#shadow milk why do you have to be like this
Text
You know what could be a way to make beserk dark cacao relevant again?
Have gingerbrave and the others bring him along for when they go up against mystic flour cookie.
Like, with all of the beasts now free after them going up against shadow milk (i think? Idk, i havent played the beast yeast episodes in a while), they could call one of the other ancients for help.
When they actually MEET mystic flour, mystic could possibly try to break the group up or get rid of them by making cacao go beserk and have him go after them
They could be like:
"It's safe to assume that you all are wonderful friends, am I correct?"
"Well, I can sense darkness from within one of you, and it feels as if it's been there for quite a while."
"And friends don't hide things from other friends, now do they? That would be quite a shame."
"Why don't you discuss this with them?"
Then just turn to cacao and he just denies it, pretending that he doesn't know what they mean
"I'd be glad to give you a little... push. A friendly reminder, since clearly, you have forgotten."
And then mystic flour does something, and then boom
Cacao goes beserk.
VERY high chance it won't happen, since devsis likes to pretend as if that form doesn't exist, but hey
Let me dream 😔
#cookie run kingdom#dark cacao cookie#beserk dark cacao#mystic flour cookie#its literally the PERFECT opportunity for it#COME ON DEVSIS
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Puppets of the Gods
(Aka that one AU where the Cookies of Darkness get possessed by the beasts)
Get ready, this’ll be a long one
The AU starts with Dark Enchantress and main group of the Cookies of Darkness (Pomegranate, Poison Mushroom, Licorice, Red Velvet, and Affogato) heading to the great tree for an audience with the beasts. In this audience, the beasts demand cookie bodies like they do in game. Dark Enchantress though, instead of making new cookie bodies from scratch, offers up her subordinates as vessels and the plot begins.
(Yes that is a paper bag on his head and no I will not answer why the paper bag is grey)
SILENT SALT COOKIE
Silent Salt and Burning Spice fought over who would get the guy with the massive sword and arm. Since Burning Spice was too busy arguing with Silent Salt, they ended up getting Red Velvet instead. He’s not a terrible body to host. Strong. Nice sword. Quiet. Though he could get over the cake monster things. Silent Salt is allowed to take out whatever they want.
RED VELVET COOKIE
As a loyal member of the Cookies of Darkness, he accepted the possession, practically welcomed it. Well… he did. I mean sure Silent Salt isn’t the worse to be possessed by. He’s seen Affogato’s and Licorice’s state. It’s just… so quiet. Too quiet. He’s locked in this mind space watching Silent Salt wreck his life’s work and hurt anything that comes in their way. Maybe if Dark Enchantress knew what was going on she would help… if only he could find a way out.
BURNING SPICE COOKIE
If Silent Salt wasn’t such a big fat paper bag, Burning Spice would’ve gotten Red Velvet. But noooo he had to get the other brat with a big scythe. Licorice Cookie or whatever his name is, he’s frail, bratty and won’t shut up or stop escaping. It sucksssssssss. At least he hates Mystic Flour’s vessel as much as Burning Spice hates Mystic Flour!
LICORICE COOKIE
Alright, maybe this makes Licorice Cookie not the most loyal Cookie of Darkness but he HATES BURNING SPICE! If he had his diary (which Burning Spice looked through btw) he would be scribbling so much the paper would be soaked in pen. Everyday he and him argue and argue about what to do. It’s not Licorice’s fault that this man doesn’t know a spell book from a piece of toilet paper! Ugh… he just needs to find a way out.
MYSTIC FLOUR COOKIE
Pomegranate Cookie is loyal and quiet like a good pet. Her hair is annoying to deal with. They spent hours just trying to figure out how to take it out of those buns. Then there's her whole obsession on Dark Enchantress Cookie. Sinful and annoying. Does she not understand caring is a waste of energy? Alas
POMEGRANATE COOKIE
She knew of her master's grand plan since Dark Enchantress thought of it. She gave up herself as soon as Dark Enchantress gave out the order. She did everything Mystic Flour said just as Dark Enchantress had ordered her to do. She sat by and let Mystic Flour destroy her room, clothes, mirror— she’ll sit silently and let all happen. She can’t let her master down even if it destroys everything.
SHADOW MILK COOKIE
You know, he’d prefer Pure Vanilla. He’s more fun to toy around with! This dumb one is such a boreeee. Traumatize him once and he’s all like “I’m emo and sad and stay quiet in the mind space” it ain’t t all bad. Having a body is just soooooo much fun! He gets to play with cookies for real now! The world will remember how fun he was ;D
AFFOGATO COOKIE
When Dark Enchantress Cookie offered up the Cookies of Darkness, Affogato Cookie ran. He was barely a member anyways! He shouldn’t have to be puppeted like a worthless… well.. puppet. It doesn’t matter anymore. Shadow Milk knows everything and just how to screw with his head. He hates it. Makes him want to go back to the hell of the Dark Cacao kingdom.
ETERNAL SUGAR COOKIE
She wanted the pretty girl to be her vessel! Not some kid! Sure she was a little slow on pickings but still! They just sleep around and asks for bedtime stories and shroomies. What the actual oven is a shroomie anyways??
POISON MUSHROOM COOKIE
The pink lady is pretty. She reads them stories and snuggles them in her wings. It’d only be better if she had shroomies
And that’s all! If you have any questions feel free to ask! Thanks for reading!
#cookie run kingdom#crk#crk fanart#pen sketch#beast yeast#the beasts#cookies of darkness#crk au#au posting#au info#affogato cookie#poison mushroom cookie#pomegranate cookie#licorice cookie#red velvet cookie#dark enchantress cookie#silent salt cookie#burning spice cookie#or red spice idk man#mystic flour cookie#shadow milk cookie#eternal sugar cookie#I Lowkey hate all of their designs#but that’s okay
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" (if you know, you know)
+ other versions:
#cookie run fanart#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#crk#pure vanilla cookie#shadow milk cookie#fanart#illustration#digital illustration#rendering#shadow milk why do you have to be like this#you're too silly#the sillies#I can't take this anymore#seriously I'm at my limit
723 notes
·
View notes
Text
-->And then I noticed Shadow was whining for a walk, and Alice's Fury was starting to build to dangerous levels, so Victor got sent out to take the dog on a nice long stroll around the countryside, and Alice got sent out to indulge in some zoomies! Leaving poor Smiler back home to handle the farm all alone. XD They did quite well on their own, though -- finished cleaning up all the plates; started the laundry; petted the kittens; harvested all their herbalism stuff and plasma fruit; gave Moory a good thorough brushing (which she enjoyed) and told her a joke (which she didn't); and fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, and cleaned the chicken coop! I mean, it's pretty easy to get around when you're a vampire and have one of the game's best teleports with bat form, but still. Good job, buddy! :D
-->Victor and Alice eventually came back from their adventures in the countryside -- though it took Victor a little while longer than Alice. Mostly because Shadow kept doing that thing that Sims 4 dogs sometimes do on walks, where they just run off in a random direction REALLY FAR AWAY, and then their owner gets stuck waiting for them to come back. (Though at least once Victor turned the tables on Shadow by running far ahead of HER, as you can see in the pictures.) I finally ended up just canceling the walk entirely when Victor got REALLY stuck on the bridge over the river Bagley near their house. Mostly because the poor guy was STINKING, and he couldn't do anything about it until the damn walk was over. Once he was freed, he was able to Scruberoo himself -- and pick up Shadow's poop, because of COURSE she waited until this very moment by the bridge to do her business. *sigh* At least it's good fertilizer!
-->Alice, for her part, came back from her Zoomies in good temper, and after a somber howl to drop the Fury down to pretty much nil, went ahead and had a little dance time before marking her territory and getting in a nap. She woke up and changed back to normal around the time Victor got home, and then went to see if Moory would enjoy her jokes better -- apparently not, judging by that facial expression. This cow does not have much of a sense of humor! *shakehead* Sad.
#sims 4#the lazy save#victor van dort#alice liddell#smiler always#Victor and Alice: Bye Smiler we're off to walk the dog and walk myself have fun running the farm!#well Smiler did pretty well for themselves#like I said having that bat teleport helps but still XD#and yeah poor Victor spent so much time just standing around as Shadow ran all over the damn countryside#like I don't know WHY the game allows dogs to do that#I know that dogs may often want to run ahead of their owners but still#that's a bit extreme#at least Victor was able to get her to come back to the bridge in the end#and use Scruberoo to fix his stinkiness problem#a shame that I'm pretty certain you can't Scruberoo pets#that would make bathtime a whole lot simpler#ah well Shadow will be scrubbed sooner or later#and yes Moory is a hard cow to please sometimes#at least she hasn't kicked over the milk pail yet!#queued
1 note
·
View note
Text
they keep the silverware in the same place. you forget about it a little bit when you move out, but during the holidays, it comes back. the way you smooth over your life for them, a gentle reckoning.
for a while, you tried to find yourself by being wild. throwing your body at the emergency exit. finding comfort in the sharpness of a held breath. you used to write wake up on the inside of your wrist. you couldn't calculate the weight of your own sorrow, only that nobody was looking at the anchor of it. you tried maladaptive coping mechanisms like catnip. got caught half-in half-out of them. felt, weirdly, like you should be embarrassed of all of it.
but it does get better. mostly it's just that you become a priority to yourself. it turns out that lending yourself the ragged edge is just cutting open more marrow. for a while, it felt good to see a physical representation of inward agony. but who was that punishing? you learned, slowly (so slowly it was almost invisible sometimes) that you could put love into the wound instead. that the floor was comfortable because it was certain - but it was cold, and unwanting. instead there is a warm bed. you learn to treat yourself like a kid again. gentle-parent yourself into the shower and over breakfast and into laughing without effort. you do wake up.
but then you come home again, and it is like everything is a strange kaleidoscope of childhood moments. here is how you inherited your mother's anxiety. there is the same music playing, and you can't sit down without worrying you forgot to do something. your mother's clipped words and hovering hands - are you sure? are you sure? birdlike, you find yourself seeing unwell and still end up repeating.
here is your father's anger. you are 16 again. there was a moment where you remember thinking - holy shit. i am so much more emotionally mature than you. how you have to talk him down from minor inconveniences, how you parent him like an errant and spoiled toddler who can't be told no, and i mean it. you feel the warp of you. why you can't be in the same room as people having a completely normal conflict. why your skin crawls if there's ever a hint of a fight. why you live with your hands up, placating. and god forbid you get angry. you feel that little spoiled kid rage against the iron will of you. not you, not your hands. you would rather cut your own tongue out of your head, no matter how valid her argument is.
and you're so fucking far from where you were as a kid. you've done so much healing. and there's this little sad part of you that can see the shadow of your past, and your hands wrapped into each other so tightly you made your knuckles white. and how much your parents are just people, and haven't changed much, and still keep the spoons in the drawer to the right.
there is a long dark tunnel here, and it has a name, but you haven't learned how to process that kind of speech yet. close the cabinet. make a note to go get more oat milk. close your eyes.
this place was never home, was it.
