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s3thwrit3sstuff · 3 months

Note

NO BUT I NEED SATORU AND SUKUNA INSIDE OF ME RIGHT NEEOOOWWWWW I CAN TAKE THEM.BOTH!!!!!

❝ Darling, won't you just plead, or should I begin to bleed? ❞

Heian Era!Sukuna Ryomen x ftm!reader x Heian Era!Gojo Satoru | alternate universe, NSFW | sub. bottom. reader (AFAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 5.4

warnings: mentions of murder, dub. con (Gojo Satoru), power imbalance, size difference, threesome, fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, anal sex, spit roasting, triple penetration, tummy bulging, improper use of RCT , marking, possessive sex, degradation, one of Sukuna's cock gets bigger out of spite, unrealistic amounts of cum, AFAB terminology (reader's genitals are referred to with cock, dick, hole, boycunt, boypussy, clit)

“Call off your dog, Sukuna,” he snarls. Sukuna’s grin stretches obscenely and he throws his head back to laugh. Satoru hopes to have hurt your ego — from the tall tales he’s heard of (Y/N), you were known to have a haughty air about you. Satoru is sorely disappointed as he hears you chuckling along with Sukuna. In any other situation, the sweet sounds of your laughter would’ve made his heart flutter. But it’s mixed with Sukuna’s cackling so intricately he shudders at the very thought.

“Come, dog.”

authors note: heed the warnings!!! * YN is described as having long hair because of the heian beauty standard (hair colour and texture not mentioned)!

When the sun sets over the horizon and tucks itself past the peaks of those great mountains, it isn’t unusual for the sounds of burning to follow. Little slivers of suns swaying on top of wax or dancing across oil. Naturally, the burning comes with smoke. Casual tantalizing curls emitting from the evershifting flame; make you wonder if the sun steams and smokes.

Does it stay in the darkness, its company being the dancers of its creation swirling with it to the crackling of its flames? Afterall, if the sun is the king of flames, it would make sense that he has his own concubines.

Your eyes pull away from the sprouts of candles at the edge of the throne. Leaning your head back, you now gaze up at the king of curses as he breathes in the flavourful, addictive, smoke from the burning tobacco and exhales it into the air. He swallows the ghostly concubines. Stealing another king’s treasure. It was like him; he was the true king, after all.

Sukuna pays you no mind. He had called you to lounge with him, had Uruame prepare you for a night of passion despite not yet touching you. He had simply tapped his lap and you filled out the space by cushioning your head on his big thigh.

He’s dressed in auspiciously white garments, the expensive material has you wondering what’s in store for the both of you. The King of Curses does not need primping. Even so, he is dressed loosely. The mouth on his stomach is visible and one of his sleeves threatens to fall from his shoulder. The hand holding the smoke pipe allows itself to be pushed while the lower pair holds onto your hips. He stares down at you, his four eyes glinting silently in question. You’re practically kneeling on his lap and you barely reach the bottom half of his lips.

“Do you recall how many people I’ve killed for their insolence?” his tone is drawled out, a tinge of amusement hidden behind the baritones. “Yes, my King. I’ve always enjoyed watching you destroy them,” your hands curl around the bulging muscles of his chest and you trace up the tattoos he has to reach his shoulders.

Sukuna takes you in. Uruame had outdone themselves. You’re dressed in his favourite colours. Nothing too restrictive, the layers were enough to entice but not to invoke annoyance. Japanese politeness and grace are interwoven into every stitch despite your less-than-innocent gaze. You’ve always had the prettiest eyes; he remembers jesting that he’d pluck them out to put into a jar just so he could see them every day. They trial the shape of your lips, painted with the shades of flower petals that bloom in the light of the heavens; he thinks the irony is all the more poetic.

Your mouth and heaven do not go hand-in-hand. It’s pure sin. From that wicked, silver, tongue to your saccharine-sweet smile to that spine-shivering laugh.

You were hell-born. Just like he was.

Gently, you slip your digits under the fabric of his shoulder and he watches you and your actions impassively. Four eyes give him more room to admire you with, whatever part of you. He imagines you mean to smooth out the — imaginary — wrinkles as your palm slips up and down his broad shoulders. Your touching earns a firm squeeze to your hips, his hands are so large they cover the entirety of your back. And when they squeeze it makes your eyes flutter. He could snap you in half with just one hand. Barely use any of his strength — Sukuna could kill you as an afterthought, toss your beautiful body aside, and never think of you again.

But he doesn’t.

“You are getting impatient, boy.” The hand on his chest could feel that rumbling. Your throne — his lap — moves and you let yourself be placed according to his will. Sukuna sets you back on his lap and splays you out with a look. You stretch out on him — if you were a cat your tail would’ve curled coyly into the air just under his chin.

“It is late, Your Grace.”

The only lights left were from the candles and pools of oil ignited.

“You are passion and flame and I’ve been prepared for you to alight.”

He thinks your flowery words are adorable but unneeded. Sukuna props his face on his knuckles as he gazes down at your exposed legs. They’re practically glowing and the scent of oil entices his cocks. The mouth on his stomach splits and his tongue curls over the teeth there - you giggle at the sight.

“You want me to fuck you,” he smirks sharply, “and I am telling you to wait, brat.”

“For what?” You prop yourself on your elbows, brows pinched. “The servant that prepared me has his head tossed into a hole and yet I can still feel his little prick inside of me.”

Taking Ryomen Sukuna’s cocks was not an easy feat. For the common man, a few fingers and oil would do. For a beast that is your king, a generous pour of oil and a man pumped with herb aphrodisiacs was needed. None of the men would ever reach completion and neither did you — Sukuna would not allow it.

They would fuck you but once Uruame felt that you were stretched enough to gape, they’d pull the man away and bring him to the courtyard. A hole would be dug and the naked man would be beheaded. His penis was tossed in there to be buried and forgotten. No one should live to tell the tale of preparing Sukuna’s precious concubine. They should be honoured they were chosen but they’ll never be seen again. Those poor bastards. At least they were useful before they died.

Mirth sparks in his eyes.

“I spoil you,” and at that, you bashfully turn away. “I deserve to be spoiled.”

A greeting comes from across the long hall. The servants next to the doors rise from their bowed positions and it slides open to reveal Uruame and a man touched by frost behind them. Uruame is kneeling, and the man is not.

“Your Grace,” Uruame bows deeper.

“The head of the Gojo clan, Gojo Satoru. As you requested.”

His skin was pale and his hair paler. You’re certain if the sun rose he’d turn all but translucent. The flicker from the candles attempts to cast shadows across his small face but they cannot darken those sky-blue eyes. Uruame had announced he was from the Gojo clan but, you’ve only ever seen such blue eyes from white men — he doesn’t appear to have been sired by one. You doubt they’d even let the head of their clan be of a mixed race.

Gojo Satoru is a freak of nature. He is a curse in the shape of a man.

“Does he not know how to bow?” Your purring tone is gone. It’s cold as Uruame’s technique. Sukuna eases it back with a deliberate squint of his eye.

“Bring him in. Then leave, Uruame.” They bow deeper (if that was even possible) and after Satoru steps through, Uruame is hidden by the sliding doors once again.

“Have you reconsidered my offer, sorcerer?” Satoru’s brows are furrowed, and his long sleeves hide his hands but from the flex of his shoulders you know they are clenched.

Rising from your throne you make your down the platform. Every step exposes your delicious thighs and legs and it is so indecent it makes Satoru’s ire falter. The sleeves of your outfit drag onto the floor and it weighs down the fabric around your shoulder; your neck and your clavicle down to the whisper of your chest has Satoru’s ears blush.

You walk in a half-circle to his right, your eyes set into a glare that disappears as slips from his eyesight. Satoru knows he should not let you get behind him but turning his head away from Sukuna seems more damning. Sukuna says nothing of your less-than-inviting nature, his silence prompting Satoru to speak. “To serve you or die?” he scowls. “The Gojo clan will not serve you, Ryomen Sukuna.” Sukuna sighs, placing his smoke pipe down as he frowns. “So you have come all the way here to waste my time and to die. So typical of you sorcerers.”

“If you wish for my clan to serve you, we require more than empty promises.” Satoru’s tone was akin to the sound of the first arrow whistling through the wind, the growl he let out being the twang of the released drawstring. Regret beads down the back of his neck as he feels the sharp edge of a curved dagger pressed against the hill of his throat.

“You ask my king to fulfill wishes? Do you think him a genie?” the shape of his teeth familiarizes themselves as his jaw clenches. The blade is a cursed object, it mewls and groans faintly; the opal colour breathing as it soaks in his blood.

