

"Nope, none. Anyways, I'm feeling up for a mushroom pizza—wanna come join me? It'll be on me~"

Sucrose blushes, her mind going frantic. Pizza, with the CREATOR THEMSELF?! But, if the creator wants her to join, she can't refuse!

"O-of course, Your Grace!"

"Alright then. SARA! YOU MIND IF YOU MAKE US A MUSHROOM PIZZA, PLEASE?" The moment you shout from your table, the gossipers turned pale. They look over at you and Sucrose.

That was the next gossip going on throughout the streets for the next few weeks. And you found that entire episode even more amusing.

Venti

This guy is honestly pretty used to insults, so hearing one of his own people call him names and insulting his skills as a bard, he just ignores them and goes on with his day.

However, today was different. He was inside the tavern when you stormed to the table where the insults were being piled up on.

"Ahem." Just by the sound of your voice, you can see the dudes trembling. You were that much of a scary character when you wanted to be. "What is the meaning of this?"

"A-ah! Your Grace, we were just placing opinions on a certain bard's skill in their music—"

"And how does insulting the bard himself have to do anything with their music taste?" you ask, voice ringing with anger. The bad mouthers were turning pale just by the tone you were using. If emotions could kill, your glare would have them drop dead in a heartbeat. Venti found that a little amusing, honestly.

"U-uhm, Your Grace, we can explain!" one of them quickly exclaims, trying to save their own skins. You glare down at them, not even budging in expression or movement.

"Perhaps I should call StormTerror and have your discarded bodies thrown into the ocean." Ayo, hold up! Venti nearly sweats his pants off. The Creator calling in his dear friend, Dvalin, just to kill like, 3 people that were badmouthing him?

As much as he wanted to see his buddy again, he does not like the situation as to why he was even here in Mondstadt again. And besides, these three were still children of Mondstadt! It's better if he steps in and saves them all.

"Yahoo! Your Grace!~ Come join me with for a lovely glass of wine!" He uses his cheekiness to get your attention, knowing the favoritism he'll get over the trio in their little corner.

You sigh. You were so close of letting loose your rage on these idiots, but alas, having fun with Venti outweighed dealing with smack talkers.

So, despite your urge to continue to scream bloody murder from the skies above, you joined Venti at his usual spot in front of the bartender. Venti can only smile as he manages to defuse the situation without making a bigger scene.

"So, Your Grace~ Care to hear this bard's next ballad dedicated to the Almighty Creator themself?" Purely distracts you before you can think more about the frustrating topic.

But when Venti hears someone smack talking about the Creator? Oh, it's really about to go down. Someone was really asking for a death wish. He can suddenly sympathize how much anger you could've felt when you heard other talking crap about him.

Until he sees you, chilling in the corner, listening in on the crap and looking like you would fall asleep at any given time. Venti was puzzled—has the Creator heard insults such as these before? He had to know.

So, disregarding the stupid and semi-drunk idiots, he runs up to you. The moment you see him, you were suddenly very much awake.

"Your Grace! I apologize for what those morons are saying—please, allow this humble bard to deal with them—" You wave him off, telling him to not bother. You tell him that it was actually pretty amusing, and sometimes really good background noise to help you sleep.

Now this dude is even more confused. How could insults be good background noise? How could the Creator themself be using that as a source to doze off to dreamland? It didn't make sense, but he suppose it'll be better for himself if he just left the question alone, never to be answered.

"Well, anyways, I'm up for a walk—you wanna come with?" Venti grins at the request. Spending time with the Creator? Of course he would join! He can brag about it all to the old block head in Liyue and the grumpy royal in Inazuma.

"Ehe, lead the way, Your Grace!" He says it loud enough to have the gossipers freeze and look over. They watch as you both leave the tavern to go on a walk.

Mission accomplished! Venti can live with that kind of revenge on the plate. It served them right to be scared.

Nahida

Okay, to make it more convenient for myself, let's have this take place before the Greater Lord Rukkhadevata was erased from Irmunsil. The traveler has managed to save Nahida from the sanctuary of Surasthana, and now we're basically at the part where Cyno meets Azar face to face.

You, quite literally, begged Cyno to let you join him—you were sick and tired of that old man that proclaimed himself to be he Grand Sage anyways.

Even without all the begging, Cyno would've let you follow him anyways. If Azar didn't think that the Dendro Archon could ever lay judgement on him, then let the Almighty Creator reign justice on him themself.

The moment you step into the sanctuary, however, you felt your blood boil. You remember playing through this darn quest and listened to all the crap this son of a dirt bag threw at the wholesome bean that is the Dendro Archon.

You knew what would happen, since you played through the entire quest. For some reason, Teyvat hasn't gone through this change, but you knew. In the end, Nahida was too merciful to the sages. And, let's be honest, who wouldn't want to throw a darn punch at this guy?

You let Cyno do most of the talking with Azar, enjoying how he was looking uneasy as you silently glared at him from the shadows. You can tell Nahida saw you, her eyes wide with awe and shock.

The moment Cyno slams down his polearm, you took it as your cue to come out of your hiding spot.

"And if you think you're leaving this place unharmed, you better think twice! I will claw off that smug face of yours if you think you would get away insulting that precious child!" You point at Nahida to make your statement very clear of who said-child was, in case Azar was stupid enough to think it was someone else.

The moment the (ex)Grand Sage saw you, you can see the literal fear dawning his very figure and eyes. Cyno had to hold you back with an arm on your shoulder because you were looking wayy too murderous than he thought you would be.

"Your Grace, please calm down!" As much as she hates what the sages and the Fatui did to the people of Sumeru, she didn't exactly want Azar dead.

Nahida is smart enough to speculate that if she interfered, maybe Cyno would be able to do his job for both she and the Almighty Creator before things escalate too quickly by Their Grace's divine hand.

As much as she loves you standing up to her, she really doesn't want things to get too bloody than it needs to be.

You glare at Azar one more time. Fine, if you can't have this son of a crap dead as a corpse, you would take some satisfaction in driving fear into him.

"You do this again, little old man, and I'll make sure you actually lose all that self-pride you have and oh-so cherish. Got it?" Even with confirmation, you wouldn't let this guy off the hook. You were that enraged with him.

But at least Nahida was out of her cage, so that's all that mattered.

"Don't worry, Your Grace! I won't let others do this again to me, I promise!" She reassures you that she will not have anyone trample all over her again, and you just couldn't help yourself but smile gently down at her. You know very well she wouldn't.

Alright, post-sumeru archon quest, Nahida is pretty much free to roam wherever she wants. She's pretty happy, until she hears a group of people huddling together talking bad about the Almighty Creator...

At first, she was surprised. Then she got upset and a little angry. Why would her people speak so ill of the Creator?

She literally nearly breaks when she sees you chilling at a different table at Puspa Cafe. She ran up to you, surprisingly, undetected by almost everyone she ran past.

You notice Nahida approaching, and welcome her with a warm smile and a wave, but dies away when she sees the sadness on her face.

"Your Grace! Please forgive my people for talking such false things about you!" She would exclaim, her eyes close to watering tears. While she doesn't like what she hears about you, she doesn't want her people hurt for such things they say.

"Oh—that's what you were concerned about?" you said, dumbly. You look over at the table that were still gossiping about you. "Nah, don't worry, Nahida—they're actually pretty funny."

That immediately gets Nahida spiraling down in confusion. Huh? How could such hurtful things be funny? Was the Almighty Creator very used to this kind of thing, or was it simply because they truly did find it amusing somehow?

"I'm sorry, Your Grace...but I don't really get what you mean." You shrug it off, telling her that's just how you roll. Besides, this was like a free, live time drama show! They were that amusing.

"Say, since we're sitting here in Puspa Cafe, how 'bout I treat you to some Padisarah Pudding and Candied Ajilenakh Nuts? It's all on me!" Yeah, you're pretty okay with spoiling Nahida with treats. Besides, cute bean was sad—you wanted to cheer her up!

When she agrees, you shout, "BOSS! MIND IF YOU GET ME TWO PADISARAH PUDDINGS AND A PLATE OF AJILENAKH NUTS?" And, much like what happened with Sucrose and the pizza, the gossipers freeze, turn pale, and look over.

They become even paler when they see the Dendro Archon herself sitting with the Almighty Creator, casually talking about random things.

"Your Grace, did you really fall from the sky as a shooting star to our world?" You and Nahida would continue talking about your origins and how you brought Teyvat to life from the storybook version, not knowing that the bad mouthers were having a existential crisis at their table.

AND THAT'S IT! I'M SORRY FISCHL, BUT I AM VERY TIRED—

I hope you guys enjoyed it though! See you around! :)

Ghost Rebel Side Note: This was WAYY longer than I thought it would be, holy cow- but at least it turned out okay? :') Boy, I am so tired lol- this took far too much energy than I thought it would. My motivation legit started plummeting when I got to Nahida—You can legit tell I had to reuse the cafe/restaurant scene from Sucrose into hers because my brain just died on me- But I do hope you guys still liked it! Especially you, Anon! I hope it was up to your standards :)

Check Out The Ghost Rebel's Blog Description to See if Their Mailbox is Open!

#sagau venti #sagau nahida #sagau genshin #sagau #sagau x reader #yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #genshin self aware #self aware genshin #platonic genshin x reader #platonic #platonic genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #sagau sucrose #WHAT DO YOU MEAN SAGAU SUCROSE ISN'T A TAG????#sagau cyno

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starfirette · 1 year

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School Reunion

He was a a lithe figure of all rhyme and very little reason...

...especially he gestured for you to come closer. Tousled tufts of soft, brown hair flopped over his forehead, not so strictly gelled back today. His hair was ultimately the first thing that warmed you up to him. His previous face was undoubtedly your first, true love--all blue eyes and ears, knit sweaters under leather jackets, and a secret soft side...

❇Tenth Doctor x Fem Reader

❇hmmmm this took a month to perfect! I shall page @bellaswansrealgf because this does indeed have a size kink portion :)) this is cross posted to my ao3 (username is the same if you want to check that out!)

You were the illustrious and young English teacher, and he was the older, more experienced Physics teacher.

But it had only been a game. It was the ruse for a job at some school.

Of course you had "just" graduated college; you needed a guided hand to show you how to handle those rowdy students. "Professor Smith," you said as you batted your eyelashes. The size difference between you two was enough to make you squirm, thighs clenched and heart beating in anticipation.

"Poor thing," 'Mr Smith' had said. His hand is ruffling up the chiffon of your knee length skirt. "You're so needy for attention. You'd take any bit of attention from even the science teacher."

You wouldn't yet go into further detail of what conspired that day. After all, it was a little bit inappropriate of you two to do such fooling around during the hours of an investigation. Rose would have been livid to know that while she was slinging chips and pizza to students and staff, you and the Doctor were rather preoccupied with teaching not the students but yourselves just how Miss [L/n] and Mr Smith ought to behave.

Of course, the roleplay was divine. Mr Smith was a role that the Doctor deeply enjoyed to act with, especially when it came to shamelessly flirting with you as if he didn't know you. You suspect he had all his fun that way.

Apart from the canoodling in the workplace, everything else was really a ruse. The way it all started is a little bit convulated, but Rose heard from Mickey who must have heard from someone else that strange things were going on back in her hometime. (Hometime was a bit of a private joke between you, Rose, and the Doctor, it's a play on the word hometown! You and the Doctor fight for the credit of who actually coined the term but Rose often sides with the argument that you truly did.) The Doctor went into full dramatic effect, as he tends to do, and he created you a full fledged identity and a college degree. In real life (for lack of a better term)you're almost done with college where you're honestly pursuing a degree for English Literature.

The Doctor surprised you with the position at this school. Albeit it's undercover, he wanted you to have some fun. His face lit up like the lights on a Christmas tree when he saw how excited you were. Granted, this was a far cry from being an English professor at a prestigious university, as you drunkenly confessed to his prior face while celebrating the win against the nanogenes during the second World War. Though he looked different then, he still loved you with the same, big heart.

Hearts.

Force of habit.

Day One of the mission was the easiest mostly because day one didn't require real work. Rose helped you research the winning numbers for some lottery tickets. She dropped off two winning tickets at the homes of a couple teachers from the school: one from the Mathematics department, one from the Literature.

Needless to say both resigned in an instant. Unfortunately this sparked nasty rumors which accounted the two teachers (who really didn't know one another at all) were having an affair. Well, so long as they enjoyed the money. And since neither of their spouse's seemed to believe these rumors, you supposed there was no real harm done.

Day two consisted of applying for the jobs and actually getting them. The interview process went well. You interviewed with the superintendent who claimed the headmaster was busy.

'This isn't fair,' Rose said. 'I want to be a teacher.'

'You'd look so cute as the lady administrator,' you pointed out from the sofa of the Tardis common room. 'You could wear fake specs. Y'know, look over them and give students dirty looks. Type obnoxiously on your clunky laptop. It's such a shame mini iPads weren't invented sooner. I'd look soooo cute carrying mine around.'

Rose groaned theatrically as she collapsed onto the sofa. She rolled on top of your lap, pushing the remote out of your hands so you could pay attention to her. 'Tell your boyfriend to make me a teacher,' Rose indignantly said. Her nose scrunched as you shifted your thigh to push her off.

'My hands are full,' The Doctor said through a mouthful of snack food. He tossed a sprinkle of crumbs at Rose, consequently catching some on your lap. You shoved his face with mock disregard. 'You mean your hands are tied,' you corrected.

'Sure,' he said, 'that too.'

The start of day three. You dressed in a knee length skirt with pointy flats and a smart looking blazer. You decided to forgo a pair of fake specs (though you were known to occasionally need a pair of real lenses ever since a strange trip with your blue-eyed, prominent-nosed Doctor to an interesting laser show which had some nasty effects on your eyes; it was some sort of festival on Mars in the year 3000). As you walked down the hall to your class room the Doctor walked past, heading the opposite way to the Mathematics department. He sent a prolonged look up and down your outfit.

"Hello, Mr Smith," you said curtly. You had to fight the grin that tussled with your lips. You enjoyed playing your role too, too much.

Mr Smith uncharacteristically fumbled over his feet as he looked over his shoulder to meticulously study the way your bum and hips moved as you went about your merry way. Needless to say this is when he decided to amp up his game.

The children in your classroom couldn't have been older than fourteen. You didn't expect anything outwardly startling at this point, because you didn't yet realize the secrets this school held.

You took a look at the lesson plan the students had been going through before their previous teacher took a miracle vacation to Sicily to renew their marriage vows.

Good for them.

"Who would like to examine the motifs of this scene?" you asked. You were picking through a bit of Macbeth. A beginning scene with the three witches; it should be easy enough. How typcal to have stumbled upon their Shakespeare unit. An obligatory staple of middle school. Or highschool. Whatever grade these kids are in. You tried thinking of it in terms of Harry Potter; are they fifth years? Harry Potter was certainly fifteen during Order of the Phoenix.