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
can’t quit you / miguel o’hara
word count: 1642
tags: oral sex, size kink, friends with benefits, strength kink, slight angst, commitment issues
ao3 link: here
summary: you know what an addiction is, and the definition doesn't seem too far off.
a/n: i’d like to add a better graphic but the movie just came out. one day!
small prequel: here
“This is practically breaking and entering,” you tease. You’re less than new to returning from work to a huge form sprawled across your couch. Miguel has no issue making himself at home, at least not in your apartment. You figure it’s a sign that you don’t scream at the sight of him, even if you’re stuck on how weird it is, coming home to a shadow at night and not being bothered. It’s part of his strange charm (and you secretly revel in the fact that he’s only this comfortable with you).
“Wouldn’t have to break in if you’d let me have a key,” he’s entirely serious.
“You know why that can’t happen,” you say, like you’ve had to say a dozen times. Any number of excuses come to mind. You’re emotionally intelligent enough to know that he’s emotionally unavailable, no matter what he says, or thinks.
“I can be your man,” he says with his typical resilience, “more, if you’ll let me.”
You don’t even know what more means, if he’s already in your apartment like it’s his, if he’s already been inside you like you’re his. What will one more step do? You know what an addiction is, and the definition doesn't seem too far off.
“Miguel…” He’s run out of reasons to refuse you. You’ve run out of reasons to refuse him. Nice reasons, at least. But knowing what’s good for you doesn’t mean that’s what you want.
He rises from the couch, and it is a rise. He normally towers over every piece of furniture in your place, over you. It doesn’t take much trying. You’ve wondered if it’s hard for him to always be the biggest thing in the room, but a guy like him probably likes that, likes being unavoidable.
Miguel only knows how to kiss one way, sloppy. When his lips meet yours it’s like all the desperate parts of him come out of hiding. His tongue grazes all parts of your mouth like there’s something sweet inside, and you whimper when you realize he’s swapping spit with you. Even his saliva runs a bit hotter. It makes you pull back, panting in lieu of straight up whining.
“Baby,” he says with your face in his hands, like he knows it’ll make you weak. You try to avoid his gaze but he catches your jaw, squeezed a little the way he knows you like. “No,” he sighs, long and heavy. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna say no now.”
“I’m not saying no…”
Miguel sinks to his knees and looks up at you like you take the wind out of his sails. Being able to look down at Miguel is a hard pill to swallow. “Gonna let me taste that sweet pussy again? Or are you gonna make me beg like you did last time?”
If you remember well, denying him didn’t end well for you the last time. You have flashes of being put in a press, legs to your ears with Miguel growling, talking about the feeling of your wet cunt on his dick, about how good you felt milking him, about how if he didn’t know any better he’d think you want his cum. You didn’t even know he could talk like that, talk about anything other than preserving and protecting. It’s like a switch is flipped when he’s with you, even if it’s been weeks or months between seeing him.
You give an inch and he takes a mile. Lifts your thigh over his shoulder so he can get at what’s between your legs. His hands travel up your thighs, gripping at parts of your flesh just to hear the sighs you make. When he goes under your skirt you expect to feel something, his fingers or tongue, but instead it’s just him breathing against you. Smelling you.
“You’re disgusting,” you whine, flushed anyway.
It doesn’t stop him, probably encouraging him instead seeing as he nestles his face in deeper, grabbing your hips so you can’t pull away. Your squirming only pushes him further into you. You can feel his nose bump your clit, and his tongue pushes fabric against your pussy.
“Miguel, come on.” You feel so ridiculous, even though he can’t see you.
“I want you to beg me,” you hear him say, “I want you to beg me like you made me beg the last time. Bet you feel just as needy as I did. I can hear it in your voice. so it shouldn’t be that hard.” He starts to palm you just to prove a point, dragging thick fingers up and down your slit. It doesn’t take long for you to start soaking through the fabric.
“Please,” you murmur, “pleasepleaseplease.”
“Please what?”
“Please, Miguel, touch me. Touch my pussy.”
“All you have to do is ask, baby.”
You feel him drag your underwear down your legs, toss it somewhere in the room. Then he’s free, free to pull apart your folds so he can see you clench and drip around nothing. He leaves you just like that, before you feel the heat of his tongue, lips following soon after. And it’s not just touching, it’s like he’s making out with it. You can’t help the throb that goes through you, and you’re sure he can taste it in his mouth.
You shiver at the heat of him, aggressive and persistent, not unlike a raging fire. Your body is torn between reactions, goosebumps on your flesh and sweat on your brow.
“It’s ok, baby,” he’s saying, sounding like he’s got a mouthful of you. “I won’t look at the faces you make. I know how embarrassed you get.”
Miguel slides two fingers in deep, and then starts curling. It doesn’t make much of him for you to feel split open. He’s big all over, everywhere where it counts.
“Cute,” he mutters, when you buck against his hand, “you still think you’re strong enough to get away from me.” His words have the intended effect. You feel powerless, so you give in. You’re barely standing on your own feet, his hand and shoulder and face giving you all the support you need.
“I know,” you moan, “I know, I can’t.” You feel yourself gone boneless in his grasp. He has you.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen: I’m gonna keep you on my fingers until you soak my hand, and then I’m gonna make us both come, okay.”
“Yes, yes, okay,” you agree without listening, “Miguel, please make me come.”
He takes away his fingers, but not before sliding them against your pussy again, like he’s trying to collect all that drips out of you. When he moans shamelessly into you, and you start to hear a slick sound, you realize that can only mean one thing.
“Are you…” You can’t say the words.
You can hear him fist his cock, spread what he took from you all over his dick, using it as lube. The sound of wet skin so loud you can almost see him. Shlick. Shlick. Shlick. You know how he gets when he’s pent up, how he leaks like a faucet if he hasn’t come recently. You’ve felt him throb in your hand, seen the dark look he gets when your hand can’t even wrap around him. Miguel moans like he knows what you’re thinking, and goes at you harder. You barely feel there, like he’s just using the taste of you to get off.
“You’re wet,” he slurs, like he’s confirming, “‘s gonna make me come.”
“Me too,” you sigh, high on the feeling of him. “I’m gonna come too.” But you can’t yet, not until you see. Your hands are clumsy and shaking as you fumble with the buttons of your skirt. You pop them out one by one until it all falls away and you can finally see Miguel.
He looks as debauched as expected. His jaw and mouth shine with what you’ve done to him, and when his eyes flicker open he looks like he’s under a spell.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is a lilting tease, “I thought you wanted me to make you come.” He looks you straight in the eyes as he leans back in, licks your clit until you whine. You’re right back on the verge of orgasm.
You know he’s close too by the way he shivers. It’s his tell, you’d realized the first time he fucks you. Miguel shakes like the pleasure is too much, and when it finally is you hear it rather than see it. Thick streams of his cum wasted on the floor beneath you. The sound of him so eleated, knowing it’s the taste of you that has him like this, has you right where he wants you.
You grab onto him as you come, feel his strong shoulders tense with the effort to hold you tight. He doesn’t let up with his mouth, licking up all of you until you shake from the stimulation.
It’s not surprising that you teeter when Miguel lets go of your legs, still weak from your orgasm. “Oh, baby,” he says, “if you needed to lay down you should have said so.”
You end up intertwined on the floor, his hand combing through your hair. You can hear him breathe deeply, and the peace of it threatens to send you into a deep sleep. It’s laughable to have him fawn over you like this, when in the morning you’ll choose to go back to separate lives, so much so that you can’t help but joke about it. “You treat all your girls like this?”
“There are no girls.”
“Sure,” you giggle, “so when I don’t see you for a month…”
You don’t believe him for a minute until you look at him, and his face is so honest, so genuine, that in the back of your mind you wonder if there could be a future for the two of you after all.
#marvel smut#marvel x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#smut#my writing#spiderverse smut#spiderverse x reader#miguel o'hara#1k#2k#3k#4k#5k
6K notes
·
View notes
Note
Thinking about the acient Y/N cookie
Imagine a Y/N cookie who was part of the first 5 cookies who were baked But this Y/N was the only one who didn't get corrupted by their powers.
Final Days (The Five Beasts)
Granted power by your Creator and tasked to bring your corrupted friends back here wasn’t the hard part…
The hard part was watching them get imprisoned, hearing their pained protests and anguish. It was hard bringing them all to one place and even harder to not fall to each of their temptations..
Mystic Flour didn’t understand why you felt the need to protect such fragile cookies, cookies that can disintegrate into nothing with just a motion of her hand. Why bother spending a fraction of your power for these helpless little things…
Silent Salt couldn’t bring themself to raise their sword towards you, someone they called a friend even after having fallen to darkness. They just didn’t get it, why you cared for these weak pieces of dough….
Eternal Sugar was the most in denial above the rest. She didn’t understand why this was happening, you had to be under someone’s control to do this to her! She thought you loved her! She’ll cry out to you as the chains enveloped her prison, to please look at her, she needs to see your face, your eyes! She weakly cries as you leave her prison, at least tell her that…you…you….
You stood up for those little cookies against him?! Red Spice is trying to rack his brain for any kind of rationalization to your choice and can’t seem to find any! He never thought the day to raise his weapon against you would be now of all times, didn’t do him any good if he’s now stuck here!
The staredown before you and Shadow Milk as his prison traps him in, his hands struggling to keep the bars apart. This was the route you chose?! Why?! It could’ve been you and him, playing the weak cookies beneath you like fiddles, having them dance to your tune! You put those frail pieces of dough before HIM?!
And yet….none of them could bring themselves to hate you for this.
They couldn’t….
———————————————————————
You…don’t really hold onto your power nowadays..less you might end up becoming just like them. It pains you to be dishonest about your capabilities, but..you try to chalk it up as being for the best. Especially in current day.
“Y/N Cookie! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you, the time of the expedition is today! Are you ready to join us?”
You chuckle to him as you finish up prepping your gear, stating that you’ll be with him and the others in a minute!
You wished you never had to go back to Beast Yeast again, but…if it meant possibly finding..her…then so be it!