“Come, dog.”

With a curl of a finger, Satoru is able to breathe. You make your way to Sukuna, kneeling as you reach the top of the platform and crawl right onto his lap. The dagger slipped under the fabric around your waist.

“You are certainly an arrogant man, sorcerer. Your haughty clans fail to have taught you any diplomatic manners.”

“Diplomatic?” Satoru barks out a laugh. You narrow your eyes, bemused. “You’re a tyrant, King of Curses! The villages you’ve burned to the ground, the clans you’ve wiped out! Diplomacy? You’re taking the piss!”

Sukuna spots the curls of your lips and when glance up at him, he concurs that you do deserve to be spoiled because the two of you share the same thoughts.

This Satoru, this stubborn man; he would make a fine collection for both of you if he could survive a night.

“You require more than my word to serve me? Very well.” The nudging from your side earns him a purr and with your back turned to Satoru, you shed the fabrics. Blue eyes watch in confusion as they watch you kneel and push away the clothes from Sukuna’s shoulder.

“My darling dog has been hungry. He’s insatiable, every part of him.” One of his hands holds your chin and turns it so Satoru has a clear view of your side profile with your lips pushed forward.

“From his painted lips.”

Another hand slips down the waist of your outfit and it gives way to show the small of your back. Nearly the entirety of your back is marked from Sukuna’s lips, teeth, nails, and hands like a canvas of artwork.

“To his tight holes. You cannot see it, sorcerer, but he is clenching around the tip of my finger. Hungry.”

The hilt of your dagger is askew but neither paid it any mind. There’s more rustling and you’re almost completely naked as you obediently let yourself be displayed.

“Ah!” The wet squelch of a tongue makes your back straighten and your fingers spasm as they tighten their hold on Sukuna’s robes.

“His useless cock is already leaking.”

“What are you asking of me, Sukuna?” Satoru speaks through gritted teeth. But his skin is so pale it betrays his weak resolve. Those reddened cheeks and ears, the racing heartbeat; Sukuna doesn’t need four eyes to know that Satoru’s dick was interested in whatever is being offered.

“Fuck my darling boy and your family will not be cursed by me while they serve me, Satoru.”

“W — What?” he sputters. Meanwhile, you’re all but melting as the sounds continue. He sees your ass trembling as your expression melts in pleasure.

Sukuna arches a pointed brow as his hand tugs the clothes of your body and it flutters onto the ground in a fancy display. There you are. Naked as the day you were born. Satoru should look away; but how does one pull their sights away from a body carved by the devil? Angelic in all the wrong ways, temptation sticks to your skin like perfume and Satoru is not a saint but he feels as though a single touch would damn him. In fact, just looking at you is dangerous.

“Are you a virgin? Or is my concubine not to your taste?”

Your nail digs through Sukuna’s shoulder. So his large tongue sweeps below your drenched cunt to soothe your irritation.

“I warn you to answer that question with caution, Gojo Satoru,” you hiss out.

“Perhaps he’s not a fan of men,” Sukuna reasons. “Common men perhaps. Are you calling me common, My King?” the squelching sound of your nails digging in makes streams of crimson slip down Sukuna’s skin and the sight of it has Satoru gasping (again).

“Put your claws away, boy. As if I would sink my cock into a common man. No, I take you like a proper bitch. This body may be different, but this tight hole?”

Satoru watches a tongue appear from Sukuna’s palm. The pink muscle pushes in and the rim of your asshole easily gives in, back arching further to assist. "And this?" Satoru sees the dexterous muscle from his stomach curl. A tongue larger than any he's ever seen, squirming its way inside of you from the front, and it makes you gasp airily in pleasure as it eagerly wriggles deeper.

“A body made to be fucked, to be left leaking with cum for days. And it is rare, Satoru, for it to leak with cum that isn’t mine.”

Satoru takes a tentative step back, shame coursing through him as he tears his eyes down.

“This is — This is dishonorable — “

“If you walk through that door, Satoru, you’ve sealed the fate of your clan to be erased forever.”

You moan as his tongue grows longer and those bloody fingers wrap around Sukuna’s thick neck. The mask on Sukuna’s face, the eyes on it, narrow the tiniest bit.

“And you’d offend my concubine greatly. He’ll enjoy murdering each and every one of your clan members for the disrespect.”

The candles shudder as the wind blows through the slits of the wood. It causes the flames to dance and the shame Satoru is experiencing to be swallowed down. He is frozen there for a moment, your sighs of pleasure like a siren call to hell. Sukuna’s great tongue hides behind a row of teeth, the grin most likely identical to the one he wears on his face, as Satoru approaches the steps of the platform.

“Come, Gojo Satoru.”

Climbing up the stairs was akin to walking to the gates of hell. Satoru can see the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck. He wonders if every part of tastes like heaven. Your tears, your slick, your sweat, your cum, your blood. Without even laying your hand on him once and you've already destroyed him, (Y/N).

"Kneel." Sukuna's words are a vow. An agreement. If Satoru's knees had settled onto the wooden floor, he'd have sealed the fate of his entire clan to serve under Ryomen Sukuna. His pupils quake, taking a sharp intake of breath as he tries to steady his heart.

Your hands invade his vision. The palms of Sukuna's concubine are soaked in crimson — was that why they were so soft? Your nails still have Sukuna's blood and the feeling makes spiders crawl up his spine.

"Gooseflesh rippling?" You whisper as your naked body finally earns his focus. You're in a puddle of your clothes, kneeling before him. Tilting your head, you surge upwards and press your forehead with his. His eyes may be haunting but yours are unforgettable.

It reminds him of the first time he'd ever peered into the darkness of the woods behind his clan's estate. How the light never reaches past the woodline. The silence. The way his brain made up shapes and faces and beings and curses and you.

In that memory, there you are. Between the mighty trees, what little light did reach you making your eyes reflect it back; as if you didn't have a soul yourself and all you can do is pretend.

"Kneel, boy." You say and Satoru's knees buckle.

The thud that resounds was final. Your grin is terrifying. Sukuna looms over your shoulder and his eyes are glowing with excitement.

Gojo Satoru had made a deal with two devils.

"Good sorcerer," your face comes closer and your lips acquaintances themselves with his. They're pillowy and soft. Blood rushes south despite Satoru's conflicted feelings. If he pretends you're not who you are, perhaps he can delude himself into thinking you're someone he loved; a man he wishes to devour; Violet eyes, black hair, upturned eyes with a voice that'd make angels sigh.

That image disappears as he feels your fingers wrap around his throat. You say nothing. But the second Satoru's eyes shoot open, he sees the unamused expression on your face.

"Now, don't get yourself killed so early on in the night, Satoru," Sukuna muses out. His lower hand reaches to grasp the nape of your neck and it squeezes hard enough for Satoru to hear your bones wheeze under pressure.

"Come here, darling." You turn away with a huff.

Satoru doesn't know what to do with himself so he is content to watch as you undress Sukuna. The King of Curses watches, enraptured by your movement as his torso is now bare of anything. The mouth on his stomach, that monstrous tongue, wets your chest and you simply shudder but continue your task.

"My concubine can be rather pouty when he isn't paid attention to. Best to not let your mind wander, Satoru."

You scowl, bending over to mouth at Sukuna's crotch as he holds the back of your head. The sight of your dripping cunt and ass has Satoru's cock rising to attention.

"How dare he even do so. I'll slice his cock off," Sukuna thinks the sight would be amusing but he simply guides your head lower.

There were rumours of Ryomen Sukuna's endowment.

If he had another pair of everything, did that mean his cock was the same?

Satoru wonders how you aren't split in half as he sees Sukuna's cocks twitching in your grasp. They're thick and heavy, bumping into each other as they perk up from your attention. The tip of it is nearly bright red, angry, and demanding a hole to sink into. The veins on it must make you keen often because you tongue at them with a pleased grin.

"Satoru." He tears his eyes away from the sight. Sukuna smiles at him, ignoring your pleased groans as you take the tip of his cock in your mouth while your hand strokes over the other.

"Feast, Satoru."

The command is so simple yet so vague. Satoru can't quite comprehend it. So he stares at Sukuna then at you, kneeling before your King with the most obscene noises coming from your mouth. There was no way the phallus could even comfortably rest on your tongue, each the length of your face and as thick as your wrist.

It must be uncomfortable. He must have other concubines for this exact reason. There was simply no way you alone could please him.