You contemplated this as no one actually tried discussing Macbeth.

"Would anyone like to mention anything?" Your attempts to get them talking was dismal. Perhaps they missed their old teacher. You felt a little guilty. Even more guilt poured in you when you obnoxiously thought that their old teacher wasn't missing them, not while they were having a second honeymoon in Sicily!

"Anything?"

You could have heard an eyelash drop in that room.

"Going on about motif, it's rather interesting that when Macbeth enters, he notes...? What does he say that directly links him to the witches? Oh, goodness, I've lost my place...'So foul and fair a day I have not seen.' Does anyone remember what the three witches say in the opening scene?"

Finally a hand is raised.

You want to thank the kid profusely as you call on her. "What's your name?"

"Addie Jones," the girl said.

"Wonderful! Nice to meet you, Miss Addie. Do you remember the line?"

"'Fair is foul and foul is fair. Hover through the fog and filthy air.'"

"Excellent," you tell her with a smile. "Not only does this line set the overarching theme for the story, it also is a neat trick Shakespeare put in. Macbeth enters a few scenes later and by repeating their words, he's effectively sealed his own fate. This is a pretty good example of a motif. Does anyone know what a motif is?" You scanned the room, hoping for another arm to pop up, but Addie's hand waved shyly in your sight. You understood, then, why teachers threatened to call on students at random. You'd threaten that yourself if you knew anyone else's name. Besides, Addie seemed eager enough to share her answer. "Addie!"

"A motif is a series of repeated patterns, often dialogue or imagery, in literature used to further a narrative."

Whoa.

"Great answer," you told Addie, a sincere smile capturing your lips. "Given that definition, can anyone find other motifs in the play?"

Addie raised her hand.

"Does anyone other than Addie have an idea?" you tried. To no avail, you nodded at Addie. You took a seat behind your desk, grabbing a pen to jot down a forethought about Harry Potter.

Addie took a loud and deep breath. "Another integral motif in the play is sleep. Banquo states, act two scene one, 'And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers restrain in me cursed thoughts that nature gives way to response.' Act two, scene two, Macbeth by now has killed the king. 'There's one did sleep laugh in's sleep, and one cried Murder!' 14 lines later, same scene, Macbeth then says, 'Methought I heard a voice cry 'sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep. The innocent sleep, sleep which knits-,'"

You were extremely puzzled. You tried to gently interupt Addie's train of thought, which seemed to be more than just reading directly from her book than actually answering your question. Taking a stand, your flats smacking the linoleum floor, you strolled back to the front of the classroom, your lesson plan in hand. You caught a glance at Addie's desk. Wherein you'd been expecting to see her fingers eagerly scanning along the pages of her open book, you found that her textbook was rather shut, her hands clasped atop it as she waited for you to say something.

Blinking in surprise, you looked back at the lesson plan. You skimmed through a couple pages. Just when did they begin studying this play? That thought was muting all of your prior Harry Potter saga theories. Only at the start of the week...and they were only assigned an at home reading for the first four scenes.

Perhaps Addie liked to read. Perhaps she enjoyed Macbeth so very much that she chose to memorize the entire damn play.

You hadn't seen any notes marking Addie's remarkable abilities in the subject, so you wondered on about how she could have done such a quick study of the play. "He certainly prattles on about sleep, doesn't he?" you asked Addie, who grinned toothily and nervously. "What do you think it means?" you continued as you hugged the lesson plan to your chest.

That smile faded. "Oh. I'm not sure." Addie, who had memorized all the lines and their scenes regarding 'sleep', was at a loss for words.

You felt a little bit guilty to find that she seemed incredibly embarrassed to be without an answer. You didn't necessarily care, but you wanted to probe for more answers. "Want to venture a guess? Why do you think sleep is so important here? What might it symbolize?"

Addie went red in the face. She played with the edges of her textbook. Her nails pulled apart the layers of the hard cover, flaking specks of cardboard across her desk.

"We could ask ourselves what a literary symbol is," you continued, quickly trying to move on before Addie could explode. "What's a symbol in literature? Maybe someone aside from Addie?"

You sighed. Defeated again. Tomorrow you'd have to try harder. "Alright, Addie, take it away."

After taking a breath of relief, Addie prattled away, "A symbol in literature is one of the literary devices that an author might use to convey a hidden message or theme. Symbols often are represented through objects or ideas that serve with a literal purpose but have metaphorical meaning which furthers the narrative, much like a motif."

Puzzled by her in depth definition all you could really do was nod in response. 'That's correct," you informed her. Though it was far too correct. It didn't sound at all like the answer of a thirteen year old girl. It sounded like a line from a thesis paper or even from some dictionary. Her knowledge us certainly expansive but robotic in nature. She can identify patterns, like motifs and sleep and what not, but she can't analyze their meaning.

You frowned. More accurately, she couldn't form her own thoughts on the subject matter.

During lunch break, you searched the cafeteria for the Doctor. You went through the line, declining food after food. You made a scene of asking Rose for an apple, and then you leaned in close as she handed it to you. "I found something a little bit strange. Sweet girl in my class basically memorized her English textbook. She might as well have memorized mine. Have you seen him?"

Rose's brow twitched with contempt. "No," she said sharply. "Fuck 'im, really, I'm stuck back here slinging chips at bratty kids and he's off doing who knows w-oh, there he is." She pointed him out in the crowd of students, the man sitting at a table and picking apart a turkey and cheese sandwich layer by layer. "He's bein' weird again," Rose snickered. The Doctor smelled one slice of bread. "Oh, God, go stop him. I can't watch him deface himself like this. Wait, take your apple, now. If I was working on commission then you'd be of no use to me. That's right, take some milk, too. Not the skim, you daft. That's basically water. Take the two percent."

You tried to juggle the milk and apple that Rose had tossed in your arms as you sped walked towards the Doctor. You dropped the apple on the table as you took a seat in front of him. His nimble fingers dropped the bread in a split second and he eyed you close. "I've got something," you said.

"Ah, ah," the Doctor said sharply with a wag of his finger. "I don't even know you and you're going to sit down, without even asking, and try and engage in conversation? Tsk. You naughty thing."

You rolled your eyes. "It's nice to meet you," you told him, playing into his game. "I'm Y/n L/n, yada yada. Anyways. Girl in my class-"

He shook his head. "Nope. You didn't ask my name."

"I know your name," you mocked his tone. "We met at the staff meeting."

"How do I know you actually remember it?" the Doctor challenged you. "Go on, just ask my name!" He looked much too amused as you angrily peeled open the cap to your milk.

"What's your name," you therefore said monotonously, trying to void the words of any inquiring tone.

"John Smith, physics professor. I'm single, by the way."

"Anyway! Girl in my class! Basically memorized the entire textbook. She had an answer for most of the questions. However, those answers were all...materialistic. I don't know how to describe it. She didn't know how to input her own thoughts. It was like she just downloaded all the information to her brain. Does that make sense?"

The Doctor nodded. "I've had a similar experience. Kid in my own class has knowledge way beyond planet earth." He pushed his plate of food forward. "Try some."

"No, thanks," you said politely. "I'm not very hungry. Something about this food weirds me out," you drawled as you poked his lightly tousled food around. He was more sampling everything rather than eating. "I've always hated school food. The chips look...odd. The smell of them is somehow off. Does that make any sense?"

"Come with me," the Doctor responded, not saying anything to your earlier rebuttals regarding the school food. "Toss that, I'm not going to eat it," he added. He took the tray and dumped it. You followed behind him as he slid his tray with the other dirty ones. Rose sent him a glare so foul you were surprised he didn't collapse on the spot. A glare like that could make him regenerate. "Found anything strange?"you ask Rose before she and the Doctor can get into a cat fight, an occurrence which frequents the TARDIS.

Rose gossiped, "Half the kitchen staff got replaced not too long ago. And this lot are weird. Get this! The entire lunch menu has been designed by the headmaster himself. What qualifies him to even do that? Don't you have to study...nutrition?" Rose shook her blonde fringe from her milk chocolate eyes. A flare of mischief came in her eyes. "I bet he didn't."

"Is nutrition a course of study? Actually, it is, isn't it? Oh, Rose you should be a nutritionist!" You said gleefully.

The Doctor sighed. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to keep up with his two companions.

"Oh, shush," Rose chided to you. "The point is we've been at this for three days! We don't even know what's going on. More like you two don't even know what's going on. I've done my part! I reported back to you an' all!" She looked at you both with arms folded across her chest and her eyebrows raised indignantly. She licked her lower lip in a dare for you or the Doctor to argue back, her chocolate-brown eyes strangely malicious. "That's right, isn't it? You've got nothin' to say but-"

"Stop yelling at us!" The Doctor finally dished back. He seemed irritated beyond his senses, which was typical of him. "Your boyfriend is the one who called us."

Rose's mouth quivered at the term. Her lips opened and closed as though she was a fish out of water. "Mickey's not my--hang on a minute, where are you two going?" she finally demanded as the Doctor started to manhandle you. You looked vaguely surprised, staring at him with incredulity.

"Research!" the Doctor called without looking as he kept his deft fingers tightly wound on your wrist. "We've get a lead!"

You struggled to let her know as he escorted you away.

The halls were empty as the Doctor pulled you contently down the Mathematics hall. His classroom was certainly empty, all students eating their lunch for the next thirty or so minutes.

"Show me what you've got," you told him excitedly as he turned the lock on the door. You looked around eagerly for whatever gadget or gizmo he was going to produce. You waited for another moment before you watched with curiosity as the Doctor settled himself easily on the edge of his desk. "Where is it?" you asked.

"What do you mean?" The Doctor countered, crossing his arms with some semblance of an attitude. You mimicked the pressing of a sonic screwdriver. "Where's the...gizmo...aren't you going to sonic something?"

"Oh. No gizmo," the Doctor said. "Not this time. Well, not right now, actually, I'm sure I'll sonic some sort of gizmo sometime soon. No, I actually wanted this time for ourselves. I'm not fond of your attitude, Miss L/n."

You raised a brow. "My attitude?"

The Doctor nodded. "Exactly. Your behavior has been nothing short of abysmal. Neglecting me, running about with Rose, and entirely disregarding your duties here. I supplied you with a title of superiority and you have sorely misused it. There's only one word to describe you these past two days."

For a brief moment your heart stuttered with genuine fear, but then you watched the sparks which flickered in his hazel brown eyes burst into a large flame.

"Naughty."

You barked a laugh. You put a hand over your fast beating heart. "That's not funny," you chastised. "I thought you were being serious!"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

No going back now. Not with the rapid pooling of warmth in the bottom of your belly. The Doctor shook his head, tutting his tongue as he folded his arms.

He was a a lithe figure of all rhyme and very little reason; especially he gestured for you to come closer. Tousled tufts of soft, brown hair flopped over his forehead, not so strictly gelled back today. His hair was ultimately the first thing that warmed you up to him.

His previous face was undoubtedly your first, true love--all blue eyes and ears, knit sweaters under leather jackets, and a secret soft side with a not so quiet splash of kinky foreplay. There were zero hints of that face in this one, and the first time you saw it you didn't know what quite to think.

The Doctor had burst into a bright, ball of golden light. Spheres, marble sized, of such light fizzled around him, orbiting his figure while Rose gripped your hand. Her fingers slipped on the fresh blood, making you wince as she slid over the fresh slice. The fight against the Daleks had been the most important matter in all the world just moments ago. And now you felt as though...you were about to lose everything.

Your mouth burned with the hard kiss the Doctor had given you. His tongue had meddled against yours, sweeping the roof of your mouth the way he knew you liked. His thumbs swiped away the tears that dotted the corners of your eyes, and just like that, he was saying goodbye. And then this.

Dizzying rushes of blinking in and out of reality coursed through you. This almost felt like a dream. The image charading in front of you didn't seem right. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, afterall. You three were supposed to find Jack and go home, wherever 'home' was. No matter where home was, the day would always end with you laying on the Doctor's chest, ear to dual hearts while he played with your hair.

And yet that wasn't how this was going to end.

Rose gripped your hand tight. Your vision flickered with stars as her fingers slipped into the gash on your hand. Nausea punched you in the gut as the light grew brighter and brighter. Stop, you wanted to tell him. It's not funny.

It wasn't funny at all.

The energy surged, so loud you could almost hear it, you could practically feel it sizzling inside of you. Energy sang inside the TARDIS: the chime high and loud, the pitch far beyond any regular frequency. And God, it hurt.

The ringing ascended frequency and finally it shut off as the Doctor cried out just a bit.

The light disappeared.

And so had your Doctor.

You crept closer.

He pushed his leg out, patting the top of his thigh. "Take a seat, Miss L/n," he sighed, making a point to sound disappointed. He would really be if you didn't play along! So you hopped up to take a seat, holding onto the back of his neck for leverage as you made yourself comfortable.

It wasn't unusual for him to become unexpectedly horny, especially in the midst of a mission such as this. He was one for taking fortified risks.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked.

"Just that I've been a very bad girl," you informed him with an exaggerated pout. You puckered your lower lip. "I just wanted your attention, Mr. Smith."

"Consider it done. You've certainly caught my attention with this little garb," the Doctor said as he pushed a hand up your skirt. His lean fingers squeezed the inside of your thigh, making you squirm. The flash of quick pain on the easily bruised skin made your heart rush. Looking up at him, it was easy to spot the remnants of the other Doctor. Your first Doctor.

Though his face has changed, and you love him all the same-if not more-he'll always have that face.

"Professor Smith," you said as you batted your eyelashes. The size difference between you two was enough to make you squirm, stomach clenched with eager anticipation.

"Poor thing," 'Mr Smith' said. His hand kneaded the jiggling flesh of your leg, pinching it and grinning at the way you wiggled in his grip. "You're so needy for attention," he cooed. "You'd take any bit of attention from even the science teacher."

His mouth pressed against yours. Lips against lips, both soft as the petals of a flower, but clashing hard, as if you two had never kissed before! But kisses are less than few-and-far; they're frequent. They're the Doctor's favorite past time.

Even with this face you two spend nights in his study, laying in the chaise lounge, your ear against his chest and listening to his dual hearts. Even with this face do you two kiss passionately into the hours of the ambient night lights that the TARDIS has set for you. Your hands plucked at the buttons of his shirt. His build was entirely different from the previous one he bore. Where then he'd been slightly bulkier with more muscle and mass, he was now slender, lithe, and graceful. He walked like a cat with cunning mischief on his mind. His deft fingers were slipping up your skirt, hooking across the band of your underwear and cheekily tugging them down as he pushed his thumbs into your hips.

He loved, loved, the curves of your body (he always had. It wasn't something that would ever change). He liked to grip the fleshy parts of you tight, squeeze and fondle any parts of you he could get his hands on. You splayed your fingers out like a starfish, pushing your hand on his sternum just between both hearts. You could feel them both beating fast as his shirt drifted open, framing his clavicle and abdomen like a picture. He couldn't be more gorgeous than this; freckles constellated his pale skin. The shades that stood out on his skin compared to yours made your lips curl. The colors were like blots of paint on a pallet in the hands of an artist.