#brittle answers#cookie run x you#cookie run x reader#cr x reader#cookie run#crk x reader#cookie run kingdom x reader#cookie run kingdom#cr kingdom#silent salt cookie#eternal sugar cookie#red spice cookie#shadow milk cookie#mystic flour cookie#pure vanilla cookie#shadow milk cookie x reader#silent salt cookie x reader#mystic flour cookie x reader#eternal sugar cookie x reader#red spice cookie x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
🌇 factored-antagonism 🔁 three-pronged-spears Follow
🌫️ three-pronged-spears Follow
DNI if you support Peripherism. It's literally just Slab Mongering but worse and with less effort
#wait peripherism is still a thing?????? #meaning collector point inversions havent been the norm in like 350 years afaik
36 notes
💟 pleading-intellect
GUYSSSS my overseer found a clutch of baby green lizards today they're so CUTE
#inty.txt #and BEFORE anyone accuses me of not iterating im literally running 55,458 processes rn
2 notes
❇️ string-of-pearls 🔁 rippling-shadows Follow
👤 forspoken-antiquity Follow
hey FYI everyone if you receive an ask about transcendental inversions it's a troll. i've gotten 3 asks in the last cycle
#signal boost!!
2,347 notes
🌁 nineteen-afterthoughts
"ohhh Triangulation is outdated" "ohhh Triangulators dont even factor noise milking into their research theyre a bunch of idiots" im literallu just a little guy im 4 feet tall why do you hate me
⬜️🔁 erratic-pulse
Irrelevant tangents and jokes don't help your case. Triangulationism is simply an objectively moronic take on an already superfluous train of thought. How are you supposed to find the Solution if you can't even properly look for it?
🌁🔁 nineteen-afterthoughts
you literally have Sliverist in your bio but go off
⬜️🔁 erratic-pulse
The minutiae of my theoretical inclinations are irrelevant. Your dogma is blatantly incorrect regardless.
🌁🔁 nineteen-afterthoughts
your group senior and i are raising a family together
19 notes
💽 slowly-advancing-mist
a band of scavengers literally just stole my last vat of holy ash thats it im seeking personal ascension
#vent #dont rb
0 notes
🚹 untoward-foresight Follow
Anyone else gotten really into Gold Hegemonic epic poetry recently? This one dude Eight Brass Whistles has a bunch of crazy quasi-Regeneratist stuff, it's actually really cool
🎹 east-facing-pillars
wasnt Eight Brass Whistles a heretic???? i heard he refused to shed the 3rd attachment or something like that
🚹 untoward-foresight Follow
Nah that callout post got debunked 533 cycles ago lol
🎹 east-facing-pillars
ahhh ok thanks for clarifying! ill let you know if i find anything :)
#thanks for being polite haha #lesson learned i gotta check this forum more LMAO
93 notes
⬜️ erratic-pulse
anonymous asked:
Transcendental Inversion! Transcendental Inversion!
Only someone with a fundamentally false understanding of inversion modes would send this. You can't even do such a thing without sufficient trailing bonds, which entropy renders impossible.
#Why do I always encounter idiots on this pseudonym?
5 notes
994 notes
·
View notes
Text
Soft Spot Master List
Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - Ongoing!
a series of oneshots that aren't coherent enough to be an actual book plot wise, but still take place in the same universe.
read on ao3! | playlist | dissection links
Blood Soaked Cotton: Simon Riley finds himself oddly attached to the kind woman who works at the bank he frequents. He tells himself it’s just a friendly connection and nothing more. But the day he walks in and sees the marks, he realizes just how much of a soft spot he’s developed for her.
Smoldering Butterflies: You’ve been haunting Simon Riley for awhile now. Even with the distance, he keeps you in his back pocket.
The Emptiness had Always Been There: You dig the knife in deep. Simon isn’t scared. Why isn’t he scared?
Until You: Simon is the only place that feels like home anymore, and you can’t get enough of him.
Some Other Life: The Ghost himself is haunted. Not just by the past, but by what could have been. But he’s not the only one running.
Death of Me: (three parts)
part 1: Simon returns back from deployment. Normally he comes home carrying nothing but exhaustion, but this time he brings back something that will be the death of him.
part 2: You and Simon attend the military ball, and you finally get to come out of the shadows.
part 3: Simon finally asks you to dance. It ends up being a lot more than you anticipated.
7. Worse than Death: Your holiday with Simon is short and doesn’t go quite as planned. A new member joins the family just in time for another one to leave.
8. Honey and Milk: (two parts)
part 1: After Simon was captured, your entire world was turned upside down. Despite the beatings, Simon handles himself well in the face of the enemy, like a true soldier would. Unfortunately, his captor is a very patient man.
part 2: Task Force 141 is restless without their Ghost, and the moment the red tape is lifted, they travel to speak with Mark Sizov himself. Meanwhile, you're invited to a Halloween dinner by a co-worker, but the idea of anything to do with Halloween leaves you feeling just that - hollow.
9. Everything You Touch: (four parts)
part 1: "You can't hold onto me forever."
part 2: "You knew what would happen."
part 3: "Everything you touch ends up like this, kid."
part 4: "You deserve better."
10. Sun Bleached Flies: (two parts)
part 1: Healing never comes as fast and easy as you want it to, but you try and adjust to your new life as best as you can. The thing is, there is no going back, there is only going forward, no matter how much you wished it was otherwise.
part 2: Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem. Or maybe they're worse. It's difficult to tell when you're still stuck in that basement.
11. Ischemia: Scars have healed, and the sun shines brighter, but something is still eating at Simon.
12. When Your Blood Meets Mine: (three parts)
part 1: something terrifying is writhing underneath your skin
part 2: it's growing
part 3: it's scary
13. Soft Spot: (five parts)
part 1: someone's opening old wounds
part 2: it's hard to clear your mind with so much smoke
part 3: you're so used to the teeth that they don't even hurt anymore
Extras:
non-canon request: bath time (takes place after "everything you touch")
#cod fanfic#mw2 x you#mw2 x reader#ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost x you
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Idk if ur doing cannibal reader but just imagine her and alastor teasing her and her just short circuiting and he keeps flirting with her and she s literally almost dies again lolz (also i love ur work sm)
Trying to Flirt with You
Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile
A/N: THIS GAVE ME OHHH ASHLEYYY GLASHBACKS OH MY GODD thank you for liking my fics hsdshd. I didn't do the request 1-to-1 cause i was satisfied how this turned out hsadas I WANT YALL TO SEE HIM BE AFFECTIONATE UNDER ALL THAT EXTERIOR AND WHAT HE DOES WITH HER BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
"Oh, (y/n)~"
You place your eyes on Alastor as he settles his chin on his laced fingers and smiles at you seductively. You flush and hiccup when you see his heated gaze, your eyes turning to their irregular heart shapes.
The both of you were enjoying a wonderful meal together in his room like you usually would, however he's never called you like this before.
"Yes, sir?" you sputter wiping your mouth with a napkin.
"I was just wondering how your eyes turn that way," he says while smiling at you, "I find it quite cute."
You choke on your own spit at his complements, unsure how to react to his flirty remarks. It didn't help that the radio filter enhanced everything. You covered your mouth and fanned yourself from the massive blush you had on your face.
Sure, you were used to love bombing him and all, but you never outright flirted with him since he seemed to dislike other people's advances on him. So, to not end up on his bad side you settled to a more comfortable area where he won't despise you, but he knows that you appreciate him.
So, this was entirely new to you. He never reciprocated any of your affection so what were you supposed to do?! There was no handbook for this!
"Isn't it getting hot in here? Why don't I open a champagne--" You stopped from getting up when he snapped his fingers, a shadow puppet came and delivered the champagne in their glasses while another shadow pushed you back down on your chair scooted it closer to the table.
"How about I take care of that? We've known each other for so long but I want to get to know the real you better," he replies, "I have known for a long time that you're a fantastic cook! You failed to mention however that you went to culinary school and~ owned a restaurant of your own!"
"That is commendable on itself! Why, aren't you just the perfect partner for a cannibal overlord," He claps at your achievements.
"Partner?" you whisper sweat dripping from your form squirming from the amount of attention you're receiving.
"Why, of course! If not my partner, then what else!" he laughs heartily with a laughing track, "unless, of course, you mean to be my spouse?"
Your head exploded at the thought, your heart squeezed and pulled. S-spouse? to Alastor? That was just a wishful dream you had! You never thought he'd utter the words you only dreamed to hear. Several years of you imagining to his significant other, you never imagine he'd open the possibility of it.
While you head was running around, currently, you slumped on the chair as smoke came from your head as you muttered words to yourself with a dreamy smile with an unfocused look in your eyes that maintained their heart shape.
"Oh, (y/n)?" Alastor tries again to gain your attention and pull you from your daydreaming.
However, he unsuccessful. So, he just sighs in defeat with a chuckle and took your hand that was left on the table and caressed your knuckles with his thumb as his chin rested on the other as he admired your dazed form.
He barely started his conversation with you, and you've already turned out like this. It seems he'll have to be patient with you.
🔗Cannibal Chef!Reader Taglist:
@bonnie-02, @marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich, @rybunnie, @midorichoco, @lucifers-silhouette, @kimmis-stuff, @bontensbabygirl, @janey, @akiqvq, @wonderlandangelsposts, @spoiled-slutt, @roboticsuccubus83, @atlas-rin, @yuriohoe04, @azullynxx, @milk-bulb, @rainynyy, @s2tng
#hazbin hotel charlie#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin lucifer#hazbin angel dust#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin charlie#hazbin vaggie#alastor x reader#hazbin husk#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanart#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor the radio demon#radio demon#cursed cat alastor#cannibal chef reader#cannibal reader#harleehazbinfic
416 notes
·
View notes
Note
ooH! I've had this Idea floating around in my head! Yandere!silver, with a reader who has powers that basically allow them to make people stay awake for as long as they want if that makes sense! :) remember to take breaks and drink water! ^^
Silver with a s\o who keeps him awake
Yandere Silver x reader
Silver was ecstatic, to say the least. Hands grabbing yours in gratitude, fingers trembling madly.
Sleep was his poison, his Achilles heel. As accepting as his family was of his… condition, Silver still woke up screaming, sometimes.
Forehead beaded with cold sweat, dripping down his scalp. Gruesome images of Malleus stricken down, lifeless bodies scattered across the ground, his own blade still clean.
It was his worst fear. Not the fall of the prince of Fae, not the defeat of his compadres… but the fact he’ll sleep through the battle, leaving the rest to their fate.
Yet here you are. One touch was all you needed. A simple brush of your fingertips against his skin. The drowsiness vanishes, heart thumping wildly within its cage of bone.
With those miraculous ability of yours, his eyelids will never again fall of their own accord. Silver would fall upon his knees immediately, if there was no one to stop him. A knight’s bow, before their saviour. It was the least he could do, the least he would do for you.
