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sukunasweetheart · 15 days ago

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beneath snowfall, we meet and part ways.

sukuna x reader, canon compliant, mild fluff and angst. a prequel to uraume's epilogue.

the forest is a haven of pure white.

your feet sink into the floor with each step, making the journey home a more difficult one. cheeks feeling frozen and achy, you wish to make a little stop to thaw your face out in some heat, but you are almost home, and it seems like a waste of time to build a fire so close to the end of your travel.

your head feels heavy. halting momentarily, you take your kasa hat off, and brush away the built-up snow from it, before putting it back on. the cold has now permeated into your fingertips, making them icy and stiff - you bring them up to your face to blow some warm air on them, to alleviate some of the numbness.

being so preoccupied with warming your hands, you are completely ignorant to the predator that is prowling behind you, ready to pounce and sink it's teeth into your neck.

when you finally turn around at the sound of snow crunching beneath a heavy weight, the wild bear is already charging at you in full speed.

the shock and fear has planted your feet deeply into the snow - you cannot run, or muster the strength to even try. but before it could tear through your soft and warm flesh and lap up your blood, it suddenly stops in its tracks, and collapses into the floor at it's feet. deep crimson trickles into the pure white snow, dying it red.

you're huffing from your anxiety and as the adrenaline leaves your body, you lose strength in your legs and fall backwards, onto your behind, palms sinking into the ground.

a third figure approaches the scene. he is almost the same size as the bear, and appears half naked, with only a black haori draped over his shoulders. how bold, in this weather...

he ignores your presence entirely, and is only inspecting his newly hunted fresh meat. you fall to your knees and say your gratitude, from having your life saved. there's little to no response, as the man is seemingly only interested in the bear.

you slowly stand up and your gaze falls to his bare feet in the snow.

"kind stranger... are your feet not cold in this snow?" you ask innocently. "i'm only a self-taught tailor, but i could make you some simple sandals and clothes just to-"

"unnecessary. piss off."

he uses a tone that's as cold as the air around you.

the nameless man hoists the bear into his shoulder, as if it weighs nothing, and carries it away like a sack of rice. you watch as he disappears into the distance, only leaving behind deep footprints into the snow.

roughly a week has passed since his first interaction with you.

this forest is where he frequents to hunt for wild animals, and so it was inevitable for him to also run into you again, since you use this same path to get to and from town twice a week to trade goods.

when he spots you again, you are foolishly trying to grasp his attention from a distance away, jumping and waving your hand around, almost like you want to attract, or scare, every possible wildlife animal to your location. sukuna ignores you, and walks away to try his luck in a different patch of the forest. but you catch up from behind.

he narrows his eyes. what an annoying pest. perhaps he shall have you as his dinner tonight?

his hand is itching to cleave you, but when you stop in front of his path, you are holding up a neatly folded kimono and a pair of large sandals on top of it.

"it may be imperfect... i worked with only what i saw of your size on that day. but please, take them and use them as you see fit."

the straw sandals look as though they're seamlessly woven. you're standing there, sweating, hoping he takes the items, wondering if he will be displeased if you grab his hand and make him take it. he hasn't spoken to you once since you called over to him. and yet again with silence, you watch as he holds your offerings with one of his four hands.

your anxiety turns into relief, and you're smiling tenderly. after a deep bow, you walk away to return home.

once you are gone, sukuna finds a branch to hang his haori onto briefly, to try on the items. they both fit perfectly, eerily so. you made this after only eyeing and estimating his size, hm? the tiniest smile is on his face as he continues his hunt, in the remainder of the afternoon.

he seems to run into you at least once every two weeks. overjoyed to see him wearing your gifts, you always bow as he walks past you. he pays you no mind.

but for the most part, he tends to clear out the wild animals closest to your area.

in a few weeks' time, he notices his sandals are getting worn out, which makes him click his tongue in annoyance.

the next time you see him, the man approaches you on his own accord, and holds up his sandals that are now full of holes. it should have lasted a bit longer, but the battle that he fought last week left them a little more damaged than he would've liked.

"oi. these are getting unusable. do something about it," he tells you, bluntly.

"... it would be my pleasure," you respond, taking the old sandals from him. you can use them as reference to replicate the exact same size.

the following week, you see him once again, and he receives a brand new pair. there is a look of satisfaction on his face.

such a routine continues, for the remainder of the year.

seasons pass. oddly, he hasn't seen you in some time. and the next time he does, it just so happens to be a snowy winter's day, once again.

you have a larger amount of luggage than usual, on your back. when you see him, your eyes light up and a small gasp escapes your lips as if you're glad to see him.

"sir!" you wave, walking close towards him. "it's always pleasant to see you. there's something i must give you."

you take your luggage off your back and start fishing for something.

sukuna stands with one pair of his arms crossed, silently looking down at you and watching.

"i've been recognised by a nobleman in town. he has expressed his desire for me to come and travel with him to the city for a permanent position as a tailor," you explain as you're going through your things.

"...is that so," sukuna replies monotonously.

what you bring up is a sack, seemingly filled with items. sukuna takes it and opens it up to find multiple pairs of shoes and clothes.

"there was no longer any need for any of the materials i had at my home as i was told not to bring them with me... so i used them all up to make clothes and shoes that could be of use to you," you continue, hoisting your luggage back onto your back.

sukuna sees that this is evident in your hands, as they look like they've been overworked and scratched up from strenuous straw braiding and sewing.

"i... probably won't be able to come back. the city is a long way away," you smile wistfully, "so, if you're ever in need of shelter or an icehouse for your hunts, please make use of mine. it should be down along this path, south-east, in the outskirts of this forest."

you give him a final bow.

"i'm truly thankful. my travels to and from town became much easier since the wild animals began avoiding this area. we never shared our names... but i will remember you for the rest of my life as my saviour."

you've always wondered if it was purposeful for him to always go hunting in this particular area.

sukuna scratches his ear at your awful lot of chattiness, being unused to listening to someone for this long. he hadn't really even meant to "save you" back then as you like to state, it was a simple coincidence. but he knows such details don't matter to someone like you.

"i wish you all the best," you say, beginning to walk off, as you wave at him.

sukuna... stands silently as he watches you leave. you're a few metres distance away now, but a sudden question he's wanted to ask blossoms in his mind, with a deep-seated annoyance sitting in the pit of his stomach.

"...why did you never question my abnormalities in appearance? is this something you're giving me out of sympathy?" sukuna asks in a loud voice, holding your bag up in his hand.

you stop in your tracks, and turn back around with a face of silent surprise at the sudden question from the usually wordless individual.

"...eh? uhm... well..." you stutter, seemingly troubled. sukuna raises an eyebrow.

"i've never thought about the situation in such a complicated manner... when i first saw you, i thought that the person who saved my life deserved clothes befitting him, and there was nothing for me to offer except my hard work, despite being an unremarkable tailor..."

you look like you're struggling, while lost in your thoughts.

"as for your appearance - i'm struggling to see what relevance that has with anything. clothes can be worn by anyone, and it's an essential part to any human's life."

sukuna sighs at your naivety.

"... nevermind, i suppose. get out of here," he mutters, turning his back to you.

you smile again, the confusion being wiped off your face entirely.

"farewell, sir! may you be blessed!"

sukuna feigns as though he's leaving with his back turned to you, but a few moments later he turns around to watch your figure disappear in the distance. this will be the last time he ever sees you in this lifetime.

it was the first time someone had viewed him as nothing more than a human, and treated him with any sense of everyday normalcy. and perhaps it is the first time he has received a genuine blessing, in this life of his that is always filled with conflict and malevolence.

but what use is a singular blessing against the multitude of curses that stir deep within his gut? sukuna has already established his path, and has no intention of changing his ways.

regardless of that...

he throws your bag of items over his shoulder to bring with him, and walks alone through the snow, following your directions towards your home. he shall make good use of that icehouse of yours....

