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blooberrries · 3 months

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『consequential』 — satoru

— pairing: satoru x afab!reader — wc: 5k — content: mdni, nsfw; vampire au, college/university au, jealous/possessive satoru, blood drinking, vampire bites (chest, neck and arm), alcohol, mutual pining (a distant relative of idiots to lovers), piv sex, love bites (heh literally), standing/sex against the wall (he holds you up the entire time because he's actually insane), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming,he's a bit of a simp really idk if that was planned — notes: got possessed by the Horny Spirit, also not proofread. enjoy? also be gentle with me I haven't written smut in over a year

prompt: ["Oh, don't be cute."] + [“you’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “i’m all yours”]

While slightly spiteful, your plan had been simple and had about a 50/50 chance of succeeding, with minimal loss to you if it didn’t.

Two weeks ago Gojo Satoru had— after months of asking for it and being denied by you— finally gotten your permission to drink your blood. So he’d gone ahead and bitten you, you’d loved it and probably fell even more annoyingly head over heels for him as a result of the oddly erotic experience, and the way he had acted during the whole ordeal gave you a decent indication that he most definitely felt the same way you did.

You’d expected things to finally change between you after that, hell you’d actually been excited for it.

But instead of leaning into the shift in the dynamic between you, Satoru had instead decided to pretend you didn’t exist and proceeded to completely avoid you for the last two weeks.

(Which is actually quite the feat considering how much overlap there is between your friend groups. But you’re not impressed. You’re mad.)

To say you were upset would be an understatement. Your pride was wounded along with your ego, and you felt foolish and embarrassed and stupidly angsty. The unfortunate reality is that you’re not very good at processing those feelings, so in your time of need you turned to your most faithful, long-time friend: spite.

You know for a fact that Satoru likes the way you smell and taste– it’s one of the many things he’d let slip when sucking the blood ever so gently from the puncture he’d made in the soft flesh of your inner forearm. So you decided to wait until the prime part of your cycle, where the supernatural consensus said humans smelt their best, and you’d procured a tincture from your witch-in-training friend that would accentuate the natural appeal of your blood for certain creatures of the night (she’d assured you it was safe, but you have your own means of defending yourself anyway so you aren’t too worried.)

Then, you’d waltzed your way into a party that was being held at his shared accommodation and made it a point to have fun. The real goal of your plan, besides sticking it to him in the most subtle-not-subtle way ever, was also just to feel better about yourself. Your expectations being upended regarding how you’d hoped things would develop with Satoru had been a big blow and would take some TLC from yours truly to recover from.

You’ve had fun so far, you’re only a drink or so in and pleasantly buzzed, and you’re getting a lot of compliments on your perfume. You can’t exactly tell them you’re not wearing anything but eau de spite, but it does feel nice nonetheless. Each comment is like a balm to your poor, chafed ego. The only wrench in the works is that as expected, not long after you arrived, Satoru noticed you.

And then proceeded to continue in his efforts to avoid and ignore you. He’d disappeared into the throng of people on the other side of the house before you could even blink.

It takes a strongly mixed cocktail, courtesy of Shoko who you’re not sure isn’t trying to kill you with the alcohol content of these drinks, for you to settle your fuming. This is stupid— no, he’s stupid. Stupid sexy vampire with his stupid pretty eyes and stupid pretty face. How dare he let you make a fool of yourself by thinking there could be anything more between you! You never should have let him bite you. At least then things would still be the same and you wouldn’t be so torn between throttling him and kissing him.

Angrily, you take a hearty gulp of your drink. Despite the superficial fruity flavour it burns on the way down, unsurprisingly, and you have to breathe slowly through your nose so it doesn’t come back up. You’re no longer uncertain; you’re confident this cocktail is an attempt on your life.

It’s as you’re nursing that drink and leaning angstily against a wall in the corner of the room, that you sense someone approach you. Your eyes take a moment to adjust as you look up, surprise filtering through you once you register the figure by your side.

“Hey.”

Your brows shoot up, a small grin tugging your lips. “Oh? Long time no see, Mei Mei. What cave have you crawled out of to be here tonight?”

The snow-haired woman rolls her eyes, lips twitching. Her tongue darts to swipe over the tip of a pointed canine.

“Oh, you know, every homebody has to come out to play every once in a while.” Her nose twitches, and she leans forward slightly to inhale. Her eyes flutter wide in pleasant surprise. “Well, don’t you smell absolutely divine tonight. Special occasion?”

Kind of, but you’re not about to tell her that. Mei Mei can be a decent enough acquaintance so long as you keep her at arm’s length.

“I’m trying something new,” you answer simply. She hums, and when her body angles towards you again ever so slightly you become aware of the most odd, prickly sensation. It tickles the hairs at the back of your neck, and you fight the peculiar urge to turn and look around. All you’d see is dancing bodies and stumbling drunks, anyway.

“It suits,” Mei Mei purrs with a smile that makes you a little nervous. Music throbs against your body so strongly that for a moment you’re not sure whether the beat you’re feeling in your chest belongs to your heart or the song. “Though you ought to be careful going on campus smelling like that. You’ll lure in every bloodsucker in a five-mile radius.”

You suppose that means the tincture is doing its job. The way her eyes are appraising your pulse points keeps you feeling nervous, though. Perhaps… it wasn’t the best idea to make yourself smell so scrumptious after all. There are more than a few loose canons in the area.

It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. At this point you just gotta double down and own the decision.

“Noted,” you say, taking a hearty sip of your death-in-a-cup. The burn is now a pleasant distraction. You smile at Mei Mei and feel that prickly, hot feeling increase tenfold. What is that?!

The sensation has your heart rate elevating slightly, and it must make the aroma of your blood a little stronger because the vampire before you lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering shut. Almost like it’s instinct, she takes a step closer and leans her head towards the crook of your neck. Your startle is almost imperceptible, and you’re thankful that the top you opted for is one that saved the neck exposure for a well-placed boob window instead. The fabric covering half the expanse of your throat is probably the only reason you don’t freak out at her actions.

Her nose brushes your skin, dragging up the column of your throat until it flirts with the bottom of your earlobe. Your heart skips a beat before tumbling into a full gallop. It’s different to how it felt with Satoru— you don’t like this nearly as much. Your legs tense with the urge to leave.

“Really,” she says, purring your name. “You’ve got me feeling quite peckish. Won’t you let me have a little sn–“

A grip winds around your wrist like a vice, not painful but certainly unforgiving. Startled, you look up and see the person of the hour, the vampire you went to all this effort to torment in the hopes he would want you again. Wow, it doesn’t sound great when you think of it like that. The alcohol is certainly not helping your self-esteem right now.

Satoru’s pretty baby-blues are dark, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen before, and his entire body is riddled with tension. He almost looks like the slightest pressure would have him snapping in half. His jaw is locked tightly, and he hisses through clenched teeth and descended fangs.

“Come with me. Now.”

You don’t get the chance to bid Mei Mei farewell, not that you really want to, and the last thing you see as you’re dragged out of the room is her waving a manicured hand your way, mouthing a playful ‘goodbye’. She looks far too amused for your comfort.

Right now, Satoru is nothing like the cheeky, carefree, shit-stirring bastard you’ve come to know and love. That isn’t to say you’re completely opposed to it, because the way he looks like know is a pretty big turn-on. But still – the difference is startling. You’re not sure how to navigate the situation.

Before you know it you’ve been unceremoniously relocated to his bedroom, and he is pressing you against the door the second it closes behind you with a heavy, loud THUD.

For a moment, the only sound that fills the space is that of the music beyond the wooden barrier. The bass is no longer indistinguishable with your heart beat – the stuttering rhythm that echoes against your rib cage is all you.

Satoru inhales deeply as though to calm himself down, only to let out a long, low groan immediately after. The sound affects you more than it probably should, heat winding pleasantly up your spine.

“What was that?” He demands, brows snapping together. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s most likely referring to Mei Mei being horny on main just before. His massive frame boxes you in against the door in such a way that you’re almost embarrassed by how much it makes your tummy flutter.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you breathe, chin tilted up as you hold his gaze. Something feral flickers through his expression.

“Oh, don’t be cute.” The words snap into the air, causing your breath to hitch. Satoru’s eyes flick to your forearm, where the slightest bruise still remains from the last time you were in close quarters like this. He swallows, piercing gaze returning to your own.

“I told you.” Satoru’s words leave in a snarl, his fingers firm against the flesh of your hips. His own body is so close to yours that you can feel the heat of it, the tingle of electricity that arcs between you. “That I would be able to smell it if another vampire so much as breathed near you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you getting chummy with one in my own home?”