Your head rises from between your shoulders, and a long stroke from the base to the tip of his cock has Sukuna exhaling through his nose; he sees you bob up and then down. A minute gagging noise slips through but then you widen your knees and somehow you dip your head low.

"That's it, darling. Take your fill."

He wasn't lying when he said you were greedy. Satoru pushes himself to stand and Sukuna would usually kill men for not bowing their heads to the floor but he wants to see what the white-haired man intends to do.

Cheeks sucked in, eyebrows sloped delicately as your jaw strains to keep itself intact. Sukuna is well-endowed, big, humongous, huge — whatever other synonym you'd use to describe big cock(s). You feel someone move your bangs out of the way.

"He's halfway down..." Satoru had seen a lot in his life. From the fantastical curse techniques of other sorcerers to the nightmare-inducing curses, the wealth from his clan members also assists the opulence he's known since birth. The whores his uncles had given to him as a gift for his birthday — the array of positions they knew, of how willing they were to do whatever he asked with a grin even if it involved humiliating themselves or him.

But he'd never seen a man as handsome as you take such a monstrous dick in his mouth with no effort. The stretch of your lips, the smear of the red pigment around it, and on Sukuna's cock.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" Sukuna boasts. "Usually, the other concubines look like fishes speared on a pike when they take me into their mouths." Your eyes open in a glare and Satoru placates it by stroking your temple with his thumb.

"Not even a mention?" Satoru's inquiry earns a chuckle from Sukuna. "No. He will not allow it, if I wasn't so far down his mouth I'm sure he would've pulled away to complain." The hand on your head is not Sukuna's but it holds you firmly in place.

"How do you even fuck the other concubines?" Satoru wonders.

"(Y/N) usually slaughters them a week after I've brought them in." Satoru's shock weakens his hold, so you pull away with a cough and frown deeply up at the two men.

"I do not slaughter them! They just so happened to have ill-fated ends." You squeeze his cock one more time before turning your attention to his lower half, kissing it sweetly on its head before smearing his precum all over your lips, the smell of it making your cheeks warmer than it already was.

Truly, (Y/N). You didn't need to play this part of a proper highborn so astutely. Even if you beheaded the last concubine he had in front of him instead of summoning a curse to slam into it, resulting in the palanquin and the concubine within it along with her attending ladies being thrown off a cliff and mangled beyond words; he wouldn't have punished you.

It was your right to exorcise whoever you needed to so long as it didn't interfere with Sukuna's will. It pleased him to make you bridled with rage to result in murder, why wouldn't it? The blood that painted you from your head to your toes. It cannot all be his doing.

His dearest concubine, you mustn't get queasy so quickly. Show him the lines you'll cross to ensure he remains yours. Kill whoever you please, maim the sorcerers who take him away from you, burn down villages, and bask in their cries and their pain with him.

Hide your giggles behind your silk sleeves if you must but don't you dare hide your amusement of carnage from him; command curses to tear men apart and slice women to shreds. Everything is yours, (Y/N). Everything you wish for, everything you ask for, everything you need, and everything you didn't even think you required.

The world is yours.

"Of course," he grins and the tongue from his stomach reaches out to lick your cheek.

"Astonishing," Satoru mutters. Concubines killing each other aren't anything new though he sincerely doubts the others truly understood what they were getting into when they became Sukuna's. "Thank you," you reply after combing your hair back to take his other cock in your mouth.

Satoru feels overdressed and Sukuna was not in the business of doing that task for him. So he sheds his layers, the symbols of crane wings embroidered in the sleeves shimmer gloriously up at him. Satoru folds them over to hide it.

He will need to forget about everything else tonight. If he wishes to remain sane or tolerate the both of you — he will use his other head to guide him.

"Milky skin." You purr from Sukuna's lap. "Pale as the moon. Eyes as blue as the sky. I would kill you if you lived in this palace."

Satoru scoffs, standing with his cock twitching in the cool breeze.

"How fortunate for the both of us that I don't live here then." He hisses as your grasp onto his semi-hard dick.

"Even the hairs here are white. What a pretty cock." The feeling of your velvet tongue on his tip makes his breath shudder. It's nowhere close to Sukuna's length —or girth —but that doesn't cause him disappointment. He's longer than average, his cockhead poking the back of your throat, and veiny, mainly on his sides.

"Good weight," he moans as your lips trace the prominent veins, painting his blushing cock with your marks. Satoru doesn't understand what you want to him to say to the comment, a thank you seemed unbecoming and anything else would be odd. So he says nothing and just caresses your jaw to guide your mouth forward.

"Take your fill, (Y/N)."

The position you're in is not entirely new. You've taken Uraume and Sukuna together before. Witt their sex is in your mouth while your King takes you from behind. Ah, what fond memories. You really should invite the ever-so-loyal servant into your bed once again.

What a talented mouth they had. Such vigor to please you, adoration pouring from them with every flick of their tongue.

Sukuna is still a possessive lover. That did not change. But he does find amusement in the way you ache for Uraume's body and something about the way Uraume strokes themselves to completion as they watch the two of you fuels him with pride.

But enough about your lovely Uraume.

Satoru had placed his robes beneath your knees and so you suck in your cheeks as thanks as you suck on his length. Your hands were on his knee and his fingers held a fistful of your hair. The silken cloth beneath you makes you inch forward with each thrust from Sukuna.

"The way he's stretched around me. Satoru, I'll save his other hole for you to fuck, this one is all mine," his hips are flushed against your ass. He can feel your cunt attempting to push him out, resisting the stretch that would've killed others, as cursed energy flows through your body. It would ebb away, the need to heal yourself, as your body gets used to his size but fuck does it make Sukuna grin absolutely monstrous at the very fact you even need to do so.

You can't blame him. It's not like he'd never hurt you in any way you didn't like.

Your thighs are clenched tightly around his other cock. Luscious thighs slicked with oil that had been conveniently placed nearby and making sounds almost as obscenely as your filled cunt.

Satoru's jaw is loose. Throaty groans and appreciative moans rewarding your efforts as your nose presses against the patch of pubic hair he has. Diamonds line your waterline as you breathe through your nose, the back of your throat squeezing around Satoru's cock.

"Fuck!" He pulls you away, stroking himself furiously with one hand and holding your head in the other. The expression on your face should be preserved forever, Satoru thinks. So that future men will wish to be born in the same era as you.

His brows furrow in annoyance at how ethereal you look.

You should look whorish — which you do! But there's something unreal about it. Picture perfect, an embodiment of lust, depravity that beckons with that wet tongue and wetter eyes.

"S'kuna! Oh, yes, yes — Darling, you fill me so well!" Your voice is hoarse as you're jostled back and forth, nails leaving claw marks on the wooden floors. Satoru lets go of your head and you stretch out like a cat, the top half melting as your back arches into a perfect position.

Sukuna kneads at the mounds of your ass, splitting it apart to watch your asshole winking back at him while he holds your waist. It's brutal how he fucks you. Satoru stands and backs away to watch, his breath coming out in barely there white puffs and his heartbeat drumming through his ears.

"Fuh - fuck! Mpfh! Ngh — Your cocks are beautiful, they fill me so well," He tightens his hold on you and the moan you let out as he moves your body makes Satoru's cum bead on his tip.

Sukuna chuckles as he sees Satoru cursing and wiping away his shame. "You've never been in a room where people aren't salivating over you have you, sorcerer?" Satoru frowns pointedly at his condescending tone.

"Hah! I feel you in my stomach — You're — !"

"Must you belittle me any chance you get? Are you trying to compensate for something?" Satoru retorts. It makes Sukuna bark out a laugh. Strong biceps curl and flex as he rights your upper half so that it's pressed to his front.

On display for Satoru with Sukuna's greediest mouth curling around your chest to tease your chest.

"Compensate, is that the word you used?"

Between your slicked thighs, his cock spears through them in tandem with the one inside you. Satoru's eyes widen at the sight of the prominent bump poking from your stomach. The fact that you aren't dead is a clear testament to your skills — both in bed and in battle.

"I've heard no one has ever cut his skin," Satoru kneels again in front of you, nose curling at the dexterous muscle that flicks at his chin. "I know Reverse Curse Technique is a useful skill to have...but I never thought you'd be so perverse to use it so shamelessly."

"Get off your high horse, S — Mfh! That feel s'good — Satoru!"

"Wrong name," Sukuna growls near your ear. It manages to split Satoru's lips into a smirk as he cups your chest in each hand. It's slicked with saliva and he ignores the disgust he feels as he locks his lips with yours. Sweet as ever, despite the saltiness that lingers on your tongue.