- fin -

author's notes; my first proper canon compliant fic!! you may think of this as a late christmas fic hehe

in my humble opinion, sukuna was truly not capable of committing to loving someone in his jjk lifetime. i wouldn't say not capable, but he actively was against going down that path - the only reason he was able to choose to change his ways was due to his loss in the final fight - losing his life in a battle of ideals was the one and only way to get him to accept the value of love! (stubborn old man)

anyway i hope u liked this, i had fun writing it, i wanted to mention that yes, reader's icehouse is the same icehouse that his fatass accidentally crushed a while later before finding uraume! i tried to think of a creative way to involve reader in his life without altering jjk canon...

you are his soulmate, but you found him at the wrong time. perhaps if you'd met him earlier...

sukuna is probably somewhat relieved that you parted ways with him without knowing his true nature and he finds that it was better off this way; he is far too deep into this side already at this point, it would've been impossible for you to understand him to his core.

hopefully his encounter with you in his next life won't be so brief! <3

masterlist

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna

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cirqosmos · 4 months ago

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broken lipstick. yjw

2024 | 16+ | ONESHOT 1.8K. | G-yandere; W-obsession, possessive, unhinged jungwon lol, forced kissing with lipstick yes.

DIRECTOR's CUT, found an old note of ideas in my phone from 2022 about jungwon × lipsticks, and thought that it would be a pity to not write about it so here it is. this is kind of like an experimental storytelling, just finding my way with the rhythm and pacing of the words, sentences, and grammar. so if it kinda sounds weird, apologies in advance lol !

finding yourself trapped in this world he created for you drives you terribly insane.

down, and down you go.

every words he spills—he claims that he had spent hours and days of effort for this room, curating it just how you would like it; makeup palettes and brushes, lipsticks, magazines, jewelries, pretty and dainty sundresses, coquettish bows and laces perfectly matching your taste.

everything single thing before you—was all you've ever dreamt for, wished for, manifested for. bare skin planted firmly on this king-sized bed you've listed as one of your life wishes, wrists and necks adorned with saccharine gemstones—ones you've often seen on magazines.

every single damn thing was here.

he claims that he did it because he wishes nothing but to see the finest shade of happiness be illustrated on your visage; for bliss and satisfaction weaved under the strings of fairy tales, you shall wish nothing more but to remain abode.

yes, it is an exact replica of your dream room yet a lot more bigger, lavish, but certainly not home. a doll house would be a much better, fitting term. or perhaps, a prison—masquerade as the definition of your perfect little utopia.

his eyebrows knitted at the way you worded it, saying that such comparison is absurd, and certainly is not the truth. for all that was before you, is all yours to take—and so is he.

all yours to take, he says.

but if it was yours, then why can't you wear all it outside? has he ever thought that all these things is fucking useless if you can't even bring it with you out of this sickening room? what's all these even for, you asks. he replies with that same sickening smile, "why, silly, of course it's for you."

you repeated it with spite, "no, this is not for me. you're doing this for you."

"if you say so," he brought his finger against your cheek, stroking it ever so sickeningly, causing you to lean away. "you're my priority here, your wants and needs are at the best interest of my heart. nothing more, nothing less."

it didn't miss your eyes how his composed visage falters ever so slightly, so subtle—it almost slips away from your fingers but you saw it and you didn't care.

his soul, you despises—every word etched of his existence, you loathed. death shall greet him, and you'd never spare a glance.

why would you? when just a month ago, a world filled with the brightest prospects was all waiting for you, but his grim arrival dims every glowing lantern ahead of your path, ultimately sealing the door to your future tight and begone.

akin to a rat in a trap under a cat's claws; your sanity wilting with each passing day. how many days or months has it been? you lose track of time. where is your phone, even? oh why, he asks? books and magazines was what you'd prefer over some petty little devices, so why would you need them now?

rage, despair, helplessness; you released all these pent-up frustration with each object you slammed against the floor, scattered about in a hazard mess. broken, shattered in pieces like you do. he should see it, feel it, of how his own hard work are gone into the drain, like what he had put you into.

footsteps approaching from the distance.

the door flew open, just like how he often appears, ruining every single opportunity you had back then. he appears too composed, inexplicably unfazed at the ravage scene before his eyes. his own efforts obliterated into nothing, every single thing he spent time on perfecting was wasted, in downright shambles.

you drop on your knees, suppressing your sobs as he approaches with small steps.

it was all too silent, with only your shaky gasps blending with the solemn air. with your head down, eyes locked against the wooden floor, and on your clenched fists shaking with grueling anticipation, you glance nervously at how he stands so still—staring down at you like you were an object.

you wish he just would kill you right now.

in your peripherals, however, you caught the sight of his fingers grabbing the tossed lipstick, now broken in half—it's smoothened tip now uneven. you waited for him to say something, perhaps throw profanities at you for ruining this dollhouse he had spent hours and days at.

grow mad at me, hate me, and then throw me away. in your head, you chanted these words—prayers it ultimately morphs into.

however a gasp spills out of your lips, your breath caught at the back of your throat upon seeing him applying the lipstick on his lips, still and all—while humming a melodic tune as he does so.

"is this how you do it?"

you didn't answer, only imbued with aghast at the deep shade of crimson hugging his lips. as peculiar as it may seem, you can't deny that this visage of his perfectly adorns it.

he steps closer, alarming you—manifesting straight to your eyes widening in sheer panic.

with strong arms, jungwon catches your legs before you could push him away, pulling you closer where he forces you to face him, gripping your jaw so tight and suffocatingly so into his well of eyes; with it's depths you could never fathom till your last breath.

yet he begs you to drown in them, to answer all the questions written all over within—what's so fucking wrong to just stay obedient, and be his oh so sweet darling? why can't you see his love and dedication for you? of how he's ready to give up everything for you?

maybe a slap to your pretty face would tighten the screw in your head a little, or perhaps a yell pulled out from his throat would do the trick, but oh darling—profanities don't suit you, nor does it do you justice to be treated so harshly.

fragile you are, and such a fragile one should be nested, sheltered away from this merciless world. you do not need to lift a finger, or tire your pretty little head over useless things but..

but why is it that you refuse to understand him?

evident it was, through the way you dug your nails on his hands, imbuing your ever growing hatred to him. not a single word spoken, nor spitting at each other but through your eyes—your rampant wishes of spitting him death grows enormous.

die, die, just die.

you held your breath, as a stroke of his finger on your temple—slides down your cheek. a grimace takes form on your feature as he leans in, propelling your body to fight harder against his—though, he remains stronger and faster—pouncing on you like a prey, diving in with his venom-laced fangs into your lips, forcefully so.

his carnal desires takes form across your visage; smudged, blotted, and smeared. a shade so intensified through his vows to make you understand his perception of love.

they say that love is patient, love is kind, love is forgiving.

no, that's bullshit. it's fucking slippery, a mess, metallic taste leaking out from your lip—spilling into his tongue, only for him to hum in frenzied delight. a taste so sweet, so divine, like caramel melting in his cavern.

tilting his head sideways—his tongue went further into yours, twisting and knotting like wet fabric—pooling an amalgamation of saliva, blood, and lipstick down the corner of your mouth. sticky palms on the back of your neck, spiralling you down and down into these candied greed.

heat, searing, throbbing immensely—this pain, do you understand it now? that's how his heart mourns towards your ungratefeful, petty actions. have you perhaps realise it? maybe not yet, as you still had this little fight in you, a funny sight to behold.

your head spins, flashing in mismatched colors, jaw throbbing by his gracious mouth of flames—infiltrating every corner.

soaking everything in you with his relentless rhythm—a pace you could never match as it accelerates beyond what you can take with each second. his lips, like a paint brush—and you, like a paper being crumpled into every way possible. moulding your speech into incoherent sentences, strings of pathetic cries for help drowned out into the void, your prayers to god himself had been engulfed by a devil's kiss.

what's a god, even? they say humans are made in the image of god, but he dare say that not even god are comparable to you, nor those who reign above the heavens—angels, sirens, succubus or whatever the hell are there—your feet they shall kiss.

a canvas you are—pure, and untainted. a masterpiece in the making, not even the greatest artist known to mankind could do justice to your beauty.

you're his haven, his abode. yet also a temptation, a sin, his inferno. every edge of your portrait tweaked perfectly into his own ideals and fantasies, yet also a curse, the poisonous bane of his life, so toxic—it contaminates his soul.

decaying, decomposing—perhaps he was the serpent, and you're the tenant of the garden. insatiable, the apple of eden couldn't be as mouthwatering as your visage.

so why, can't you understand his love?

if you couldn't see it before, then he'll make sure you'll see it now.

dragging you across the floor, jungwon forces you to meet your reflection in the shattered mirror. on your knees, you met this drowned out visage of yours, all visible for you to observe; disheveled hair, your cheeks bathed in intense shades of red, all the same to your neck and shoulders, lips swollen with a visible cut, drenched in all his unspoken words. a mess, you are.

his pretty little mess.

yet what a masterpiece you are, still. he coos with lips pursing up in a sweetened grin, as if he had sucked out all remaining little bits inside your little jar of hope. do you see it now? how every part of you belongs to him, all for his lips to take and taste.