You can easily recall him saying that to you almost a fortnight ago, when he had been commenting that he could tell you hadn’t been bitten before thanks to his sharp senses and all that. You didn’t think he was lying. You are surprised that he cares, though. Something like indignation bubbles beneath your lungs, because how dare the bastard spout that shit when he just spent the last two weeks since your ‘encounter’ pretending you didn’t exist.

“Not sure why you give a shit,” you retort, squashing down a whine that begins to rise in your throat when his hips begin to press into yours. “Seemed like you were done with me after you finally got that taste you wanted so bad.”

His brows scrunch together, appearing confused for a second amongst the agitation on his features. You decide to fill the gap in the conversation on his behalf.

“I really was just a Sip ‘n’ Dip to you, huh,” you scoff, letting your head fall back against the door. His eyes snap to the column of your throat, more of which is now exposed. “At least now I know the only thing you want from me is my blood. Really saved me some grief there, Satoru.”

“Excuse me?”

When your eyes slide back to his face, he looks like you’ve physically struck him. His fingers dig into your hips almost out of habit, just shy of being painful. Anger still bubbles beneath your sternum, and you glare at him.

“By the way, as far as I’m aware, biting me once doesn’t give you any exclusive rights to my blood, so where the hell do you get off getting so shitty because someone else took a whiff–“

Satoru snaps.

“I don’t just want your blood,” he snarls, lips curling away from pin-prick sharp fangs. He has the nerve to look insulted. “I want you, you stupidly oblivious pain in my ass. All of you.”

He then leans in, erasing any foreign scents lingering on you and replacing it with something of his own, whatever pheromone bullshit vampires do. You’re too busy trying to stop your heart from having palpitations to focus on it too much because what the fuck did he just say—

“Do you have any idea how close I am to losing myself to a frenzy, like a fucking fledgling?!” His lips brush over the pulse point at your neck, and then teeth, razor-sharp and full of promise, drag over the skin of your clavicle, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You shiver, flushing with heat and desire. The threat of another bite is already enough to have your body reacting in memory of how the last one felt. You want him, god you want him so, so badly.

“I haven’t fed since then because I can’t get the taste of you out of my head, and I can’t stomach anything else. I can’t stop thinking about the noises you made when I sank my teeth into you, and the scent of absolute desire that filled the entire fucking room the second the venom kicked in for you.” Satoru’s words are punctuated by a prick just below your collarbone, the brief sting eliciting a gasp. Warmth begins to trickle thinly from the site and is quickly staunched by a press of his tongue, and he moans. You’re so painfully aroused that it nearly makes you dizzy. He groans, long and suffering. “Just like now.”

He moves lower and lower, hauling you off the floor and completely into his hold so his mouth can reach your chest without stooping. Suddenly in the air, you can’t help the way you yelp and wrap your legs tightly around his hips – which, in turn, presses the heat of your core against the very prominent bulge there. You both echo a groan.

“Coward,” you manage to pant, out of sheer spite if nothing else. “Stupid idiot. I clearly want you. I literally could not have been any more obvious, you’re so –“

His teeth sink into the exposed top of your breast, retracting once they puncture deep enough to get a good flow. Then, he latches firmly onto the flesh, sucking it into his mouth. The act startles a moan out of you, the venom from the initial bite already transmuting the pain into heady pleasure and sending heat through your veins, all while kicking your heart into an even faster beat. Perhaps one of the best perks of the venom is that after that first dose settles in, the only part of the process left for you to feel is pleasure.

Even while you’re unable to help the way your hips roll into his own, and unable to ignore the feral, sinful moans vibrating against your chest as he suckles the wound he made and drinks from you, you manage to continue insulting him.

“You’re so stupid, why the hell did you avoid me for two weeks huh?” A moan breaks up your complaint as he swipes his tongue in broad movements over the bite, his hips snapping into yours and pressing you further into the door. The wood creaks, but neither of you pay it any mind. You can barely function around the incredible sensation of his cock grinding against you through layers of clothing. “All you did was send mixed messages and piss me off and, ngh fuck–“

He pulls back enough that you can see the flush in his face, the feral gleam in his eyes and the smear of blood over swollen lips. His brows are furrowed, but he’s too besotted by the taste of you to have as much heat behind his glare as he did previously.

“There are some things you can’t take back,” he grits out, tongue coming to clean the red from his lips. Your heart stutters, pulse thudding in your ears. “Especially for my kind. If I didn’t stay away, I probably would have ended up doing one of those things.”

Your core positively throbs with need, clenching around nothing. The extent to which you want him right now has you more irritable than usual. “Satoru, I wouldn’t have let you drink from me if I wasn’t interested in everything else it would entail—“

“You don’t understand,” Satoru groans, freeing a hand to rip at the material of your shirt. Clawed fingertips slice through with ease, taking out the bra straps underneath as well. He makes quick work of the band beneath your chest and the underwear is then torn from your form and thrown somewhere in the background. The material of your top remains, and he yanks it down below your aching breasts, watching with rapt attention as they bounce free heavily. Barely allowing you time to moan, he lifts you higher in his arms and dives down to drag his teeth over the swollen globes. He nips and nibbles across the sensitive skin, eliciting all sorts of sounds from you and an unbearable amount of desire that shoots straight between your legs. You can feel slick arousal trickling from your aching cunt with each new miniscule bite Satoru delivers, but honestly at this point you’re too horny to be embarrassed.

“I already want everything you can give me, and more.” He bites the inside of your breast and the flesh gives easily beneath the razor-sharp point of his fangs. One of his hands comes to grip the other side of your chest while he laps and sucks at the blood welling in the wound. Your nipples are painfully hard and you feel like you could cry in relief when his long, nimble fingers begin to deliver them some much-needed attention. “I want every single part of you and I don’t want to share. This is the way I am built. I can’t do this with you again and let you go afterwards. I want you to be mine.”

You probably shouldn’t find that as romantic as you do, but aren’t really in a position to psycho-analyse your response right now. It’s not all that surprising, either, since you recall someone mentioning to you before how strongly vampires bond with their partner when they finally make their choice. As it happens, his confession serves to not only make your heart soar but your pussy throb. You’ve been pining for this man for years, so even amongst the haze of lust clouding your mind you don’t have to think about how to respond to it.

This is, after all, the solution you were hoping for two weeks ago.

“I don’t want you to let me go, or take anything back. Please bite me again, mark me up–” You pause to gasp, Satoru having shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips. Your panties are gone a split-second later, likely discarded in the same manner as your bra, and the hand that was at your breast is now trailing your slit and gathering all the slick that has pooled there. His middle finger dips in, causing a stutter in your breath. You lean forward to whisper in his ear, snowy strands of hair tickling your cheeks as you do so. “And please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

Something snaps in him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

A feral snarl escapes him, a gravelly “fuck” the only warning you get before his teeth sink down just above your nipple, fangs retracting once blood wells to the surface, and he pulls both the wound and your stiffened peak into his mouth, sucking hard. There isn’t a single ounce of pain, only the white-hot pleasure that shoots to your clit and has you keening as a result, hands scrabbling for purchase along his broad shoulders. That free hand that was at your slit has made quick work of his pants and is now guiding his scalding member to slap against your clit, and then press against your entrance while you recover from the shock of pleasure.

You expected him to be well-endowed, and you’re not at all disappointed. Satoru’s cock is fat and long, and with one roll of his hips it spears right into you. There is no resistance, you’re far too aroused and wet for there to be any, but the feeling of being split open by such a monster quite literally knocks the breath out of you. You hardly recognise the noise that escapes you as one of your own, hands gripping the vampire’s hair and shoulder so tightly you’d be worried about hurting him if he was human. He isn’t, though, and without even noticing your grip continues drinking from you while latched to your breast, tongue pressing and rolling your aching nipple all the while.

A second is all you get to adjust to the foreign length inside you before Satoru rolls his hips back with a moan, the fat head of his cock dragging against your walls as he does so, and then slams it back in. He builds a rhythm immediately that is almost animalistic in its desperation and fervour, each thrust firm and hitting so deep inside that you honest to god think it has you seeing stars. Whines and moans tumble from your mouth, no longer able to be held back when the only thing your brain can comprehend is the sheer pleasure and ecstasy that burns and sparks along your limbs. He begins to hit a certain spot when he fucks up into your heat that has you clenching around him, slick gushing forth.