He would do anything for you.
Unfortunately, now you’ve earned the service of your very own knight. Silver takes it upon himself to protect you, whatever that entails. He’s never far behind, trailing behind you like a shadow. Wary of anyone that approaches, hand dancing on the handle of his Magic Pen.
Anyone could be a threat. A danger, especially to you. You were kind. Silver was well aware of that, even before you offered to help him. You would help anyone, if they needed it.
This habit of yours gives Silver much grief. Some people latch on to people like you. Milking them, for all they can give. Trampling on your kindness, always demanding more-
He’s the only one who’ll appreciate your kindness. Your love.
He has to protect you.
He needs to protect you.
He will protect you.
Bit by bit, he starts to pull you away from others. Pretending to fall asleep in the classroom, so you’ll stay behind with him. He never truly “wakes up” until everyone’s gone. Until anything that could hurt you leaves.
Gently inviting you to study sessions with him. Silver’s been dozing off most of his classes. He needs a little help catching up, and who better to ask then you?
You’ll never have a chance to be alone, not with Silver awake. Somewhere in his heart, he knows this isn’t right. It hurts him, lying to you like this. It isn’t what a honourable knight would do.
Yet the more lies he tells, the more easily they come to him. Cover stories of why he needs to stay by your side 24/7. Tall tales of why no one wants to hang out with you anymore.
Silver tells himself its all for your sake. Everything he does, it’s to protect you. It’s all for you. He repeats those lines everyday. A mantra, engraved in his mind.
It’s the truth. It’s his truth.
If he ever believed otherwise, Silver may just break.
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#yandere x reader#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#silver#silver x reader#yandere silver x reader#yandere silver#protection charm♦️
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Six becomes Five
Prologue | Part 2
As his head busted through the rift, his grin wide, Shadow Milk Cookie had never felt so alive. The world that he'd been refused and trapped from for so many years was now his once more.
Gazing down at the Cookies below, his grin stretched wider than ever. Oh, an audience!
"I am SO terribly sorry to have kept you waiting!!! Your favorite trickster is here!" He cackled, voice ringing through the air. The dark power of the void behind him swirling.
His eyes scan over the group once more, and then he spotted a Cookie he'd so desperately longed to see.
You, oh you. You looked as amazing as the day he lost you. So much had changed about you, but as his eyes landed on the Soul Jam resting on your neck, shining brilliantly in his presence, he knew it was you.
"Shadow Milk Cookie.." You muttered his name, and his heart leaped with joy. You remembered him, oh that was wonderful!
His Soul Jam shined in tandem with yours, pulsing with familiarity. Despite everything, the familiar magics wanted nothing more than to reach out and mingle once more. You and Shadow Milk Cookie had always been the closest, after all.
He was your favorite trickster, after all!
"Wait, you know this Cookie?" One of the smaller Cookies asked you, his eyes wide. "Is that why you didn't want to come here, Reader Cookie?"
...Reader Cookie?
Reader Cookie?
Reader Cookie?!
"READER COOKIE?!" Shadow Milk Cookie bellowed, rage filling him. Slamming his hands against the bark of the silver tree, he began to push himself further out. "THEY MADE YOU CHANGE YOUR NAME?! THEM MAKING YOU TURN ON US WASN'T ENOUGH?!"
You shuddered, taking a stance in front of the others. You spread your arms as you narrowed your eyes up at him. "I never turned on you! You let power and greed consume you, Shadow Milk Cookie!"
"NO!" His hands slam against the bark of the tree once more, and he began to push his body out more and more. His grin was still wide, but it was now manic and strained. "THEY TURNED YOU AGAINST US! I KNOW THEY DID!"
"Reader Cookie-"
"SPARKLING JOY COOKIE IS THEIR NAME!! SPARKLING JOY COOKIE!!!"
Elder Faeire Cookie hesitated before continuing. "Do you know this Beast?"
You merely continued to watch Shadow Milk Cookie force his way out of the tree. ".. I used to."
"He was a friend, once."
Just as you finished your sentence, Shadow Milk Cookie forced himself out of the tree, and the void behind the seal shrieked and cackled. Monstrous eyes glared and glowed, the same blue that was your former friend.
As he looked down at you all, he raised his hands. "Finally, freedom! Free to put on my shows, my acts, my performances!"
Without a second thought, a familiar scepter formed in your hand, and you pointed it towards the Beast. "Behind me."
Mercurial Knight Cookie merely brandished his spear, hovering beside you. "You will not battle him alone."
You faltered briefly, and in the knight's place, for a moment, you saw Burning Spice Cookie. Shaking your head, you looked back up towards Shadow Milk Cookie as he and his monsters lunged.
Without a second thought, magic swirled around your form, and you were your former giant size once more. You lurched forward, and your former's friend's hands latched unto your scepter. Both of you grit your teeth, magic beginning spark wildly.
Dark blue magic, like the ocean and dark night skies, mixed with your constant changing and radiant magic. The majority of the sparks clashed and shot against each other, while a few stray ones intermingled, desperate to feel familiarity once more.
"What.. are you.. doing?!" Shadow Milk Cookie asked, voice straining. "Don't tell me they.. still have you under control!?"
"There was never.. any control to begin with!" You snarled, pushing back against him.
"Reader Cookie!" Pure Vanilla Cookie cried up to you. "What are you doing?!"
"Buying you.. time!" You grunted. With a rough shove and some magic help, you shoved Shadow Magic Cookie against the tree. "Now go!"
"But-!"
"GO!" You commanded, voice echoing with your magic.
The group had no choice but to follow the order, with Pure Vanilla Cookie sending a mournful look your way before following. The shadowy monsters following after them.
You huffed, backing away from Shadow Milk Cookie. He looked at you, eyes narrow. "I'll help you remember. I'll make you realize all the good that'll come from this, Sparkling Joy Cookie."
You pointed your scepter at him. "Let's see how long those delusions last, Shadow Milk Cookie."
Potential PV Cookie x Reader for this? Who knows!
#yandere shadow milk cookie#yandere crk#yandere cookie run kingdom#cosmos constellations#series: six becomes five
504 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chains P2 | Yandere!Alastor x Overlord!Reader x Brother!Husk
Notes: I havent seen the season finale so this may have OOC characters/events/ canon divergence in terms of time.
Warnings: Yandere!Alastor | mentions of blood, fight, violence, cursing | Mentions of Alastor eating habits | grammar mistakes |
Tags: @lorkai
Staying at the hotel has proved to be both, good and bad. Good, because you got to be with your brother everyday, feeling his soul so close made your mood improve a lot. When in the past you would be more cruel, angry and always hissing now you found a part of yourself you thought you had lost. Smiling and purring (the last only with Husk), its was a good Change. You also could see the good the Hotel was making in your Brother. Now sober and less grumpy towards others. Showing sings of trust and affection.
Now the bad, or terrible was that Alastor was always around.
Always.
His shadows could not mix with yours thanks to your power, but they would follow you and then tell Alastor where you were. And Alastor knowing how much you hated him would appear, calling you "sweet" nicknames that made you give him the death stare.
On Alastor part he was trhilled to have you so close and without having to do something for it. He never undertood why you cared for Husk so much but he took it for his advantage, he knew you would not try to pick up a fight with him because of your brother. And seeing you, your eyes showing just how much you wanted nothing more to destory him but could not made him feel things he was not sure what they were but the feeling was not an unpleasent one.
~☆~☆~☆~☆
Husk prepared himself an early drink only for it to be snached form his hands. A glass of milk now replacing it.
He shoot an annoyed look but still decided to drink the milk, he took notice of the fish sandwich you have made for him too.
Oh, you could be so sweet.
"You need Real food" you simply stated, crossing your arms "I can just smell how bad you have been taking care of yourself"
"Im fine, you dont have to worry" Husk dismissed. He did not want you to find out how truly fucked he had been.
"Oh~ I would not say that!! As your owner I had to stand your smell and poor hehaviour. Its nice to have a sweet sister to be around right?" Alastor spook towering over Husk them appearing besides you. "A sister who's soul its tainted but has such a good smell and so powerfull" Alastor was salivating by now "I wonder if you teast such as good as you look my Dear! No other overlord could compare to-" Alastor was stopped when a very pissed Husk trow the rest of the milk towards his face.
"Stop talking about my sister"
"Husk-"
"And what did you just do" The voice of Alastor changed, its shadow getting bigger. His eyes now a deep black with no emotion with his clawns being out and ready to attack Husk.
"I say, dont, talk, about, my, sister," Husk responded his love for you overcoming his fear of Alastor's power. He could crush his soul if he wanted.
In response Alasto's shadow started to grow, his teet got sharper, horns bigger as well as his claws and body. His eyes now a deep black with pupils like radio ones. A green chain appear, showing how Alastor owned Husk's soul.
"My, my, looks like I have left you be too free in here" Alastor sinister voice said pulling Husk towards him who tried to remain emotionless.
"Maybe I should show you what happens when you missbehave" Two claws went for Husk's left eyes ready to pull it out. "Maybe I should pull this thing out and eat it. Let you see how truly bad I can be" he half joked.
Before anything could happen Alastor was pushed hard away from Husk by you. Your own true Demon form now on display. You got bigger, your wings now with a sharp end as well as your tail, your eyes just like Alastor deep black with no pupil. You got two pointed horns as well. And your hands were now with black furr, red claws out.
"Dont fucking dare to hurt my brother" you roared sending off your poker cards to cut off the black tentacles Alastor had called.
He smirked, pulling out his shadows to try and get you down only for them to be vanish when a sudden fire erupet from your hands.
"My dear! This is New, I never know you could control fire!" Alastor said pretty much now into the battle with you forgetting Husk.
A wall was crashed as you two rolled outside the hotel, getting everybody's attention.
Alastor ended on top of you a tentacle firm around your neck, however one of your poker cards was against his neck. Just one move from any of you and both of you would be dead.
"WHAT IS THIS" A very Angry Charlie called, besides her Vaggie came looking just as angry.
Alastor smirked letting you got, going back to his usual form as you did as well.
"Ah Charlie! This was just a small fight between old Friends" Alastor said moving his hand to repair the wall.
"SMALL? You two broke a wall" Vaggie called getting just a smirk from Alastor and a blush from you.
"Im sorry, this wont happen again" you promised seeing Alastor from the corner of your eyes.
"It better not, or you are out" Vaggie finally called. In reality she would prefer for you to stay and Alastor to leave but she knew that saddly they needed the radio Demon in the hotel.
~☆~☆~☆~
As night fell you went to Alastor's room, knocking with Force the door opened revealing himself with a fake suprised look.