"you look even prettier, all broken like this." jungwon isn't very much different, but while you look like a corpse bludgeoned into mayhem. the image he bears was of a bloodthirsty demon, an animalistic abstraction.

through the mirror, you could see him shuffling around—looking for something amongst the mess, only for the same lipstick he used as an instrument for this macabre play—returning to his palms.

with him back to your side, he delivered a stroke down your hair, tucking your locks behind your ear. a chin he places on your shoulder, one hand under your tummy and the other looped around your shoulder to reach for your lips.

the same broken lipstick, made its way on your lower lip. a shade so deep, so heavy, amplified by his twisted affection. all dolled up for only his eyes to see. your luscious hair—inviting him closer and closer, savoring the way it hugs his fingers. too delicate, the broken mirror could only shy away from you.

"mirror, mirror on the wall," the lipstick tossed on the floor, replaced by his thumb lapping your lip. "who's the fairest of them all?"

#🎬.cirqosmos films #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enha imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #jungwon x reader #enha scenarios #yang jungwon x reader #yandere enhypen #yandere enha

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yandereunsolved · 5 months ago

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Hello yan, bae its me who gave the isekai reader.

What if instead of isekai reader who is in a panicky state just matched The Cannibal's vibe, matching energy since riders and dragons at the least had some semblance.

Intimidating menace dragon with an equally intimidating, despite being short,menace rider.

Reader: Khan, fetch *pointing at the knight who pissed them off*

Cannibal who responds to the nickname: *roars before chasing the poor guy*

Aegon: you have a dragon that belongs to the house targayen give them back to us

Reader: boy make me

Aegon: I am no boy! I'm the king! And you shall bow before me

Reader: you're a bitch I was trying to be nice

Aegon:...

Thank you for the idea. I definitely love it. The Cannibal and reader being feral together is so much fun.

Here's my addition—

All of the Targaryens would immediately see reader as a threat. They would also be interested.

'Who is this man!?' kinda vibe.

Some would become obsessed with them because of the power they hold. Others would see them as a beacon of safety and hope.

🐉

The Cannibal loves Helaena because you like her. She's so sweet to you. She shows you all of her bugs and info dumps to you. The Cannibal is just sitting around the both of you. The fierce beast is ready to burn anyone who dares interrupt your time with her.

He also loves Dreamfyre. She's one of few dragons he can stand.

You giving her basic human decency causes her to obsess over you.

Helaena: "What do you want from me?"

Reader "Wot :?"

Helaena: "You're so cold with everyone else. Everyone fears your anger. You're so nice to me."

Reader: "That's because I enjoy spending time with you! I just want to hear your thoughts and have a friend."

Helaena: nose bleeds. "R-Really?" passes out.

🐉

Aegon II is jealous. Only because he's attracted to you, but you aren't attracted to him. He's needed a new plaything and you'd be perfect for it! You're so dom. It makes him salivate like a starved dragon.

Aegon II: "Darling—"

Reader: "No."

Every attempt by you is rebuffed. Even Cannibal has distaste for him.

He does what he does best. He threatens you and uses his power to make you bend the knee.

You have one dragon.

He rules seven kingdom and has many more.

🐉

Nyra is attracted to your fierceness. She recognizes it in herself. You feel like an escape for her. So naturally she becomes infatuated. She is a queen.

She tries her best to acquaint herself with you. She knows making friends with Cannibal is the biggest test.

Does Cannibal like her? Does he not?

#anonymous asks #anonymous #anon ask #thanks anon!#isekai #isekai reader #yandere #yandere x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #yandere hotd #yandere hotd x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon targaryen #helaena targaryen #the cannibal

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divinesolas · 8 months ago

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Unexpected Surprise

Summary: While attempting to gain the support of the vale, jeyne arryn has plans of her own for the prince.

r.q: Everyone forgets house Arryn😔🤘🏻 baddies of the vale Can you write something w Jace and an Arryn maybe lady Jayne’s little sister or daughter or something? Not a totally unreasonable alliance !! They have the coolest castle and knights also Ms Aemma Arryn ™️ like hello!! (I’m impatient as hell for more Vale coverage in season 2)

w.c: 900+

c.w: baela and jacaerys are not betrothed, arryn!reader jenye’s daughter, FLUFF, just a very cute fic, drabble, not proofread

a.n: IVE HAD THIS DONE SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR NO REASON OMGGGG but with the recent jeyne content i felt inspired to write this !! just something super simple <3 HOPE YOU ENJOY !! LOVE UUUU GUYS

masterlist - requests open

“Im sorry, what my lady?”

“I wish for you to marry my daughter.”

This is not how jacaerys thought this would go. When he arrived in the vale he thought he thought he would have to make simple small talk, present some of the benefits, hells even throw some complements her way in order to convince her. This however had not been in his cards.

“I'm sorry my lady i do not understand.”

“My daughter, y/n remains unmarried, around your age, a sweet girl, agree to wed her and me and my men will bend the knee.”

He blinks. He has no clue what to say to her. Jeyne stands after a moment, “I shall go fetch her.” He watches as one of the guards tries to stop her and tells her he will go retrieve the girl but Jeyne seems determined to go herself and he moves letting her leave. Jacaerys stands awkwardly in the middle of the room unsure of what to do.

He is not too sure he can just flat out agree to a proposal without his mother position, it is not like he is a second son, he is the heir to the queen. The next king, his wife to be the next queen. Yet when he sees you walking into the room, wearing a long dress in your house colors with your mother trialing behind with a pleased look on her face he finds himself wanting to agree to the marriage right away.

You are stunning. Easily the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, sure he hasn’t seen that many women but it doesn’t matter. He watches as you bow and mindlessly nods in acknowledgment, unable to take his eyes off you.

Jeyne looks between the two of you with a satisfied look. “Why don’t you show the prince around?” She gives you a pointed look to which you nod, “Of course i would be happy to.”

He walks over and offers you his arm with a smile on his face and you graceful take it before you begin to walk off with him. Jeyne stays behind and smiles to herself.

“My mother is very forward i apologize to you.” He simply shakes his head, he finds himself look at you instead of the halls he’s supposed to be looking at. “It is not an issue my lady, I rather appreciate it.” You look at him curiously but turn away once you notice he is already looking at you. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Many people speak in riddles, not saying what they mean or truly want, your mother is a rare gem.” You smile at the praise of your mother, “She truly is.”

You lead him outside and begin to tell him about the different plants and different sculptures around the courtyards. He is so charmed by you. The way you light up when you spot something and you begin to tell him of a memory you have, like how your mother scolded you for jumping around in the fountain, or when you almost fell out of one of the window's when you fell asleep.

“You truly love this place.” He can tell. The way you smile at the guards as they walk by or the way you know every detail about everything in the walls. But he sees the way you falter slightly at his words, “Am i wrong?”

You shake your head vigorously, “no no i do, its just i have never been away from here. My mother is a very protective woman, she waves away any suitors, she never even lets me leave the eyrie it is ridiculous!” You realize you're letting your emotions show too much and bow your head, “i am sorry that was out of line.”

He grabs your hands and you look at him with wide eyes. “I understand my lady, my mother is similar, i have truly never traveled to far, i wish to explore, once my mother has her rightful throne i believe i will take the time to see westeros a little bit,” He pauses before he speaks again, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, “I could take you with me? if that is what you wish my lady.”

He watches as your eyes begin to glow and you beam at him, “truly? oh nothing would make me happier.” He nods and grips your hands tighter, “I shall take you everywhere.”

He does not expect you to throw your hands around his neck and pull him into a hug. He wraps his hands around your lower back, pushing his head into your neck and breathing in your scent. “I will accept your mothers propsal at once. You will fly with me to winterfell.” You pull back and give him an eager look. “Winterfell? Truly?” He nods, “I am to go meet lord cregan stark.”

You can barely contain your excitement at the thought of seeing something that was not the eyrie, especially a place as grand as winterfell.

Jeyne watched you two smile at one another from a window above with a small smile on her face. She does not hear the guard approaching her from behind, “You seem pleased my lady.” She says nothing to him for a moment, simply continuing to stare at the two of you. “Tell my men to ready themselves for war. It seems he will accept my proposal.”

perm jacaerys taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

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inthefoxholes · 5 days ago

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veilguard, i hated it.