“FUCK.” He rips away from your chest to tilt his head back in a rough, stilted moan, his hands gripping and digging into the meat of your thighs where they melt into your ass. In the absence of his mouth, blood begins to dribble down the swell of your breast. His crystalline eyes are hazy and blown out in lust, brows drawn together and expression twisted in pleasure, his breath coming in pants. He is visibly barely holding it together, completely drunk on the taste and feel of you– and it simultaneously is the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “Yes, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”

You oblige, relishing in the full-body shiver that tears through him in response. He bites your name out amidst a tortured groan, hands shifting to your hips. His mouth returns to clean up the mess he left on your breast, lips latching around your nipple to suck and pull once more, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the way he suddenly begins to lift you by the hips and drop you back down on his cock in time with his thrusts. Almost. You have to bite back a scream at how fucking good it feels, the pressure and pace and just how full you feel. You can feel yourself rapidly beginning to come undone.

With the combination of his venom’s aphrodisiac effects and the sheer amount of time you’ve spent longing for this, you don’t imagine you’re going to last much longer. If the unforgiving pace of Satoru’s hips is anything to go by, you estimate the same to be the case for him.

He groans into your chest, releasing your breast to bounce in time with his thrusts, the action accompanied by an almost audible pop, and shifts his hold to free a hand. The pressure of two fingers against your clit has you crying out, body jerking at the sudden rush of pleasure – your head whips down to find him already looking at you, gaze swinging from the juncture of your thighs to your eyes. Evidently pleased by the expression he finds on your face, he continues his circling of your clit and leans his head down to trail kisses from your already-healing chest, up the column of your throat, across the line of your jaw, until he finally arrives at your lips.

“Mine,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours in a feather-light caress. His baby-blue eyes are lidded heavily and almost dazed, coherent thought lost to the throes of pleasure and his most simple instincts. He nicks your lip at the same time as he angles a particularly wonderful thrust, the head of his cock hitting against that spot that makes you see stars and release a loud, wanton cry. “You’re all mine.”

You pull back to nod rapidly, unable to form words when all you can think – all you can feel – is the throbbing pleasure of his cock splitting you open with each heavy thrust. His head follows, lips seeking your own once more. The kiss is hot, and needy, and his oversized canines scrape your bottom lip more than once, and yet all you can do is return the fervour in between moans and whines. His hand is still at work between your legs, and you feel in your bones that you’re really not going to last much longer at this rate.

Satoru releases your mouth with a final nip, and moves his head to nestle it in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He groans, low and long, and the vibration turns to a shiver as it travels over your skin. His lips begin to move.

“Say it.”

You struggle to think let alone figure out what he wants, lost in the current of your rapidly approaching orgasm. His fingers pick up speed, aided by the generous amount of arousal still gushing from your pussy in between thrusts. It takes everything you have not to scream, your hips bucking.

“Say it,” he says again, an oddly uncertain note infiltrating his rumbling gasp. He utters your name while nosing at your throat and you feel yourself melt. “Please, say it.”

Realisation as to what he is looking for hits you at the same time as your orgasm. “Fuck! I’m– I’m yours, all yours! God, fuck—“

Satoru’s pace stutters, undone by your pussy clenching and throbbing around him in a fight to keep him inside, and it takes him a moment to recover before he begins to fuck into you again in earnest, movements growing sloppy and frantic but no less punishing. It all serves to prolong the wave of absolute bliss you’re riding in the wake of what has to be the strongest orgasm of your life. Those vampiric toxins are no joke.

You wind your arms around his neck, clutching him close and trying not to lose your mind as he fucks up into you, the drag of his cock against your walls somehow even more delicious than before. He mouths at your neck, hips beginning to stutter once more. You clench around him, and he breaks. There is barely enough time for a curse to escape his mouth before its clamping on your neck, teeth digging in deep— deeper than he’s ever bitten you before— and tingling heat spreading out from the puncture sites. He gives one, two, three final, dragging thrusts, body trembling and muscles taut, before his cock throbs and he buries it inside you, spilling into you with a deep, rumbling groan against your throat.

Soft, panting moans escape you as his hips continue to roll into you softly, riding out his orgasm, and you bite back a wanton groan as you feel his cum beginning to trickle out around his softening member. As soon as he comes back to his senses to a degree, he has the presence of mind to navigate the two of you to the bed before he loses strength in his legs, his mouth slipping from your neck after he laves his tongue over the wound to seal it. Unceremoniously, he drops the two of you against the mattress, but surprisingly keeps you snugly in his hold and his length still buried inside you. Ignoring how hot that is, you decide to view the action from a purely romantic light and nearly melt into the mattress.

Vaguely, you register the thumping club beats still booming beyond the confines of the room. Evidently the party was still ongoing.

“This wasn’t how I planned for today to go,” he admits, after a few beats of contented silence. He nuzzles his face to your chest, dragging his nose across your collarbone. “I was going to talk to you tomorrow morning.”

You snort; that’s likely.

“… This is how I planned for today to go, though.”

He huffs a laugh before pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to enable you further. He allows for another few moments to pass, and in that time you let your own eyes flutter closed.

“You can’t change your mind, by the way,” he says suddenly, tone odd. You open your eyes and turn to see his crystalline gaze directed to your neck, where the latest of his bite marks sits proudly. “I may have done one of those things I can’t take back.”

You’re not sure how to tell him it’s not as bad of a thing as he thinks it to be.

likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 lmk what you think!

#gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru smut #vampire au #vampire gojo satoru #smut #my work #jjk writings #jjk #jealous gojo satoru #posessive gojo satoru #i'll probs proofread later #probably #oneshot #he's a bit feral in this one but we love that for him #satoru x reader #satoru x reader smut

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nyoomerr · 5 months

Note

For the drabble request, I can never get enough shixiong!SY bingqiu. But only if you're up to it :)

ok it turns out i'm fundamentally unable to write a drabble as short as theyre meant to be, so here's over 4k words of shixiong!sy for your perusal 🤡 (+ a decent helping of cranky peak lord sqq and his wayward head disciple sy)

---

Shen Yuan… has possibly let himself become a bit too relaxed, since he first transmigrated. He used to spend every day on high alert: every cute little kid might be the protagonist, every mistake he made might have been logged somewhere for a petty revenge side plot later. He wouldn’t dare miss anything plot relevant, not when it might cause his doom. After all, ‘Shen Yuan’ wasn’t even a named character within PIDW - he was well and truly canon fodder!

But then, ah… Then Shen Yuan was accepted as a disciple on Qing Jing, and then he was a personal disciple of the notorious Shen Qingqiu, and then -

Well, not even Shen Yuan can keep up that sort of hyper vigilance all the time, okay!! He’s the scum villain’s head disciple - basically a henchman! If he lived in fear for every moment he might be condemned, he’d never have a second to rest!

It isn’t Shen Yuan’s fault that the best way to relax in this world is to go on years-long expeditions off peak!

…It might, maybe, be just a tiny bit my fault, Shen Yuan thinks, staring at Luo Binghe with horror. How does he manage to take such a long vacation that he misses the protagonist’s arrival onto Qing Jing? What kind of fake fan is he, ah?!

Luo Binghe has not introduced himself as such, but there is no way he can be anyone but Luo Binghe. His hair falls into perfect curls around a face so cute and round Shen Yuan wants to squish his cheeks until they turn pink, and he’s wearing an expression so determined and focused that it puts Shen Yuan to shame as the head disciple.

And he’s chopping wood. That’s the most recognizable part, obviously.

Shen Yuan forces himself to step forward into the small glade he found Luo Binghe in, clearing his throat awkwardly. Luo Binghe whips around, and Shen Yuan nearly cringes at the nervous apprehension on the boy’s face.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to startle you…” Shen Yuan trails off. Luo Binghe stares at him and says nothing. Shen Yuan’s perfectly nice and friendly smile starts to slip. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before…?”

“Apologies to Shixiong, this one will be sure to cut wood further away from the main peak buildings, so Shixiong doesn’t have to see me again.”

“Wha - wait, wait, that’s not what I meant!” Shen Yuan cries, becoming increasingly concerned about just how long he’s been away from Qing Jing.

For Luo Binghe to already be this wary of any Shixiong who looks his way… ah, Shen Yuan has basically already failed every single one of his loose plans to keep Luo Binghe from blackening! He wasn’t even there to witness Luo Binghe’s initial perfect white sheep days, let alone keep him out of the warpath of bullies and bitter Shizuns!

“This Shixiong is Shen Yuan,” he says, taking a few slow steps closer to Luo Binghe. Somehow, he gets the feeling that he has to be ready to catch Luo Binghe by the scruff if he tries to run off or start a fight while Shen Yuan is just trying to introduce himself, ah!

“This one is Luo Binghe,” Luo Binghe replies, dipping into a perfunctory bow.