Confidently, you believed that a painting with every shade your two bodies had to offer would outshine the Mona Lisa or Starry Night.

The Doctor's hand crept below the threshold of your underwear. His thumb padded through the plush lips of your pussy, nudging at your pearled clit. "Not nearly as wet as I'd prefer," the Doctor chastised as he flexed his thumb in a circle on your clit, not bothering to start at a slow pace. The quick lashings of a hurried pleasure made your body tremble. Like a startled newborn you spasmed in his hold, nearly collapsing backwards. If he hadn't had an arm around your waist you would have made a fool of yourself.

"Can't stay still?" The Doctor cooed. "The more I rub this little clit, the more wet that oozes out of you. That makes it so easy for me to simply..."

Your voice strained as the Doctor slowly pushed his middle finger inside of you. He moved slowly so that you could feel every bit of your cunt that he stretched out. For all the times you'd ever attempted to stick something inside of yourself, this really took the cake.

Every time you tried it just felt...like you were sticking something inside of yourself. Like there was just something inside a vaginal cavity; Just something inside that was vibrating.

Not sexy, nor pleasurable.

The amount of times you'd attempted to do gymnastics around your bedroom in your home time, stretching your legs or doing back bends, all to find the magical spot that the internet claimed existed. These exploits were all for naught.

Imagine how strange a feeling it was for you to be proven wrong by the Doctor. You swore up and down there was something wrong, something maybe even broken, but no matter what, you just didn't have what other women suspiciously claimed to have. Well, the Doctor loves to prove others wrong. You can imagine how that first night went, with him grinning down at you and touching both the inside and outside of you at once to bring about a genre of pleasure you hadn't realized existed.

You gnawed on your lip as the Doctor slowly pushed a second digit inside, still tending to your clit to keep the feeling from being too uncomfortable. "It's alright," the Doctor said softly. He shifted his body, making a swift stand as he set you on the desk and settled between your legs, without removing his hand from you at all. He widened the gap between your legs so your knees laid hip length apart. His tall figure stood straight as he looked down at your cunt which dropped over his hand.

"And there it is," he sighed. "You're taking it like a good girl, aren't you? Even though we're in a school. A learning facility. Have you no shame?"

Whether or not he wanted an answer, you couldn't say. Your vision was blurry as he pumped up into a secret place inside of you while also stimulating your clit. The small bundle of nerves was pulsating, having become a bulbous bud of despair and anxiety. It tensed and twitched under every touch but ultimately it yearned for more. You kept tensing around his fingers, holding onto the lapels of his jacket tight.

The Doctor looked down at you. He smirked.

"You're holding onto me with quite a strong grip. Afraid I'll pull away? Afraid I'll stop? Your cunt just keeps squeezing onto me. So hot and wet. So comforting. Don't you wish it was my cock?"

You panted out a reply, not bothering to sound witty or naughty. Not the time. "Yes."

A laugh. A genuine sound. The musical chime of it faded before the Doctor replied, "I do, too. But first I'll watch you cum on my fingers. It's alright. Door's all locked. My attention is entirely on you. You've been working so hard, so eager to please Mr Smith. Now you ought to let Mr Smith please you. Although...I should be punishing you. Shouldn't I? I'm sure it wouldn't be much of a real punishment, though. After all, you tend to enjoy it when I spank your sweet ass."

The mere words sent the images into your brain. The thought of it made your pussy flinch, and the Doctor laughed again though this time round it was a touch harsh sounding. "I knew you enjoyed it," he said quietly. He kissed your forehead, his lips curled into a smile as he did so. "It's alright, dear, it's only me. You can be honest. I quite like it. Oh, my, you're dripping all the way onto my wrist!"

He feigned annoyance. "Just look...look at this mess you're making."

You dared to take a look.

A small gasp choked in your throat, the sound making the Doctor chuckle. The muscles of your thighs twitched. The knee length skirt was thrown back so you were sitting bare assed on the cool desk, the skirt gathered around your hips. Your panties were stuffed in the Doctor's trouser pockets: you could see them sticking out. When had he done that?

The tendons in his wrist were flexing as he thrust his two fingers up and in, while his thumb angled upwards to continue the steady pace on your clit. The lazy rhythm which he had set was making you sweat. He didn't seem terribly bothered by the writhing around you were doing.

"Don't you like the sight of it?" The Doctor's content was evident in the way he spoke, looking at the mess with a dreamy sparkle in his eye.

He appeared visibly intoxicated as a long and loud 'mmm' escaped you. You had a difficult time remembering that the sounds were your own; you didn't always feel physically mounted in your body during your horny escapades. Sometimes the thrall of an orgasm separated your physical self from your metaphysical self like the whites and yolk of an egg. You were being gradually poured apart with every furthering motion the Doctor made. Joules of an intense pleasure rumbled inside of you. Your stomach had a slippery feeling, like a pad of hot butter on a skillet, fuzzy and warm and enticing.

Your legs jerked around, ankles flanking into the back of his thighs and effectively pulling him closer. He was trapped between your legs-just the way he liked.

Tension unfurled in your shoulders, slipping away like drops of rain on a window pain. It tingled down your back and you tilted away, Your chin raising towards the ceiling as one of your hands roughly gripped the edge of Mr Smith's desk. Anchored to the British classroom of 2005, you started to feel the edges of a smooth and velvety orgasm close in on you. It was a feeling that couldn't be physically embodied by much else than a velvet ribbon, or a warm vanilla latte, or-

"Fuck!" You whined. "It's-"

The Doctor pushed the familiar feeling forward. It was an intensity that you could only ever feel with the Doctor, with his hand or his cock or his anything. It no longer mattered that the year was 2005; the pressure on your clit felt nothing short of a pulsing burst of energy and fire. Gold fizzled in your vision. Your cunt felt heavy. Something tickled behind your bladder, the feeling making you beg. "Doctor, wait!" You urged him as you pawed at his torso. "I think I'll-"

"That's what I want," the Doctor muttered. "Don't worry, darling, I'll take good care of you. It's alright. Just keep squirming like that and let me rub your pussy to completion. Don't tire yourself-I want to feel you with my cock, too, so just relax and enjoy it. Can't you try?"

The urge to clench your walls and even the muscles around your clit was hard to fight. But when you did, it allowed an enormous wave of pleasure to drown you. You tremored and babbled a string of incoherent words. Some kind of begging, you think, or perhaps declarations of love, hatred, or anything in between. Passions had built up inside you and now they're spilling out like the waters from a broken dam. Judging by the bleary grins of content through your teary eyes, you were praising him to high ends. Likely spilling out your love for him and his hands.

Pressure started to release as the gradual high came about. It wasn't an overt transition from pleasure to climax; it was never black and white, it was a grey scale that slowly blossomed to a bright gold and silver. Weight transpired from the top of your head to your torso and then to your belly. It sank low, behind your ovaries. A heavy, swollen sensation was hanging right over you, taunting the burst of energy that would soon make a mess over the Doctor's hand and shirt. You feared the worst as you pathetically tried to wiggle your hips around. You were so close to that feeling. If you just pushed yourself a little bit more than you could reach it.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're about to cum all over me," the Doctor murmured in a harsh tone. "That's repulsive. That's so human of you. It's disgustingly easy to make you leak with just a hand."

You buried your face into the chest of the Doctor, trying not to be too loud with the whimpers and shallow breaths you were releasing as though you were a television woman in labor.

Babbling out vowels, your entire body released a burst of warmth; like pink ribbons and fresh croissants and the tops of your thighs after you sat by a bonfire. The convulsed through you as that swollen feeling finally burst, indeed making a mess on the Doctor as you feared.

You looked down at yourself in shock. A grim sense of shame started to take over the pink-flakey-croissant-bonfires-with-Rose feeling. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, your voice a cracking piece of foil as the Doctor licked the corner of his mouth. He quickly licked his fingers clean before shaking his head. "No, no, don't apologize," he said as he quickly moved his fingers to the button of his pants. "It was quite a learning experience, I should say. I learned that you are a very cute, young, little cunt in desperate need of an older, wiser cock. I'm just going to give you what you want. You don't have anything otherwise to say. I know you don't."

You shook your head as you watched the Doctor palm himself. His bulge was prominent and you had to restrain a whimper as he pulled back the boxer briefs he wore, which you insisted on because he wanted to wear boxers, but you found boxer briefs undeniably sexy, and so he wore them; he couldn't exactly do otherwise when the Tardis was replacing his go to wardrobe with other garments--it was totally accidental the way the Tardis now listened to your opinion before his. But he couldn't deny: blood runs thicker than water. And your blood had sizzled on the heart of the beloved Tards. So yeah, sometimes the Tardis chose to play Christmas music when it was only November (according to the earth-calendar programmed into the mainframe, but that was also another story).

You pulled him down by the scruff of his neck, forcing him to kiss you as he played with himself. Your sloppy kiss was all tongue against tongue, open mouthed groans into one another as you guided his hand up and down on himself.

Now leaking precum, he smothered himself In the lubricant and thumbed the slit of his cock, a clenched-teeth hiss escaping himself as you urged him to prepare. But the Doctor likes to edge himself; he likes the discomfort of wanting to chase an orgasm, the self control it required to ignore the body's instinct.

"Come closer," he groaned against you. His forehead rested on yours. You both watched him pump his cock a few more times; your chest was rising and falling as hard as his.

He guided himself inside you, kissing your forehead as he slowly inched forward. The brief discomfort as he pushed past the curve of your walls was strictly rewritten into a song of bliss. Mint green paint, fresh croissants with oozing chocolate, an open campsite by the sizzling fire.

He hunched over your little figure; he was completely towering atop you, the size of a dire wolf pinning a rabbit against his own torso. He grunted as he pulled himself out only to slam his way back in, the motion making you feel full and heavy.

He worked his hips to thrust in and out of you, pulling himself practically to the tip each time. His hand was tending to your clit as he moved. Each touch on your clit felt like torture, in the best sense. You already felt swollen and every touch was amplified. The starts of a new orgasm made you tired and shudder, your mouth desperate for water as it worked its way through your body.

"You're so small," the Doctor huffed through a laugh as your figure jerked with each thrust. You were trapped against his torso, feeling the doubly beat of his hearts pounding as he plowed in and out of you. "So pliable," he added as he groped the side of your thigh exposed by the wrinkled fabric of your skirt. "So hot and tight while I have my way with you. You couldn't help yourself. You just had to be fucked right now, just like this. Always needing my attention, always, always. I never thought you'd be so bratty in public! I like it."

"Stop talking," you groaned. "That's all you ever do. Talk, talk, talk. I think you like that, more."

The Doctor gripped your chin, slowing his movements down. His hand skittered away from your clit but you were quick to pin it in place. You pushed one of your fingers inside of his mouth, watching him pucker his lips around the digit and sucking. His thick eyelashes fluttered before he jerked his head back. "Not your turn, princess," he sneered. "I'm in charge right now."

"You like when I'm in charge, too," you retorted. "You could just give up, you know."

The Doctor once again groped at you, squeezing hard on your pebbled nipples with a growl of warning. "Not the time," he told you with a rough thrust up. It made you gasp and heel over as the spotlight of sudden pleasure shone over you; the Doctor smirked as he carefully weened his way back into a quicker pace than he had been previously going at. "Don't you dare stop," you pleaded as you gripped him by the collar of his button down. "Or you're in for a load of trouble when we get home." The Doctor's brown eyes twinkled at the idea: home on the Tardis, being straddled and used by you, it sounded like a marvelous plan.

"I'm not the one who's about to get a load," the Doctor said, grinning at the gross slang, but he was unable to really care because your cheeks had tears dripping down them. "Can't wait to see how full you become. I'll be dripping down your legs the rest of the day."

"Shut up," you whimpered as you tilted your head back.

Honestly speaking you quite enjoyed his babbling chit chat. He really did like to hear himself talk. You liked it as well.

"Make me."

You two pressed your mouths into a rough mold, your tongues slithering over tips and teeth. Your arms wrapped over the back of his neck, locking him in place. His chuckles dripped down your throat as he vocalized his own pleasure. Your breathing hastened. Panting like a dog in the summer heat, you were kissing him back as if it were a fight for your life. You clenched all your body into a rigid stake as the peak of the orgasm finally prodded into your cunt. The Doctor's hands pressed into your hips and legs, his thumbs rubbing calming circles into you as he moaned. He was much more accepting of the pleasure wave as it rode through him.

Hiccuping whimpers fluttered into the Doctor's mouth as your slick, wet released. The feeling made the Doctor groan, loud and strong as he finally released the gates of his own seed. He grunted as he made sloppy thrusts; cum mixed and squeezed out of you like the lemon custard in a powdered donut, a rare, sweet, tart taste that made your eyes water.

Your mouths pulled apart with a loud smack. You both looked down at the mess. He pumped in and out a few times, hissing as you suckled a bite on the underside of his jaw. You cried out a curse as he swiftly pulled out and gripped his cock, the limb still half hard. He pushed the tip of himself against your clit, making a harsh circle so your bodies both shuddered. "Too much," he said between clenched teeth. He released a breath as final spurts of his seed painted on the lips of your pussy.

The strain on his chest eased.

The Doctor swayed forward. His face lulled into a lazy grin, tucking itself within the crook of your neck. Carefully exhaling your last deep breath, you slid back so you were laying face up, looking at the ceiling as the Doctor remained curled atop you. He hummed with content, rubbing his hand over the soft skin of your pelvis. Your skirt was still flipped up; his pants were unbuttoned.

Panting. The fluorescent lights seemed so homely in the aftershocks of this feeling. Left over in your core was the tingling of the orgasmic pain on your clit, now soft and bruised, but for good reason.

"I really think there's something strange going on," you mentioned after a few minutes of calm silence. You softly scratched his scalp, combing through his soft hair while he purred at the feeling, reminding you of a cat. "This school seems off."

"I'm tired," the Doctor said. "Work seems boring, now."

"It's life or death," you pointed out.

"Is it?"

"You're just fucked out, aren't you?" you pointed out again but with a laugh this time.

"Yeah, you're probably right...probably."

"I'm always right," you informed him. "The sooner you realize that, the easier your life will be."

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chaichaiiskai · 5 months

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Hi okay so if you're still doing a request can I get a (baki) Pickle x bottom male reader. So I want public sex where Pickle FuCks Reader Hard infront of everyone kinda like the reporter scene but you know with consent but if your not comfortable with that just normal rough sex in a bed room or forest since that's where Pickle is from.