"If his cunt is yours," Satoru pants out between kissing you. His thumb tweaking your nipples between his index, his cock hanging heavily as it fills up once again.

"Then he'll have to face away. I'll take his ass," he bites down on your lower lip. The sensation of his teeth and Sukuna's rough palms tightening their grip on you have you squealing in pleasure. His hips pause, it gives you enough time to form words while the men stare each other down for a second.

Sukuna was beginning to miss Uraume's presence. They never glared at him with open animosity, unadulterated wanting and greedily claiming your chest with a grip that'd leave bruises.

The shadows of a scowl crossed his face. Insolent little brat. But so fucking gorgeous. Strong too, from what he's heard.

He wasn't anywhere near as beautiful or strong as you but Sukuna has always had a penchant for these types. No one walks all over him. But he does find it amusing when pretty faces are so defiant — or when their heads are staked on a pike with crows plucking their eyes out.

You're breath shudders as Sukuna pulls you off his cock, leaning onto Satoru. He wraps his arms around you, eyelids fluttering at the feeling of your wet lips tracing his jaw while your body is all but boneless.

He inhales sharply as you grab his cock. "Thankfully, you're not — hah — completely incompetent in the sack. Impressive stamina, sorcerer." That, he could say thank you too. So he does.

Satoru is kind as he maneuvers you to face your beloved. Was that irritation in his chest at how excitedly you allowed Sukuna to claim your lips? Gods, no.

"Get closer," you said as you glanced at him over your shoulder. "If the both of you are going to fuck me, get closer."

What was it that Sukuna told him to do again?

Feast?

You can't tell where your pleasure begins or ends. Every nerve was set aflame and you weren't even sure if your body could've survived this if it weren't for your cursed energy.

Because from behind you, Satoru's thick member is spearing you again and again with Sukuna's. The idea of Satoru's cock inside of you seemed to have upset him enough to want to...accompany it in its endeavors. The sorcerer is hypnotized by the way your rim furls and unfurls on his blushing dick, how it greedily squeezes down every time he hits home and bumps his cockhead with Sukuna's. Even though their cum was creating a frothy ring of white at his base — he seems intent on pumping you with more and more and more. Marking your insides as white as his hair. He spreads your cheeks apart, groaning each time he does, and fuck, he's filthy as he whispers into your ear.

"You take us so fucking well. Like a proper whore, huh?"

"I'm not — I'm not a whore, you —"

Then, at the front, Sukuna's displeasure at Satoru's brazen attitude was taken out on your cunt. Still, you take all of him in because what concubine would you be if you couldn't? Your pride was on the line and you'd rather claw your own eyes out than let it be broken down.

His cock was inside of your cunt. You were more than pleased.

Sukuna's face floats above yours, his hands gripping everywhere while Satoru was chased off to just handle your ass. Though even then, he'd grab a handful of each cheek just to leave bitemarks on it — and annoy Satoru.

"Look at you," he groans out. His vermillion eyes are hooded with lust as he cradles your face.

You were perfection. A filthy little demon made to accompany him until the end of time. Your brows sloped so prettily, eyes hazy and lashes clumped together with tear streaks down your face. Lips red and bruised, neck littered with angry and dark marks.

"My King, my beloved, I — Oh, fuck, I'm close, I'm close," you whimper for what felt like the 5th time that night alone.

Why you were cumming? You weren't even sure.

The aching stretch of both holes as your brain is wrecked with too much pleasure is causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. Your hands spasm from within one of Sukuna's hands and your whole body shakes as you feel yourself cum again.

"Ah, shit!" Satoru groans as he pulls out, frowning as cum follows his departure and drops onto the floor. "You're just as awful as he is," he hisses out to Sukuna as he glares at the way the cock he'd been sharing your ass with stopped growing. Snug as a bug as it plugged you up. Satoru had already been close, with a few more thrusts he'd be filling you up once again. Then, what he thought was you tightening up turned out to be Sukuna making his cock so big it made the fit painful.

Fucking asshole.

"If I was as awful as he was, I would've cleaved the top of your head off, Gojo." Sukuna grabs your ass and your wanton mewl makes both men twitch.

His thrusting picks up its speed and you fight back his hold to wrap your arms around his neck. Sukuna allows it. He's close. You can tell. He's close and like a child, he decides he's the only one allowed to flood your insides with his cum, overflow your body until it forgets the taste of Gojo Satoru's.

"Sukuna, Sukuna — My lover, my beloved," you manage a dopey grin as you messily mould your lips together.

"Cum with me, Sukuna."

He's wonderfully loud when he does. Violent too. His nails digging into your waist and ass while he thrusts himself balls deep inside of you. Satoru's amazed your body hadn't given out — amazed at your endurance and how your cursed energy levels hadn't once seemed to deflate once in the time the three of you had been naked.

He shouldn't hope for it — but Satoru wonders how you would fare in a fight with himself. In fact, he cums into his own fist and onto the floor at the very thought.

Sukuna groans as you squeeze around him, another orgasm washing over you in pathetic spurts of wetness from your cunt.

Soft panting fills the air. The two servants by the door rise from their knees to slide the door open and Uraume walks in with three women behind them.

"Fuck," Satoru should scramble to get off his kneeled position but his body is too pumped with pleasure to even process the command. "Oh, don't feel shame, sorcerer," Sukuna muses out.

The King of Curses leans back, settling on his throne with you in his lap and still snuggly inside of your holes. Uraume comes to your back, and two girls tend to Sukuna, gracefully wiping him down while Uraume does the same to you.

The other girl does the same to Satoru and he simply tosses his head back as he falls back onto his calves, groaning at the cool water.

"They've heard everything already. Your sacrifice for your clan. How noble."

A weak giggle comes from the mess of limbs on Sukuna's torso. It's still one of the most heart-fluttering sounds Satoru had ever listened to and he hates how his cheeks reddens once again as you lift your head to smile at him.

"So very noble, Gojo Satoru."

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #transmale reader #gay reader #male!reader #jjk x male reader #ryomen sukuna x male reader #gojo satoru x male reader #gojo satoru x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader

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purriteen · 2 months

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Control - Coriolanus Snow, act i.

“Dulce puella malum est” / “Woman is a sweet poison" -Ovid

synopsis: A handsome young congressman catches your eye. After your one-night stand, your paths soon cross once more and it turns out he holds more power over your future than you thought.

warnings: smut, relatively vanilla, reader has mommy issues, somewhat ooc Coriolanus cause canon Snow has 0 rizz, a little misogyny if you squint (?), more to come in act ii. no use of y/n.

this can be read as a standalone.

author’s note: hopefully you guys don’t mind the difference in format compared to AdVS, I tried to make this less rushed and bare-bones 🫶🏻

I can’t believe I just used the word rizz. I’m so sorry.

(side note: I've no idea if there's any such thing as congress in Panem, but fuck it, I say he's gotta put in a little work before he becomes president)

red text - Snow's thoughts, pink text - reader's thoughts

act ii

He’d met you at some dull fundraiser gala. In your little pale pink dress, you’d immediately stood out from the crowd. There was something so innocent about your appearance, with your glossy pink lips and subtle eyeliner, the modest but luscious braid your hair had been done into. You looked ethereal - nothing like the other women of the Capitol, in their over-the-top vibrant coloured hair and their tacky avant-garde dresses.

Avantgarde - what a pretentious word. Trashy and conceited would be more accurate, although such taunts were better left to the districts.

Oh, and those striking eyes which he soon realised were looking right at him.

You weren’t ashamed to be caught staring, that much he could tell by the look on your face. He found himself intrigued by the contrast - your girlishly charming getup paired with the almost flirtatious hint in your eyes as you smiled at him. No, coquettish was more fitting a choice to describe the way you carried yourself - you were just demure enough to give off the impression that you simply didn’t realise the effect your presence must’ve had on most men you encountered.

You were delighted as you watched him make his way over to you, stretching out his hand and introducing himself. Like a moth to a flame. You eagerly accepted, your perfectly manicured hand so very soft and light in his. No ring on your finger - he counted that as a win.

He quickly recognised your last name. You were no one important, that much he knew, but there was something so enticing about you. Something so intoxicating about your presence.

You on the other hand instantly recognised him from your days back at the Academy. Coriolanus Snow, professor Click’s star pupil. He was two years older than you, but rumours of his academic prowess, and of course, what happened to him after graduation, still circulated around the school by the time you yourself had been a senior. He was quite the enigma - he’d disappeared for an entire summer and returned a changed man, one cold and hungring for power that, as the heir to the Plinth fortune and the protege of the terrifying doctor Gaul herself, was well within his reach. He’d already begun climbing the social ladder too - last year he’d been appointed a seat in congress.