“Yes!” Shen Yuan says. “I mean - well, it’s a good name.”

Luo Binghe’s expression only grows more wary.

“And ah, how long has Luo Binghe been on the peak?” Shen Yuan asks, even though the look Luo Binghe is giving him makes him want to slink back off into the bamboo forest. He has to know - if he’s lucky, it’ll only have been a year or two, and Shen Yuan can -

“This one has been a disciple of Qing Jing for over three years, now,” Luo Binghe says.

“Hm!” Shen Yuan says, because what he really wants to do is yell but he can’t do that with this customer service smile plastered on his face.

Inwardly, he allows himself to monologue out a list of swears that would’ve gotten his old online accounts temporarily locked. Over three years is too long!! The blackening has already started!! Luo Binghe has already started damaging his meridians by following that cursed fake manual, has already started training under Meng Mo, and most importantly has already given up hope of being accepted here and started farming resentment instead!

Shen Yuan is fucked!! What sort of half-assed blackening prevention plan starts this late!?

“Ah, so Luo-shidi must already be 15, or nearly there,” Shen Yuan says aloud, laughing nervously. “Are you, um, sure?”

Please, please tell this pitiful Shixiong of yours that you just misspoke!!

Luo Binghe looks at him like he’s an idiot. Shen Yuan can feel nervous sweat beading along his forehead.

“It’s just - well, Luo-shidi is quite small, for being 15,” Shen Yuan says, and then nearly bites his tongue in an attempt to correct himself. Who is he to call the protagonist ‘small,’ ah!! “Not quite small! Only a bit! Only - uh, only slightly smaller than I’d expect! It’s only that I’m already 19, and Luo-shidi is much - I mean only a little! - shorter than I am, so -”

Shen Yuan makes himself shut up. You’re making a fool of yourself in front of the protagonist, you idiot!

“This one will be sure to train more to get bigger,” Luo Binghe says, though it sounds a bit like he’s talking through gritted teeth.

“No, no, you’re training plenty!” Shen Yuan rushes to say. “Uh, that is - admittedly, I’ve been off peak for some time now, but when I was Luo-shidi’s age, things like chopping wood were a group chore, so if you’re managing it all by yourself, surely you’re… big and strong…”

Shen Yuan shuts up again. Luo Binghe stares at him some more, but there’s something in his expression that seems more considering that it had been just a moment ago.

After a long stretch of awkward silence, he seems to come to some sort of resolution, and takes a hesitant step towards Shen Yuan.

“Forgive this one’s ignorance,” he says, slow and careful. “The other Shixiong said it was a chore best done alone to build strength. Is that wrong?”

“Very wrong,” Shen Yuan says, nearly beside himself with relief.

Good, very good! Luo Binghe hasn’t lost all hope for his time on Qing Jing Peak just yet, after all! Given the chance, he’ll still try to carefully raise the issue of his bullying to a responsible Shixiong to take care of!

Shen Yuan can so be a responsible Shixiong that takes care of reports of bullying for Luo Binghe!!

“Oh,” Luo Binghe says, edging even closer to Shen Yuan. “Then what does Shen-shixiong think I should do?”

“Luo-shidi doesn’t have to do anything about this,” Shen Yuan says firmly. “This Shixiong will take care of finding out who’s meant to be sharing this chore with you and make them do the rest of it.”

“There might be multiple people,” Luo Binghe offers, still speaking with a caution that makes it quite clear how likely he thinks it is that Shen Yuan’s assistance will vanish as soon as Luo Binghe complains too much.

“Because Luo-shidi has been made to do this chore alone for many days, now?” Shen Yuan asks.

Still looking a bit wary, Luo Binghe nods. Shen Yuan sighs, having expected that answer, and takes the final steps needed to get within arm’s reach of Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe watches him closely, his hands curling tighter around the ax he’d been using to chop the wood.

Moving slowly so as not to spook him, Shen Yuan raises one hand to place gently on Luo Binghe’s head. He really is too short for 15, but Shen Yuan knows all the details of ‘why’ - having to work too hard with not enough rest, having meals withheld from him or being served with spoilt ingredients - any kid would be a bit small, when under those conditions.

Luo Binghe had gone stiff under Shen Yuan’s touch, and Shen Yuan takes a moment to pet the top of his head for a moment before saying anything else, hoping to get Luo Binghe to relax again.

Ah, I really did mean to try and keep you safe, Shen Yuan thinks to himself, feeling regretful. He’d come to Cang Qiong with the intention of finding Luo Binghe early, after all, and had worked as hard as he had in order to be ready for Luo Binghe when he came.

But then he had worked too hard, and Shen Qingqiu had promoted him to head disciple, and suddenly Shen Yuan thought he might go insane if he wasn’t able to get off Qing Jing Peak and stay off for as long as he could possibly get away with, and -

How stupid of him. Luo Binghe must have been taken in during the disciple selection the very same year that Shen Yuan had taken off on his extended field trip. How very, very stupid of Shen Yuan, to think that things wouldn’t go upside down the second he looked away - this is Luo Binghe’s story, after all, and it’s always been a bit of a tragedy.

“Then this Shixiong can only apologize to you,” Shen Yuan says softly, with perhaps just a bit too much sincerity. “And in the future, if you’re given this sort of work again, I’ll chop wood in your place.”

Under his hand, Luo Binghe peers up at Shen Yuan with wide, hungry eyes. Shen Yuan gives him a final pat before withdrawing his hand, and plasters his friendly smile back on his face.

“Now, why don’t you get cleaned up, hm? I’ll meet you again later - this Shixiong of yours still needs to report back to Shizun that I’ve returned from my trip.”

Luo Binghe nods, still watching Shen Yuan with an intensity that would feel more at home on an emperor than a scrawny 15 year old, and Shen Yuan beats a hasty retreat.

Despite all the pretty promises he made to Luo Binghe, he’s going to have to think of something clever to actually be able to fulfill them.

After all, not even all of his meta knowledge combined would be able to save Shen Yuan from his Shizun.

---

Shen Yuan has been pacing outside Shen Qingqiu’s bamboo house for ten minutes now. Nothing he can think of is good enough to convince someone as petty and stubborn as Shen Qingqiu.

Once, at the start of his time on Qing Jing Peak, Shen Yuan had tied his disciple robes wrong, unused to wearing anything quite so complex. Shen Qingqiu had sneered at his mistake in the moment, and then for every major event in the next five years straight he’d made a point to comment snidely on how well Shen Yuan has managed to dress himself.

That’s the sort of mean streak this man has!! If he doesn’t like something, he’ll keep harping on that one thing for years, even after that thing isn’t around to bother him anymore! How is Shen Yuan supposed to coax Luo Binghe out of the jaws of a man like that?

Ah, forget it, forget it! Shen Yuan would just - he’d come back another day! Greeting Shen Qingqiu wasn’t really necessary, Shen Yuan could just -

“I was under the impression that Shen Yuan was a head disciple returning from field work, not a child trying to avoid bedtime.”

Shen Yuan whips around, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end like a spooked cat. There, kneeling elegantly on his front porch not ten meters from Shen Yuan, is Shen Qingqiu.

“Shizun!” Shen Yuan cries, trying to force his grimace into a nice, polite smile. “When did - I mean - this disciple means -”

Shen Qingqiu closes his fan with a harsh snap, and Shen Yuan shuts his mouth so fast he almost bites his tongue.

“Well?” Shen Qingqiu asks dryly, and Shen Yuan hurriedly drops into a bow.

“This disciple greets Shizun!” Shen Yuan shouts, his ears burning with embarrassment.

Shen Qingqiu hums, and Shen Yuan risks peeking out from his bow to look at him.

He does not look especially pleased.

With all the elegance of a wild cat, Shen Qingqiu unfolds himself from his kneeling position on the porch and glides over to Shen Yuan.

“Too low,” he says, slapping at Shen Yuan’s wrists with his fan. “Or was Shen Yuan hoping there would be a replacement head disciple waiting for him by the time he came back from his trip?”

“Ahahaha,” Shen Yuan wheezes, carefully correcting himself into a bow of a slightly higher ranked disciple than the one he’d originally slipped into. “Of course this disciple is honored by the position and very very grateful for Shizun’s benevolence in leaving it to him even during his absence…”

“What advice does Shen Yuan think his Shizun has for him?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply, and Shen Yuan winces.

“‘Talk less,’ Shizun,” he recites dutifully. It is advice that Shen Qingqiu has given him many, many times.