If your not comfortable with this then that's okay i understand.

notes: OKAY, so, I did not see this until I wrote the last pickle request so I'm gonna connect this ask with that one— it's right here if ya wanna read it, deffo recommend it bc of lore :D hope ya enjoy this too !!! can't even lie, I'm thoroughly invested in the story of Pickle and Cucumber and I'm honestly thinking about keeping these two as reoccurring on my blog ngl.

warnings: mdni, homophobes do not interact, amab reader, he/him pronouns, violence against others that aren't reader, murder, blood and blood depictions, brief description of violence against woman and their wombs, mxm, pickle is very protective and basically yandere but who wouldn't be during the jurassic time period, rim jobs, lack of prep before anal, noncon mentioned but not against reader, reader is called cucumber by the facility and is basically a nickname, cumflation, belly bulge, size difference, very massive, very long, giant cock that is more weapon than genital, rough and unprotected sex bc duh they're both primitive men, hunting of animals, drugging // food tampering— I think that's it, lemme know if I missed anything.

The ultimate goal of the experiment was to further test the pure, raw strength of the primitive man when fueled by emotion and longing, going without food for a week. And their experiment proved to be true, far too true as a matter of fact. Multiple casualties would be forever staining the pages that reported the experiment and any sane person would have ended the experiment then and there to reunite the two lovers again.

However, a man at the top, who thought of nothing but himself, wanted to see just how far Pickle would go, even if that meant more casualties would have to be made. And so, the bloodbath ensued.

As Pickle roamed the facility halls, wave after wave came at him, rubber bullets aimed his way and raining on him that proved to have no impact on him whatsoever. He easily swiped aside the nuisances that are in his way, swiping away the small people until they go flying, hitting nearby walls— the sound of cracking bones, splattering, and coughing is sickening. So sickening that some of the scientists, though they love their jobs, find themselves going against the higher-ups.

One bravely moves in front of Pickle and holds his hands up, attempting to seem as if he was defenseless and then began to point behind him, pointing at a large door that was down the hall the primitive man was currently stalking down.

"He's there! There!"

He quickly announced, and then used his other hand to wave in the direction of the security camera he knew was currently watching the entire sight.

And on cue, the giant doors opened. To your surprise, the wall opening woke you out of your forced slumber that was brought onto you by a primitive form of depression sparked by your loss of companionship.

With heightened abilities, Pickle smelled you before he saw you, and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he was unable to make a sound, simply getting into all fours again and bounding towards you at full-speed. Despite being weakened by the lack of nutrients, you slowly sat up onto your hands and knees before feeling yourself being tackled back to the ground, bodies rolling until the two of your slammed against a tree, Pickle's back took the blow and nearly uprooted the thing. He rolled again onto a patch of grass, still holding you comfortably in his arms until you were in a patch of grass, dropping you onto your back while he buried his face into your neck, starting to nibble onto any part of it that he can reach, sharp fang-like teeth scratching over your skin and leaving indents.

The door to this new enclosure is shut and on the outside, the cleaning procedure begins, but not without some scolding to the researchers who went against the higher-ups. Cucumber and Pickle did not seem to care about whatever was going on outside of them, far more focused on each other and keeping each other close.

From then on, Pickle cannot be more than a foot away from you, and he can only sleep when he's on top of you, shielding you from whatever threatens the outside.

The only scientists he allows inside the enclosure are small, fragile-looking women. He'd already killed a few of the male scientists who dared to enter, a warning and a threat. And recently, in hopes to appease the two primitive men and get back on their neutral sides, wild animals have been introduced into the enclosure, giving the illusion of a hunt for the both of you, and unfortunately, your enjoyment in fruit had been ruined thanks to the scientists and their cruel, cruel experiment.

You were only able to eat what Pickle hunted, and in another week, you looked more alive again, even helping with the hunt and relishing in Pickle's presence yet again. So far, it seemed that Pickle seemed to enjoy crocodile meat quite a lot, whilst you had your own preferences. And once you were back at a healthy level of energy, Pickle immediately recognized it and let his instincts win, one could not blame him for feeding into such carnal desires.

After an especially filling meal, you find yourself being hunted just like your previous meal, but it's the kind of hunt that gets the hair on the back of your neck standing. Your primitive partner growls at you in a suggestive manner and suddenly, he's chasing you around the enclosure, getting the adrenaline pumping in your veins and his. And when he's had enough, he's got you pinned down onto the ground, pulling at the loin cloth that keeps you from him until it comes off, making him toss it aside. He's hurried and hungry, yanking his own loin cloth off as you roll onto your stomach, eager for him to mount you, hardened cock swinging between your legs while a bead of pre dribbles out the top. You're on your knees, propping your body up in the ideal position for— breeding essentially.

Pickle is eager himself, lining his massively thick, veiny dick up with your rim, nearly growling at the anticipation as he presses the head against it and starts to push. Every part of the tanned man is large, including his third leg that was just a few inches over a foot in length and thick like a world record-breaking, sizable anaconda. He tried to force himself into you, but you push him out, obviously because it's been a while and it seems to frustrate the beast, eliciting a growl from him as he eyes your little hole with his brows furrowed. Everytime you breathe, it winks at him, almost like it's taunting him and you can't help but to grow frustrated, huffing at him from over your shoulder, but he can't stop staring at your hole, curious eyes drilling themselves into your ass.

Then, yet another instinct comes over him as he leans down, shoving his tongue past the first ring of muscle, the fat thing nearly longer than his cock. The sensation is strange but it only makes more pearls of pre dribble from your tip, your own cock seemingly throbbing as his wild tongue throbs around inside of you from behind, forcibly stretching you with its width. The muscle thrashes around inside of you, wildly moving about, darting in and out of you like an excitable puppy drinking water from a lake. His tongue movements are uncoordinated and hungry, so much to the point that it's darting about with no clear destination, even causing a few stray licks to the underside of your balls that makes you flinch every time.

Pickle isn't particularly sure what he's doing or why he's doing it, but he couldn't stop himself from feeding into the curiosity. It surprised you as well, considering he's never done to you before and you had never felt so good down there like this.

Shamelessly, a group of researchers and scientists were watching this ensemble unfold in real-time, gathered around with food in their hands like shameless perverts watching an adult film.

For science! They would most likely say, ignoring their own instincts to shove a hand in their pants at the scene in front of them.

The licking, although pleasant, was becoming too much and there was a buildup you were feeling in your shaft that had you panting like a dog, clawing at the ground and smashing your skull against the dirt. For some unknown reason, Pickle took your sounds as a signal of sorts and he remembered his own issue, heavy uncircumcised cock seeming to throb and lift with eagerness. Yet again, he pulls himself back to position himself properly, lining himself up with your hole and then pushes the tip in, a chirp of excitement escaping him as he plunges in deeper, going in about halfway before you feel as though the insides of your stomach are literally being rearranged. Fertile balls are pressed up against yours as he manages to jam every inch into your awaiting hole, somehow you're able to take every inch, an impressive feat within itself. Perhaps, this is why he took you as a lover. A flash of memories comes to mind to both you and Pickle.

. . .

Pickle had his share of sexual partners— instinctually he went after women, who he ultimately killed by accident after ripping through their wombs with the deadly length between his thighs. He had found a woman once, able to take him fully, but she did not recuperate his feelings and escaped him after a session of breeding. Eventually, Pickle stumbled upon Cucumber, a man of smaller stature than him, but strong in his own way. Their first meeting was anything but friendly, both of them going after the same prey of a Jurassic animal, looking for their next meal, fighting each other while simultaneously fighting the creature in hopes of getting meat. Ultimately, they ended up killing the beast together and bregrundingly shared, taking from the hunted beast without acknowledging each other much after.

But through unfortunate events, you continued to run into each other at different points in both of your traveling journeys, but continued to ignore each other regardless. And on one of those fateful meet-ups, however, Pickle had made a mistake— a mistake that brought on a sense of fear that he'd never once had to deal with before.

Consuming a wasp.

The pain he'd felt from it made him more vocal than ever, scaring away beasts and other people alike. However, Cucumber was not fearful, instead, he went a pang of sympathy for the man who he'd considered somewhat of a companion.

Immediately jumping into action, tapping into a nurturing side that he sometimes would ignore, he wandered hurriedly to the nearest lake of water, cupped his hands and gathered a healthy amount of it into his hands and wandered towards the other man. He growled at that primitive man who was still in excruciating pain, opening his mouth in an attempt to get the message across to him and with tears in his eyes, Pickle obliged, reminding Cucumber of a whimpering babe who was hungry for milk.

Dumping the handfuls of water into Pickle's mouth, you watched as he held the water in his mouth for a moment and then spit it out, along with the wasp, coughing up quite a storm. You frowned as he coughed, hesitantly patting his back afterwards, and after a while, you left to gather something to soothe the residual burning— fruits, which you forced Pickle to eat, despite his disdain for eating things that he did not hunt himself. But when he did as you wanted, the burn disappeared and you were ready to take your leave after helping him— only to have the man hot on your tail, everywhere you went, following you closely from behind.

Surprisingly, you didn't shoo him away, and that was what began the true extent of your strange relationship. It didn't take much longer before he would develop something new, love, and you returned the feeling. And in a moment of intimacy one late night, under the stars, he'd mounted you for the first time like a woman and breeded you under the moonlight. It was somewhat romantic, even with the guttural sounds of pleasure and delight that came from you both. And when you took him in his entirety without complaint, he was even more infatuated with you than he'd already been.

. . .

The primal man is grinning at this point as he's able to properly mount you, beginning to thrust at a pace that has your body rocking back and forth, his mouth and the area around it shiny with his own saliva as he plunges further. You're lucky you're stronger than the average and modern man, claws digging further into the dirt to keep yourself from toppling forward. Pickle is pounding into you, thrusting his hips with a tenacity that's enough to shake the trees around you, you're lucky your body is built for the brutality.

Watchful eyes are carefully observing, even going as far as to have a discussion onto why the two of you had chosen each other as mates since there was no chance of either of you reproducing. Then again, did reproducing matter much to the primitive people of your time? Apparently not, though Pickle seemed to be /breeding/ you as if it were indeed, possible.

Poor Cucumber was experiencing the true strength of Pickle's excitement, quite literally being fucked into the ground by a beast of mass destruction. The researchers collectively feel a sense of great respect for you as you handle the creature on top of you with gritted teeth, groaning and growling as you take every inch. It's a rough experience that leaves you teary eyed, wobbly lipped, and whining, just like all the other times he has his way with you. Pickle doesn't seem to let up, not even when your teeth chatter as a familiar and growing pleasure comes over you, blossoming in your hips and cock, strings of white spewing from your tip and onto the ground beneath you in spurts that seem to last far too long. Your cock seems to soften after cumming a second time, though it continues to twitch and swing with the pistoning of barbaric hips that continuously drive you forward. Squelching and the sound of skin repeatedly colliding is nearly as loud as the proud growls Pickle does, his chest vibrating with an animalistic equivalent of pride when you cum, squeezing his erection enough to milk him just right.

And fortunately, your poor hole doesn't need to take much more abuse before Pickle reaches his edge as well, unleashing copious amounts of his load into you, cum spilling out the edges where your bodies connected, dribbling out in the dirt like lines of salt. You'd felt full like this before, never able to get used to the feeling but still enjoying it regardless, a strange after result is the slight pouch in your lower belly that is made due to an immense amount of cum. Pickle holds himself there for a bit before pulling out and he's /still/ coming, ropes of the sticky white landing on your back and your rear, the insane amount he's dumped into you beginning to spill out and trickle from your gaping, spasming hole. Your lover lets out an affirmative, satisfied groan and then lays down onto the ground on his side right next to you. He wraps one of his lengthy arms around you and pulls you towards him, your chest neerly flush against his, and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, panting as you attempt to catch your breath, almost as if you'd been running after an especially fast prey. Pickle shuts his eyes and rests his chin on top of your head as he slowly shuts his eyes, having been drained of energy. It's not long before he's asleep and his body naturally locks in place around you, almost like a protective barrier. One of his legs is draped over yours, hooked behind your knees, his monstrous cock nestled between your thighs while yours is squeezed between your stomach and his abdomen, lower bodies entangled where it's almost difficult to distinguish between limbs. His arm is still wrapped around your back, the other had joined, slipping beneath you as his hands interlocked behind your back. This position is new, he's usually laying right on top of you when he sleeps, completely covering you up like a shell on the back of a turtle, making it nearly impossible to see you beneath him unless one looked from very specific angles.

You're tired as well, hole still leaking with Pickle's cum as your eyelids grow heavy. Your body is hot and sticky with sweat, making your skin stick to his, but you always find comfort in his presence, snaking your own arms around the massive man's body the best way you can before you drift off to sleep as well.

To the researchers and facility crew who are still watching on the security cams, they see the cuddling session as wholesome— despite the previous actions of you both— and nearly coo at the cuddling session.

Perhaps they would need to adjust their research and find different questions to think about...

#— chai’s asks. !!#— chai rambles. !!#— anonnie. !!#male reader #x male reader #amab reader #baki smut #baki the grappler smut #pickle x male reader #pickle x y/n #pickle x reader #pickle x you #pickle baki #baki pickle #yandere baki hanma pickle

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sparkles-rule-4eva · 1 month

Text

"Sonic vs. Tails - The Ultimate April Fools Battle"

AO3 link if you'd rather read it there ;)

6:38 a.m.

Early on a Monday morning, Sonic awoke to a rocking sensation. For a moment it was nice, soothing even, and he thought perhaps he'd fallen asleep on a hammock or something.

Except, it was in fact not soft fabric beneath him, but wooden boards.

A faint smell of salt alerted him next. Then a strong gust of wind. Then the cry of a seagull.

A seagull?!

His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, panic immediately flooding his chest upon seeing a huge mass of water all around him. He found himself sitting in a wooden fishing boat, smack dab in the middle of it.

He jumped up to his feet with a squeak of true fear, wobbling as the rocking of the boat nearly made him lose his balance.

He raced to the pole where the sails were attached and jumped onto it, full-body clinging to it with both arms and legs. "HOW IN MOBIUS DID I GET OUT HERE?!" he yelled indignantly, as loudly as he could for having just woken up.

A snicker sounded above him, and he jerked his head up so fast he nearly got whiplash.

And whom should he see perched atop the sails post but his little brother, Tails, his namesakes waving around and mischief practically written all over his face.

"Happy April Fools," the smug little fox greeted him, still giggling.

Sonic relaxed slightly, but shot Tails a feigned death glare. "It's on," he shot back, unable to hide a smirk.

8:23 a.m.

He had to be subtle about this. Tails was obviously very well aware what day it was. He had to be sly.

So, for his first prank of many, Sonic ran out to buy a cheap whoopie cushion, then slipped it in the Tornado's cockpit, at a perfect angle so Tails wouldn't see it until it was too late.

He was pretty proud of himself for keeping it cool, going on runs and swinging back by the workshop every few minutes to see when Tails needed to go out for a flight.

Except it was taking too long.

If he didn't get that over with, all his time to come up with more pranks for the day would be gone. And that simply wouldn't do.