Many of your friends had harboured a crush on him, but he’d never allowed anyone to get close enough to take the plunge. Not even girls his own age, as far as you knew.

Even after graduating, and his brief disappearance from high society, you would’ve recognised that head of majestic blonde hair anywhere. He was tall and lean, of which the former was rare among those who’d grown up during the dark days. In his perfectly fitted black suit, crisp white button-down and burgundy tie, he practically embodied power; the fresh ideals and ambitions of this generation personified.

After a few dances and drinks shared, you had ended up in the back of his car, making surprisingly casual conversation about a new policy he’d put forth the other week. You could care less, but the effect it could have on your taxes gave you reason enough to feign interest. Besides - he could be a good friend to have in the future, if he continued down his path towards becoming a prominent politician like he always wanted. It wouldn’t hurt for him to think you were actually interested in his line of work.

“Tell me, your last name - I don’t recognise it. What does your family do exactly?” He inquires.

You’re somewhat caught off guard by the question.

Was it that obvious that you didn’t care for or know anything beyond the basics about this topic? Was he trying to spare you the humiliation of continuing the conversation by changing the subject?

Trying to pull yourself back together, you swallow the lump in your throat and look up at him. No man or boy had affected you in this way since you were in middle school, and it both frightened and intrigued you.

Pull yourself together.

“Oh, my parents own one of the biggest shares in district 4’s fishing industry. But where we make the real money from is the pearls gathered from the clam digging. Naturally they’re shipped off to district 1 for jewellery production and the likes, but we earn a decent cut from it.” You explain, a smooth and nonchalant tone to your voice, despite the nervous wreck that you were under his scrutiny. It was a good thing you’d learned to conceal your emotions early on - but clearly, so had he. You could tell he wasn’t quite buying your indifferent-heiress act.

“My parents keep trying to groom my incompetent little brother to become the heir, though. Shame.” You sigh, wanting to take his mind off of your possible faux pas.

He gives an understanding nod, his hand caressing the skin just above your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, I must be boring you with all this talk of politics. Let’s not talk about that now.” His voice drops just the slightest bit lower, and the look on his face sends a jolt of excitement straight down your spine, before landing right between your legs.

“I may not be as knowledgeable as you, but don’t you think I’ve an interest in politics too, hm? It does concern my life and future as well. Especially all those bills and reforms being put forth as of late that’ll impact the family business.” You retort, although keeping your tone playful, which earns you a bemused glint in his icy blue eyes. He takes a couple seconds to consider his answer before he opens his mouth to speak again.

“Well I’m sure you do. But really, a sweet girl like you shouldn’t have to worry about that. At least, tonight you won’t have to, if you’ll let me.. take your mind off things.” He suggests, leaning closer as his gaze falls on your lips, thumb caressing your chin.

His playfully dismissive tone, the way he sabotages any attempt at proving yourself, everything about him is so very demeaning and arrogant. You want to hate it, you do hate it, the way he makes you feel like you’re no longer in control, but something about his attitude has you weak in the knees. Perhaps it’s the posca, or the way his slender thumb drags across your bottom lip that’s keeping you from thinking straight.

“I do, I do need to worry about that, I’ve a stake in our earnings too,” You say softly, close to a whisper, followed by a few moments of silence as the two of you gaze at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. You certainly don’t plan on blinking first. “But maybe, just for tonight..” You whisper almost inaudibly, allowing your voice to trail off.

Against your better judgement you find yourself leaning in, inviting him to kiss you. And so he does. His warm lips crash onto yours, smearing the remainders of your pink gloss even more, his knee nestling its way in between your thighs within a manner of minutes.

You gasp softly as he makes contact with your clothed mound, gently pushing him away. You flash him a kittenish grin, hand lingering on his chest.

“Shouldn’t we wait until we get to your apartment? It would be quite the scandal if you were caught getting it on with a stranger in the backseat of your vehicle..” You allow your hand to glide lower, keeping eye contact as it dips all the way down to his belt. You hear his breath hitch in his throat, and some of your usual confidence returns at the confirmation that he wants you just as bad.

“Well you’re not making it easy for me, dove.” He breathes out as he rests his forehead against yours, looking about as eager to rip your clothes off as you were his. “I’m very sorry then, congressman Snow. But surely a man of your standing ought to have some more self-control?” You tease, managing to elicit a breathy chuckle from him.

He soon pulls away, much to your disappointment. “I suppose so. We’re almost at my apartment, fortunately.” He wipes some smudged lipgloss from your chin with his thumb, before he presses a button on the inside of the car door right next to you to roll up the thick opaque partition previously separating the back from his driver, sat in the front seat.

�� After giving the man the rest of the night off, he quickly ushers you out of the car and towards the entrance of one of those flashy new apartment buildings in the city circle. Your flat on Scholars road, which you’d intended to sell ever since you graduated university last year, paled in comparison.

Even the foyer reeked of opulence and excess-everything. The marble stairs were lined with gilded railings, as was the elevator he so swiftly escorted you into. You obliged, and it didn’t take long for him to have you pressed against the wall whilst he trailed hot kisses down your neck.

You were only brought out of your daze when the elevator dinged, doors sliding open to reveal a lavish penthouse, somewhat resembling the apartment your parents had recently purchased in one of the remodelled Corso buildings.

You've only barely taken your coat off when he swoops you up, which causes you to let out a surprised squeal as he begins to carry you towards what you can only assume is the master bedroom. He courteously places you down on the ground again, starting to undo his waistcoat as you unzip your gown and let it fall to the floor with a soft thud.

He looks up at you through hazy eyes, blown wide with lust, stopping his efforts to unbutton his shirt when he sees your naked form.

Closing the gap between you, his hand delicately encircles your waist as the other caresses your cheek. "I wasn't expecting such an indecent choice of underwear paired with a pretty dress like that.." He murmurs onto your lips, ensnaring you in a cloud of lust and the nearly overwhelming scent of roses as his tongue slips past your lips, hands working behind your back to unclasp your lacy black and pink bra.

It doesn't take long until you're both on his bed, your back pressed against his chest and his hand down your flimsy panties. His mouth trails hickeys and love bites down your exposed neck as one of his long, slender fingers pumps in and out of your sopping wet cunt. "Dirty little thing aren't you? Spreading your legs so easily for me.." He rasps against the shell of your ear, relishing the way your walls clamp down on his lone digit. "Needy too, I see," He chuckles, easily adding a second finger although receiving only a whimper in response.

You whine at the stretch, thighs tremoring underneath him. With his fervent attacks on all the things that have you weak in the knees, you’re unable to focus on anything other than the pleasure. Just this once, you allow him to indulge you. Heat starts to build in your stomach as his pace quickens.

“Quite shameful of you to sleep with a man you just met, isn’t it?” He whispers in your ear, his voice husky and roguish. Your cheeks flush bright red at the thought, knowing your family would hardly approve, and neither would the public.

The last few months your father had been trying to set you up with the heir to a family who made their money manufacturing luxury furniture out of all things; truly second-rate. You’d always been ambitious, even if you’d never been particularly keen on pursuing a career - you knew you could do better, that you could truly marry up and attain the life of luxury and leisure your mother wanted for you, but he wouldn’t listen to either of you. If this got out though, he’d be both furious and humiliated, no matter how many times you’d already told him that you intended to do better for yourself.

Wasn’t that what you were doing anyways? This was a matter of securing a match, a potential betrothal to a man who could easily give you everything you wanted. Yes, that was it. This wasn’t just some shameful rendezvous - if Coriolanus himself saw it that way, you’d make sure he came around one way or another.

“Please, stop teasing,” you manage to mewl out, though it seems to have no effect other than to amuse him.

“What makes you think I’m teasing? Just be good for me and let me work this pretty pussy open.. Wouldn't want it to hurt for you later on, yeah?” He almost grunts in your ear when you clamp down tighter in response, his fingers coated in your slick as he pumps them in and out.

“Look at that sopping wet pussy, hmm? Must’ve been a long time since a man last made you feel this good.” He curses lowly under his breath, carefully sliding a third finger inside, hushing you as you whine at the intrusion.

(He was right- it had, but he didn’t need to know that. You already felt powerless enough as is.)

“Doing so good for me.” He tilts your head back to give you a gentle kiss, in stark contrast to his unrelenting ministrations, although his soft lips manage to soak up most of your muffled cries.