So i finally finished veilguard, and guys, what. a. shitshow.

So apart from the fact that it feels like a half-finished game (which it probably is), I mostly hated it on two accounts: 1) the overall lore implications (we knew this from this reddit q&a, but I'm still angry, and I won't stop talking about it) BOTH in regards to previous games and this one and 2) how this was not at all a roleplaying game. (sorry, english is not my first language and I'm tired and enraged)

Let's look a little closer, shall we.

One: The Lore Implications. This pisses me off in two ways:

First, the amateurish attempt at a "clean slate". This is just so insulting. If they wanted to make a game without any of that icky baggage, then the should have chosen a new ip for this. I get that it's complicated after three games with a lot of moving parts, I get that the decision to move away from southern thedas was an attempt to curtail a lot of this, but COME ON. Walls of nonsensical (seriously, they read ai created) text from the inquisitor, that mainly tell you that everything you fought for, all the people, all the places, is gone? And not for effect, not for the story, entirely offscreen and nonsensical, just so the writers don't have to care for this anymore? This does NOT get me invested into the story. No mention of who your Divine is; no mention of who sits on the orleasian throne - and it should matter, shouldn't it, whether or not your EXILED the grey wardens, whether or not you have an elf with a SPY NETWORK close to the orleasian throne, whether or not you DISBANDED the inquisition. All of that does influence what happens on the world state, or at least it should. (And if you want to ignore it, why not do in a way that's less obvious, less bad, why not have your protagonist be someone with no ties to the inquisition, who genuinely does not know whats going on in the south? Why have a world state when you don't want anything to do with it?)

Second, and that's even worse: you cannot take a fully established world, and then alter it to your weird specifications. THE FUCK you mean, there are no slaves in Minrathous, the goddamn slave capital of the world?? Why THE HELL is there a whole questline where we try to find disappeared people, snatched from the street for the ritual, when it should be perfectly possible to buy a few batches of slaves and have them express delivered to your ritual site. (So we can show up and fuck up your slave operation.) But no - I get shamed when I don't save Minrathous?? Well, fuck you, Fenris sends his regards, I hope you all burn.

To this ties the overall simplificaton of the world: Nobody is really bad, just the few super bad guys, but they are so evil as to have no real motiviation, they are basically Thanos or otherwise racist cartoons (totally believable that the Qunari, or a sect thereof, would be on board with mad sorcery). They rest, they are good guys! The pirates are very mindful of cultural heriatages! The crows are just your friendly neighborhood assassins (I remember the stories Zevran told slightly differently), and, as assassins, they naturally wear uniforms, so you see them coming (as do the "secret" "underground" "rebels" from Tevinter). I'm not saying that everyone should be evil, but the fact that whole organisations are presented to us as benefical is so insulting, ESPECIALLY when it was always a point of pride for the Dragon Age franchise that it was morally complicated. There is slavery and poverty and darkspawn. NOPE, you can stand knee deep in blight, not a problem anymore. (if only Carver had known) There is racism against elfs. (well, as the elfs seem to be respnsible for EVERY problem thedas faces, from the veil to the darkspawn, maybe that was precient? - also, always nice to have everything tied in such a neat bow, everything tied to one ONE causality, that makes things really believable and realistic) The Templars are fascists, sure, but abominations are a problem that does not get solved easily. NOPE, not anymore! When before, even a spirit of JUSTICE got corrupted in this world (therby making the valiant and sublte point that abstract concepts rarely hold up well when coming in contact with messy reality), now you can be possessed by a demon of SPITE and HE DOES NOT DO ONE SPITEFUL THING AT ALL. Nice, if only the mages knew that, you just have to accecpt feelings or whatever and then everything's well. SO NEAT!

This brings me to point number two: Why do we play this game? The complex and previously established word is gone; what's left are cartoons thereof. And then, there's not even a hint of role-playing left. Why can't I be mean to Harding?? I loved her in Inquisition, now her overly-girly manner grates on my nerves and I want to be mean to her. I can't, i have to be everyone's friend. In the end, I cannot decide anything, except the slight configuration of the final companion armour (why would I care, I don't know these people, I could not ask them a single question), and some slight cosmetic change regarding Solas - there is not even talk about tearing down the Veil. We've come full circle back to Mass Effect 3 and the groundbreaking decision we get to make is what colour the magic space beam is gonna have. Except, Mass Effect 3 was still a much better game, because you knew your crew - in this game, I have acutally no idea why Rook should lead anybody, why anybody would follow them, and why the literal fate of the world should be in the hands of this bunch of (after 100 hours of gameplay) near strangers. There ARE narrative work-arounds for this kind of shit; the writers just didn't care enough.

There are a hundred more small things I could say about this, about the story (Solas' prison was made of regret and he wanted to put Elgarnan there?? Who feels very good about everything he does?? Is he stupid? And then everyone is so impressed about Rook getting out to quickly, but seriously, what the fuck did Rook have to feel regretful about? They did not get to make a single decision. They did not order anyone to sacrifice themselves; they did not use people, or cities, as pawns in a war or whatever, BECAUSE THIS GAME HAS THE EMOTIONAL DEPTH OF A SMALLISH PUDDLE) and the in-game approach to the player (how often do i have to be told that i need to take care of my companions business?? This got so repetitive and made them seem like imcompetent children. Why wasn't there a better way to make me care, or better yet, trust the player to want to play this game), but I stop now. Fuck Bioware and EA.

#dragon age: the veilguard #veilguard spoilers #da: the veilguard #veilguard critical #bioware critical #long post #sorry

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dragon-kazansky · 9 months ago

Text

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Seven - The prince

♡♡♡

Once again, you find yourself sitting in the pleasant blue drawing room that belongs to the Bridgerton's. It is a colour you could get quite used to.

Most of the family were present, so it was quite a nice gathering. Daphne had been the one to greet you when you arrived, but Benedict insisted you sit beside him once you came into the drawing room.

You smiled at Anthony as you passed him, and he gave you a gentle smile in return, bowing his head. This did not go unnoticed by the second son, who gave you a questioning look that you offered no response to.

"Daphne, have you thought about who you would like to dance with at tonight's ball?" Violet asks her daughter.

"I have some ideas. Lord Weaver is a fine dancer." Daphne says.

"Lord Hardy was asking about you at White's last night." Anthony tells his sister.

Daphne comes to sit beside you.

"Lord Hardy? What about the duke?" Her mother asks.

"The duke has not proposed, Mama. I am still considering my best course." Daphne says.

Gregory steals from Anthony's plate behind you, sending the eldest brother into a frantic motion. His sneaky little brother.

"Wise girl," Anthony says, once he is over his brother's thieving ways.

"And Lord Hardy is a fine option. Although, he is rather boastful."

"My dear, why ever do you complicate matter so?" Violet asks. "You must simply marry the man who feels like your dearest friend."

"Oh? Is that it, Mama? Well, how very simple indeed!" Daphne sighs.

"Yes, quite."

Benedict, who has been slouching slowly inch by inch on the sofa since you sat down, looks up at you with a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes and nudge his knee.

Daphne, deciding to shift the conversation from herself, turns to you. "You did quite well yourself at the last ball."

You smile and glance back at Anthony who smiled at you in return. "I had help."

"Hm?" Benedict sits up and looks at you. "What does she mean?"

You turn to him with a proud smile. "Well, my usual dance partner wasn't present last night, so Anthony stepped in. Dancing with your brother garnered a little attention, and I had several dances with different gentlemen that night."

Benedict turns to look at his brother so quickly that he could have gotten whiplash. Anthony smiles smugly at him.

Violet leans forward with some interest. "Oh? Do tell me more."

Talking about Daphne any more seemed like a dead-end, so Violet decided to move on to you.

"Your eldest offered to dance with me. He's quite the skilled dancer. Afterwards, I was approached by several others. I honestly think Daphne may be my good luck charm. Her magic is rubbing off onto me."

Daphne smiles at you, pleased that thongs are turning around for you.

Benedict glares softly at his brother. "She's my dance partner."

"You weren't there." Anthony argues.

"Still..."

"It matters not. I think I may be not he without a partner for the rest of the season. Even if none wish to call upon me, I shall dance at every ball."

Benedict isn't sure he is comforted by your words, but at the same time, he can't fault you. Perhaps this will be your way into the marriage market, after all.

♡♡♡

Benedict made it a point to attend this ball. The idea of Anthony stepping in for his role as your dance partner didn't quite sit with him.