Shen Qingqiu sniffs haughtily and walks a slow circle around Shen Yuan, inspecting him. Shen Yuan tries not to sweat too profusely. He really had been hoping that Shen Qingqiu may have forgotten about Shen Yuan in his years away, ah!

Finally, Shen Qingqiu completes his inspection, stopping once more in front of Shen Yuan.

“What sort of pathetic creature has Shen Yuan carved the bones of to make his hairpiece?” He asks, using his fan to prod at Shen Yuan’s hairpin.

“A Hundred Year Crystal Tortoise, Shizun,” Shen Yuan answers.

“And the leather of your belt?”

“A Golden-Footed Acidic Bear, Shizun.”

“And did you even bother to remove the -”

“- the needle hairs beneath the Bear’s skin before treating the pelt,” Shen Yuan interrupts. “Yes, Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “How bold you’ve gotten, interrupting your Shizun.”

“...Sorry, Shizun,” Shen Yuan mumbles, deflating a bit.

“Still,” Shen Qingqiu sighs, and Shen Yuan peeks back up at him again. “You did decent enough, I suppose.”

Shen Yuan perks up, half-standing up out of his bow. “Thanking Shizun -!”

Shen Qingqiu whacks him over the head with his fan. “If Shen Yuan’s trip had been only a single year, instead of nearly four!”

Shen Yuan very quickly gets back into the proper deferential position.

“Fleeing so quickly after being promoted, only to stay away for this long - I hope Shen Yuan is comfortable sleeping on the ground, because I’ve long since given up keeping the side room in my house for an absent head disciple. I filled it with cursed artifacts and dusty books two years ago.”

“Shizun -!” Shen Yuan protests, starting to stand up again. He’d liked that little room, damn it! It was the one decent part of being promoted to head disciple in the first place, even if it meant sharing a roof with this asshole!!

Shen Qingqiu whacks him again, and Shen Yuan obediently shuts up.

“Foolish boy,” he scolds, before promptly turning on his heel to stalk back to the bamboo house. “Hurry up, then,” he calls behind him, “I want to see if you still make tea as dreadfully as you did before.”

Shen Yuan makes a face at Shen Qingqiu’s back. Without looking behind him, Shen Qingqiu uses his qi to send a single leaf flying to Shen Yuan’s head, slapping him on the forehead right over where Shen Yuan’s brows had bunched together.

Shen Yuan smooths his face out into a perfectly polite smile once more. This asshole, he curses inwardly, he really is scum!! The lowest of the low!! A bully!!!

“Tea, Shen Yuan,” Shen Qingqiu calls once more, and Shen Yuan hurries to catch up.

---

Later, after Shen Yuan has dutifully given a retelling of his adventures over the last few years, and after Shen Qingqiu has grilled him on every mistake he made and how stupid that was of him and how shitty his tea still tastes, Shen Yuan finally manages to bring up Luo Binghe.

“This disciple met someone new this morning,” he says, pouring Shen Qingqiu more of his apparently awful tea.

“Was Shen Yuan sure they were new? Perhaps it’s been so many years your brain has started to forget the faces of the idiots here in favor of whatever foolish beasts you’ve been studying.”

“Someone new,” Shen Yuan confirms, pretending to ignore Shen Qingqiu’s very pointed glare. “He was a disciple even younger than Ning-shimei, and you only picked her out the year before I left.”

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu says, and all of a sudden Shen Yuan thinks that perhaps his Shizun has never been truly irritated with him in the past, because this expression is far more acidic than anything Shen Yuan has seen before.

“A-ah…?” Shen Yuan says, stupidly.

Shen Jiu sets his cup down with a harsh clink. “Shen Yuan should ignore that little beast. He won’t bring you any good news.”

“Shizun, this disciple likes beasts best,” Shen Yuan says. “Is he so bad?”

“Ignore him,” Shen Qingqiu repeats frostily.

Shen Yuan swallows. This… there’s no way that he’ll be able to convince Shen Qingqiu to give Luo Binghe an honest shot in this one conversation. He can’t bet on being able to eventually wear him down, though, either - even if he does eventually convince him, if it takes a year to do it, that’s also not any good. Shen Yuan needs to be able to help Luo Binghe now.

Okay. This is fine. Shen Yuan has - he has so many very good ideas, all of them very well thought out and full of strategic benefits. He can use any one of these very good and smart ideas.

“I understand, Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, “That beast won’t be a shidi of mine, then.”

“Good, now -”

“But what about as a pet?”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him. Shen Yuan stares back.

“A pet,” Shen Qingqiu repeats.

“A pet,” Shen Yuan agrees. “Shizun, I already said that I like beasts best - if I can’t raise Luo Binghe to be my shidi, can’t I raise him as my pet instead?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “Beasts aren’t for keeping.”

“Sometimes they are - Cang Qiong has a whole peak dedicated to such a thing,” Shen Yuan points out. Shen Qingqiu’s scowl grows more fierce.

“Qing Jing is above such dirty work,” he spits.

Shen Yuan swallows again, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. He’s already started down this path; he may as well place all his bets on making it through.

“Then perhaps Qing Jing is not for this disciple after all,” Shen Yuan says, trying to keep his voice steady. It still comes out a bit reedy, but at the very least, his voice doesn’t crack over the words.

Shen Qingqiu’s eye twitches. “Speak plainly - Shen Yuan has already spent several years neglecting his duties. How much farther do you intend to stray?”

“Shizun so graciously held the position of head disciple open for this one,” Shen Yuan hedges. “On that topic, isn’t it possible for head disciples to choose to spend a decade or so on a different peak of their choice, to encourage diversity in education and cross-peak relationships before the head disciple becomes beholden to their peak as a lord? Perhaps I could take in a pet on a different peak, with such a method.”

“That’s a custom reserved for older disciples,” Shen Qingqiu spits, “intended to benefit them in the years directly leading up to their ascension as a peak lord, not when the head disciple is just a little whelp with a century ahead of them before they can wear a lord’s crown.”

“No such rule is written anywhere, Shizun.”

“Then I’ll write it,” Shen Qingqiu hisses. “Shen Yuan, you’ve had your fun these past years - now you are to stay on this peak.”

“Then I want a pet,” Shen Yuan says, tilting his head up defiantly. “It’ll benefit Shizun, too: you won’t have to feed or clothe him anymore, nor train him to be a cultivator.”

Not that you were doing any of those things for Luo Binghe before, ah!! Shen Yuan thinks, trying to focus on that feeling of indignation. If he just thinks about that - about the horror of coming across Luo Binghe in that clearing earlier, too scrawny to be 15 and yet wary enough of the world he may as well have been an adult - then Shen Yuan can hold his ground.

If he just thinks about Luo Binghe as a neglected kid, and he just thinks of Shen Qingqiu as that child’s abuser -

If he just thinks about that, then Shen Yuan can meet the eyes of the man who has taught him and promoted him and housed him in the side room of his house, and he can demand this one thing.

“With what funds would Shen Yuan be able to feed and clothe his pet?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply. “With what free time would he train him not to bite?”

“This one is the head disciple of Qing Jing Peak,” Shen Yuan says. “If a head disciple couldn’t manage that much, they certainly couldn’t deserve to ascend as a peak lord in the future.”

Shen Qingqiu falls silent, unfurling his fan and raising it high up his face until only his eyes peered out the top of it, watching Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan’s hands twist in his lap, but he keeps his gaze steady.

“A head disciple does not run away from the position,” Shen Qingqiu says.

“Nor does a master run off from their pet,” Shen Yuan agrees.

There’s another moment of quiet as they both watch each other. When Shen Qingqiu speaks again, his voice is firm, like someone reciting basic peak rules and not the terms of the most batshit insane agreement Shen Yuan has ever brokered.

“You will stay on Qing Jing,” Shen Qingqiu says, “and you will accept the head discipleship position without fuss.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

“No more trips. No more pretending to forget to introduce yourself as my head disciple. No more pushing your pathetic disciple brothers at me with paperwork that you clearly filled out in some sort of foolish scheme to have me consider them over you.”

Shen Yuan winces. “Yes, Shizun.”

“You will not receive any additional allowance, for any reason, outside of the funds normally provided to a head disciple. Any pests you pick up will not sleep in my house, nor will you be allowed to request room in the dormitories for any such creature. Those resources are for disciples, not beasts.”

Shen Yuan hesitates. Luo Binghe can’t sleep in the rundown woodshed forever, and he wants to protest the idea that the dorms are for disciples, as if Luo Binghe was ever allowed in there in the first place.

Shen Qingqiu taps one finger on the table. “Answer, Shen Yuan.”