Finally he seems to decide it’s enough, just as you’re nearing your orgasm, making his sudden retreat particularly frustrating. Nevertheless you eagerly oblige him as he manoeuvres you onto your back, only pulling back to give himself space to fully undress.

You watch with anticipation as he undoes the rest of his shirt buttons, discarding the garment at the foot end of the bed before moving onto his pants. He gestures towards your pushed-aside panties as he undoes his trousers.

“You gonna take those off, dove? Or do I have to do everything myself?” He gibes, and your cheeks flush red as you hurry to lift your hips up and pull down your undies.

When you look back up your words get caught in your throat, eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of him palming his cock, already having discarded his dress pants and boxers on the ground. He’s bigger than you thought. The shaft is fairly girthy and just a little darker than the pale complexion on the rest of his body, the tip a reddish pink and beaded with precum. There’s a tidy patch of blonde hair at his base, just a shade or two darker than his platinum locks. You didn’t realise that was his natural hair colour.

“That’s better.” He groans softly at the sight of your now bare slit, still slick with your own juices and practically begging to be touched. “C’mon, spread your legs a little wider for me.” He taps at your thigh, and you swallow thickly as you do so. You’re certainly no virgin, but so far he’s the biggest you’ve seen. At least he didn’t ask me to suck it, you think to yourself.

His smug grin grows even wider when you wordlessly obey him, positioning himself on top of you and starting to rub the head of his cock slowly, teasingly up and down your puffy folds. One hand on his shaft, the other next to your head.

You let out a low moan as his tip catches on your swollen clit, which causes him to glance up at your flustered face. “Oh, I won’t tease you any more. I’m sorry baby.” He coos at you, voice dripping with faux empathy. You don’t get much time to think about it though, as he soon places his tip at your soaked entrance, giving a firm thrust that already manages to nestle his cock about half as deep as your body would allow. He groans at the feeling, followed by a nearly inaudible gasp as he feels the ring of muscle squeezing his cock.

He lets out a soft chuckle, leaning down to press his forehead against yours as he grabs your ankles and lifts your legs up to wrap around his waist. You humour him, heels digging into his back as you cling onto his muscled torso. His dominant hand reclaims its place beside your head whilst the other glides down lower to grasp at your hip, holding you in place so that he can continue without interruptions.

Already knowing it’ll be a tight fit, he goes slow in sliding himself all the way in, which you’re much grateful for. The stretch is already enough to make your eyes water. Finally he bottoms out, the two of you releasing a moan in unison when his tip collides with your cervix. Yours of relief, his of frustration.

There’s still another inch or two to go, but he’ll have to work on that over time.

Seeing that pitifully doe-eyed look on your face, your glassy eyes and wobbly bottom lip, he leans in to give you a gentle kiss, his hand leaving your waist to instead caress your rosy cheek, soothing you as best as he could. “Taking it so well for me, mkay? Just stay still and let me do the work, pretty girl.” He mumbles onto your lips, his mouth soaking up your moans as he slowly pulls out and pushes back in, staying true to his word and thoroughly working your pussy open.

Your hands relent their position clutching the bedsheets beneath you, instead taking their place at the back of his neck in a surprisingly intimate moment, which he in turn welcomes with initiating a more enthusiastic kiss. After a couple more thrusts he starts to grow impatient, and so he experimentally tries to coax himself deeper, but you only whine and press your hands to his pelvis in response, so he backs off.

You pull away slightly, giving yourself enough room to speak. “Too much, ‘s too deep,” you sniffle, internally scolding yourself for already allowing him to get you in such a sordid, outright pitiful state.

Coriolanus on the other hand seems pleased with himself, swiping at your tear-stained cheeks with his thumb. “I’m sorry, dove. I’ll go easy on you,” He lies, giving you a reassuring kiss on the forehead. Even in your fuzzy-headed, wrecked state, you think you can make out a sliver of empathy in his eyes. Perhaps even affection.

And yet it wasn't long before he was thrusting in and out of you again at a slowly but surely accelerating pace, just barely grazing your cervix with each thrust, enough to keep you on edge without explicitly breaking his promise. With the few brain cells left that aren't entirely consumed by him - his scent, the feeling of his hands on you, his dick pumping in and out so expertly, his arched brows furrowed in concentration, everything about him - you manage to preserve some semblance of dignity, biting back all the pleas you wanted to make. This small action is enough to give you the - albeit not very convincing - illusion of control.

You watch as his lips purse in dissatisfaction, immediately turning inwards to try and figure out what you've done wrong. But before you can dig any deeper, he's pulling back and straightening his back, his knees planted firmly on the mattress beneath you. His arms make quick work of untangling your legs from around his waist, instead pressing your knees to your chest and holding you in place with his large, pale hands.

The new position leaves you feeling so exposed and vulnerable in a way you'd never allowed yourself to before. Your mother's warnings not to let any man, especially no stranger, take control of you were always at the back of your head during your previous trysts, eating away at your already barren arousal. But with him, with this near stranger, everything was different. The foreignness of it all scared you, but not enough to fight off the nearly overwhelming pleasure that each of his unrelenting thrusts brought you. Each time the head of his cock brushes against that spongy spot deep inside of you, it sends a jolt of pleasure through you, more often than not accompanied by a raspy moan or a sharp inhale.

With this new angle, everything he does feels so much filthier, with that smug smile on his face as he stares down at you, observing your flustered, contorted form. All at his hands. You were entirely his to do with as he pleased, his in every sense of the word, even if just for tonight. You knew you'd regret this moment of treacherous pleasure and intimacy by sunrise, but in this very moment, you couldn't help but enjoy it. Being completely at his mercy.

Before you knew it you could feel your orgasm approaching. As if able to read your mind, Coriolanus repositioned his left forearm to stretch across the back of your knees, allowing him to use his free hand to fervently rub at your previously neglected clit. A gasp that quickly morphed into a throaty moan escaped your lips, although his mouth soon latched onto yours again, muffling the lewd sounds coming from your mouth.

Your hips buck up against his touch, walls clenching him tighter as you rapidly approach your climax. Your hands claw at his shoulder blades as he keeps pistoning in and out of you, groaning frequently into your mouth. You can tell he's getting closer too by the sudden lack of precision in his movements, which you take great delight in.

Thank god it's a safe day today.

Just a couple moments later you go over the edge, your cunt spasming and gripping at his member like a vice as you cum hard. In this moment you're grateful for his aggressive kiss, as it manages to stifle the guttural moan ripped from your throat somewhat.

He soon follows suit. Releasing an animalistic groan into your mouth he shoves himself in all the way to the hilt, where his spend spills from his throbbing tip, revelling in the way you squeeze him even tighter in response to the deep penetration.

Finally, as you're both slowly coming down from your highs, he breaks the kiss and retreats, his eyes fixed on your groin as he slowly pulls out, watching as your lips cling onto his shaft.

It's like you're trying to suck him back in.

He slumps back next to you on the bed, and you both lay there for a few minutes catching your breaths in awkward silence.

You're nothing short of exhausted. That was likely the most intense sex you've ever had, and consequently, one of the strongest orgasms you've ever had.

Then, finally, he informs you that he's gonna take a shower and gets up, quickly heading towards the en-suite bathroom. The last thing on your mind before you drift off to sleep is his pale, sculpted back and the fresh scratch marks you just left on it.

#banner credit: @benkeibear #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x female!reader #smut #smut with plot #eventually #young president snow #president snow

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crystal-moon-101 · 2 months

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A while ago I had made up a Zak for each day of the week to match Zak Saturday and Monday for fun, and because I wanted to give Zak some more AU similar to how Ben gets a lot of them. So not only do they all have different last names, but each have their own backstories and colour theming! So I hope you enjoy my little AU concepts.

-Zak Saturday-

Classic original Zak. I decided to draw them all when they're 11, start of the series vibes. So that's why he doesn't look like the ways I normally draw him currently, since those are when he's 14. Nothing different with his design here, beyond still giving him those vivid orange eyes.

-Zak Sunday-

Also known as Zak Argost, having been taken in by the man after he had a certain encounter with Zak's parents, resulting in their deaths. When Argost found the young toddler, seeing the start of Zak's power, he was happy enough to take the child with him and use his powers to his benefit. Due to being taken when he was very young, Zak doesn't remember his parents at all, fully believing in anything Argost tells him, the only family he has. So he happily helps his guardian in keeping cryptids tamed during Weird World shows, or during trips to learn about them, even if Argost puts Zak in more danger than he should. Due to his appearances on Weird World, Zak is a celebrity of sorts, even if he doesn't get to go out often. Argost also gives him a lot of gifts, keeping the child in a positive mood to keep him under his thumb. So Zak truly believes that Argost cares about him.