"Hey, Tails!" he called from the roof, where he'd been leisurely lounging for the past five minutes. "Wanna go for a shopping run?"

After a pause of silence filled only with the sound of some metal clanging, Tails called back, "For what? I thought we were stocked."

"No, we need more— flour." He quickly improvised, having not actually checked the pantry beforehand.

"Why do we need more flour?" Tails sounded both distracted and confused as he continued whatever he was clanging around with.

"Because bread." Sonic flipped onto the ground and leaned his head through the window. "We should make bread."

Tails finally pulled back his goggles and shot him a look. "Why do you want to make bread?"

"Don't question it, Tails! Why can't I be allowed to wanna try new stuff?"

"Because it's April Fools, that's why." Tails smirked and pulled his goggles back down, studying the chunks of metal he was abusing. "There's probably a prank waiting for me at the store or something."

Sonic clasped a hand to his chest dramatically. "You seriously think I went and sabotaged public property just to pull a prank on you?!"

Without missing a beat, and without shifting his eyes from his work, Tails replied, "Yeah."

Sonic huffed and crossed his arms. "Well, I didn't. And the only way for you to see that is to come on shopping with me. I'll even let you pick the store so that you can be sure."

Tails looked at him, arching a brow and resting one hand on his hip. "You're so random," he said, shaking his head with a grin. "You realize you can go shopping by yourself, right?"

"Well, sue me for wanting to spend time with my darling little brother," Sonic pouted, trying his best to pull off a puppy-dog-eyes look.

"Since when did you become so clingy?" Tails laughed, finally setting aside his things and flying over to the window.

Finally!

"It was inevitable. You're too loveable." Sonic yanked him into a hug, right before letting him start flying towards the Tornado.

"I don't know whether to feel touched or suspici—" Tails abruptly broke off as he hopped into the cockpit, and the whoopie cushion immediately squeezed beneath him, filling the air with its awful sounds.

His face went beet red for a moment, then he closed his eyes and sighed. Sonic had already fallen over laughing, tears springing to his eyes at Tails's expression.

"Bread, huh?" Tails sounded way too calm as he turned to face his brother, but there was a terrifying glint in his eyes.

"You bet!" Sonic laughed. "Come on, what are you waiting for? Let's go get flour!"

Tails picked up the whoopie cushion and hurled it full force at the hedgehog's face.

8:52 a.m.

After the whoopie cushion incident, Tails forced Sonic to go out shopping anyway. He even managed to trick him into thinking he was doing it as an apology.

Oh, was that poor hedgehog mistaken. He was so in for it. Tails had sent him out shopping— alone— so he could set up his revenge prank.

He decided to go with a simple one. Perhaps he would save the more intricate and wild pranks for later in the day.

This one would still be personal, though.

Barely suppressing a little cackle of glee, Tails snatched a large bottle of clear super glue and generously poured it all over the welcome mat at his front door. This glue wouldn't fully dry for another twenty to thirty minutes, and since Sonic was only getting one thing from the store, he wouldn't take nearly that long.

Sure enough, five minutes after he'd laid the prank, he heard the distinct BOOM in the distance of his brother's impending arrival.

Tails already knew Sonic wasn't going to notice the glue. If it wasn't immediately obvious, and he wasn't in danger, he didn't pay attention to detail like that.

The door handle jiggled for a moment, then was followed by a banging on the door. His muffled voice called, "Tails, if you're gonna send me out to buy stuff we don't actually need, the least you could do is leave the door unlocked for me to actually give you the stuff we don't need."

"Oh, dear chaos!" Tails called back, deliberately sounding way too dramatically surprised. "How did the door lock itself?!"

It didn't matter if Sonic caught on. If he was banging on the door, it was too late for him.

"I don't like your tone, young man." Sonic definitely sounded suspicious, and Tails could barely suppress his triumphant laughter.

"Sorry, Dad." With a snicker, he unlocked the door and swept it open, where he found Sonic standing with a hefty bag of flour, shooting him a look.

He was standing right in the middle of the super glue puddle.

"Seriously, bro? Locking me outside? That's the best you g-GAAUHH!" Sonic broke off as he tried to take a step forward, only to pull the entire doormat up with his foot and lose his balance. He tried desperately to right himself, but only ended up pinwheeling his arms, losing his grip on the bag of flour, and falling square on his chest. A second later, the bag of flour came down on his head and immediately popped open upon pricking his quills.

After the flour dust settled, the two brothers looked at each other for a solid ten seconds, the younger standing tall with his arms crossed and a smug smile, the older slumped on the ground, covered in flour to the point of looking like a ghost, glaring daggers.

He sneezed. "That was low. I like my kicks."

"They'll be fine," Tails insisted, brushing off the flour that had drifted into his fur. "I've got a solution that'll cancel out the glue."

Sonic shook himself off, then stood up and sneezed again. "You owe me twenty rings for the waste of perfectly good flour that we didn't need."

Tails stuck his tongue out at him, then started blowing the spilled flour out the door with his tails.

9:35 a.m.

Sonic took a shower after the flour incident, and he made it quick enough so that Tails didn't have any time to try anything more on him, since he was still cleaning up said flour.

Once he'd gotten out and dried off, Tails brushed past him into the bathroom, and a few seconds later he heard the shower start up again.

No way there was this golden opportunity just dangling in front of him . . .

Grinning, Sonic first went to the kitchen and hit the switch for the power hose. Next time Tails went to wash the dishes, he was in for a little surprise.

Then, very quietly, he nudged the door open to the bathroom (where Tails was still in the shower), reached in, and flushed the toilet.

A second later, there was a high pitched "Yipe!" and one very startled, very wet fox kit scrambled out of the tub at the suddenly freezing water.

Sonic heard his name screeched furiously from over his shoulder as he laughed and booked it for the front door, only to catch on the doormat and faceplant the sidewalk, his socks now stuck in the super glue still coating the mat.

10:14 a.m.

He deserved this fate, Tails claimed.

"It's called revenge!" Sonic yelled through the door from where he lay on the ground outside in the yard. "Sweet, totally fair, revenge! Can I have the anti solution for the glue now?"

"Nope," Tails called back.

"C'moooon. These are my last clean socks, I can't just take them off and put on dirty ones. Do you want me to defile the house with smelly feet?"

"Ohh, manipulation. That's a new one!"

"Tails!"

"Just wear flipflops. Or go barefoot. I dunno."

"I don't like flip flops!" Sonic squirmed onto his side. "And I don't like being barefoot! Running barefoot is painful!"

"Ah, well. Guess you'd better apologize for ruining my lovely shower and forfeit all your desserts to me for the next three months, if you ever want to run again."

"Sorry, who was being manipulative?"

"You were!"

Sonic huffed. "You know, I could just do laundry. Yeah. Do laundry and be free."

"Wow!" Tails sounded way too amazed. "That's so genius!"

"I'll wash all my socks! I'll wash all the socks!" With caution, Sonic forced his way back onto his feet, then hopped inside the house, doormat still attached. "I'll be free in a matter of . . . hours." He frowned. "Hey Tails, can dish soap clean clothes? And how fast does a fur dryer dry clothes?"

Tails was standing in the kitchen, pouring the remains of the flour that hadn't touched the floor into a canister. He eyed his brother for a moment, then smiled sweetly. "There's one way to find out."

Without thinking, Sonic broke into a relieved grin and started hopping his way into the kitchen. "Good, because if I have to be stuck like this for one—"

He turned the faucet on, and immediately a powerful spray of cold water shot out at his face from the power hose. He yelped and sputtered, immediately switching it off as he suddenly realized he'd fallen for his own prank.

Or, more likely, Tails had seen right through his prank, and had made him fall for it.

Sonic looked down at him, water dripping down his face and off his quills. Tails had lost his cool composure and was doubled over, squeaking with laughter.

10:30 a.m.

"I deserved that one," Sonic grumbled, toweling off his face.

Tails sat beside him on the porch, eyes closed in smug contentment as he brushed out his tails. "Yes. You did."

Sonic turned and grinned devilishly. "You realize this isn't over, lil bro."

Tails turned a fanged smile right back on him. "Far from it."

11:04 a.m.

Sonic burst through Amy's door and immediately said, "Ames, I need a favor!"

Amy nearly jumped out of her skin, dropping her paintbrush onto the carpet. She sighed, but picked it up without complaining, set it on the ledge of her painter's stand, and gave him her attention. "What's up?"

"Sorry for that," he said quickly, then added, "Could you make a batch of chocolate chip cookies, but like, make three of them with raisins instead?"

Amy wrinkled her forehead even as she smiled. "Wait, what? Why?"

"It's April Fools. I need to get back at Tails."

"Oh, no." Amy laughed as she stood up and started heading for her kitchen. "What'd he do?"

"Oh, many things." As Amy set to making the cookies, he told her all about the events of the day so far. He told her about the pranks on both sides, just to keep it fair.

Amy was aware of their April Fools traditions. The same basic thing had happened the past two years as well.

It had been last year that they learned the hard way not to prank Knuckles. Or Shadow.

"You should really learn to bake," Amy commented as she eventually pulled the batch out of the oven. "It's really very fun! And satisfying."

"You know what'll be satisfying?" He snickered. "The look on Tails's face when he thinks he's gonna taste chocolate and tastes raisins instead!"

Amy shook her head with an amused sigh. "That too, I guess."

They hung out together for another twenty minutes or so, then Sonic bid her farewell and took off back to the workshop.

12:22 p.m.

Tails had resumed working on whatever project he'd been doing earlier that morning.

"Yo, Tails!" Sonic raced into the room, holding the container of cookies. "Amy made us cookies!"

"Ooh, she did?" Tails immediately paused what he was doing and lit up, but then suspicion clouded his face. "Wait . . . what's going on?"

"Bro, it's just cookies," Sonic laughed. "What, do you think they're poisoned?"

Tails kept hesitating, but Sonic could see him scenting the air. Since the majority of them were chocolate chip, he was detecting that— not the few raisins.

"Okay. I'll take one," he finally relented, and Sonic handed him one with raisins.

He started heading back to his project as he took a bite, but immediately stopped in his tracks. Sonic watched him stop chewing and look at the cookie for a long moment, then turn and shoot him a deadpan look.

"You're so mean," he complained, mouth still full with the bite he refused to swallow (he hated raisins). Then he tried to spit it out onto Sonic, who yelped and raced away, dropping the container of cookies on the floor.

Tails picked it up, having already figured out that most of the others were actually chocolate chip. Jokes on Sonic, now he had all the good cookies to himself.

1:01 p.m.

Their prank fest had delayed lunch a bit, so Sonic (after eventually returning) told Tails to kick back and relax while he made chili.

Tails seemed a little too pleased with the idea, but Sonic barely noticed, too hungry to care.

As he stirred through the pot, Tails watched him, grinning in anticipation for the meal. Earlier, while Sonic had been lying around the front yard with the doormat glued to his socks and complaining, Tails had switched out the salt and sugar.

Half an hour later or so, they sat down together to eat. It seemed Sonic thought they had reached a temporary truce, but oh, little did he know.

Tails deliberately took his sweet time in spooning the chili onto his hot dog, eyeing his brother in his corner vision. Sonic had made his in no time, digging in with two big bites before Tails had even finished dressing his.

Almost immediately Sonic paused, blinked a couple times, then kept chewing. Then paused again, frowning.

His eyes flicked to Tails, who quickly resumed dressing his chili dog.

Sonic finally swallowed. "That's weird."

"What's weird?" Tails asked innocently, actually being subtle this time.

"Chili tastes more like dessert." The hedgehog squinted at him. "Did you sabotage the chili cans?"

Tails sniffed. "How dare you accuse me."

"Did you?"

"No, I didn't. The cans were sealed, weren't they?"

"Hm." Sonic took another hesitant bite, but stopped again, shaking his head. "This tastes so weird. Have you tried yours?"

Tails shrugged. "Try salting it," he suggested, avoiding the question.

Sonic grabbed the salt shaker and generously covered his chili dog with its contents, then took another bite, only to actually choke over it this time.

"Okay, did you—?!" He snatched the shaker again, shook a little onto his finger, tasted it, then chucked it at Tails, who laughed and dove out of the way. "You switched the salt and sugar?!"

"Well, duh!" Tails switched to hovering over the table, snickering. "There are no truces today, dearest brother!"

Sonic threw the too-sweet chili dog at him next, inevitably splattering chili over the table.

"You're cleaning that up!" Tails called in a singsong voice. "I'm going out to Josef's Pasta Alla Paccico!"

"OH, NO YOU DON'T!"

2:10 p.m.

They both ended up eating out at Josef's, and even though they did truly call a ceasefire for a grand total of twenty-five minutes, they split the time between actually eating and blowing their straw wrappers at people, having mini sword fights with the butter knives, and constructing architecture with the plates and takeout boxes.

Needless to say, the only reason they didn't get kicked out was probably because both Sonic and Tails were practically world-renowned.

Not long after they returned to the workshop, Sonic inevitably crashed for a nap. He usually couldn't make it through a day without a nap at some point, which was always unfortunate for him on this particular day of the year.

Tails studied him where he slept, on a branch of the tree in his front yard. He knew he'd been the last one to pull something, but hey, who said they were taking turns?

There was simply no way he was passing this up.

First, he grabbed a sharpie and very carefully drew an elaborate mustache worthy of Eggman across his brother's face. He added a few random smiley faces on his cheek and arms, as well as the phrase "SLO-MO" on one shoulder.

Then he grabbed an assortment of potato chips and began carefully stacking them on his head, in his hands, on his stomach, in an entire tower.

He made sure to take pictures through the whole process, then— leaving him there to sleep, still covered in sharpie and potato chips— flew off to print the photos.

Going above and beyond, he put the printed photos in a fancy envelope, marked them as "priority mail," addressed them to Sonic's post office box, disguised himself, then dropped them off at the post office.

An hour passed after he had done all that, and Sonic finally stirred awake.

Upon seeing the stack of chips in front of him, he promptly fell out of the tree with a yelp, and Tails started giggling.

"What did you do to me?" Sonic whined, brushing all the crumbs off his head and chest as he stood up, still groggy.

"You think that's bad?" Tails teased. "Go check the mirror."

A look of horror filled his brother's eyes, then he was gone in a flash. Tails kept giggling, and laughed harder when he heard the yell from inside: "WHY DID YOU MAKE ME LOOK LIKE EGGFACE?!"

"It's called revenge!" Tails called back gleefully. "Sweet, totally fair, revenge!"

Sonic came storming back outside. "How dare you use my own words against me."

"Sorry," Tails told him insincerely.

His brother scrubbed at his cheek. "How long will it take for this to wash off?"

Tails shrugged. "A couple days, probably."

Sonic's resulting screech was loud enough to startle away all the nearby flickies.

4:32 p.m.

Sonic spent at least half an hour in the bathroom desperately trying to scrub the marker out of his fur, but only succeeded in making it fade a little.