"(Y/N) I was not expecting you"
"Lets get to the Point. What can I give an no. Not my soul so you wont hurt my brother"
"Well, you need to know it was his fault" he started getting a hiss from you. "Can you blame me? He trow milk at me, my suit was ruined"
"We both know you were looking for a reaction out of him. Just tell me what you want"
Alastor seemed to think, you were proud and firm. Too proud to negotiate your soul. Even if you loved your brother you knew it would not change much. Sure, Husk would be free but how free? He could very much try and give his soul back to get yours out of Alastor's hand.
"Well, what I was saying was true. I wish to know if you teast as good as you look" he smirked taking your chin in his hand " you might have something to give me"
~☆~☆~☆~☆
Alastor stood in his room. Carefully drinking from a tea cup with a black liquid inside. Besides it a full bottle with the same liquid was.
He closed his eyes, feeling the flavor of your blood. If your blood was like this what would your flesh be like? Could he ever dream on getting a bite from you?
And why did he find the small fight against you so....he had no words. He felt alive full of something he could not understand.
Oh, he had to get your soul somehow. No matter how.
~☆~☆~☆~
513 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Fix's Facts
The Big Guy:
-For every snake, there is one snake dick. Snakes have 2 dicks. (said thrice)
The Scattered Mind:
-The tails on a swallowtail butterfly's wings don't serve any aerodynamic purpose. They're there so birds will grab them, at which point they'll break off and the swallowtail can escape.
-Eyes can't be itchy. They, unlike the membranes around them, don't have itch receptors.
-More than half the bones in your body are in your hands and feet.
F For Freezer: (and for facts!)
-The urethra contains taste receptors
-When eagles grip onto something, they have to flex a muscle to let go. An eagle can hold onto something so hard that even after it dies, it never lets go.
-Most of the pyramids on Earth are in Sudan.
-Pelicans have three stomachs, one of which is just for bones.
-Acids are easy to detect, oxygen and carbon dioxide are not. But when carbon dioxide meets water, like it does in our blood, it creates carbonic acid. This means our bodies can detect the presence of carbon dioxide, but not the presence or absence of oxygen.
If we are deprived of oxygen, we have no idea that that is happening as long as we are breathing out carbon dioxide. If we are not breathing oxygen, we just go to sleep and die. But if we allow the CO2 to build up, we panic. We flail. We break. Until finally, we die.
Grappling With Death:
-People can have constipation so bad that it will back up and impact their vagus nerve. As they are eliminating that impacted stool, it can have an effect on the nervous system so great that they forget who they are. Constipation-related amnesia. A woman in Tokyo forgot who she was for 8 hours.
-Bones are living.
-The reason we produce blood inside of our bones is because it's one of the places that's safest from UV radiation.
-There are some birds that can produce a nutritious substance that's a kind of milk. It's almost like lactation, but it evolved separately (convergent evolution). Pigeons do it.
-There are some salamanders that feed their babies their own skin
BONUS ROUND: Brennan "Bird Facts" Lee Mulligan
-There are some species of birds that have a secondary pouch in their esophagus/digestive tract where they have what's called a craw, that has stones or other hard material to help break up food matter before it passes into the rest of their digestive tract.
-Woodpeckers have a tongue bone called a hyoid bone that wraps around their brain because it needs to protect their brain from the impact of pounding into trees to devour their common meal items, grubs and larval insects.
Emergency Powers:
-You can't hum while you're blocking your nose.
-The longest animal is the bootlace worm.
-There are some reptiles that have a light-sensing organ on the top of their head so they can sense shadows that might be coming from something that's coming for them.
BONUS ROUND 2: Brennan's Back, Baby
-The black mamba has been observed at top speeds of 12.5 miles per hour. At that speed, it would almost certainly catch even some of the fastest humans on the planet. Even faster people wouldn't have the stamina, because resting or average speed is 7.5 miles an hour, which is faster than the human average, which is 6, and that's for healthy adults.
-The reticulated python is the longest snake in the world. The biggest is the anaconda.
Case Closed:
-There's little creatures in the sea that make pretty little lights. Why would they do that? It attracts little fishes who suck them up, and the light makes the fish glow. This attracts more little fish.
-The North Pole is actually a South Pole, because when you look at a compass, it points north. But the north pole of the compass is what's pointing north, and north poles point to the south poles.
BONUS ROUND 3: Once More, With Feeling
-Diners originate from dining cars on trains. The first diners were the dining cars of trains that had been taken out of service and were used stationarily as restaurants.
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
All That You Don’t Want
PAIRING: witch!fem!reader x apprentice!König
CONTENT: 18+! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. oneshot. obvious au— so not canon-compliant!, questionable morality, mutual pining, animal death (it’s still alive! but not!), minor character death, power imbalance? technically teacher/student, forced proximity, smut; unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, cockwarming.
NOTES: title from this song! (i will never stop titling my König fics after The Twilight Sad lyrics sorry) i have never written smut in my life i apologize if this is rough!! cover: Robert Bresson, 1951 wc: 7.7k
You never wanted an apprentice, never had the need for some bright-eyed whelp shadowing you for their own benefit. The kingdom had enough competition as far as your craft went— green magic, potion brewing and enchantments, why in the world would you risk teaching someone your secrets only for them to outdo you at every turn? Those with the propensity for magic weren’t treated human, anyway. You saw the looks, uneasy and disgusted, unless of course they had need of you.
The Guild keeps your protected, scrawl your praises in every fresh sheet of parchment passed about, brings in new clients for you to keep yourself afloat without you ever having to leave your little cottage in the forest just beyond the towering walls of the kingdom. So, when you receive the damned letter, how can you refuse?
Green magic couldn’t protect you from the King’s headsman, nor could it keep you hidden away from the constant threat of bandits and other malevolent forces, but the lines in the small letter detailing your new apprentice’s abilities are enough to make you swallow back some of that displeasure.
“… proficient in offensive magics…” and “… formerly in service to the King as a worthy candidate for knighting…” even “… a skilled huntsman…” all tell you that whoever this enigmatic pup is, he would have no qualms hissing at and chasing off a few rogues if they dared step too close to your territory. You picture some ruggedly handsome and charming gentleman arriving at your door with a sword of the finest steel hanging from his side and you loathe the way that your heart seems to flutter with excitement at the prospect.
A fortnight after the letter arrived at your doorstep, you realize that fantasy is often far sweeter than the reality.
You’re busying yourself sorting out a towering shelf with haphazardly placed vials, some labeled and others… well, if you had to guess based on the color of the fluid inside, you should probably toss lest you accidentally poison the next poor woman that comes by simply wanting something to charm the cute farmhand while her piece of shit husband, far too old for her, is off on another brothel visit. You may not be equipped to defend yourself in battle, but you know very well how to make nightshade and wolf’s bane taste like milk and honey.
It’s when you turn with your arms burdened by a heap of unlabeled, possibly poisonous concoctions that you see a figure just outside your window— tall, face shrouded with a blackened veil with only two holes cut out for his moonstone eyes. You curse the way the sight makes you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping everything you were holding onto the wooden floor, brightly colored fluid and glass shards staining a nearby rug you had spent an entire month painstakingly hooking yourself. The specter just tilts his head at you before inviting himself inside. Why bother pretending to be civilized when you look like that, anyhow?
You crouch to collect the shards of glass and wipe away the mixture of maybe-poisons as he enters, not sparing him a glance even as his footfalls lead him to stand uncomfortably close. Perhaps if the entire ordeal hadn’t pissed you off you would have the sense to be afraid, consider the fact that this titan of a man could have been a thief, but something tells you that this is the bright-eyed whelp you had anticipated. The man doesn’t even bother to greet you, let alone kick his muddy boots off at the door, he just hovers over you with his face tilted downward as you scrub up the mess you tell yourself he had caused.
“Leave it to The Guild to send me a dolt,” you mutter below your breath, barely audible as you move to deposit bits of broken glass into a wastebasket at the corner of the room.
“Ja?” The man huffs amusedly.
“Ja?” You question.
“Yes.”
You give him a look, one that suggests you’re in no mood for whatever this is and he seems to stiffen. Any mirth in those haunted eyes of his is quickly snuffed out, replaced with his gaze darting from perusing your backside to the corner of the room, then back up to your face.
He introduces himself as ‘König’. No surname, no title. Though, you supposed in his language, his name was a title in itself. Perhaps your disappointment is more notable than you realize, because the man seems almost nervous around you as you introduce yourself in turn. His fingers curl into his palms in repetition at his sides, and it’s impossible to tell by the small glimpse of his face whether or not he wants to strangle you or bury himself instead.
You rise to your feet, feeling acutely defeated as you lead him around the home, showing him to each room before stopping at the door to his own and crossing your arms over your chest.
“You’ll stay here,” you say quietly, avoiding his eyes as he lowers himself to look at you, thanking you graciously as his hand lingers a bit too long on your shoulder. You gently reach to pry it off, only to feel him grip at your fingers running his thumb over each knuckle before finally drawing away.
You watch from the doorway as he inspects the room. A bed a size two small for a man such as himself sits in the middle, a desk cluttered with spare vials of ink and a few quills made of swan feather, and a towering bookshelf filled with books on simple magic that you haven’t bothered to touch since you were a girl. He seems pleased, despite how very little effort was made for him. As much as you wish otherwise, you almost feel the sting of guilt when you watch him seat himself on the small bed and his eyes light up as he looks to you.
It didn’t take much perception to see the world hadn’t treated this brute too kindly.
He hunts your dinner, bringing home several rabbits that he took his time to skin and prepare for cooking in the yard. Even more, he roasts them over a fire he stoked up for you in a display of gratitude. You watch him from the fogged window as he seats himself by the fluttering flames, watching the meat with a focus that speaks volumes about his own discipline.
“Have you lived on the land for long, König?,” you ask him when the two of you are seated at the table, wiping away the remnants of your meal from your lips with a small handkerchief.
He’s only rucked up his hood enough to eat, the scars lining his jaw run deep, the skin pasty there. He looked far too pale to even be a living thing at all, but his thin lips pull into a grin at your question. “You can tell?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the tone of his voice suggesting sarcasm. “Perceptive little witch.”
You furrow your brow at him, surprised by his sudden arrogance. You would have sooner expected the man to tear a hole through you than meet your little question with a cocky response if his twitchy behavior was anything to go by. But… his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the amused lilt mixed with his accent, some natural charm that makes areas of you ache that haven’t been touched in years.
“A man must know to feed himself, ja?”
“Well, I don’t hunt.”