While Daphne is off dancing in the next room, you hang back in the connected room with the other Bridgertons.

"Give me your dance card." Benedict says.

"Hm?"

He reaches for it without speaking and signs it. You chuckle.

"I'm just making sure," he says.

"Yes. Of course."

"Did you hear?" Colin asks, rejoining you both after fetching a drink.

"Hear what?" You ask, turning to him.

"There is a prince attending tonight." He sips his drink.

"Ah yes." You recall hearing that. "I'm sure everyone knows."

"Does Mama know?" Benedict asks him.

"I'm not quite sure." Colin muses.

You look at Benedict. "Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason. I just wondered. After all, if he's eligible, and the Duke has yet to still propose to Daphne..." He drifts off.

Colin looks at his brother. "You can't be serious?"

Benedict shrugs.

Chatter grows near the entrance, and you look up in time to see the Queen enter with a younger man by her side. There is no doubt in your mind that he is the prince that was expected to arrive. He is dressed like one.

"That shall be him now," you say, watching walk into the ballroom.

"Princess Daphne, eh?" Colin grins.

Benedict smacks him lightly. Colin glares at his brother. You rolls your eyes and walk away.

"You owe me a dance!" Benedict calls out.

You laugh as you head into the ballroom, wanting to see what is happening. The Queen introduces the prince to Daphne and you watch curiously.

After a few moments, Daphne lets out the most unladylike laugh you have ever heard. You chuckle quietly to yourself.

As the music begins to play again, Benedict comes up beside you. "Done swooning?"

"I was hardly swooning."

Benedict holds out his hand and gives you a look. You chuckle and place your hand in his.

"My name is on your card."

"I know."

You both join the others and dance around the room. Benedict and you smile at each other, enjoying each others company. Dancing with him has become a rather nice moment for you, but you haven't forgotten your initial attempt to find a suitor.

When your dance with Benedict comes to an end, another gentleman approaches you, and another after that.

Benedict finds that your dance with Anthony last time has really improved your chances. He thinks nothing of it as he rejoins Colin in the other room.

The evening passes, and you find that you had enjoyed every moment of it.

♡♡♡

Prince Friedrich of Prussia had garnered a lot of attention. The ladies flcoked to him in the masses. While he was trapped outside with the ladies and their Mama's, you were inside looking at the art.

The Bridgertons. Were here, too.

The gallery was phenomenal. Artwork covered every inch of every wall. There was so much to admire and take in.

You were currently with your mother as you took in some of the artwork. Your eyes are taking their time to trail over the details of paintings. You didn't know much about art, but you could certainly admire it.

Violet Bridgerton had her arm hooked with her eldest son. She scanned the room and pointed out some of the lovely ladies present. Anthony sighed and looked at his mother.

"Were I looking for a list of debutantes and their dubious accomplishments, I could have stayed home and read Lady Whistledown." Anthony frees himself from his mother and wanders off.

Violet turns to take Benedict's arm, but he catches on quick and wriggles out of her grasp, also fleeing.

Poor Colin is left behind to take the fall.

Benedict finds himself looking up at a painting in deep thought. Lady Danbury joins him along with another gentleman.

"It's much too cold," Benedict says, looking at Danbury. "Where's any sense of the subject's spirit? And the light! Given the quality, I do wonder why the piece was not skyed with the other daubs."

"Perhaps we should ask the artist," Lady Danbury says.

"That would be something, Lady Danbury." Benedict nods at her.

"Mm... Mr. Granville, why was your piece not skyed?" She turns to the gentleman beside her and Benedict wishes the ground would swallow him whole.

"Mr. Granville, I--"

"If you will excuse me, um, I must find my wife." Granville leaves.

Benedict is left starting in utter shock. "You diabolical... How could your leylt me rattle on like that?"

"How could I not, my dear Mr. Bridgerton? It was riotously funny, you must admit."

Lady Danbury walks away.

Benedict looks back at the painting and sighs.

"Penny, for your thoughts." You say, coming to stand beside him. Benedict looks at you and then back at where Lady Danbury had gone.

"I was humiliated just now."

You look around but don't see who he is looking for. "Surely not."

Benedict looks back at the painting. "What do you think?"

You look up at it and give it a good look. "I... can't say I know much about art. Do you?"

Benedict smiles a little. "You could say that. I have a passion for it."

You turn and look at him. "You're an artist too?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. Not yet." He looks almost sheepish.

You smile as you look at him. "Is there any possibility of me seeing your work?" You ask.

Benedict isn't sure why his heart races at the thought of you seeing something so important to him. His personal hobby.

"You wish to see my work?"

"If you'll allow."

Benedict stares at you for a moment and then tears his gaze away, realising he was perhaps looking for far too long.

"Perhaps one day."

You hear the far away tone of his voice as he looks up at the painting on the wall. You wonder what he's thinking.

Perhaps he hopes he can paint something for all to see one day. Maybe then he will let you see his passion.

The crowd behind you gasped, and you both turned to see Cressida on the ground with Prince Friedrich comforting her.

"Ah, the art of swooning." You chuckle.

Benedict chuckles, too.

You turn your gaze away from the crowd and back to the painting on the wall. Your eyes trailing along it. This piece doesn't make you feel much of anything, if you were honest.

Yet, somehow, you believe Benedict's painting would certainly have a way to move you. Whether you understood art or not.

♡♡♡

Benedict sits in an empty room of the house, all by himself sketching away in his book. He has already torn out and tossed a couple of pages in frustration.

There is a lingering thought in the back of his head. The thought of showing you his work. You asked him so innocently too.

If Benedict is to create anything worthy of being admired by you, it would have to be perfect.

He wasn't entirely why your wish to see his work mattered so much. Perhaps it was because you became friends. Perhaps it because he felt you would understand.

Your kind-hearted nature and sense of humour were perfectly admirable traits, but it was your wish to know him on a deeper level that had Benedict desiring your company.

You were one of the only people to really see him. It felt good.

The second son swore to himself that he would draw something worthy of your gaze. Nothing less.

It was just going to take him a while to create such a piece.

If only Daphne would play a different tune kn her piano. The constant repetitive notes he can hear from the drawing room were driving him insane.

♡♡♡

@callmemana - @lilscast - @imgondeletedis - @benedictbridgertonss - @clownsdiehard - @wxnterwidow333

@sillynilly27 - @autumn-slaves - @ben-has-arrived - @ajdelilah - @aadu2173

@booknerdlife - @tamlinrose - @sarahskywalker-amidala - @cheryyluv - @louschan - @lou-la-lou - @cultish-corner

@hopshusushi - @katherinejess - @nannabug - @afunkyfreshblog - @f0x33 - @dd122004dd

@jupitervenusearthmars - @orchiidflwer - @bespinnn - @captainlunaxmen - @winchestersimpalababy - @acupnoodle

@ms-fandomgirl - @fablesrose - @anyaisinyourcloset - @meowzerzstuff -

#Bridgerton shade of blue #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #female reader #dragon writes

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yeslordmyking · 1 year ago

Text

John 1:2-3 — Today's Verse for Tuesday, January 2, 2024

0 notes

jointherebellion215 · 10 months ago

Text

His Kiss, The Riot

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: When you and your secret lover make plain to Feyd-Rautha your wishes for a life together, despite the proposed arranged marriage, he surprisingly acquiesces. But he can't let you go so easily, can he? Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha, arranged marriage, NONCON elements, gore, violence, she/her pronouns, female!reader, tragedy, star-crossed lovers, songfic, not quite a happy ending (oops), dark dark dark interpretations of Hadestown and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read If It's True and liked, reblogged, or commented. I appreciate every single one of you. As always, I would love some feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs if you can :)

This is Part Two to my Feydestown trilogy (I'm so sorry for the pun). You can read Part One here.

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

The devil takes this Orpheus

And his belladonna kiss

“So you wanna get married? Take away the woman I just offered my hand to, to whom I all but have legal claim?”

Your beloved’s replied words of affirmation to his words hold the slightest tremor, but like a dog to fresh meat, Feyd-Rautha sniffs this out immediately. Another smile graces his face. Feyd speaks to the crowd now, “Yes, I was promised the Lady’s hand in marriage. But! I am a benevolent figure, so I guess I’ll let the lovebirds go.”

The crowd starts to give polite applause, while your knees grow weak at the news. You can go? Has love really prevailed on this day?

“However,” and with that, your heart drops “I have some conditions for these… nuptials.”

You could sense the air growing thick with tension as the reality of the na-Baron’s ruling twists out of your favor.