"Taking advantage of my sleep cycle," he huffed, reaching out to mess up Tails's bangs from where the fox kit sat on the couch. "So rude."

Tails tried to fix his bangs, while Sonic flopped onto the other end of the couch. "Consider it payback for you dyeing my fur green last year."

"You still looked cool, at least!" Sonic protested. "If Egghead sees me like this, I'm never going to hear the end of it."

"I looked like a lime!" Tails shot back. "I had to hide from society for an entire month!"

"It wasn't a month."

"Three and a half weeks. Close enough."

"Mm."

Tails shot him a look, and Sonic reached over to mess up his bangs again. He was rewarded with a throw pillow to the face.

Sonic threw it back, and it was just about to escalate into a fully fledged pillow fight when the doorbell rang.

Both of them froze, and Sonic zipped away in a flash. "I'm not here! You don't know me! If anyone asks, I'm in Holoska on a nice, arctic vacation!"

"Chicken!" Tails taunted after him, then flew over to the door and pulled it open to find Amy and Knuckles standing on the other side.

(Thankfully, the super glue had dried hours before.)

"Hey, guys!" he greeted them, stepping back to let them in. "What's the occasion?"

Amy said sweetly, "We just wanted to make sure you and Sonic were doing okay!" at the same time Knuckles said, "We came to supervise."

Tails rolled his eyes. "We don't need babysitters."

Amy glanced around. "Did Sonic leave?"

Knuckles frowned as Tails snickered. "I guess he did. He's telling everyone he's going to Holoska."

"You can't stop me!" Sonic's muffled voice shouted from somewhere towards the back of the workshop.

"Nobody's trying!" Tails called back, his voice catching on a laugh. "Just be sure to warn Jari-Pekka about your new look!"

"New look?" Knuckles echoed.

Amy facepalmed. "What did you do to him?"

Tails waved a hand flippantly. "It'll come off in a few days."

"And this is why we thought you two needed supervision," Knuckles groaned. "Today always gets out of hand."

"Do we need to separate you two?" Amy asked, although she was grinning.

Sonic chose that moment to burst explosively out of the closet, zip to his brother's side, and pull him close in a protective hug. "No, don't separate us!" he insisted, forcing a huge smile. "Everything's going just fine!"

Knuckles and Amy took a solid ten seconds to stare at Tails's artwork all over Sonic's face, then started laughing, albeit good-naturedly.

Tails grinned at where he was still trapped in his brother's hold, only to start violently trying to squirm away when said brother slipped a sharpie out of hiding and started drawing his revenge on the fox's face.

6:00 p.m.

Knuckles and Amy chose to spend the rest of the day at the workshop with them, just to make sure things didn't get any crazier than they already had. By the time dinnertime arrived, both Sonic and Tails had sharpie all over their faces, although the "art" on Tails's face could hardly be called as such. Because of his squirming during the whole process, it was nothing more than random scribbles of blue in random places on his face.

"Next year I'll dye you blue," Sonic promised him as the four of them had dinner together (after Amy switched back the salt and sugar). "We can match!"

"Pass." Tails swallowed his bite. "I'll just look like some kind of mutant smurf."

Sonic snickered. "All the more reason to do it, then!"

Amy groaned. "Boys . . ."

"Hey, we should rope you into this!" Sonic exclaimed suddenly, staring straight at Amy.

"If you want a hammer to the face next, feel free!" Amy stuck her tongue out at him, although she had to hide a giggle.

"As long as you leave me out of it, do whatever you want," Knuckles put in wearily, sounding much like a parent tired of trying to control his children.

Tails smiled at all of them. Knuckles was right; this day was always crazy, and sure, things got out of hand sometimes. But he had no regrets. It was fun. It was a stupid way of bonding with his brother, and that was something he would never regret.

A Happy April Fools Day, indeed.

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genovianxprince · 8 days

Text

OK I think I understand some of why some people in the fandom choose to make Mystra some kind of a terrible, grooming abuser to Gale. It's because every one of the companions has like a specific person you can point to and say, that is the abuser. That right there is the person who has caused the companion grievous harm. Gale and Mystra are a little more complex than that.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel technically have a whole cult/culture backing up the abuse, but you can still pretty directly point to Viconia and Shar for Shadowheart, and ultimately Vlaakith for Lae'zel as well as just... every Githyanki she ever met, except for Kith'rak Voss.

Wyll has Mizora, Karlach had Zariel and Gortash, Astarion has Cazador, all very obvious and self explanatory in the game. They were innocent, kidnapped, coerced, sold, played like a damn fiddle. But Gale?

Gale has Mystra, a goddess he loves, who also loves him, and the things they did to each other were both fucked up, and a lot of the fault totally lies with Gale! The other companions all had external forces affecting them. Gale's was mostly internal. He refused to believe he was good enough. "As inconceivable as it seems to me now, I shared a bed with a goddess and I still wasn't satisfied." A literal goddess, the one he favored, the one he was in love with, who favored and loved him back, consistently told him he was perfect as he was and he straight up did not believe her. He placed himself on a higher and higher pedestal he could never reach the top of because if he wasn't constantly climbing to some nebulous goal of perfection, then could he be good enough for Mystra?

Y'know, instead of just believing the woman he was in love with. And I get it! Insecurities suck! Especially when you've been the gifted child your entire life, perfectly talented at something that all the adults in your life go nuts over. But also, it is extremely arrogant to assume you know better than your literal goddess and be like "yo, there's a missing piece of the Weave and I can go get it" like... Mystra is the Weave, she would have known and probably sent someone on a quest if it were actually Her Weave and not Karsus' Weave.

Gale is INCREDIBLY hubristic and he keeps falling for that trap. He's overconfident. Hell, even after his year in isolation where he comes out humbled, a small group of people believing in him for a short amount of time gets him to go "omg, crown of karsus = godhood, I can totally do that and tell the gods they SUCK and overthrow Ao's rules!"

Like, babyboy, no.

Of course, Mystra is not without some fault. After Gale's initial... Folly-up, she just ignores him for a year. Damn, girl, what the hell! Well. You see. The Netherese orb is a fragment of the magic that Karsus used to try to ascend and steal her throne with. The magic that she realized was going to kill everything if she didn't sacrifice herself. For a moment, all magic ceased to exist, including Mystryl herself, and Karsus died. Then Mystra came into being. Gale tells you a short version of this story himself! So it kind of makes sense that Mystra would see this shard of magic and just... kinda have a trauma reaction! And to gods, time flows differently. It wouldn't shock me to learn she didn't realize it had been a year by the time Gale left his Tower due to mind flayer shenanigans. Naturally, she does not want to discuss the thing she's so terrified of, and just tries to have it destroyed without her having to touch it—the plan to have Gale blow himself up on the Absolute itself, and she would save his soul. And even after he disobeys her instruction, she still allows the orb to feed on the true Weave! She still lets him live without fear of blowing up randomly, even though it greatly distresses her to let this magic that killed her once feed on her own life force.

Then he reaches the city, and reads The Annals of Karsus, and realizes she's going to have to explain, despite not wanting to. And she summons him. Tells him exactly what's in his chest. Asks him to turn over the Crown and she will destroy the orb and face her own trauma, because Gale... doesn't want to die. She understands that. And she still loves him and his big beautiful brain despite how stupid he's been, and she wants to have him as her Chosen again.

Things will never be the same, of course. They both fucked up. Gave each other a bad time. But in the end, they forgive each other and move past it. Not as a couple, because things broke too much for that. But they can have a healthy relationship as Goddess and Chosen once more.

And that is what sets Gale and his trauma apart from the companions. He doesn't have a direct abuser or live in a horrific abusive society. He almost killed the goddess of all magic a second time and she had an understandably harsh reaction to that, even if it was still too harsh. I just don't believe it's only Mystra who fucked up here. Not by a long shot. Much of it lies squarely with Gale.

And, as for the grooming allegations [as far as people trying to say it is canon], literally just no. She's a True Neutral goddess. Gale literally tells you that you are not his first mortal lover, he had a few before he ever fell into Mystra's bed, and you're just the first since the breakup about a year ago. The game doesn't shy away from sex and sexual abuse in the least. Why on Earth would this be something hidden behind several layers of nonexistent subtext? It's definitely fun for AU's, but by Ahghairon's lost nose, no, it's not canon!

#my posts #bg3 #gale dekarios #mystra

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bookofmirth · 3 months

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Can I ask who's side you were on from the Ember bonus chapter? Or are you kind of neutral on it?

Oof this is so complex, anon. This is going to be so long. And I doubt that this conversation will be settled any time soon.

I wouldn't say that I am neutral because I have Thoughts and Feelings, but I think Rhys and Nesta both had good points and did dumb things. I know this post leans in Nesta's favor, but it's not anti anyone. It's more my thoughts about how complex the situation was, and why I think people did the things they did, what was motivating them. Let me explain:

Should Nesta have consulted someone about giving the mask to Bryce, even just to borrow it? Yeah, I think she should have. I knew that she had done that prior to having read the bonus chapter, and in the back of my head I thought it was so... weird for her to have given this important object of power to Bryce without asking for anyone else's opinion? I felt like I was missing some context, like why does Nesta just hold onto these objects all the time and do with them what she wills? Guess my unease was right, because other characters do NOT like how she handles the trove.

The stakes from Nesta being wrong about this were insanely, astronomically high. And "astronomical" isn't even a metaphor in this case, it's literal. She wasn't wrong, but that is a huge, gigantic, ridiculous risk to have taken. Everyone in acotar knows that the Daglan/Asteri are the beings who oppressed them thousands of years ago, and now they have proof in Bryce's arrival that the Daglan are still up to their old tricks. For the Daglan to then have these objects of immense power, potentially?? OOF. And Nesta is newer to the fae world, she may not fully grasp the gravity of the situation, so she probably wasn't working with complete understanding of the implications.

I mentioned that the group chat has been ACTIVE on this topic, and @areyoudreaminof (I think it was Kelsey, if not correct me) said that perhaps Nesta was thinking that by doing this, she could help humans in some way. Maybe not the humans she grew up with, but somewhere, Nesta thought, maybe she could do something good for other people who are effectively powerless. So I understand why Nesta did it. This was also after she had spent a bunch of time with Bryce, they learned about each other's worlds, and I think they had attained a sort of understanding.

Also side note, but people didn't trust Nesta with Made objects in acosf either and that was condescending as fuck - maybe she didn't want to be just as shitty to Bryce as everyone had been towards her. I get why people don't trust them with these objects, but in a way it comes down to underestimating them and not understanding their intentions.

Was Rhys right to have lost his mind about the mask going to another world? Absolutely. The Night Court is his responsibility, which means that everything that happens there ultimately falls to him. His fears about the Daglan invading again have been real since he saw Aelin falling through the sky. He's been thinking about these very real threats for a while. Merrill is researching other worlds and although this hasn't been confirmed, I feel like she was brought there for that reason? To give him answers? Whether or not that's true, Rhys is the High Lord and the fact that some of the most powerful objects in their possession were off galavanting in another world without his knowledge, in a way that could literally lead to the destruction of their world - Rhys being understanding and nice about it in this situation would be totally unrealistic.

Rhys has also Been Through It in terms of war, court politics, fae bullshit. He has a much better grasp of what the consequences could be if Made objects get into the wrong hands. His fears aren't hypothetical, they are very real.

HOWEVER - was Rhys right to have treated Nesta the way that he did? Absolutely fucking not. I am honestly so sick of him being a dick to Nesta just because of shit she's done to other people. Not to him. It was so hard to read descriptions of Nesta's body language when they came back into the scene, after their fight. "Nesta's shoulders tensing, her head bowing". For Nesta to have been so thoroughly chastised by someone who already has a history of treating her like shit, it made me so mad. For Nesta, who has gone through so much growth and made so many strides to not hate herself, to regain confidence and better awareness of herself, to have been made to feel small - it makes me so, so mad honestly.

The thing is, we don't actually know the content of their argument, what Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel said to Nesta. All we have gotten thus far is the aftermath. Maybe Rhys tried to be tactful and then Nesta pushed his buttons, as she's done in the past. All we know is how Nesta acts afterwards, which doesn't make me feel charitable in terms of how Rhys handled it.

I think - and again I'll need to read more of the context of this fight which I assume we will see in acotar5 - but I think that one of the main reasons Rhys was pissed off and reacted the way he did was because of his ego (and fear, even if it's justifiable). He's so used to calling all the shots, to having everything under control, that I think he's not used to anyone else having power on the same level as him. Power in this sense refers to authority, the ability for other people to make these kinds of decisions without consulting him. He's used to being the Big Man in Charge and Nesta is clearly a threat to that. This is all my headcanon/assumptions about how he's feeling, but... I'd be surprised if I'm off the mark, based on his past behaviors and the way he makes executive decisions without consulting the IC, who ostensibly exist in order to support him.

Basically, I think that Nesta was on shaky ground in letting Bryce borrow the mask even though it did turn out okay in the end, but Rhys was wrong for acting out the way that he did.

This is only somewhat related to your actual question, but I think that this is one of the scenes that we will see in acotar5, made possible by having Azriel's POV, him as the main character.

#hofas spoilers #spoilers #house of flame and shadow #house of flame and shadow spoilers #ask #anon #rhysand #nesta #acotar #acotar/cc #crossover stuff #hofas bonus chapter

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restinslices · 2 months

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Hey sorry I’m the Liu Kang requester that accidentally put you through a tone of pain (sorry bout that)

Gimme angst of him seeing the woman he loves dying and getting reincarnated over and over again and no matter what she keeps dying in his arms by unnatural causes. This is his last time, his final try to save her. Will he save her? Or will she die again?

Firstly, no need to apologize lol. I’m just brain empty 6/7 days of the week. Funny enough, once you sent this I got more ideas for Liu Kang so we’ll see more of him once I finish all my requests. Secondly, I really like this prompt. I really like this trope in general. But I feel like I wrote it so bad😭. I don’t feel like I did it justice. As I was writing it I was like “the hoes not gon like this. Why is my brain buns?”. So, apologies in advance-

When Liu Kang returned with Raiden after speaking to the Elder Gods, the last thing he expected was to see a blood bath caused by Sindel.

Bodies laid on the floor perfectly still. It was like someone laid a bunch of mannequins down and dressed them up to look exactly like the kombatants he cared for, and honestly if this was all just some cruel joke and everyone stood up and laughed, he would've breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the anger would kick in later, but he'd sigh and say how happy he was to see everyone still alive.

The only body that moved was yours.

Your legs moved very slightly and your voice was so quiet, he was sure he wouldn't have been able to hear it if he wasn't silenced by shock.