He huffs out a laugh at that, raising a hand to readjust his hood, pulling it back down over his face. König is not pretty, far from it from what you could see, but you almost find yourself downtrodden that he’s hiding himself again when you were only just starting to find yourself curious.
“I will teach you,” he suggests as he clears your table, depositing both your dishes and his own into the washbasin at the far corner of the kitchen. He’s helping, and your eyes merely track him dumbfounded.
“You don’t have to, König— I, um. I’m supposed to be teaching you, remember?” You’re trying to sound authoritative, like a proper mentor but it’s fruitless, really. How long had it been since a man was this close to you, living out in the forest? You had clients, sure, but in your craft you came to know about their proclivities, their ailments, and any interest you may have had died with their innumerable requests.
The Guild had set you up, surely, you decide as your eyes wander over to the man washing your dishes, the man who had prepared your dinner, who had stared openly at your ass. The man who smelled of dew and timber and fire smoke. The man with the most beautiful, tired eyes you had ever met.
You can see the muscles of his back through his tunic, tightly bundled up from where he’s drawn his sleeves to his bicep to wash up the remnants of dinner, mind almost numbing from the sight alone. It felt like some divine torture, to be sent something you adamantly did not want only for that very same thing to make your pulse quicken and throat dry.
“I want to teach you,” he tries again.
You feel sinful for the place your mind goes then. Do the ladies in the kingdom often allow monsters to bed them? Is his size comparable to the stature?
“Okay.” Your voice was tight, barely a whisper.
He finishes up his cleaning and turns to look at you as he wrings his hands over the washbasin, his eyes narrowed and crinkled at the corners. Grinning again like a wolf knowing he’s got his claws in you.
— — —
You go over the standard protocol when dealing with customers seeking remedies with König as you hear the approaching horse whinnying out in the yard. Simple, standard. Most people had a wariness for those who were touched by magic, understandably so. It’s human nature to fear what isn’t fully understood. With König’s imposing height and the veil over his face, you needed him to be extra careful in these situations. He doesn’t seem to take offense at your fretting, merely smiles beneath the veil as you speak and all is settled and well by the time your client wraps lightly at the door.
You swing the door open with a polite smile, hands clasped at the lap of your dress. The smile is maintained even as you catch sight of his face, scars from a horrific burn covering over half of it, his right eye filmed over and sightless in its socket. He wasn’t here to charm a lady or conceal his face with glamours, only for a balm to alleviate the lingering, phantom pains that stretched from his scalp down to his neck. A decent man, and a damned good blacksmith from what you had heard. He was one of your favorites.
König observes from the corner of the room, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest without a word as you fetch the jar of balm for the client, accept his coin and send him back on his way.
“Oh.. I don’t know how he got that nasty burn but it’s hard to look at isn’t it?”
König gives you a look, something unsaid hinted at just beyond the surface of his icy eyes, and you realize it’s a little too late to pull your words back.
— — —
Days seem to pass by with an awkward tension in the air. It’s not because of his tutelage under you, either, because he’s doing surprisingly well with his studies. Potion crafting is a tricky, fickle sort of thing. One mistake and an entire batch is ruined and the gods only knew when you would stumble upon what was required whilst foraging again. König is careful, attentive as he follows your instruction. He studies diligently, spending his free time reading through his books, often out in the foyer and if not for how skilled he was, you would assume it was all for show. Wishful thinking, a vicious yearning settling in between your breasts that wants for him to try and impress you, to court you.
It’s tense because you’ve found you can’t keep the man out of your head. In the late hour when the house has fallen silent, you could often hear his desperate grunts through the thin slats of wood separating your own room from his. You’ve imagined the sight of him fisting his cock, biting down onto his scarred lip as he whines through his release more times than you would ever confess. The gods themselves couldn’t pry the admittance from your lips that you wait up sometimes to hear him with your own hand between your thighs.
And König had this look about him now, more confident as he walks about. His hands don’t twitch as much when the two of you speak.
It’s the seventh morning as you’re preparing tea for the both of you that he enters the cottage entirely nude (apart from the hood; he seems insistent about keeping it almost entirely on in your presence). His body drips with river water, looking more like the skillfully carved statues that took residence in the castle courtyard than any man at all. You can’t help your staring, and he seems unperturbed by it as he slips behind you to set some freshly plucked milkweed on the wooden countertop. So focused on the cords of tight muscle layering his body, the obscene thing swaying between his legs, you hadn’t even noticed he had bothered to collect an ingredient you so desperately needed.
A man such as he should be seated on a throne, worshipped by a harem of pretty ladies, all pawing at his lap. Yet— he merely had you, ogling him as openly as he seemed to do to you.
“For the elixir,” he hums, sounding amused as he tilts his head to look you over as he had a striking amount of times already.
“Yeah.” You try to subtly clear your throat, cursing yourself for the way your reaction prompts his eyes to dart to the swell of your breasts beneath your dress. “Thanks.”
“You look pretty today.” He’s making everything worse. Turning your quiet life around and filling you with some horrid feeling you’ve avoided for years out here in near-isolation. “You look pretty everyday,” he corrects himself before you can speak. The obscene pillar between his legs seems to grow at the sight of you, and if you were not certain before, you know assuredly now that something has cursed you.
A good, knowing witch would tell him that his compliments were inappropriate, unwarranted. She would tell him to not walk around with his cock on full display and send him off to practice mundane spells as punishment. You are not a good, knowing witch at all if the warmth on your face is anything to go by.
“How was the river?” You ask instead, graciously retrieving a towel from the cupboard to hand to him. Despite how orderly you tried to keep things here, it’s not the water he’s dripping all over the hardwood that has your mind spinning.
“Gut.” He says words in his native tongue, often, and you’ve already grown accustomed to deciphering them. They sound prettier on his tongue than your own. He accepts the towel and merely draping it over his broad shoulders. “Come with me next time,” he offers, all but innocently.
God damnit.
“I made tea.” You’re trying to avoid his undressing stare, busying yourself with the tea kettle. The scent of mint seems to calm you as you pour the tea into your own mug, careful not to spill it out onto the counter with your trembling hands.
“I like you.” Blunt as always, you wonder if he even has any sort of control on the things he says.
God damnit all.
“I like you too, König. You’re a good apprentice,” you respond, your nerves alight with something that you can’t quite place; a twig on the verge of snapping under its weight.
He laughs soft, and graciously gives you a reprieve from well… that as he steps out of the room to finally dress himself.
Later that evening as the elixir is fully prepared and the client arrives to pick it up, you realize that König is no where in sight. It’s not uncommon; the man certainly lacked his social graces, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the shopfront side of what you do before until you had spoken so carelessly. The client is a nervous little thing, a girl not yet a woman, anxious and shaky as she takes the vial from you with an abundance of thanks. It’s no wonder why she had requested such a thing meant to put a patch over her anxieties and communicate better now. You steal only a spoonful from the cauldron as you empty it, praying that it silences the buzzing of nerves and the fluttering in your heart as you bed down for the night.
— — —
You wake to a door slamming shut in the dead of night, followed by the quieted hiss of what you believe to be a curse in a language that is not your own. It immediately sends you on high alert, thinking back to the threat of bandits and enchanted wildlife or whatever else. Jolted from your bed by the kick of adrenaline, you tiptoe down the stairs to see that… nothing is out of place. The den is as homey as always, every vial and potion bottle in its place on the shelves. The only thing that appeared to be missing at all was a book on your shelf. You knew that book, too. It was a favorite of many of your customers, the ones with weathered skin or features that were not the golden standard of delicate, royal beauty. A book on glamours was not something that would be stolen away by any thief in the night, seeing as it wouldn’t be of much help at all without a dedicated practitioner.
It only really settles in for you that your apprentice snatched it away when you take a peek out of the window and your eyes settle on a darkened corner of the garden. Tall sprigs of lavender sprung up from the earth there, and an even taller man sat, legs crossed with your book in his lap beneath the milky glow of the moon.
König looks… agitated. Even from this distance, the glass and wall and several meters of organized plant life separating you, you can see his hands shaking as he ghosts his calloused fingertips over the pages. His shoulders tense and a fiery look in his eye. He reads the incantations aloud with proper annunciation, forced through his thick accent. Repeats them, several times over. Not a thing changes.
But you leave him be, return to bed, because despite him being your responsibility, his private matters are still his own. As much as you would like to snatch the book from his hands and confess through tears that he haunts your dreaming just as he is now, you can’t bring yourself to do so.
When the book is in its place the following morning with König still in his bed, you read over the pages heavily scented by lavender. The ones that tell you how he sees himself in truth without a single word from his own being. Too tall, too ugly, too ruined.
It’s not enough to say your heart breaks. You feel it shatter somewhere in your chest, little pieces crumbling down into the darkest pit of your middle. Perhaps he’s only doing this due to your careless words about your client the other day, perhaps he wants to be seen as something beautiful for once.
The day is spent with a heavy weariness in your eyes. König picks up some slack for you as you fester in a sadness that should not even be your own; prepares something meaty for you both to eat, incorrectly sweeps some dust from the wooden floors that you know you’ll have to properly clean later on, and even tends to the garden. He’s good with the plants, gentle as he plucks berries from their stems and cuts away only what was required with a sharp dagger.
While you’ve thrown yourself over a cushioned chair, König kneels before you to speak. He’s just finished telling you some gory tale about when he squired for Ser… something, a name you don’t even care to remember. It was a rare occurrence for him to open up, you’ve come to realize that. Maybe it was simply too soon for him, but then again, he seemed to have no qualms allowing you to hear his desperate howling at night or walk about after a bath with his cock fully erect in your line of sight. If words were too much then what the hell was all of that?
“How come you didn’t become a knight, König?” you ask him, your tone sounding a bit more dead than intended. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in his stories, you were simply still coming to terms with one of his likely innumerable secrets. “The Guild said you were a good candidate, so why?”
You ask your questions, his eyes light up. He’s not used to this, it seems, and the fact that you want to know him at all makes him giddy. His fingers drum against his thighs, eyes creasing at the corners as he smiles beneath that veil and you wonder… wonder how the world could be cruel to someone like this at all when all that you want to do is bundle up with him beneath your thick quilts and kiss him in places only lovers would.
He doesn’t respond to your question, though. Another secret for some other time, you supposed. Instead, he asks his own, “Why are you so alone?”
König speaks freely, you knew that well enough but the words that escape his lips cause you to freeze all the same. His tone is neutral, not accusatory or mocking, but there’s something— something there you can’t properly uproot.
“I’m not lonely.” A little white lie couldn’t be too terrible, yet the thought of betraying your companion in even such a small way, hurting him like you assumed so many others had before is just unthinkable. “I am sometimes, but I like living here,” you correct.