“This disciple agrees under one condition,” Shen Yuan says. “Using his personal funds, this disciple would like to request permission to make moderate renovations to a peak structure in order to improve the quality of kept wood.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Disciple Shen Yuan’s personal funds will be drained by feeding an animal - you will not be able to afford the standards that Qing Jing exacts for renovation projects.”

“This disciple has been collecting favors from An Ding. They will be repaid, and this disciple will be able to afford the project.”

“Shen Yuan had best not be caught collecting any such favors forcibly,” Shen Qingqiu warns, which is very distinctly a ‘don’t get caught blackmailing people’ warning and not a blanket ‘don’t blackmail people’ one.

“Of course,” Shen Yuan agrees. “This one is the personal disciple of Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu - how could I get caught in such a way?”

Read: you’ve made sure I understand how to not get caught when doing something shady, at the very least!!

Shen Qingqiu waves his fan once, twice - he’s irritated, but doesn’t necessarily disagree.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Permission for a renovation to that ugly woodshed is granted. And Shen Yuan’s answer to all other stipulations?”

“This disciple agrees.”

Shen Qingqiu slaps his fan closed in one palm. “Then Shen Yuan is allowed a pet. I won’t interfere further.”

Shen Yuan nods. He expected as much; Shen Qingqiu won’t egg on any further bullying, nor will he stop Shen Yuan from taking any measures he pleases when it comes to Luo Binghe, but he won’t help Shen Yuan dissuade the current bullying.

That’s fine - already, this is enough to help Luo Binghe.

“Thanking Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, bowing his head slightly. “This disciple will not disappoint.”

After all, how hard could raising the protagonist be? This world revolves around Luo Binghe; all Shen Yuan needs to do is make Luo Binghe’s everyday life a bit less miserable, give him just one person he can trust. Luo Binghe will manage the rest himself, by nature of being who he is - what he is.

Yes, this - this is the best way.

---

Outside the bamboo house, crouched beneath a window so still his muscles ache and his head feels woozy from how shallow he’s kept his breathing, Luo Binghe listens to his Shizun and Shixiong move on to discuss cleaning out the side room now that Shen Yuan has returned to the peak.

A pet, he thinks, his eyes blown wide, his fingers digging deep into the ground beneath his knees. He can feel dirt caking the underside of his fingernails, and the scars he leaves in the ground are very much like an animal, indeed.

A pet, he thinks again, over and over on loop in his mind, his pretty Shixiong’s voice fading to background noise. He thinks of Shen Yuan gently patting his head like one might coax a dog, and he thinks -

Yes, a pet.

#please forgive any grammar/flow issues w this if i tried to edit it i would have come to you w a 6k oneshot instead of a 4k one LMFAO #i'll probs clean it up and post it on ao3 after rent a bingge is done! for now tho enjoy uwu #svsss #bingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #fic drabble

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zecoritheweirdone · 2 months

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i am being so so normal about these guys right now

#my art #mystery skulls animated #lewis pepper #vivi yukino #arthur kingsmen #msa lewis #msa vivi #msa arthur #made these to try and figure out how to draw them all consistently!! and also flesh out my own lil drawing quirks #three of those doodles in the first image are based on a oneshot i'm; like. Trying to write #btw the thing arthur's wearing in the second image are pizza glasses #someone asked for arthur w/ silly glasses; and these felt like they'd fit him;; kdjdkdjd;;;#[looks at the six (6) arthur doodles] mm. yeah i think i'm being subtle 'bout who my fav is #also i saw someone's art of arthur with his hair down and i absolutely adored it.#so obviously i had to steal i mean borrow it for myself #robozombii!! that's the artist!! their art is verrrrry very good!!!!!!!#fun fact! the lil ahoge in arthur's hair is shaped a bit like a lightning bolt!#another fact! originally lewis' sweater had the caption 'no prob-llama' bc i'm a fake fan who forgot that his favorite animal was alpacas #so now it's an alpacapella sweater

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johnslittlespoon · 2 months

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thinking about john and gale cutting each other's hair in the stalag

blunt stolen scissors and dusty mirrors and john being so heavy handed that sometimes gale's eyes go a bit wide at the size of a clump of hair that falls to the floor but he knows that john likes it when his hair grows out so he's sure he won't butcher it too bad

[or alternatively, john being so careful and gentle in comparison to the way he usual barrels through life that gale is surprised, watching the concentration on john's face in the mirror, heart fuzzy]

gale taking it so seriously, running dark curls through his fingers as he tries to keep them neat but long, being gentle around his ears, so focussed while john yaps away at him, having to pause every few seconds with how much john shifts around so that he doesn't accidentally take his eye out

john shaking his head to shake out loose clippings when the haircut is done like a dog shaking water off its fur, gale watching him so painfully fondly and reaching up to brush a clump off his shoulder

#i'm so soft for the little glimpses of domesticity and normalcy they'd try to find in there #i'm probs gonna draw this and/or write a oneshot about it tbh #buck x bucky #buckbucky #johnslittlespoon brainrot

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houseofripley · 3 months

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Okay so I've been thinking of writing a Rhea fanfic...I'm thinking of plots rn. But I do know is that I want angst, darkness, smut, and a little bit of fluff as a treat. GIVE ME ANGST OR GIVE ME DEATH! Maybe a little slow-burn too I'm not surrrrrreeeee. I plan on making some pinterest board and a playlist. Anyways I wanna know if anyone would actually read it before I start laying out the plot.

#rhea ripley fanfic #rhea ripley angst #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley oneshot #rhea ripley x oc #rhea ripley imagne #rhea ripley x you #i will prob crosspost on ao3 as well #rhea ripley fanfiction

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smoft-demons · 3 months

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Tsundere nonsense

(This takes place between getting Beel’s pact and leaving for the retreat)

Mild angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. The human is very sensitive and cannot tell when Mammon’s spouting bullshit.

_______

Auva sits on the couch in the living room next to Beel. There’s a show playing on the TV. Beel is snacking as they watch it idly. Levi sits in a corner playing a game on a handheld console, hunched over and grumbling about being out of his room. Asmo sits on the floor, painting Satan’s nails. Everything is peaceful.

Mammon walks in, and Auva perks up, hands grabbing at the air in his direction. Beckoning him to sit at her other side.

Mammon acquiesces with an unsubtly fond eyeroll. Smiling openly.

Asmo snickers at him

“Honestly, Mammon, you still can’t admit that you’re wrapped around that human’s little finger? You’ve all but adopted her at this point! Can’t you say how much you love her?” Asmo teases.

Mammon sputters, hands flapping frantically as his face burns bright red. “Wh—! I—! NO! I don’t love the human, I didn’t even want the human, I don’t care about the stupid thing, what the fuck are ya talkin’ about Asmo—Shut the fuck up before I make you—!” Mammon deflects desperately, defending himself as Asmo cackles.

Under the sound of Mammon’s shouting, there’s a muffled little sound. A quick, squeaky puff of air, as if from being punched in the gut... Auva.

She inhales slowly, blinking hard. Trying not to cry. Trying not to draw attention.

It’s not working. She turns to bury her face in Beel’s shirt.

Because… Auva knew Mammon didn’t like her at first, he had said as much all the time! But… but she really thought he had changed his mind by now! He hadn’t said anything like that in weeks!

All the time he spent in her room, all the hangouts and talks and whispering stupid comments to each other in class, all the silly memes they’d sent to each other, his ever present charger and toothbrush and random items left in her room because he’s always in there with her… how is that not friendship? How can he still not care about her after all that? How could he not want her? Why…

“…why would he say that?” Auva asks Beel, her voice cracking with barely suppressed tears.

Beel places an arm around her shoulders. “He doesn’t mean it.” He assures her.

She sniffles quietly.

“—the worst, Asmo, see if I don’t sell YOU next, you piece of—oh, human…” Mammon finally notices his human, curled up in a little shivering ball of heartbreak. Hiding under Beel’s arm. Tucked away from him.

“Wha—no, no, hey… ya know I never mean any of that… right? Human..? Auva…” Mammon’s voice is suddenly softer. Soothing, like he’s trying to coax a scared animal out of hiding.

Silence.

(In the background, Levi glares at Asmo. He throws a nearby cushion at him.)

“I didn’t mean it, Auva, I promise..! C’mon… look at me?” Mammon frantically says.

Auva sniffles again. “Y-you said… you don’t care about me. Stupid thing, you said… you said—”

“No, no, human… I’m sorry. I didn’t… you’re not a stupid thing. I promise ya, I didn’t mean it! I was just…” he sighs heavily, as he mentally kicks his own ass.