He ran over to you and crouched by your side, “you are alright” he tried to offer both of you some sort of hope even if he knew it was not true. In reality you looked terrible. There was a deep slash that went from the side of your neck and diagonal down your body. Blood covered your clothes and soaked the floor beneath you and in all honesty, he had no idea how you were still alive. Perhaps it had something to do with the theory about animals. He wasn't calling you an animal and he didn't see you as a pet, but there was a theory that pets waited for their owner to return to them before they died instead of dying on their own. No one knew why. For comfort in their final moments? To say goodbye? For one last moment together? It was a question that would never get an answer and Liu Kang wondered if that theory went for friends and lovers as well.

“Don't speak. Preserve your strength. We'll find you help”. Your hand went up to caress his face and Liu Kang leaned into it, his face memorizing how your fingers felt against him. He wanted to have hope. You were strong enough to raise your hand to him so surely you'd be ok if they got you medical attention.

That hope was snipped from him within seconds.

As quickly as your hand raised, it fell back to the floor and your body went limp. That was it. There was no inspiration speech you gave before you died or some emotional moment he'd see in the plays he watched. It was over as soon as it started.

Your death upset him, yes. What really pushed him over the edge though is that his trip to the Elder Gods meant nothing. Shao Khan got closer and closer to invading Earthrealm and the Elder Gods refused to intervene. Their absence should've meant something. He should've came back with good news, but instead he came back with no answers, no help, no idea what to do next and hardly any friends left.

Your death plus the others is what ultimately led him to going against Raiden and his own untimely death.

In one universe, that was it. His pain was over. Liu Kang died, Earthrealm was invaded and Shao Khan killed everyone else. It's not what he wanted but being dead meant no more sorrow. Your bloody body was no longer imprinted in his mind and he would never touch his own face while imagining it was your hand again.

That's what happened in that timeline.

In another timeline, things were different, yet you still fell victim to a brutal fate.

The past and present merged for reasons unknown. You, Liu Kang and Kung Lao were sent to the Academy to make sure your enemies would not reach the Grotto. After dealing with traps, Scorpion and a Revenant Jade, he could feel how tense you were.

“You are silent” he stated, “it is not like you to be so silent”

“It's nothing”. You responded too quickly, but Liu Kang knew you. Sure, you could be quiet at times but completely silent? Your face bunched together? Fingers tapping against your leg as you walk? It wasn't “nothing” and he was sure he knew what you were thinking. It was something both you and Kung Lao seemed to think. Kung Lao had just been the only one to voice his concerns.

“They were mistakes-”

“How many mistakes can one person make?” You interrupted, “how many lives can be lost because of 'mistakes’? Raiden seems to make constant mistakes that hurt everyone around him, yet he escapes”. He understood your frustration. After all, he was told Raiden murders him himself, but was it murder if it was an accident? Could any of this be pinned on Raiden, the man he worships and respects?

No. This wasn't on him. Everyone made mistakes and some of your deaths weren't on Raiden at all. Some of you made your own stupid choices that led to your death. His version of Raiden would never do something so foul to any of his followers on purpose.

Liu Kang grabbed your hand -ignored Kung Lao's immature disgusted noises- and stopped the both of you from walking any further. “You can't lose faith in Lord Raiden”, you went to protest but he stopped you “if you want to blame him, then you have to blame me as well”.

You looked even more displeased than before, like he had said something treacherous. Was it though? Liu Kang didn't blame Raiden when it came to all of your deaths. He blamed himself. He's Earthrealm's champion, the chosen one if you will, and he couldn't save anyone? Wasn't that the point of him? To save everyone and give everyone a sense of hope?

Then his mind went to his Revenant self. In this timeline he saw his friends slaughtered like pigs and lived with this guilt, even if it was only for a short while. And now they were all revenants and Liu Kang couldn't help but wonder if this twisted version of himself still carried that guilt or did he see it as a blessing now?

Your fingers touching his cheek brought him back to reality, but that calming feeling only lasted so long. He didn't know how to describe it or why he was feeling this way, but he felt this tenseness all over his body like something terrible was going to happen.

“Why would I blame you for my death?”

That tense feeling became worse and he couldn't help but look around as he spoke, “I accompanied Lord Raiden to speak with the Elder Gods. If I had been there, then perhaps…” he didn't have to finish for you to understand. You snapped your fingers in front of his face and drew his attention back to you,

“I don't blame you for my death”

“And I don't blame you either. How sweet” Kung Lao said impatiently, sarcasm seeping through his words. “Now can we keep walking?”. He supposed he was right, even if he hated it. Before he started walking again, you placed a kiss on his cheek and Kung Lao once again voiced his disgust with sarcasm, “can I give you a kiss too?”.

“Something you wish to tell us, Kung Lao?” You joked and if it wasn't for the danger you three were in, he'd say he was really enjoying the quality time you three were spending together.

Kung Lao went to respond, but was interrupted when a figure came into view. A man with brown skin and these weird cracks that made him seem like he had been broken and put together multiple times and golden clothing. He was tampering with something he should not have been and Liu Kang knew he was in for another fight.

“Is there any point to us asking you to put those back?” he asked.

The male hardly regarded him and responded with “they said you'd come”.

“Who said?”.

An eerily familiar voice spoke out from the darkness, “who do you think Kung Lao?”.

Bright red eyes.

That's the first thing he saw.

Three pairs of these eyes lit up in the darkness, and the only time Liu Kang was able to focus on anything other than that, is when they all came fully into view. They were you, but a twisted version. The versions of you that were corrupted and no longer cared for Earthrealm, but about what they could gain and destroy. Your revenants. That feeling of dread got stronger and he put his body in front of yours like a shield.

Revenant him spoke next, “welcome to your future. Courtesy of Raiden”.

“Our future may be tragic, but it's not Lord Raiden's fault. You've all been warped by Shinnock's evil”.

“Raiden’s continued ignorance gets others killed” revenant you said, “how many times can he excuse deaths by saying they're mistakes? While he consulted with the Elder Gods, Sindel wiped us out”.

“Shao Kahn snapped my neck in the arena” revenant Kung Lao said. “Raiden saw it coming, and did nothing!”.

“I would have defeated Shao Kahn, but Raiden wanted the glory. His lightning cut me down”

“No!” Liu Kang exclaimed, “I don't believe that!”.

“One day Raiden will betray you. Then you'll believe”.

What happened next is something Liu Kang has tried on numerous occasions to forget. It's why he tries to stay busy. As long as he's busy and his mind is preoccupied, his mind will hopefully not replay the events that happened.

“It happened so fast” is clichè to say. He knew this, but it genuinely went by so fast. One moment he was fighting against himself, and the next everything went wrong.

That sense of dread and fear got worse and worse and it wasn't for Kung Lao. He worried about him the normal amount you'd worry about your friend in kombat. All these feelings were about you. He had been so distracted and constantly looking over his shoulders at you, that he hadn't realized how desperate the revenants had gotten for a win. They were losing and they had to do something about that.

Liu Kang didn't see “Kung Lao” take off his hat and throw it at him. All he remembers is seeing you run at him, colliding with the floor after you kicked him away, and the hat decapitating you.

It was one of those moments where everything seemed to stop. In reality, he only stared at you for a few seconds. In his mind it felt as though he stared at your limp frame for hours before the blood pooling out of your neck was too much for him and he had to look away.

He had failed… again.

It seemed as though the Elder Gods enjoyed laughing at his torment because they gave him what could be his final chance.

“Are you upset with me?” Liu Kang asked. Not too long ago he was forced to reveal the truth about the past timelines and the danger you were all in and since then you kept quiet and to yourself. He wouldn't blame you for being upset, but he really hoped you weren't. Confused or shocked, yeah. Just not upset.

“I'm just thinking about our plan against Quan Chi and Shang Tsung” you answered quietly. He hated you weren't looking at him and for the first time ever he wished he had the power to read minds instead of fire. Maybe that was a blessing though. Your thoughts could possibly destroy him.

“But that is not all” he challenged. “Tell me”.

“Is that an order from my creator?”

He frowned and although he wanted to touch you, he kept his distance. “It is a request from your lover and friend”. You turned to face him and thankfully, you didn't seem upset. He expected something worse, like you yelling and looking at him and horror but instead you just looked lost. That was the best way he could describe it.

“I'm sorry, that's not fair to you”.

“You don't have to apologize to me. Just please, tell me what you are thinking”. You sighed and after what seemed like some debating, you stepped closer to him and grabbed his hand and the beating in his chest slowed.

“Were we lovers in the past timeline?”, he nodded and he had a feeling he knew where this was going. “We are replacements for what you lost and that means-”

“No” he said louder than he planned to.

“The memories you have with me aren't actually with me. I'm not the actual person you're in love with. You want me because you want her”

“You're wrong” his voice came out stern and his eyebrows lowered, “the reason I am yours is because I adore everything about you. I brought you back because I valued who you are as a person, but I was not drawn to you because of who you were”. He brought your hand to his cheek, the feeling being familiar in a painful yet comforting way. “I see you for you, and our memories are ours to make”.

You smiled at him and instead of feeling relief, a familiar feeling of dread creeped up on him.

No… no this wouldn't happen again. It couldn't.

His calm facade slipped and the pain of the memory showed on his face. He tried to cover it up, but he was too slow. “Memories?”, you asked. He nodded. “What happened to us in the past timeline?”.

He shook his head, wanting the memories to go away. “A story for another time” he replied grimly and stepped away from you. As bad as it sounded, Liu Kang didn't want to love you. He wanted to bring everyone back, including you, but he wanted nothing to do with you romantically. A mentor type of relationship would hopefully make the possibility of losing you hurt less, but fate brought you back together again. When fate brought you together, it always seems to cut you down. Two steps forward and three steps back.

“I don't know if this will help, but if something terrible happened to me… I don't blame you. None of us blame you for any of our untimely deaths”

“I don't blame you for my death”

That was the last thing you said to him.

Your words were so similar yet different, and that uneasy feeling got stronger.

“Perhaps it would be best if you stayed behind” he tried to say as calmly as he could. Maybe this was the wrong decision, but he didn't wanna scare you and telling you about your untimely deaths in both timelines seemed like the wrong idea.

“What?” You asked confused, “we need all hands on deck. I'll be fine”.

“You can help in your own way”

“How?”. He hadn't thought of a task or an excuse to use and as he tried to rack his brain for an answer, you spoke again “for your sake I can stay right on your tail. You'll always know I'm right there but Liu…” your hand found his again, “over worrying only leads to bad things. Remember that”.

What he felt next was weird. He considered your words and as he did so, that feeling of dread started to slip away. He didn't understand why and he didn't realize what the best course of action was until it was too late.

You accompanied him and many others to stop Shang Tsung and Quan Chi and that went as well as anyone with his luck could expect. He had found out Shang Tsung from the original timeline was still alive and actively trying to destroy his era of peace, and then to make matters worse, an evil Raiden and Sindel made their appearance. Raiden was simple but being there and watching Sindel challenge them all gave him memories he didn't even have.

He wondered if this is what happened to the past version of you. He wondered how different it was. He knew Sindel killed you and other kombatants. Is this how it happened? His attention went to you and that feeling of dread got stronger and stronger.

This was it. This is when it'd happen.

He stayed close to you the entire time and since he was so distracted, Sindel took the opportunity to use her hair to grab both your ankles and knock you both down.

Liu Kang saw you try to get up to assist Sindel with her evil counterpart, and he gripped your ankle and pulled you towards him.

“What are you doing?!” he saw how angry you were and he hated it, but he'd hate you dying even more. He kept a grip on you, so concerned with keeping you down, that he stopped paying attention to Sindel. He was only alerted to what had happened when he heard Kitana and Mileena scream.

Sindel had been fatally wounded.

Guilt pushed down on his shoulders and he let you go. Why couldn't he do both? Protect you and save Sindel? Then he felt even more guilty because he let out a sigh of relief when he realized that he broke the cycle. He won!

He won.

He won?

Why did that feeling of dread get stronger?

The feeling of dread and death got so strong, his shoulders actually felt weight on them. It felt like multiple people were pushing his shoulders down, while he tried his best to stand up.

One last battle was left and he knew you absolutely could not go. This timeline must've been different. It made sense. The first one Sindel killed you, the second one revenant Kung Lao killed you. It must be the battle that kills you in this timeline.

He couldn't let that happen.

“You've gone mad if you think I'll stay here!” You weren't exactly taking his command the best, but he knew this was for the better. This battle had to be what would kill you. You had to stay far away and locked away.

“I realize now what I must do to save you. You have to stay here until the battle is over. You'll be safe”. He tried to stay calm, hoping it'd ease your mood but it seemed to do the opposite. You weren't known to be angry, so seeing you look so bitter and hateful made his heart ache but he knew he was making the right decision.

“You're insane. I have to help” you tried to walk away but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him harder than he meant to.

“No! Do as I say” he meant for it to come out commanding, but there was an edge of pleading. “Have faith in me”.

“Faith?” You gawked, “faith? In you? What about you having faith in me?!” You yanked your wrist away from him and rubbed it. “I could've helped Sindel and saved her life, but you kept me down!”

“Sindel would have killed you! Forgive me if I can't allow that”

“So my life is more special than everyone else's? You let everyone fight, get hurt and die but somehow I'm more special? Do you not see how twisted that is?”. He didn't wanna think about it that way. He felt awful after Sindel's death, but he would've been paralyzed if it was you instead. It made him feel guilty, as if he personally killed Sindel himself. It wasn't like that though! You wouldn't have stood a chance! Why couldn't you see that?

“You never let me do anything. I love you, but you suffocate me! I can't be more than two steps away from you without there being a problem”. He was protecting you like he knew he had to.

“I worry-”

“You worry too much! What good comes from being paranoid? I've said it before. Only bad things happen when you over worry”. You tried to walk away again and he grabbed your wrist again.

“I can't let you fight with us!”

“Why can't I be your champion?!” You shouted. “Why Raiden instead of me?!”

“He won-”

“He won a mini tournament you didn't even let me participate in, even after I asked you to!”. You were right. He remembers you begging for days, but he always said no. He made the excuse that you were better by his side and for immediate support but in reality, you in Mortal Kombat was a risk he didn't want to take.

You did something he didn't expect next. You pulled out the amulet Raiden was supposed to have, out of your pocket. “This should be mine”.

“How do you have that?”

“Raiden is easy to steal from. I don't know how he's survived this long” you said dismissively. He didn't like it. That amulet gave you more confidence and he couldn't afford that. You'd understand why he was so protective once the fight was over.

“It doesn't belong to you for a reason. You're not Earthrealm's champion for a reason. You can't fight in this war for a reason”

“You want to lock me up like I'm your enemy! Like I'm a prisoner! I'm not Bi-Han!”

“You are not a prisoner. You're protected”

You let out a frustrated sigh and took a moment to collect your thoughts. “I'll return this, but when are you gonna realize the only way we're gonna work is if you let me out this cage you built?”. The sudden softness of your words took him by surprise and his grip loosened enough so you could slip your wrist out.