“But you are alone,” he insists.
“I am not. You’re here.”
Your words are like a charm, really, and any rationale König may have had immediately dissipates when you speak them. He climbs over you, the chair creaking under your combined weight as he looks down at you with this hope-filled expression that tugs every one of your heartstrings at once. “Let me kiss you.”
His shallow breathing flutters his veil, the hunger in his eyes more than apparent, and you’ve the sense that a mere kiss would not suffice, turning into a long night with an impossible soreness between your thighs come morning.
You shake your head and he backs off immediately, returning to sit on the floor before you instead with a simple, “Okay.”
The room falls silent for a moment. You wanted to. You’ve been longing to. And yet the opportunity had gone and went; for any normal, sane person your rejection would have been enough. Weeks spent in his company should have taught you that König was a far cry from normal. The man treats you like you’re a doll, not a seasoned witch. Takes to hiding away from any company you may have and spends his nights outside in the dark wishing and failing to change what he was.
“If I tell you why I am not a knight will you kiss me?,” he tries again as you shift to sit upright in your seat.
“What? König, no… that’s not how—”
“I will court you,” he interjects quickly, rising to his feet to stare down at you. The man was practically buzzing with excitement, and you wonder if he intends to bolt out of the house right then to bring back ample gifts of flowers and fine silks just for a chance to mash his mouth against your own.
“You’re not here to court me,” you huff with a pinched brow. Stop making this harder! Why must you always make this harder?!
“I think about you at night.”
The giant professes his affections by telling you that he’s fucking his fist to the thought of you with all the simplicity of idle talk. Somehow, that seemed less alarming than the fact that you don’t even seem horrified. Words fail you when you desperately need them most, merely gaping up at him so dumbly you must have actually belayed interest, because he continues.
“In the river too.”
“König… that’s inappropriate,” you manage to find your voice then. You know that you’re a plaster saint, too, because the thought of bathing where he spreads his seed sends a swell of warmth from your tummy to the aching blossom between your legs.
“Ja, it is… why do you tease me? The way you look…” He trails off with a shake of his head, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion. He was trembling as though afraid, so violently you almost fear he’ll come crashing over you like an ocean wave. You would catch him, drown in salt water and foam, a curtain of sharp teeth and darkness.
He fidgets as he waits for an answer that never comes. What could you say? Admit that the way he feels is a mirror of yourself, that the two of you are only seconds from diving into a pool that you could never resurface from.
But just like before, König retreats up the shadowy staircase, up to his room. Another reprieve, another stone weighing heavy in the recesses of your mind.
— — —
Secrets are stupid, evil things you decide.
You’re staring into the glazed eyes of a dead buck as it stands before you on it’s hind legs. It’s head hangs limply from its broken neck, mouth gaping with each fragile intake of breath. It’s bloated belly leaks it’s own entrails as it takes a shaky step towards you, trying desperately to kick at you with the stiff limbs tucked against its chest.
“I don’t know how to make it go away,” König pants at your side, and despite his shallow, rapid breathing there’s this calm look in his eyes. This has happened before. This has happened before and to a far worse extent than a deer.
It makes sense, now, why something as trivial as casting a glamour simply didn’t work for König. The man was touched by something darker, something the King’s men would happily cut his head from his shoulders for. Necromancy was immoral and frankly, horrifying. Seeing it now, it was really no wonder why this sort of magic would send one directly to the headsman.
The deer huffs a breath, too long and ragged. It’s not used to breathing any more, after all. König steps between you two, his dagger raised. “Just… close your eyes.”
It’s over as quickly as it’s manifested and König does well at shielding you from the aftermath, your face pressed to his chest as he pulls you into his arms and walks you back home. What was meant to be a simple practicing session, resulted in chaos, and you’ve no words to give to fill the silence hanging over the two of you as he finally deposits you by the door.
You stand on shaking legs, a million questions swimming through your mind, but even as you part your lips to speak not a single sound comes out.
He looks exasperated when he finally remedies the quiet. “You’re afraid of me.” It’s not a question, only a resounding fact.
“No,” you lie immediately with a firm shake of your head.
“I will go.” König’s eyes are tired, always tired. He’s already slinking back towards the door when you reach for him, almost clawing at the length of his sleeve in your own desperation. If you were cursed this man was, tenfold, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sending him back out into a world that had hurt him so. One that would assuredly end his torment should this ever happen again. You don’t know whether you’re being merciful or selfish anymore; the definitions all a blur. You only know that the thought of König leaving your side feels like the ache of a thorn embedded in your heart.
“König, please— We can figure something out, we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” you huff as you bury your face against his shoulder. He’s both tense and trembling beneath your warmth. “I just need time to think.”
He cocks his head, a resounding twinkle of mirth breaking through the listlessness in his eyes. “Why?”
König isn’t dull-witted. He knows the words you never have a chance to speak. No one’s ever held fast to his side like this; no one has ever truly wanted him.
You know that the second he pushes his veil up and presses his mouth to yours. It’s clumsy, the force he uses, as if he’s trying to headbutt you instead of give you his affection, but you reciprocate in turn. You breathe shakily against him when you finally bring yourself to part your lips and he immediately begins to languidly lap into your mouth, drawing his arms around you; one finding the base of your neck as the other settles on your lower back, his fingers digging into your velvet dress, bunching up the fabric enough to reveal the meat of your ass.
You both moan as though you’re already having sex, caught up in a tangle of limbs he tastes your mouth as though it were sweet wine; his tongue flicks against your own before pulling back, lapping at your lip, pushing back in in some steady repetition that makes your knees weaker. Your hands find the hem of his tunic, slipping beneath it to feel a wall of muscle layered over his abdomen and he groans into the kiss with such fervor you would think he’s already come. He tears the cloth off the second you thumb over his nipple and drops to his knees clutching at your thighs.
“I need to taste you.” He sounds so desperate, looks so pitiful as though he’ll cry if you don’t allow him to fuck you with his tongue. You’re too far gone to give him anything more than a nod, and he all-too-readily lifts the skirt of your dress, hooks his finger around the seat of your panties and buries his face between your thighs. The first sweeps of his tongue are almost punishing; he wastes no time plowing the muscle into your cunt, writhing and grinding it against your velvety walls. The sound is already obscene, but then he begins to moan.
He sounds even more desperate than those nights in his lonely room, somehow, as he paws at his own erection straining against his trousers and drives into your pussy at a feverish pace. When he finally moves to take your clit between his lips, you grasp at the top of his head to keep yourself upright, moaning so loudly you’re certain that the entire kingdom could hear. He hums, amused at this, places his hands on your ass and pushes your hips for you to grind against his tongue.
When he jerks your panties aside again to rub circles against your asshole, the tautly pulled coil inside of you finally snaps. You curl over him as you mewl, cradling his head as his tongue pushes against your labia and your slit to lap up every bit of your essence. He releases his grip on your ass as you tremble, strokes himself freely below you as he pants against your pulsing cunt. Graciously, he gives you a moment to recover before he’s rising to his feet, tearing off your ruined panties and lifting you in his arms just enough to rub his leaking tip against you, you give him a strangled cry of his name when his length brushes against your swollen clit.
“Let me fuck you,” he rasps, his eyes wide and pupils blown as you squirm in his arms. “Bitte. Please. Let me fuck you.”
“Yes— Please, please fuck me König,” you whine as your arms curl over his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate when he lies you back against your rug and pushes your knees up to your chest. His fingers flex against your flesh at the sight of your pussy still twitching from aftershocks, soaked down to your ass and pleading to be filled by him. He drops a hand to spread your lips, groaning deeply from his chest as he watches in awe as the tip of his thick cock sinks into you.
You hadn’t realized just how dirty König was until you see that look in his eye, pulling his head out only to repeatedly push into you with a choked whine of sheer bliss. You hadn’t realized how filthy you were until you find yourself tucking your arms beneath your knees to keep yourself in position so he can grope at the flesh of your ass as he does it.
“So— fuck— so schön,” he mutters as he continues to tease you like this. It’s almost hell the way he still hadn’t filled you entirely when you ache to have that long, ugly pillar buried so far it’s bruising your very womb, and it’s almost heaven the way you squeeze against him with each shallow thrust, your pussy desperate to devour his weapon of flesh.
“König…” You’re breathing his name as though it were a prayer, and as though a gift from the heavens his calloused thumb begins to rub over your clit the moment he finally sinks himself into you. There’s resistance, your cunt wasn’t meant to take a cock so large, you’re certain, but he bottoms out after what feels like an eternity, parts your knees with one hand to see your face as he gasps. You take him all, enveloping him in a vise grip and he hissed something in his native tongue, a string of words you can only imagine are praise because the way he’s looking at you now is as if he’s found a goddess all for himself.
“I’m going to fill you,” he declares as he lowers himself atop you, his weight almost crushing. “I’m going to… feels so…” His words fall short as he begins to move, groping at one of your tits as his other hand remains over your mound, flicking your clit. König’s fingers trace against your nipple before pinching it just hard enough to draw a choked mewl from you as your back arches. “Ja, liebling… you need it..”
His pace picks up, thumb deftly rolling over your clit until you spasm around his cock. It’s savage, the fervor he puts into fucking into you, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix until you cry out, only to draw back enough to bully against your g-spot until you shiver. Your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly and so hard your bite down on your lip enough to draw blood. König licks at your mouth as your sex pulses around him, groaning in tandem with your pretty cries.
He trails small kisses along your throat before biting down as his own climax hits. He alternates between spitting out words that sound like pure venom and moans that make him sound weak as he gives you one more thrust. His cock twitches so violently inside of you as he presses against your cervix your mind entirely blanks. You can’t tell if it’s his semen or your own slick spilling past his cock, painting your thighs when it all ends. You hang limply against him as he carries you over to the chair, keeping you plugged as he pulls you into his lap.
He fully unclothes you as he peppers your face and neck in sweet, open-mouthed kisses, pets you from the crown of your skull down to your back, brings a hand around your waist to pull you close as his other squeezes and squishes at your breasts. König’s gaze is adoring as your eyes meet his, he’s looking at you with a love you’ve never even known, the warmth of summer somehow still present in those eyes like glaciers.
“Will you stay?,” you force yourself to ask as if the answer isn’t already clear, his cock’s still buried in you and the man seemed utterly in love after merely having a sweaty, adrenaline addled session.
König presses his face into your hair, nuzzling at you as he kisses your temple. “You want me to stay?” He sounds bewildered, so fucking broken that he’s confused by the prospect anyone would even want him around, even if he just gave her the best fuck she’s ever had, even if she’s been staring at him adoringly since he found his way to her door.