“I—look. I get defensive, I’m… how’d you put it? I’m real fuckin bad at feelings, okay? I just—I get called out, then I get defensive, an’ I just yell lies to get everyone to lay off, an’—aww, baby, no don’t cry, don’t… fuck, I’m a jackass… c’mere, c’mere…”

Beel glares at Mammon as he pulls Auva out of her hiding spot, so he can hug her.

Auva thinks what he just said demonstrates some rather impressive emotional intelligence and self-awareness, especially for someone who just claimed to be bad at feelings. This… is encouraging, she thinks. Maybe, maybe it really will be okay..? Maybe he really does love her?

Hesitantly, desperately, Auva hugs back. Tangling her fingers into his shirt, hands bunched up in the loose fabric at his sides. Clinging, but not daring to actually hold him. Not yet.

“I’ll work on it, I promise. I’ll do better. I promise, I promise, human… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean a word of it, I’ve never meant any of that, please tell me ya knew that…” Mammon pleads as he squeezes his human tightly. Secure, safe… how he knows by now she responds best to.

“You said… you said you don’t want me..?” Auva sobs.

“I do, baby, I do. You’re MY human. ‘Course I want ya! I’m never gonna get rid of ya… shhh, shhshshh… I’m here, baby. I gotcha. I’m not lettin’ go. Promise.”

Mammon has dropped his tsundere nonsense entirely. It falls away to reveal the soft, gentle, protector that Mammon is when no one else is there to witness it.

“…Auva?” Mammon murmurs in the long, quiet moment after she’s calmed down. “You did know that I never meant any of that crap I say when I get like that… right?”

Auva shakes her head slightly. “How would I know?? I can’t do subtext, Mam. Unless it’s in fiction, I guess. I never pick up on any of that in real life. I just… I trust you, so I believe you. S-so… if you say that you don’t care about me… how would I know that’s not what you meant?”

“…oh. Well… fuck. I… y’know what? I need you to know I’m tellin’ ya the truth now. I want you to use the pact. Command me to tell you the truth. Lemme tell you what I really meant.”

Auva’s taken aback. That’s a big gesture! “Um—are you sure?”

He looks away, red-faced and clenching his jaw as he nods. He gestures at her to hurry it up, get it over with.

“Okay… Mammon, tell me the truth. What do you really think of me?”

“Auva… you’re MY human. My precious lil buddy. You’re my lil gremlin human. There’s really not much I wouldn’t do for you. I love you, I’d NEVER get rid of you! I can’t imagine ever not wanting you here with me. You’re not some… stupid annoying obligation. Not at all. I can’t believe you really didn’t realize how much I cared about you, even from the very first few days of knowin’ you! Auva, I’m supposed to protect you, and I WANT to! You’re my baby, Auva. My lil baby. I love you, and I’m staying with you. As long as possible. ‘Kay?”

Auva stares wide eyed at Mammon. That’s… wow. Some shit she’s sure he’d NEVER say if it weren’t forced out of him. Safe to say she knows what to believe now.

She lifts the command.

“…wow. Okay. Yeah. Thank you…”

Overwhelmed, Auva buries herself in Mammon’s arms again. That was… a lot.

“Don’t let go?” She requests softly. Mammon squeezes her reassuringly in answer.

It’s peaceful again for a moment.

“Mammon.” Beel rumbles threateningly. “If you make the baby cry again I will throw you through another wall.”

Auva makes an embarrassed sound, curling into Mammon to hide again.

Mammon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. I won’t. I got the baby. She’s fiiine.”

Auva squeaks, overwhelmed and unsure how she’s supposed to react. She decides on clinging to Mammon and ignoring everything else. Her usual strat. It’s normally effective enough.

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1ts-izzy · 7 months

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☆ currency exchange

Almost every kid in Denver knew that you could bribe Vance to do whatever you wanted, as long as you paid him in quarters. Most people saved up money to pay Vance to beat up other kids, but more often then not some favours were different.

Bruce Yamada has had a crush on Vance since sixth grade, when Vance asked to borrow a pencil. At that time he had only been held back once, and was a year older then Bruce. Vance had grinned at Bruce, and from that moment on Bruce had fallen head over heels for Vance.

The raven-haired boy would hang around the Grab'n'Go, watching Vance secretly play pinball.

The idea to ask Vance out on a date came from another girl who also had a crush on Vance. She brought Vance at least $5 in quarters, and asked him to go on a date with her. Fortunately, Vance said no. He asked her to return with more money next time, at least $15 in quarters if she actually wanted Vance to go on a date with her.

Bruce had saved up for months, doing spare jobs such as mowing the lawn or washing dishes for extra cash. He kept every quarter he owned locked away in a piggy bank underneath his bed. Eventually, it seemed like Bruce had enough quarters to successfully bribe Vance to go on a date with him.

Bruce mentally prepared himself for days, trying to think of the perfect way to ask out his long time crush. On the day Bruce had finally gained enough courage to ask Vance out, he grabbed his sackful of quarters and walked down to the Grab'n'Go. Bruce's heart was beating fast, terrified of what could possibly happen. It was the 70's, and people weren't so forward thinking. What if Vance said no? What if he made fun of me? What if he beat me up? What if... Bruce was interrupted from his thoughts as he reached the door of the Grab'n'Go, taking a deep breath before entering the shop.

Bruce spotted the curly haired blonde immediately, as the loud noises of the pinball machine attracted Bruce's attention. Fortunately the shop was mainly empty, which allowed Bruce to feel a little braver in asking out his long time crush.

Hesitantly, Bruce tapped Vance on the shoulder.

"I have some um... some quarters for you to do something for me. If that's okay?" Bruce stated, fiddling with his hands behind his back.

Vance turned around from his game, and grinned at the idea that Bruce Yamada, Denver's golden boy, was asking him for a favour?

"Sure" Vance muttered, trying to mask his excitement with pretend annoyance.

"I have at least $20 in quarters. Would you go on a date with me?" Bruce blurted out, his face flushing in embarassment.

Vance stood there in shock, his brain trying to process what Bruce just said. Bruce Yamada just asked him, Vance Hopper, on a date?

"Oh. Um, sure." Vance commented, hiding the excitement that he was feeling inside. Vance has had a crush on Bruce since the beginning of sixth grade, from the second Bruce introduced himself to the class. The first time Vance ever actually spoke to Bruce was near the end of sixth grade, when Bruce lent him a pencil in third period.

Bruce grinned, showing off his perfect teeth.

"I'll pick you up on Friday at seven?" He asked Vance, still grinning.

Vance nodded, now blushing a deep shade of red.

Bruce walked out the store happily, a new spring in his step. He was going on a date with Vance Hopper!

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bambisnc · 3 months

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"my sleep paralysis demon will be hearing about this" ₊˚.

in which you have developed an honestly rather strange penchant for referring to a sleep paralysis demon in any and all conversations you can and then one fine day a gorgeous, alluringly gentle looking being (with an air of something dark around him.. or maybe that's just your overthinking..) appears in front of you, introducing himself as haechan, clearly pissed off at you name dropping him way too much. and now his bosses (???) are after him because he obviously did not do a great job at sleep paralysis demon duties but it was only because he actually liked you too much to act full demon in front of you okay??!! sigh is this where being nice gets him ...

he may end up convincing you to fake date him so he can justify to his bosses (ty/jh/dy) why he hadnt gone full sleep paralysis demon on you but obviously it cannot escalate more,, can it?!

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randomwriteronline · 1 month

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The Lord of Sand cried and screamed and kicked and yelled and bled all over what remained of the desert. Half a dozen Zesk cowered behind Malum as he stood back.

Claws sank into her stomach: her howl shook the earth.

Crawling upon her, black as onyx, swallowing the light trying to shine upon him, Onua continued climbing his way through her entrails.

She bargained with him between her wails. She promised him spires of salt blotting out the sun and empires sprawling beneath the surface in the shape of endless mole tunnels, twisting and bending and snaking across the entirety of the known and unknown world, all the way down within its core.

The Toa answered not: he dug, and dug, and dug.

The snapping of her bones deafened the Vorox around her, making them join her in her agony with their own anguished shrieks.

Among the golden swirl of her attempted sand devil in a desperate ploy to rip the earthly being shredding through her with such immense tenderness off of herself, Strakk could still perfectly recognize the ebony shape with a clarity that chilled his spine into a block of ice. He could see him: he could watch his hands so kindly cradle the neck as his fingers sank within it and tore it asunder; he could watch so clearly his mask sink into her ever shifting face, no mouth to bite the monstrous lack of lips and yanks them apart with the most gruesome of loving kisses, but what else could what he was seeing be if not a horrendous, honest, chaste, murderous kiss?