You walked away and the further you got, the more that pressure eased up on his shoulders. It didn't make sense. Why was that feeling changing now when you were leaving him? You weren't supposed to leave! You were supposed to stay here, safe and sound and wait for him to come back to you!

His mind was moving fast and without truly thinking, he shot fire in front of you. “Stop!”

He regretted it immediately. You had no warning and as the fireball passed you, it burnt one of your hands badly. You screamed and held your hand with your other, trying to soothe a wound he knew wouldn't stop aching that fast.

His heart sunk and he froze. To say he felt awful would be an understatement. He wasn't quite sure how to place it, but “bad” or “awful” weren't the right words. He never meant to actually harm you. It was the last thing he wanted to do.

Feelings of dread reached an all time high when you turned around, a mix of hurt and rage on your face. “You'd hurt me to make me stay?! Enough of your madness! If I have to fight you, then so be it!”.

He felt the same feeling he had when he watched you die. Everything was so fast, yet slow at the same time.

You pulled out the amulet and lightning flew. Liu Kang shot fire at it and that's when he realized his mistake.

A reaction happened and since the lighting was attached to the amulet, all that power surged back at you, throwing you back and severely burning you.

“By the gods! No!” he shouted and ran towards your body, which seized before going limp.

No. This was not meant to happen.

This isn't what he wanted.

He held your now bloody and burnt form, hoping that someone you'd make a recovery. He wanted to scream and burn everything down to the ground. How did he manage to fail again?!

“Forgive me…” he muttered.

You said nothing in return.

As he sat there in complete silence, the smell of burnt flesh filling his nose and tears falling down his face, he thought back to your words from before.

“Over worrying only leads to bad things. Remember that”.

“You worry too much! What good comes from being paranoid? I've said it before. Only bad things happen when you over worry”.

That's when it hit him.

Your death to Sindel may have not been his fault, but him carrying the guilt of your death plus others clouded his judgment. He refused to listen to reason. He attacked Raiden and he was killed because of it.

He was so focused and worried about you during your battle against the revenants, that he became sloppy. If he was focused, he would've noticed Kung Lao throwing his hat at him. He would've reacted in time. You wouldn't have had to kick him away and you wouldn't have died.

If he let you go, you could've helped and saved Sindel.

If he let you join the final battle instead of being paranoid, he wouldn't have accidentally harmed you and you wouldn't have attacked him. He wouldn't have had to fight back and you wouldn't have died.

If he wasn't so paranoid to begin with, you wouldn't have been as frustrated and maybe you would've actually stayed behind.

How did he not see it before? He gave up his power as a Titan, fearing he'd go insane like Kronika, but in his own way he had done the same thing. His need to protect became over worrying and that became paranoia and he allowed it to destroy himself and worst of all, he allowed it to destroy you and your relationship.

The crushing feeling getting lighter when you talked about him letting you go, or you walking away, was because that's what he was supposed to do. There was nothing wrong with protecting, but his paranoia led to your downfall more than once. Maybe there were even more timelines that ended in your death or both of your deaths.

The more he understood, the more his chest burned and the louder his sobs got. How could he have been so blind? How many times had he failed? Why did the Elder Gods punish him instead of the actual evil people in the world? He wasn't perfect by any means, but where was this sort of punishment for people like Shao? Or Shang Tsung? Or Quan Chi? Or anyone else who had wickedness in their heart and fed off chaos and strife? Why did he have to suffer such a cruel fate over and over again?

Maybe if he could somehow get his powers back or see if Geras could reverse time or erase this timeline and start again, he could do better.

He could erase all he did wrong. He could keep his era of peace. He could save everyone. He could save you.

All he needed was one more chance.

Although I think this is buns, the reader’s death mimicking Liu Kang’s death in MK9 eats down

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #liu kang x reader #liu kang x you #liu kang mk1 #liu kang #liu kang angst #liu kang x y/n #mk1 angst #mk1 oneshot #Liu Kang oneshot

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 2 years

Text

I don't remember why I wrote this but uhhh here's a short thing

Jazz waited patiently, in the Arkham Asylum staff parking lot. She could hear the sound of gunshots going off behind the thick walls, and some kind of minor explosion rocked the ground.

But still she waited, quietly, leaning against her car with an arm full of reports she was taking home to fill out and file.

She stared at the back door of the facility, it was thick steel, requiring a specific passcode to open. It was updated regularly, which made it hard for the staff to remember and caused many of them to write it down somewhere. Jazz had brought the issue up with her supervisor, he said he would look into it. That had been a month ago.

The steel door swung open, and out stepped the man she had been waiting for.

The Joker cackled to himself as he slammed the door behind him, trapping several other crooks that were hot on his tail. Jazz could only just hear their cries of outrage.

"So long suckers!!" The Joker cried mirthfully, before stopping suddenly in his tracks, an inch away from running directly into Dr Jasmine Fenton, Arkham's newest resident psychiatrist.

"Dr Fenton!" he grinned, giving a dramatic low bow. "What a delightful coincidence this is!"

"Hello Mr Joker." said Jazz, she referred to all her patients with professional respect, whether she knew their true names or not. The ones with doctorates seemed to appreciate it the most, very few people referred to them as 'Doctor' once they entered the halls of Arkham.

"You know I was really hoping we would run into each other." Joker placed a hand against the car, looming over the shorter woman. "I think conversation flows much more freely without that pesky glass between us, don't you?"

"I was just thinking that myself actually." said Jazz. "So when do you plan to return to Arkham?"

"Return?" Joker asked, before throwing his head back with a loud cackle. "Well that's just terrible for the self confidence Doctor, you don't have even a little faith in me keeping out of trouble?" he batted his eyelashes innocently.

Jazz met his grin with a polite smile of her own. "Oh? I'm sorry, I just assumed your stays at Arkham were all voluntary."

"Well that is an interesting observation," a twinge of curiosity tugged at his eyebrow. "Now what on earth could have put a silly little idea like that in your pretty little head?"

"You're an intelligent man Mr Joker." Jazz shuffled her papers absent mindedly. "I have no doubt you could stay out of Arkham if you really wanted to, but that would require killing the Batman and, well, we both know you won't do that."

Joker's smile dropped into a scowl, something Jazz recognised was dangerous territory, but she knew what she was doing.

"Oh? You think I can't kill the Batman?" he asked, his teeth glinting as they clenched tightly together.

"Oh, no, I know you can kill Batman." Jazz clarified, "You just won't."

Joker paused, it was one of the few moments Jazz had ever seen him caught off guard. She continued before he could collect his thoughts.

"Like I said, you're an intelligent man, a lot more intelligent than people give you credit for. I imagine it's hard to find someone you can match wits with, it wouldn't make all that much sense if you finally found someone and then just killed them off."

A familiar smile began to creep back onto Joker's face, pulling Jazz back out of the danger zone.

Another explosion rocked the ground, and more shouts were heard from inside the asylum. Joker had almost forgotten he was in the midst of a jailbreak.

"Aren't you observant." he said in a low, calm voice, narrow eyes focused sharply on her face. "So tell me little miss smarty pants, what's keeping me from killing you?"

"The joke." said Jazz, primly.

"What?"

"The joke." she repeated. "Your joke, the ultimate joke. I get it."

"You get it?" Joker asked, his face awash with confusion.

"You won't kill Batman because he's fun, sure, but the fact that he won't ever kill you either means you're locked in an eternal battle." Jazz shifted the papers under one arm as she reached for something in her pocket. "For as long as you refuse to kill him, he's stuck in your game, and if you finally push him into killing you, he'll still lose because it means you broke him. The only way he can win is if he dies. It's funny."

She held out her car keys.

"Please trash it when you're done, if they find it in usable condition my insurance won't cover me for a new one."

Joker snatched the keys from her hand, his usual grin stretching from ear to ear.

"Pleasure doing business with you Dr Fenton." he bowed low, and almost lost his balance as another explosion rocked the ground. "Ah! Amateurs!! Can't even get through the outer wall!"

He jumped into Jazz's little yellow Mazda and hit reverse hard, the tires squealed as he pulled around, bringing the car window back up alongside Jazz, nearly hitting her in the process.

"Just one more question." he said, pulling a gun from somewhere under his jumpsuit and pointing it directly between Jazz's eyes. "What makes you so sure I won't kill you?"

"Oh, I wasn't sure." Jazz replied. "It was just a hunch."

"You aren't even the littlest bit frightened of me?" he pouted, batting his eyelashes again.

"No." said Jazz, bluntly. "But please don't take that personally Mr Joker, you are a very imposing man. I just don't fear death. My parents have a portal to the afterlife in their basement, and it's actually a pretty nice place."

Joker's face froze for a moment, before he burst into outrageous uncontrollable cackles. He hit the accelerator and smashed Jazz's car through the security gates, the sound of crunching metal only briefly drowning out his laughter before he took off down the road.

Jazz watched him go, swearing under her breathe.

"Shit."

The security door behind her slammed open as three guards piled out and stared helplessly at the gate. One of them turned to her.

"Did he hurt you miss?"

"No," Jazz huffed, "Stole my car though. I tried stalling him as long as I could. How on earth does such a high profile villain keep escaping?"

"Corruption miss." the guard answered honestly, his voice quiet. "I'm sorry you were left to defend yourself, you're lucky to be alive. The Joker murdered his last three psychiatrists the moment he had the opportunity, I can't imagine why he spared you."

"I think he thought I was funny." said Jazz.

The guard paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah I guess that'd do it. Don't worry about your car, Arkham's insurance will cover it. I got mine stolen in the last jailbreak, my new one is much better, the windows actually roll down." he grinned, before clapping a hand on Jazz's shoulder. "I'll see about getting you a ride home after debriefing."

"Thank you, how long do you think it'll take?"

The guard grimaced.

"I hope you didn't have any plans tonight, you directly witnessed an escape, you're gonna have a lot of forms to fill."

Jazz sighed. "Alright, lead the way."

Jazz's shift had finished at around 5pm, she didn't arrive home until 9, thankfully one of the kitchen attendants happened to live a few blocks over and had been happy to drop her off.

Jazz shuffled up the steps to her apartment block, stifling a yawn as she pulled out her keys.

Her hand paused, inches away from the lock. She tilted her head slightly, toward a dark alleyway between her and the next building over. She could have sworn she'd heard something, a light step, the smallest crunch of broken glass being disturbed.

She stared over into the shadows, maintaining eye contact with the darkness as she unlocked the door and opened it, but she didn't step inside. Instead she stood back, held the door open, and waited.

After a few moments of silence, a shape emerged from the alley, splitting from the shadows as though it had been a part of them.

The Batman walked up her steps and passed through the open doorway. Jazz followed, leading the large man up to the second floor and into a small studio apartment.

"You have good eyes." He said, in a low, quiet tone.

"Ears." Jazz corrected, as she made her way over to the tiny kitchen. "I grew up with a brother who would sneak up on me any chance he got, he was good at it too, was practically invisible. I got used to listening for his footsteps. Tea?"

"No thank you."

She prepared herself a cup, seemingly unbothered by the vigilante in her living room.

"So can I assume this is about the jailbreak at Arkham?" she asked. "I don't know what I can tell you that you can't get from hacking Arkham's computer system, which I'll guess you've already done. I gave my statement and filled the reports, it's all there."

"They were very brief."

"There wasn't a lot to say." Jazz shrugged. "I tried to stall him until the guards arrived, I failed, he took my car."

"Security footage showed you handing him the keys, after waiting in the parking lot for several minutes."

"I have a good rapport with all my patients, I believed I might have been able to stall whoever came out long enough for security to catch up. When I felt our conversation was running short I distracted him by offering up my keys, should I not have?" she raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure that would have gone just great for me, the man has killed people over far less."

"But he didn't kill you, unlike his previous psychiatrists."

"What exactly are you insinuating?" Jazz turned from the kettle on the stove to face the man. "That I just let him get away? That he bribed me?"

"Bribing you wouldn't keep him from killing you, it likely would have increased the chances. Loyalty means nothing to a man like Joker."

"Then what do you want?" Jazz asked, exasperation clouded her face. "I've been answering questions for the past four hours, you can go read the transcripts instead of bothering me."

"The conversation on the footage appeared longer than the one you recounted to security." Batman stated, still speaking in that low, unwavering monotone. "I want the unabridged version."

Jazz chewed the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she'd picked up from her mother. Before she could say a word the kettle on the stove began to whistle, she hurried to take it off the heat.

"I said as much as I could without breaking patient confidentiality." she admitted as she poured herself a mug of green tea. "I only gave what was important, I said as much during the security debriefing."

"And they accepted that?"

"If it's not relevant to them they don't care." Jazz blew on her tea before taking a small sip. "If you want to know why he didn't kill me, I can only give you my best guess."

"Which is?"

"I made him laugh." she shrugged.

The room was quiet for a few moments, the only sounds coming from a light pattering of rain just starting to hit the windows, and Jazz softly blowing the steam from her tea.

"Is that why you were able to stay calm? You knew how to make him laugh?" Batman asked.

"Oh, no, it wasn't even a joke, more like a personal anecdote." Jazz shrugged. "I shared it more with the intention of peaking his curiosity than making him laugh, seems like I got lucky."

"Hm." Batman grunted. His eyes narrowed beneath his cowl, pensive. "You said you have a good rapport with your patients."

Jazz nodded.

"Joker notoriously despises any psychiatrist assigned to him, the only one he didn't kill he manipulated into working for him." Batman's voice softened almost imperceptibly with concern. "Do you think he might see you as a potential victim like Harley Quinn?"

Jazz's gaze dropped to the floor as she took another sip of her tea.

"I've already considered that possibility, but trust me when I tell you that I'm not that easily manipulated, and I'm not speaking out of arrogance." her eyes flickered up to meet Batman's directly. "I'm speaking from experience, I have gone toe to toe with severely disturbed manipulators in my own personal life, I know what to look for."

Batman nodded slowly.

"Good, but stay vigilant, the Joker is smarter than-"

"People give him credit for, I know." Jazz nodded. "And he knows I know, I'm not sure he's had a doctor acknowledge that before. Not according to his previous mental health records anyway. I don't think he was expecting that from me, it might have been a contributor to his decision not to kill me."

"There's still one thing I don't understand." Batman glanced over to the window as the rain began to slap more heavily against the glass. "In the footage you were completely calm, not even your body language showed any sign of tension, despite the fact that you were not entirely confident that you could convince Joker not to kill you?"

"That's right." Jazz continued to sip on her tea. "Are you familiar with my family?"

"I can't say I've had much of a reason to be. Yet."

"No, no you wouldn't have. Not many people do, not unless you run in very specific circles." Jazz lowered her mug down to the counter with a little 'clink', "I stayed calm because the worst thing the Joker could have done in that moment while he was in a hurry was kill me. He wouldn't have time to torture me, he'd want to just to get me out of the way. I'm not afraid of death."

"What does that have to do with your family?"

"Look them up." Jazz crossed the room and opened the door into the outer hallway. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have paperwork to complete."

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