“Of course I want you to stay!”
“Then… Ja, I will.”
It’s a declaration of love, in a sense.
König drops his hands to your hips as he kisses you again. The desperation has been strangled, buried someplace in your core. It’s sweet now when his kisses become sloppy and overwhelming. He shifts below you as he maneuvers your hips to grind against him, his length already hardening within you again. He noses at your jaw and pressed kisses to your cheeks when you take a moment to breathe. You curl your arms around him and bury your face into the crook of his neck as your ride him, the both of you moaning soft and panting against sweaty flesh. He finishes inside of you once more just as you lift his veil and kiss along his scars.
He bathed you in the river, carrying you down to the rocky shore as though you were a treasure, his hand stroking through your hair as the water laps over your bodies. It’s not enough to simply hold you, either, because one bath becomes two after he’s bent you over a stump and licked you to completion again before rutting into you like an animal.
Nights are no longer spent with a wall between, he takes to your bed without question, ensures you’re comfortable and warm as he holds you through the night. There’s a sort of desperation in you both, two outsiders that have finally found sanctuary in one another.
“I love you.” Followed by: “I love you.”
You’re not entirely sure who says it first.
— — —
“A deer?”
There’s a man in your home that you don’t recognize, looking you over as though you were well-bred cattle rather than a human being at all. Says he’s concerned about a potential necromancer after something foul slipped its way past the castle walls and paraded itself through an annual ball, sullying a few too-expensive and uncomfortably layered dresses and goring a man with its antlers.
König was seated in front of him, rigid with a forced calm you had never seen on him before, hands clasped and unmoving. You know he’s nervous anyway, his shallow breathing speaks volumes for what the veil keeps from you. You round the table to bring them both tea, trying your best to play the part of indifference as the two men speak.
König had said he didn’t know how to make it go away, and of course he didn’t, because how do you kill something that’s already died? Neither of you would have anticipated it finding its way there of all places, and in retrospect, you’re not even certain that the thought came to mind at all, you had lost yourselves in one another the moment you arrived home. Seeing as you both were the only magic-touched folks roving these woods, it was obvious why The Guild had sent this creep to question you.
“Yes. A large buck, it was,” the man continues, winking at you as he takes a sip of the warm liquid in the mug. You wished you had poisoned it, ridding the world of a man that made your skin crawl like this surely wouldn’t be too sinful. Looking to König, you realize that there’s no need for poisons, because the look in his eyes suggests that before this interrogation is over your rug will have a more stubborn stain than spilled potions and come.
“We use green magic,” you chime in flatly, giving König a moment to quiet his fury as the man turns his attention back to you. “Maybe a traveler slipped into the kingdom, it has nothing to do with König and myself. Why are you here?”
If he hadn’t already told you a thousand times earlier that morning when he took you in the garden, laid you down in a bed of blue and purple wildflowers, König would have told you he loved you right then. You were true, protecting him and risking your own head as well.
“That’s the thing,” the man begins with a laugh entirely devoid of amusement. “Your apprentice here was under similar scrutiny while he was in service to the king. A dead man brought back to life…” he waves his hand as he speaks, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s recounting poetry instead of listing the reasoning why he wanted to have your lover decapitated. “… killed ten good knights. We never suspected him at the time, but all of this…” He shrugs his shoulders and raises his brow, looking somehow even more insufferable than before.
You cross the room to gather the letter signed off by The Guild, detailing your apprentice’s arrival and thrust it into the man’s face. “He would have never passed any sort of eligibility exam if that were the case, and you sent him here.”
The man takes the letter with a click of his tongue before he laughs again. “We didn’t,” he says as he taps the signature at the bottom, hardly a signature at all, only a messy scrawl, the guild master’s name even spelled incorrectly.
König didn’t meet your gaze when you looked to him then.
You made a promise to him you would figure this all out, and you would. You just needed to buy some time, slip some wolfsbane into his tea—
“On behalf of The Guild, I do apologize for the trouble this monster has caused…”
There is no time.
“I’ll be sure that he and his rotting pets are disposed of prop—“
You’re clutching at the dagger König had left on the side table without even thinking it over, fingers curled so tightly around the grip, your knuckles felt alight. The man’s voice is silenced the moment he notices as he takes a wary step away from you. It’s not, really, that you could ever even see yourself taking a life, you never have, but the thought of losing König over a horrible chance in the stars that some uncaring god cursed him with makes bile crawl up the back of your throat and white hot fury course through your veins with all the subtlety of a stampede.
It wasn’t his fault.
König places himself between the two of you and curls his arm around you protectively. If lying for him hadn’t already resigned you to the same fate, drawing the dagger assuredly had. He gently pries the dagger from your hand and tucks your face against his chest, just as he had before when he tried to correct the accidental gift of life he had bestowed to the deer, only this time… you feel the pull of his muscles, you hear sounds of the dagger meeting it’s mark as he cuts through the interrogator’s tender flesh. It takes mere seconds for you to know his blade has struck true, the dying man eliciting a weak gurgling cry from his torn throat as König drops the dagger to the floor with a clatter and strokes your hair.
He makes you stand outside while he cleans up his mess.
A sane woman would run, she would count her losses and look back on her time spent with this unhinged man with criticism. You find that you are not a sane woman when you realize the tears falling freely down your cheeks are not of fear or anger at your own situation, but at the knowledge that he’s suffered being shunned on his own for so long; that he’s killed without remorse because this is what it takes for someone like him to survive at all.
When he finally returns from burying the body and scrubbing the blood from your floor, you readily embrace him and he nuzzles into your hair.
“Es tut mir leid,” he huffs out against you, pulling you so close to him you think, pray, he’ll never let go. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” It’s not and you both know it, but you reassure him with your words and soft kisses to his cheeks as he wipes away your tears. “We can not stay here.”
We. Us. Together.
Something breaks in him at your words, and he shuts his eyes tightly to fight back the tears like claws at his eyes.
“So, tell me where we’ll go.”
He tells you of a place he read about in a book, somewhere across the sea and past a stretch of hills where the accidents he may cause won’t have him looked upon like a monster, where you can love one another in comfort, a place he’s dreamed about since he was a boy and found out just what he was when he reanimated his mother’s beloved cat. He tells you of his father’s cruelty, that a cat’s claws aren’t the only thing that’s left him riddled with scar tissue.
He tells you everything as you pack your things and begin a long walk to a shoddy harbor by the sea, his hand in your own as your board the ship to a new home, a new beginning.
#könig#konig#konig x you#könig x you#könig x reader#konig x reader#konig fanfiction#cod fanfic#könig fanfiction#cod fanfiction
820 notes
·
View notes
Text
*those sleepy thoughts* What if?
The Red Mist
Prologue
Alastor X Sleepy Reader
Warning! ⚠
⚠ italics = thoughts, implied/suggestive comment, murder, all caps for screeching ⚠
Everything was red.
You were confused when you first opened your eyes. None of it felt real, everything felt out of place and fuzzy.
What is going on? Where am I? You thought as you walked down the street.
At some point you ended up in a bar. Not wanting to stay standing in a corner, you went over to a booth and sat down. With a sigh, you rest your head on the table, trying to gather your thoughts.
Why is everything so weird? I feel lightheaded..
You didn't notice the eyes on you from the creatures across the room.
.
Alastor was on a stroll through Hell.
For some reason today was energizing! There a strange shift in the air and he wanted to find what caused it.
Of course he had to go out!
Walking down one of the many alley ways, he finds an average sized demon surrounded by..wolves.
"Just leave me alone, I have to find-", they try to push through but get shoved back into the brick wall behind them.
"We'll help you cutie~ Just let us get a taste first.", one of the drooling beasts says.
"I said leave me alone!", they shout, shoving one of the demons away as they try to leave.
"Oh no you don't-!", one growls, reaching over to grab their arm.
Obviously before that could happen Alastor stepped in, with a snap of his fingers there were tendrils and shadows shredding the group of dogs.
He appears before the demon trying to run and holds them in place, turning them to face the glorious scene of bloodshed.
"Now, now! No need to run anymore, enjoy the show!", the deer demon's grin widens as he feels them stiffen in his grasp.
It didn't take long to tear apart the demons, so all that was left of the group of beasts was on the ground. A pile of red meat.
"The show has ended, what a shame.", the Radio Demon sighs and focuses his attention to the demon in his hold. "And who might you be?"
"Introduce yourself first.", they reply looking up at him with a glare.
How cute. Alastor grinned, releasing the demon before taking a step back and giving a proper show man bow.
"Apologies! I am Alastor, the Radio Demon.", he smiles politely as he stands straight. "Now you."
"A dreamer.", they respond, catching him by surprise.
A dreamer? What do the mean?
Before he could ask what they meant, the demon stumbled and fell forward. On instinct, he went to catch them.
Holding them close, he watched as parts of them started to fade away like mist.
"What in the-?"
They stared at him before giving a smile.
"This was a better dream.", they said, closing their eyes.
In an instant their body turned into red mist, leaving him completely confused. Moving his arms back, he stood in the alley way to think.
Dream?
.
"GET UP!", you heard before feeling something smack you in the face.
"Oof-!"
Sitting up with a groan, you see your little sister dash out of the room, hearing her mischievous giggles.
"I guess someone isn't getting pancakes!", you say.
You laugh when hearing her gasp.
"I want pancakes!", she runs back in and belly flops on the bed. "I won't do it again!"
Patting her on the head, you smile and do what any older sibling would.
Mess up her hair.
"Ah! Hey!", she yells and smacks your hand.
"Now we're even!", you say and get up to stretch. "Let's make chocolate chip pancakes.", you say before heading out of your room.
"Yay!", she cheers and runs to the kitchen. "I want strawberry milk!"
While you were getting the ingredients and cooking tools, you remembered a piece of your dream.
Red eyes? You thought while placing the mixing bowl on the counter.
Trying to put your dream together, you remember seeing a handsome face before being woken up.
Did I dream of a hot guy with red eyes?
*avoiding eye contact* 👀 May or may not have had a dream about a hot guy with red eyes.
~Seline, the person.
Part 1
Taglist@
@willowaudreykeyes @kiraisastay @naelys-the-aster @scary-noodlesblog @ducky-died-inside @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @+?
ML for Alastor🎙
#alastor x reader#gn reader#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#x reader#alastor the radio demon#fanfic#the radio demon#radio demon#sleepy reader#human reader#dreaming#the realm of dreams?#or#dimension hopping?
449 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
borisyung
Boris Yung
purextc1
Untitled
lancelotsimp
Started playing Choices out of boredom.
blogshah120-blog
l-123.Priner-Setup