Though things start to turn when Argost finally decides it's time to hunt down Kur and take his powers, hiring Van Rook and Doyle on the mission. This leads to Zak and Doyle getting to know each other, with Doyle feeling protective over this random kid for some reason. Eventually this leads to him taking Zak away when this whole Kur business gets out of hand. While Doyle can't seem to convince Zak that Argost doesn't care about him, the pair do at least agree to try and find Kur first, Zak worried that even Argost shouldn't handle such powers. However, only time will tell if the pair discover the truth behind their unknown family history.

-Zak Monday-

The good old twisted gremlin of a child, Zak Monday and his family were a result of the smoke mirror. They come from a world that twists the very nature of people, a poor reflection of their negative aspects. If you're naive, then your mirror self is incredible dumb. If you're a bit of a perfectionist, then your mirror self is a control freak. And Zak Monday represents the twisted doubts of Zak feeling like a monster, so why have any doubts when you can be the monster?

I decided to change Zak Monday a bit to have the green eyes and green shirt with his own logo, cause I liked the idea that after his first appearance, they switch back to what they're suppose to look like. But other than that I kept the concept of him looking just like Zak, minus the inverted hair colour.

-Zak Tuesday-

The young naga is the son of Rani Nagi. Born solely to have Kur's soul enter and be a host, but whoops! Looks like Kur's memories aren't there, but that wasn't going to stop Rani Nagi, who thinks if she keeps at her plans, eventually her son will become the old cryptid king she once knew. Even going as far as to solely call her child Kur, who secretly calls himself Zak due to him often watching humans in the shadow, curious about them and wanting a name for himself. Zak Tuesday has a lot of identity issues, not helped by his mother's teachings towards him, ignoring all his dreams and personal thoughts. Eventually he just got really good at lying rather than convincing Rani Nagi.

However, the young cryptid prince is suddenly kidnapped by Argost one day, as he figured out where Kur's soul was currently living. Zak knew he would have died that day if not for Drew and Doc recusing him, having been chasing Argost over this Kur situation. Though they're a little surprise that upon meeting the new Kur, they find it's just a young naga who really doesn't know who he is. At first Doc and Drew didn't know what to do with him, but Zak begged them to not send him back home, and let him stay at their place until he could figure things out. He wasn't foolish, he knew the nagas were planning a war, and he wasn't keen on being the face of it all. So now the Tuesdays just have a snake living around the house, but they can't exactly complain as he is a well mannered guest at least. And perhaps the house doesn't feel so lonely with him around either.

-Zak Wednesday-

Some of you might recognize this one, but this Zak is from my old Zur AU, where Kur was reborn via the Kur Stone due to it being an egg, and Zak is a dragon that shapes between human form and dragon form. I decided to update him, making him Zak Wednesday now, with a pink theme! I also decided that instead of Kur being reborn, I wanted to shake things up a bit and have it that Zak was directly Kur's son. His mother is unknown, and as Kur saw how the world was at the time, he put Zak's egg into a stasis situation until it was discovered again. After saving it from Argost, the egg hatched among the secret scientist, leading to them chasing the child of Kur. But upon using his shapeshifting abilities to look like a child of Drew and Doc, they just couldn't help but adopt him on the spot, siting there was no sense in blaming Kur's son over what happened years ago.

The growing dragon is very playful with a cheeky personality. He exhibits a lot of draconic behaviors, with a wild and free spirit. He is aware of his family history, but he doesn't like to think about it, unsure in how to view his father based on the stories he's heard. Besides, Doc and Drew are his parents, and that's all that matter to him. Though perhaps this sudden appearance by Argost, claiming he was going to far Zak's father, has been a bit rattling to deal with.

-Zak Thursday-

When Kur knew he was going to die, and also knew his soul wasn't able to live the mortal realm, he made plans to make it so his reborn self would both be born in hopefully a better time, and be without his memories. It was better that way, so that his new self could live a lovely life without the sins from his past. But that didn't exactly pan out properly, as Kur was reborn and sadly remembers everything. It took him a while to understand this growing up, his young human mind not processing it until he was roughly 7-8, and even then he needed time to think about it. And now he's a depressed 11 year old who now has to be stuck with the fact his plan didn't work, unable to run away from the person he once was. Doc and Drew found out the truth when Zak tried running away one day, their son sitting them down and telling them the truth in hopes they'd just leave him, it would be better that way. But to his surprise they disagreed, as he was still their son, Kur or Zak, and it would be too dangerous to leave him alone.

So now Zak lives with his parents? Are they really his parents? The family keeping this dark secret to themself, even from the other scientists. Doc and Drew still reach out to their son, doing their best to connect with him, but he can't help but push them away. He doesn't deserve this, and they deserve better. However, their secret might come out after Argost stole the Kur Stone and now hunts for Kur, not realizing the truth right in front of him. So now the family tries to get the stones back, wanting to protecting Zak/Kur from others finding out. Doesn't help that he has to go through being a child again with such dark memories lingering in his head, feeling tired and overwhelmed with the world. Hasn't he suffered enough?

-Zak Friday -

In a world where Kur and cryptids successfully wiped out humans, the king ruled the lands for a while after, before one day he mysteriously vanished. Many concluded that he had died somehow, the details unknown, but this lead to a prophecy that one day their king would return, leading to many claiming to be him, or praying that they will be him for the power and wealth. In this universe, Zak and his family are all cryptids, with Zak being a a Chuvash Dragon, Drew and Doyle are Epimeliads, and Doc is a Gargoyle (Other characters are also cryptids in this timeline). Zak is a serpent like dragon that breathes fire, as a very twistable body, and can freely shapeshift. He's heard about the legend of Kur returning, but frankly he thinks they don't need him, even if the cryptid world has been shattered without a king for years now.

But when a yeti named Argost claims that Kur is back, being backed up by the Nagas, everyone starts to gossip and run around trying to figure out who the new Kur is. So maybe it's best that Zak doesn't tell the whole world about his sudden new powers to control and communicate any fellow cryptid is walks by.

#The Secret Saturdays #TSS #Secret Saturdays #The Secret Saturdays AU #AU #Zak Saturday #Character Design #Creature Design #My Art

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trick-or-fucking-treat · 10 months

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Hi!! I hope you are doing well! But I was just wondering if I may request head-cannons for Bo Sinclair with an s/o who dresses in vintage fashion? (Vintage clothes, hair, jewelry, makeup, etc…) If not, that’s cool! Thank you and have a wonderful day!

Bo Sinclair with vintage style (fem) S/O

Masterlist

First things first, Bo is a pretty traditional guy so he loves your vintage style!

Buuuuuut… it takes him a while to realise how much he likes it.

Bo is used to seeing pretty victims girls stroll through his little town, but those girls are a different kind of pretty y’know.

Bo knows very well that he finds tight jeans and skintight tops attractive.

So seeing you in a much more traditional style with your beautiful bright flowing dresses and perfectly curled hair-

He has to do a double take.

It doesn’t take him long to realise he finds you gorgeous.

Not just the look, but the cute little accessories like your handbags or hair clips just make it all the sweeter for him.

When you’re in an established relationship Bo’s always on the lookout for jewellery that fits your style.

(It’s a pretty sweet gesture, but you may want to question its origins if he gives you jewellery)

Also will not let you come keep him company in the garage while you’re ‘all dolled up’ - his words.

Far too afraid of getting your dresses ruined.

But will absolutely give you some coveralls to wear if you really want to stay with him.

(He secretly loves seeing you in them cos you tie a cute coloured bandana round your waist like a belt because the coveralls are too big, and he thinks you look like those fifties posters of working women* which is really cute!)

Kind of expects you to take on the house wife role a bit in the home.

Cooking, cleaning, etc.

(Aka all the jobs Bo, Vincent, and Lester typically neglect)

It’s part of the reason he let you stay in Ambrose in the first place, only to end up falling in love with you.

If you have no problem taking on these roles, great! Happy family!

If it’s not how you’d ideally spend your day, don’t be afraid to stand up to him.

Bo’s really the only one who bosses anyone around, Vincent and Lester wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do.

So if you stand up to Bo and tell him you won’t be taking on all the domestic tasks yourself, you’ll probably shock him enough into agreeing with you.

You typically have such a sweet demeanour that telling Bo off would probably catch him off guard.

If you use the power sparingly enough, he’ll come to realise that you only ever call him out on his bullshit if he’s being genuinely unfair and is very quick to make it up to you.