“Conditions?” You whispered.

“Of course, my darling! I can’t make this too easy on you, now can I?” Feyd paces back and forth on the steps from which he speaks, making your eyes dart back and forth with each step he takes. Vigilance overtakes your body in case of any rash decisions.

“You two can leave the city, but it won’t be hand in hand. This pair will have to walk in single file, with the boy in the front and my darling Lady at least thirty paces behind. No ships, no speeders, no running. Walking.”

The energy of the room starts to grow more electric as the points of this term seem to set in.

“The Lady cannot speak out or make any indication of her following behind. You’ll be faced forward the whole journey. Once you reach the edge of the city and passed the threshold, you can be together for eternity.”

Your breath hitched. Seems easy enough, right?

“But, if the boy so much as turns his head to check and see if the Lady is following, the deal is off. She’ll return to me, and we will be married.”

Nothing makes a man so bold

As a woman’s smile and a hand to hold

“Is this a trick?” Your beloved asks plainly.

Feyd tilts his head, pacing down the steps to ground level. “Now, what makes you say that? I’m being generous. I’ve set my terms.” He is now nose-to-nose with the man attached to you.

“Now meet them or face the consequences.”

The hand holding yours is now pooled with sweat. You quickly and subtly jerk the arm of your beloved when he starts to protest, not recognizing a gift when he sees one. You bow, the picture of poise and grace that you were raised to be. There is still time to leave with all of your limbs intact, you could not afford to slip up now.

“We offer our most sincere gratitude, my Lord na-Baron. Thank you for this most auspicious opportunity. We will not squander it.”

Your beloved gives a clumsy bow to match yours. Feyd’s manic smile grows as he clasps his hands together. The sound echoes through the hall.

“So it shall begin!”

But all alone his blood runs thin

And doubt—doubt comes in

The pair of you hold hands, side-by-side, at the entrance of the palace gates. A crowd has followed you to the edge, with onlookers from the outside spectating the unexpected appearance of a noble. Occurrences like this did not happen often, if ever.

“You heard the terms. The Lady must walk thirty steps behind. She must not speak to you.” Your hands reluctantly separate, following the orders you were given. You can feel your heart pounding with each step that you take away from each other.

“Some of my guard will accompany you, to ensure that you comply to the letter.” Four Harkonnen warriors step forward and encase you in a square formation, leaving the love of your life alone and vulnerable. He looks back towards you, fear and doubt creeping into his eyes. You nodded at him, believing that you could succeed in your task. That you would prevail.

“You may begin.” Feyd voices, and with that—you start your journey. Step by step, you walk further through the foliage that immediately surrounds the castle gates and into the city square.

Once you and your beloved reach the horizon, Feyd turns to walk past the crowd and back into the corridor.

Your father, the Duke, bows quickly and offers his gratitude, but is ignored as the younger Harkonnen goes to gather his blade and shield. With a yell, he summons his guards to formation. As Feyd checks the integrity of his weapon, one of the Baron’s advisors tentatively steps towards him.

“My Lord, perhaps you should consider letting them go—” In the blink of an eye, the man is silenced with a swift slash to the throat. Blood spills through the advisor’s hands as he struggles to put pressure on the opening. His body flops to the floor and Feyd carelessly steps over the writhing body to march forward.

“Let’s go fetch my bride.”

Dangerous this jack of hearts

It had been almost an hour of walking by this point. There had been almost a dozen times where you wanted to give any audible indication to your lover that you were here. A whisper, a whistle, a stomp of your foot. Anything. But now you could see the edge of the city, you could almost taste it.

A life with your love was within reach.

The guards accompanying you shifted inward, almost boxing you in. You were hopeful, but nerves were creeping in.

This was going well. Too well.

The grand arch signifying the edge of the city was above your lover now. The field that you used to meet at in secret lay just beyond it. You’re almost there. Just twenty more steps and you could be together, forever.

He steps over the threshold, you see his shoulders lift and fall in an exhale. Then, the man you had fallen in love with— who you wholly believe in— slowly turns his head to lock eyes with you. A pale figure steps out from behind a pillar accompanying the arch.

The growing smile on your face immediately falls. You call out his name.

Oh no.

The na-Baron tsked and shook his head, as if scolding a child. Harkonnen troops flanked the area, giving Feyd-Rautha enough berth to have his fun. The three of you were surrounded, but only one really had the advantage.

“You were so close!”

Your beloved held out a hand, “Wait, wait! I made it over!” He started to back away in fear, unarmed and exhausted from the long walk. Colorful, ripe foliage brushed his legs as he back into your field.

“Ah, but she didn’t. So, face the consequences.”

Then his blade pierced the man you love.

Your ears started to ring, throat working itself raw as you wailed. Tears blurred your vision, you could hear the gurgles of the blood leaving your fiancé’s mouth and the slosh of his newly disemboweled entrails hitting the lush field before you.

With his kiss, the riot starts

His body made a sick thud on the floor, and your body jumped along with it.

You ran towards your dead lover, cradling his face and sobbing for the soul that was just ripped away from you. He didn’t deserve such a violent end. His only crime was loving you and being loved in return.

A chuckle sounded from above you, and you turned your tear-stained face to the brutal Harkonnen. He was covered in the blood of your lover, his spoils of war staining his pale skin. Black teeth on full display, his shoulders gave a slight shake as he expressed his humor. His laughter sparked a rage in you like you’d never seen before. It didn’t matter what bonds you may or may not have formed over the conversations you had the last week. He’s a monster. He needs to pay for what he’s done.

Red flooded your vision.

With a roar, you lunged for the man. His laugh grew more manic as you smacked, punched, kicked, and hit every visible part of him that you could identify. In your grief, every ounce of training that you received flew out the window. He took every blow with a smile, as if he enjoyed the punishment you were attempting to bestow on him.

“There we go, my darling. Show me your pain. Your rage!”

Your mind started to clear with the more hits you landed. With a quick swipe, you had the weapon that killed your beloved against the naBaron’s neck. The Harkonnen soldiers immediately stepped forward, but Feyd stopped them with a wave of his arm.

“Ah ah ah! Leave her be.” His grin almost split his face in half, specks of dried blood making a painting of his face.

“Do it. Go ahead, come on.”

He pressed his neck forward, purposefully putting pressure on his own blade. Fresh blood started to trickle down his neck, adding to the gallons already spread all over his uniform.

The shock of his willingness to put his life on the line made you hesitate, which made him cackle in your face. Your anger made you draw the blade back and slice it across his chest. A groan left Feyd’s mouth,

“Good girl.”

An unexpected thunk to the head made your vision start to spin. Feyd’s arms braced around you, slowly lowering you to your knees and down to a lying position. He cradled your head as if you were a precious commodity, when he leaned forward and captured your limp lips with his.

As black started swallowing your vision, you heard him say,

“Don’t worry, my darling bride. It’ll all be alright. You won’t feel a thing.”

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bones4thecats · 1 month ago

Note

TFOne request: Megatronus x Fem!Reader who was an unofficial 14th Prime that presided over Cybertron's music.

┗ Song of the Spark; TF1! Megatronus ┛

Characters: Megatronus (Transformers One) A/N: This is my second TF One piece, so there may be a couple OOC things happening with some characters. Just warning you there. But, I do hope you like this, @sassycandypoetry! ⇘ Summary: When you find out you were carrying, you wanted to make sure in case anything happened, your sparkling had someone to watch after your offspring. But, when you tell someone, you three neglect to notice the blue and yellow figure behind you, listening angrily.

┍━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┑

┕━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

🎭 Steps of large weight alerted the surrounding Cybertronians. They all looked up and smiled. Walking inside of the room was two of the most beloved Cybertronian leaders, the powerful and gigantic warrior, Megatronus, and his dearest sparkmate, the creator of music for their planet, Y/N.

🎭 You hummed along with your steps. Like your lover, your mask covered your face, but, instead of having one pair of optics, you had four. Two were placed below your normal ones, and while it would unnerve many, the way they glowed a beautiful blue like his own, he couldn't help but be entranced at the sight of them.

🎭 Megatronus adored you a lot. You were strong and obviously built very well for a fighter, but you were also very kind of loving of your people. Despite the time the war of Cybertronians and Quintessons, you always found a way to connect everybody. Even the other Primes had to admit, you were close to becoming an honorary one.

🎭 The soldiers stood and bowed to you both. You blinked and nodded at them, telling them they were dismissed for the day and could return to their homes to see their families.