The Lord of Sand screamed.

She screamed as hard and as long as she could, rattling the entire planet with her.

Then she stopped.

The sand devil flickered, waned, calmed.

It rested, defeated, in large swathes of abandoned golden dust.

Obsidian armor glimmered weakly beneath the sun. Scuttling away from its perfectly still frame, a Glatorian regarded the Toa and all that was around her with plain horror in her features - her divine shell lost, Zesk and Vorox closing in around her curiously, struggling to recognize her own people through their mutation and settling her fearful eyes upon Malum as he simply stared in disbelief.

Onua did not pay her any attention.

He turned slowly, sluggishly.

"Brother," he called out before sinking halfway into the ground in a state of conscious unconsciousness as his unfocused gaze stopped on Strakk with the conviction of somebody else occupying his space: "I believe I've had a strange, pleasant dream."

#bionicle #onua #strakk #malum #lord of sand #random writing #violence tw #(does a wild breakdance routine) i have no idea what im doing #HEY REMEMBER MY POST ABOUT THE MATA AND THE ELEMENT LORDS. AND MY FIC ABOUT THAT. YEAH THIS IS MORE OF THAT #im on a weird kick. prob bc i cant force my way through the next orpiment nor soft horros n metal comforts nor another unrelated oneshot #i feel Bad! itll pass. but for the love of god

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coleoffduty · 9 months

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when the lucemond wip begins to cook into a top!cerys dynamic:

#it's not anything i have up yet #probs a oneshot #probs just hinted at #probs #...unless #lucemond

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raayllum · 10 months

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viren, kpp’ar, aaravos, claudia, callum (and possible other dark mages) as the “which is most deserving of your hate? the one who fired the gun, the one who built the gun, or the gun?” quote

#pawns #insp #dark magic #tdp #tried to incorporate this a bit into my kpp'ar & callum oneshot but had to work around a bit bc #i don't think tdp's world has guns and probs won't for a lil while

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winchesterszvonecek · 7 months

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i may or may not be writing my first ever Connor Rhodes smut and let me tell you… it already feels so dirty that i feel like i have to tone it down a little 🫣

#i probs won’t #connor rhodes fanfic #connor rhodes fanfiction #connor rhodes one shot #connor rhodes #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes imagine #connor rhodes oneshot #connor rhodes smut

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smashwolfen · 2 years

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"Heed the Call"

Roughly 1,500 words~

They always heard the call of the pack.

From the first time they awoke in the frigid, snow covered forest, slate fur now white as fresh powder tipped with crimson red, they had heard the call.

Since their young, ghostly existence they learned, that the call of the pack meant you were never alone in this cursed world. The small colonies of Zoura and Zoroark that dot the Icelands of Hisui cry out to each other in the night, when a kill is made, a clanmate is lost, or a human draws near them to drive them out of their newfound home of ice and snow.... They had always heeded the call. And the call had always been answered, no matter how far away one may be from the pack.

From the stories told to them as a small white kit in their new unburdened form, the Zorua and Zororak of Hisui banded together to protect themselves from the humans that lead to their unfortunate frozen fates, for being spiteful tricksters and threatening their lives, when no known fox had slain a human before for unjust reason. Why should they be chased away from a place as harsh and unforgiving as Alabaster when hardly any other souls dare to try and carve out a home here? Why cant they be left alone to merely exist and try to make peace with their own tortured souls? The chilling beasts had learned overtime, that their cries of anguish and spite had struck fear into the beating hearts of the living, to draw them away from their nests and guard their newly reborn kits. So from then on and for many generations, the Zorua and Zoroark have howled out to unite as one, and to chase away those that threaten their kind.

The call meant you were never alone.

They remember tales told to them of a life before this, when Zoroark were not as tightly knit together as they are now amid the snowdrifts. Many born from the life before recall their kind as being nomadic in nature, living solitary lives with only a mate and their young to keep safe, small private packs, only calling to one another in greeting and for warning. Even fewer more who had ventured away from Hisui could tell tales of meeting with those of the living, darkened fur with piecring blue eyes, warm with beating hearts. They had called to them to join them, to say they are welcome and safe, but were not met with a call back. Instead they were met with fear and confusion at their ghastly sight. It has happened enough times to know that the beckon of a Zoroark reborn from pain and agony could not be understood by the ones who have never passed. As the baneful packs wander on amid storms and blizzards, looking for more poor souls like themselves who have been brought back so harshly and abruptly, they call to each other. Piercing cries ringing through the frozen air to lay claim to a new wretched life. To welcome them in their new tounge and greet them as family...

To let them know they are never alone.

As they follow along behind their young charge, a human all the same, but ever so kind and gentle since the moment they met, the moment they joined their meager team, they can still hear the pack, far off and away, even within the realm of Lord Kleavor whose home resides far south of the perilous north they called home. They answer back to let their family know they are safe and well, a common occurence now. Humans always hid away at the cry they emitted, but their small human seemed to had recognized what it is they do, scribbling markings in the leaflets they carried around whenever they did so since the child asked them to join them. The child asked them questions about the Zoroark kind knowing they'd not get a proper answer, merely to talk and gleam any response they could provide, though they did this with any pokemon they had caught. To further "research" and build a better understanding they had said. The child had managed to get some answers on their own, a very clever kit they thought to themselves, though one question they asked recently had stuck in their spectral mind in a peculiar way.

"What do you think happens if there were no other calls back to you? Would there be any more Zoroark or Zoura outside Hisui like you? What would it mean if you were the only one left?"

They never thought about that before, they always heard the pack, how would there be none left? As long as there is suffering and pain brought to their kind as they are driven out of their homelands upon their demise, there is always the deathly call of the packs. Even amid the skies turning red, with raging alphas at every turn, when the gods of time and space themselves return to the earthly coil and threaten all life with destruction, and their charge drives head on to protect the lives off all in Hisui and prevails, even as they stand against a lost God and its delusioned ward as a last stand against all odds. As the evolved beast lashes forward to strike down the satanic being who dares to destroy their human kit, howling its bitter malicious vengeance in the face of the almightys forgotten son....

The cries of the pack can be heard resonating within them, to join their strength together with their lone clanmate, to assure them they are not alone atop that mountain.

As the lands of Hisui are left in a serene peace, with the human kit they had come to love as one of their own, beside what they understand is almighty sinnoh themself, they turn and extend their pokeball. An offer to release them to return to Alabaster with their pack, or to join them and their team in a new time and place, an unknown future for the cursed beast they had come to trust with their life. The choice is obvious to them, they had already been through so much, the pack would understand their choice to remain with the child who took them in when no other Zoroark was ever extended such kindness. Wherever they were to end up, they knew they'd hear the pack.

With one last cry to the wind bidding them farewell, in the distance they respond in turn, knowing their clanmate was not alone and still loved like the pack had loved them.

The next chance they had to call the pack in the new world, it was met with silence.

They knew they were still in Hisui, had been told this was the future and that a handful of pokemon they knew to roam the earth had been lost to the ravages of time, but the silence on the wind after many calls to the wild was deafening. There surely had to be a reply, right? They must have hidden away all this time to keep safe. There was always Zorua and Zororak that were driven to their deaths, this was a fact of their cursed life. Why would there not be a response? Surely there had to be another remaining lost soul now, right?

As the human looked on at them in worry, trying to piece together what was wrong with their corporeal friend, believing they may have made the wrong choice bringing them home to the present day.... a thought stirs in the back of the Zoroarks mind. One last try, a call that would have made the earth tremble and the heavens quake, echoed off the top of the mountain within spear pillar...

One moment....

Another, with baited breath....

Yet in the end, had they stayed there for the rest of eternity, arceus allowing them to...

Nothing would be returned to them, only the wind and their frozen pulse in their ears.

Slowly with realization and certainty in their mind, they began to bear a tearful, but elated smile. The pack was gone, absolutely gone, they knew they'd never hear the call ever again, they were the last snow white Zororark with crimson tipped fur left in the wide world beyond Hisui, and they were ecstatic!! If the human could understand them now in their joy they could see why the silence was the most amazing sound they could ever hear.

They were the last one left, no more Zorua were being reborn, no more Zoroark were fleeing to a fate worse than death itself. They stopped being hated and being hateful in turn.

No more of their kind were dying angry and spiteful, freezing, alone and afraid. The cycle stopped.

The Lone Zoroark couldn't have been so glad in all its second life to be in this moment. It did not care they were the last of its cursed kind. If it meant no more kits were dying and the frozen anger of generations had finally melted away to nothing but warmth and peace....

They would pray to almighty sinnoh to never hear the call ever again.

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