"Starscream. May we speak with you?" You called to a singular seeker.

🎭 Starscream turned around and looked at you, nodding and stepping to you both. He took a knee and stared at the ground. You just chuckled and grabbed his servo, pulling him to stand up as Megatronus watched silently.

"Starscream. You have been leading the High Guard for very long, and you have been doing a spectacular job."

"Why- thank you, sir."

"For eons I've been looking for someone to hold onto my dream of uniting Cybertron though not only our words, but through our hymns. Every song I have written and have sung to be passed on are ones I hope bring us closer and motivate our people to be their best selves. But, I believe there are certain ones that are planning something darker."

"If you don't mind my prying, who are you speaking of?"

"Nobody who shall be named." Megatronus spoke. "It is a mere hunch as of the present."

"Understood, sir."

🎭 You smiled and lightly gripped Starscream's shoulder, making him look into your optics. He cocked an optical ridge and watched as you raised your wrist, tapping the button on the back of your servo.

🎭 After you tapped it, a glowing blue holograph appeared. He looked at it carefully as you scanned through it all. You went through many bots before landing on one. Himself.

🎭 You hit his face and dragged a designation to his title, renaming it to General Starscream of the Cybertronian High Guard. His optics widened as you submitted it, successfully changing it permanently.

"With your new title of having near complete control over the High Guard, I entrust this dream to you. But, you mustn't tell anyone else about it, is that clear?"

"Yes, it is clear."

🎭 Megatronus laid his servo on your shoulder as you pulled up one more holograph. This time, it was the moving images of a small, glowing dot in darkness. A small hum came from the ball of light as it's glow brightened and dimmed almost every second.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"A growing sparkling, yes."

"C-congratulations, Megatronus and Y/N! I'm very happy for you both. But, what does this have to do with your dream?"

"Inside of this spakrling's growing spark is a blessing. One made by myself and my sparkmate. If anything happens to either of us, we would like you to raise them with this single goal in mind."

"Ruling Cybertron by yourself is beyond difficult. Having others there to help you is something they must understand as they age. Allies and loyal followers much like you are the reason we Primes stay in power and keep you all safe. I want our sparkling to be the same as us and their relatives are." You began. "Please, Starscream. Keep them safe just in case we cannot."

🎭 Starscream nodded and saluted you both before bowing and glancing back at the holograph. You dismissed him, but before he left, you reminded him to tall nobody of this talk.

🎭 He agreed and flew off to his two fellow seekers, Thundercracker and Skyquake. They waved to you both and flew home. A smile overtook Megatronus' face behind his battle mask as he held your servo and laid his helm on top of your's.

"They'll be safe no matter what, my voice."

"I know that now, my muse."

🎭 As you both walked off, you were unaware of the figure behind the pillar. A sparkling was something that could pose a huge issue in his mission to succeed the Primes. And the fact that you asked Starscream of all Cybertronians to care for the thing? That just put him in his way!

"Looks like I need to put my plan into effect sooner than intended..."

#Transformers #Transformers One #TF One #TF One 13 Primes #Transformers x Reader #Transformers One x Reader #TF One x Reader #TF One 13 Primes x Reader #S/O! Reader #GN! Reader #F! Reader #Cybertronian! Reader #TF One Megatronus #TF One Megatronus x Reader

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yandere-romanticaa · 6 months ago

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Jade is a contradiction of many things, all wrapped up in a little pink bow which you can never fully unwrap.

And she likes to keep it that way.

In her heart she will always be a businesswoman first and foremost, which means that she's always looking for things to be in her favor. As good as she is at her job it can get so tiring. Even she fantasizes about days in which she could just put her feet up, have an ice cold drink and have a cute little thing to fuss over her, telling her all sorts of silly and amusing things...

And you just happen to check every single box she has.

It's so easy to rope you into her arms. She can give you anything and everything. The best part is that it's all 100% guaranteed, literally every single person you've spoken to who has had her as business partner can attest to her skills, wit and charm. Honestly, you would be a fool to not work with her - that's what everyone says at least.

She comes to you like a whisper in the wind, her presence calming and reassuring. "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours." she croons, a soft pout on her pretty pink lips as her hand hovers over your tear stained cheek.

"I shall take care of everything."

And indeed she does.

All of your debts are paid. All of them, every single one. Even your friends and family start getting random sums of cash, and there's such a large amount that they don't even know what to do with it! You can finish school in peace, start a business from scratch, travel the cosmos, the whole world is your oyster really!!

Jade gave you a pair of wings you never even dreamed of having. And she archived it all without even breaking a sweat. You thanked her profusely, over and over, showering the wonderful Lady Bonajade with every single kind word there ever was.

However, just as you were about to soar high into the sky, the horrible reality of the situation made you crash right back down to earth. Hard.

There's a sudden coldness around your neck, like a necklace of sorts. Her gloved fingers dance around the soft flesh, her eyes laser focused on the task at hand. You don't even get to ask her what was going on, not until she suddenly yanked you to the floor.

With a grunt, you fell onto your knees and was forced to look up at her, a satisfied glimmer in her eye.

"There." she said, her tone laced with confidence. "You look so much better like this."

She yanked on the chain once more, forcing you even closer to her, so much so that you could feel her thigh against your face. She kept you there on the ground for hours as she did her paperwork, her hand occasionally stroking your hair in a way an owner would pet a dog.

She didn't seem to care for your tears and if she did, she didn't comment on them. Any and all pleas were ignored, especially when they were about the dreadfully tight collar around your neck.

You were a fool to think that you could have gotten such a good deal without paying some sort of price. There was a part of you which was ready to sell something of yours, perhaps even an organ if need be.

You just didn't think that Jade would want your freedom in exchange for her services.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere female #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr jade #hsr jade x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere jade #yandere jade x reader #yandere fic #yandere fanfiction #yandere woman

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lipglossanon · 1 month ago

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The Old Ways

Leon S. Kennedy x Priestess fem!reader

A little more savory tier commission from the lovely @porcelainseashore 💜 thank you for your patience 😭

Word Count: 2318 🫣

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, alternate universe, paganistic practices, animal sacrifice, slight gore, blood, blood sacrifice, bloodletting, predator/prey, sex magick, biting, marking, scratching, rough sex, voyeurism, kissing, unprotected sex, creampie

proofread

Mother Moon wanes in the sky, like the sly grin of a fox. Turning your gaze from her cool light, you continue with your toiling. You gather herbs along with the other village women, whispering chants over the brambles and plants. Tomorrow you welcome the birth of a new moon and winter—and with those, the ceremony of oblation.

The wights of the land clamor for your attention, whispering in your ear of the hunger for blood to be shed. As the priestess, you’ve led many rites to the elder gods. Every full moon a calf is sacrificed at the altar in the center of the village, followed by dancing and merriment. A wooden goblet is filled with its blood and poured upon your nude body, anointing you with its life so you can pass it on to the village.

The women and men are gifted with innate power, dark arts to help keep your community prosperous and safe. These sacred practices have been passed down through the ages, the covenant with the Dark Ones holding fast and true with every new generation. It now falls upon you as the newest priestess to keep up these traditions.

The air is sharp and cold, furs keeping the soft animal of your body warm. Your fingers curl like the gnarled hands of the older women beside you, a fate you hope to see in your future. A few of them catch your eye and nod, solemn gazes and voices when otherwise there would be singing and joy.

Your gaze alights upon a party of the men returning from their traps, various animals thrown over their shoulders or writhing in sacks gripped in their fists. A few of them spot you and nod in respect. As you watch them walk back to the village, you muse that one of these men will partake in the ritual with you tonight. Many of them are a stranger to your eyes, but if it is the will of the ancient ones, then it shall come to pass.

Once enough has been gathered, each of the women rise and follow along the winding path back to the village temple. Fires burn bright and hot in the night, dancing shadows cast upon the men while they skin and flay the carcass of beasts in preparation for tomorrow night.

Entering into the temple last, the other women have formed a circle around the altar. The red-stained surface feels cool under your fingers when you press your own herbs down onto it. Words spill from your lips like wine, an ancient chant of embracing the dark for its sinister gifts. Other voices join, swelling to fill the chamber with their ambiance.

Hands raise in supplication, feet stamp against the cold, earthen floor, and you slice open your palm to rub blood across the runes etched into the stone altar. Once filled, you turn, chanting softly, to paint symbols across each of the women’s faces. They bow their heads and sink to their knees once they’ve been anointed. Before reaching the final woman, a wisp of a boy—straddling the line of manhood—enters the doorway with a plump hare in hand.

He waits until you beckon him forward with blood-coated fingers. Placing the warm animal in your arms, he leaves the temple. The chanting of the women ebbs and flows like the wind in a storm, the sound bolstering and soothing. An elderly woman steps forward and holds the hare against the altar’s face. Pulling out the same blade you used to slice your hand, you wait until the old woman snaps its neck, then you plunge your blade deep in its soft belly.

Lifeblood runs hot and thick across the stone. Each of the village women comes forward to gather the blood, bathing their arms and necks with the dark liquid. You skin the chosen creature, gutting it quickly before the innards grow too cold for use and drop the heart and lungs in a separate wooden bowl. Finished, you pick up the bowl and walk outside to the center of the village. You toss them into the fire with a smattering of herbs gathered earlier.

You shout out an incantation, tossing more herbs and branches into the fire. Voice growing quiet, you bow to the flame, ending the ritual. Everything is now in place for tomorrow’s oblation. A few of the women help you to your home, exhausted as you are from the fervor of performing your duties.

The next morning dawns brightly. You rise along with the burgeoning rays. Dressing for the cold, you join the congregation of people at the temple. The scant time of daylight is spent readying the skins and headpieces for the ceremony. Masks and furs are to be given to those joining, a trickery of confusion to one chosen to Hunt for the priestess. The times when the Hunter has become confused and chosen poorly, the dark gods were unkind, and many perished.

The village elders now choose more carefully lest it happen again. For as long as you’ve been alive, every chase has ended with the priestess caught, ensuring the village is secure until the next ceremony of oblation. The sun begins to set, signifying an end to preparations.

Everyone begins to gather outside the temple. The elders talk amongst themselves, narrowing down who shall become the Hunter—who shall be the one to find you amidst the trickery in the dark of the forest—the one who shall perform the ceremony and satisfy the lust of the ancient ones.

“Leon, come forth.”

A young man with blonde hair and blue eyes is brought forward. His strong arms, offset by scars, signify battles won, someone who must be from the war party. You’ve seen him before, but with his task of being a fighter, he is rarely in the village. This ceremony, however, requires everyone to partake. All of the war parties and hunting parties made the trek back home in time.

A loud cheer goes up when the man accepts the crown of raven’s wings, letting one of the elders anoint his brow with blood before placing it atop his head. He shrugs on the sacred skin of the bear, cutting a formidable figure against the dying sun. You hope he is up to the task. His serious blue eyes seek you out amidst the villagers, nodding in deference once he locks eyes with you.

You join the elders and enter the temple. They strip you of your warmth and paint your body with runes and symbols of the dark gods you worship. Herbs are crushed into a paste and smeared across your belly and breasts. Chants and incantations are murmured while they ready you for the ritual. Dressing you in the coat of a freshly skinned stag, they adorn your brow with a headdress of antlers.

Guiding you from the temple, you join the group of men and women joining the chase, each dressed in skins and masks. Now that you’re ready, they’re off, running into the dark of the forest with you trailing behind. The elders will release the Hunter once they’ve completed the blessings for him. It’s not long before villagers begin to split off.

The chase warms the blood. It’s why this part of the ceremony has lasted the test of time. Warm blood is the preferred offering of your dark gods. The antlers snag on a low branch and keep you in place. You can hear the others running, footfalls muted on the soft, damp earth. It gives them time to distract and escape from the clutches of the Hunter.

The heavy coat of the stag drips against your skin, sticky blood running down your naked body. You finally snap the branch that’s keeping you from moving, feet picking up speed until you’re running through the winding trunks. The silver birches gleam like ghosts in the murky night. You catch fleeting glimpses of other animals—deer, rabbits, a fox or two. Your eyes have yet to see the Hunter, clad in the finest bearskin with a crown of raven’s wings atop his brow.

No matter how cold the night is, the heat of the chase keeps the chill at bay. You’re close to where the ritual needs to take place. This Hunter is smart, corralling you close enough that he can catch you more easily. The elders chose wisely this time. The tree comes into view. A horrible wretch of a thing. Legend tells the screaming face embedded in its onyx-colored bark is the combined souls of those who would do the village harm. Another reason why the covenant with the dark gods is so necessary. Its thorny branches are sharp enough to slice into flesh.

A thick arm bands around your waist, stopping your momentum and sending you stumbling back against a warm, fur-covered chest.

“I’ve caught you, priestess.”

You can see the smoke of Leon’s breath passing by the side of your face. A low humming chant begins deep in the forest, the elders leading the procession of villagers to the site of the ceremony. He manhandles you until he’s pressing your back against the rough bark of the dead, wizened tree. The antlers are tossed from your head onto the ground along with his own crown before he takes your lips in a rough, hungry kiss.

The men and women begin to form a semicircle around the tree, witness to the ritual about to take place. They’re only a minor distraction before Leon rips the stag coat from your body, dropping it at your feet. Skin scraping against the bark makes you hiss in pain, small cuts forming along your back and arms. He kisses you again, parting his own animal skin to bare his naked body.

You pull away and sink your teeth into his shoulder, biting hard enough the tang of blood fills your mouth. He grunts, cock thickening against your leg. Shoving you more firmly against the dead tree, he slots his leg between your thighs, pressing the damp lips of your cunt against the warm skin. Hissing, you rock down against him, pleasure zipping through your body.

The ritual is meant to be bloody and rough, an offering to the dark gods that bay and howl for life. Leon moves to kiss you again at the same time you dip forward to bite his other shoulder. His chin knocks against your cheek, making you shift, arm catching on a thorn-covered branch and slicing open your flesh. Pulling you into his chest, he braces his forearm against your side, the branch cutting into his flesh and preventing it from sinking into yours.

You admire his care; the ancient ones have no preferences whose blood is shed as long as it is human and it is fresh. He kisses across your jaw before sinking his own teeth into your neck at the same time he lifts your leg to wrap around his waist. Your eyes catch sight of the villagers, standing solemnly, watching as Leon and you perform the rite. He brings your attention back when he ruts his cock against the seam of your cunt. Notching the head of his dick at your hole, he bullies his way completely inside, stuffing and stretching your pussy so suddenly you can’t breathe.

He groans like a wounded dog, pulling halfway out before sinking back into your pliant flesh. Your nails scratch and claw at his back, shredding the skin underneath. He retaliates by biting and snarling, teeth maiming your neck and shoulders until it’s a bloody mess. All thoughts of higher thinking are lost to the frenzy. Leon mates you like some rabid animal. You're biting and clawing at each other—blood spilling from your bodies to coat the imposing tree at your back.

At some point, Leon pulls out to spin you around, pressing your stomach and chest against the rough bark. Keening like a bitch in heat, Leon pounds your cunt with hard, powerful thrusts. More cuts open against the soft meat of your belly and breasts, palms scraping against the tree while Leon fucks your pussy into submission. His palm cups above your mound, angling your body back in a way that makes you clamp down around his cock.

Groaning, he keeps up the fast pace—his dick plunging in and out of your wet, dripping hole, the tip grazing something so delicious it’s making your brain light up in ways you’ve never experienced. You can’t stop the noises escaping you, like a stuck pig braying for help. Leon rams into you, cock thick and heavy, stretching you out. A pleasure unlike anything you’ve experienced is overcoming your senses. Your fingers curl into claws, mouth open in a silent scream as something in your brain snaps.

Everything goes silent except the pleasure engulfing your entire being. Time is infinite in this space. Tears streak down your cheeks, eyes open yet unseeing even as Leon buries his cock to the hilt to fill you with his sticky spend. You come to yourself when a heavy fur is draped around your exhausted body.

“Priestess, the ceremony of oblation is complete.”

Turning, you look into a pair of blue eyes.

“Thank you,” you rasp, voice scratchy.

He shifts on his feet, nude body covered with his own animal skin. The various men and women are walking back to the village, preparing the feast that is to follow the ritual. Leon stands next to you, a warm and quiet presence while you gain your bearings once more.

You walk in silence, side by side, through the forest. It’s a companionable feeling, a sense of peace that pervades you. The man beside you coughs lightly.

“Priestess,” he pauses for a breath. “May I dance with you at the fire tonight?”

Heat suffuses your chest, and you smile at him, dried blood flaking from the movement.

“I’d like that, Leon.”

#kofi #kofi commission #fic request #kofi request #commissions #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #fem!reader #priestess!reader

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