Tried to make you a pie once to make it up to you after being an ass, but it went horribly, so you spent the day with him baking a pie properly.

He’ll never admit it but he had so much fun and absolutely loved spending time with you in such a domestic task.

(Next time you bake something ask if he can help out and make it sound like he’d being doing you a favour (he wouldn’t) and he’ll jump at the chance to bake with you without having to admit he likes baking)

A/N: hope these are ok! Lmk if you have any other ideas or requests!

*for reference, these are the fifties posters I’m talking about:

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #house of wax #Bo Sinclair x reader headcanons #slasher #slashers x reader #vintage #vintage reader

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

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Ruin - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @kishie8 @nu1freakshow @oureternalbond @rubes2323 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @jtelford @the-wandering-lunatic @samanthaofanarchy @darqchilddaydreamz @yourwinchesterbros

Chibs hasn’t laid eyes on you since Juice let slip that he’s returning to Ireland at the end of the month. You don’t call, you don’t text, and you don’t show up at his place. Any business you undertake seems to be at your office as opposed to the Clubhouse or Teller Morrow. He figures it’ll work itself out, that you’re just busy but by the time he’s packing the night before his plane journey, he realises that it’s almost been a fortnight and he misses you fiercely. He wants to tell you that he’s going to see Kerrianne, to explain that although he cares about her mother, the two of them can’t be together, that they need to move on with their lives, because they’re running in separate directions.

Fiona thinks it’s for the best, the two of them putting up a united front, she thinks his presence will reinforce the fact that Kerrianne is still a priority despite the fact that when he returns to the US, the two of them will be seeking a divorce. He’s not the only one that needs the freedom. After everything that happened with Jimmy, Fiona doesn’t want to be tied to another man, even if he is absent.

He's the one to break the stalemate. He goes to your place only to find you’re not in. Your car is in the driveway but there’s no sign of life in the house. He decides to take a seat on your porch and wait. He’s about to pull his phone out and text you when the taxi pulls up. He climbs to his feet as you exit, you slip a twenty to the driver and telling him to keep the change before you close the door behind you.

When you turn to face him, he’s so fucking shocked he can’t speak. You look radiant, he feels like he’s staring into the face of God and he wants to get down onto his fucking knees and pray. Your hair is loose, falling over one side of your face before you push it back behind your ear. Those eyes of yours, the ones he’s spent hours staring into, are highlighted with kohl, bringing out the depth and colour. Your skin looks flawless, a healthy glow exuding from your features. Then there’s the lipstick, a bold, vivid red, one that reminds him of the marks you left upon his skin not to long ago, he remembers the morning after, his fingertips tracing over each of the kisses, where you’d claimed him as your own.

It's witchcraft, he thinks as his eyes slip down to the dress that resides underneath the cream-coloured coat. How a dress seems to bring out a completely different side of you.

It’s a black off the shoulder piece that seems to shimmer when you walk because of the thousands of tiny sequins sewn into the fabric. The material clings to your form accentuating every single one of your assets.

You would be the ruin of any man, you’re certainly the ruin of this one. He imagines his fingers trailing along your skin as he unzips it, the fabric slipping away from your skin as his lips trace over the curve of your shoulder.

Wars could be waged over a woman like you. Charming’s very own Helen of Troy.

There’s a fierce sense of pride in his chest because this siren with her intelligence, her ferociousness and her cunning is all his. Out of everyone you’ve chosen him.

“Darlin,” he breathes as he steps towards you. “You look fucking terrific.”

“Gala at City Hall.” You inform him, your fingers searching through the tiny, beaded bag for the key to the front door of your house.

He wants to sweep you up into his arms, to kiss you until your breathless, to trace a thousand little Celtic patterns over your skin until your flushed and desperate underneath him. He wants you to forget all the other men you’ve been around tonight, the ones with the power, the money, the education and he wants to remind you of what its like to be with him, the man that loves you, the man that will always love you.

“I don’t have it in me to be the woman you fuck tonight.” You tell him as you breeze past him, leaving a trail of the dark, sensuous perfume in your wake. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”

He recognises this side of you, the cold despondent queen who withdraws into herself. He’s experienced it before, in the very beginning of your relationship, when things were new, and a crow-eater had climbed into his lap during a discussion at the club. The girl had been trying to make point about the calibre of women he preferred when you were running through his affairs. He’d shoved her off so hard she had bounced when she’d hit the floor. Nobody had known about you back then, about the things you did together in the dark. It was the reason he had decided to share the nature of your relationship, he didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about his intentions, he was faithful to one woman and one woman only, and she was not the one he had married.

The distance between the two of you makes him feel out of sync, he fumbles for the words, trying to explain his intentions but he can’t seem to find them.

It’s the dress he thinks. That gorgeous, seductive dress, it short circuits something inside of his brain. He sees you shutting down, so he reaches for you, instead you slip through his grasp like smoke, half way through the unlocked front door.

“Ok. I get it.” You tell him, the hurt in your voice so fucking visceral it cuts him. “Good luck with your marriage Filip.”

It’s as you slam the door in his face, he realises what’s happening, why you haven’t been picking up his calls or returning his texts. You think he’s trying to repair his marriage, not dissolve it. That the past year with you has been nothing more than a distraction, until he can get himself back to Ireland and back to the woman, he married all those years ago.

His fist hammers on the door, he feels the wood practically vibrate under the weight of it of his frustration.

“Come on love.” He yells as he knocks on the sage-coloured panelling. “I just want to talk to ya.”

There’s silence on the opposite side of the door. He runs both of his hands through his hair as he kicks the bottom of it in frustration before opening the letterbox and yelling through it.

“For fuck’s sake darlin, I’m getting a divorce.”

Nothing.

Fucking nothing.

He imagines that you’ve moved to the back of the house by now, that you’ve turned on the shower to drown him out, before you step into the heated water stream, cleansing yourself of him and all the shit that he comes with. He doesn’t know what to do, he knows if he keeps this up that your neighbours will call the police and then that will be a whole other headache for the both of you.

So, he makes the decision to leave, to give you space because right now because the last thing you need is another man trying to batter down your door.

It’s as he’s straddling the bike in your driveway, pulling on his leather gloves that he hears the front door click open. He inclines his head towards you, fixing you with his gaze as you stand there, leaning against the frame.

“Did you mean it?” You ask him softly. “You’re really getting a divorce?”

“Yes love.” He says as he climbs off his bike and steps towards you. “Let’s go inside and I can tell you all about it.”

Love Chibs? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#chibs telford x reader #chibs telford #chibs imagine #chibs x reader #filip chibs telford x reader #filip chibs telford #filip telford

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xxladyballadxx · 7 months

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To Love and To Cherish

(Richter Belmont x f! reader)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

||Sequel to Reunited||

⤹ (Read the first part 'Reunited' before reading this one.)

Summary: A few months has passed ever since Richter finally reunited with his long lost childhood friend. During vampire hunts with (Y/n), his adopted little sister Maria couldn’t help but notice Richter looking at his friend very differently. Leading to Maria believing Richter sees her more than just a friend. Even Tera noticed a spark between Richter and (Y/n)

The day after when Maria spoke to Richter about that certain someone...

Richter finally realizes that he is deeply in love with (Y/n)...

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

(Y/n) and Richter had a lot to catch up on since they haven’t seen each other for nine years. The two talked about their tragedies, about how (Y/n) got this strange god-like power out of nowhere. Her heart shattered into pieces finding out that Richter lost his mother that got killed by this vampire that haunts him in his dreams.

“Oh Richter, I’m so sorry that happened to you…” Says (Y/n), giving him her sympathy. She felt terrible for not being there for him.

Richter placed his hand onto hers, he lifted his head to look up to her with a sad face and asked, “What happened to your family? Did they survive?”

This was very difficult and heart-breaking for (Y/n) to tell him but she told him anyway. (Y/n) lost her entire family, everyone she loves were killed by a herd of vampires. More of a clan, a cult.

She watched her loved ones die right in front of her. Richter felt his heart breaking apart while listening to what happened.

A vampire who appeared to the commander, tried to hurt (Y/n) and get rid of her. That was the moment this incredible power awakened within her. A bright glowing light burning that vampire’s flesh, ashes to dust. Not only can she bend the power of light, she can also control every element.

After every vampire witnessed what (Y/n), they took her and made her a weapon for their wars. Using her as a puppet. “I still have no idea how I got this power. There are times where I wonder if I'm controlling it… or it controls me.” her words dipped out into a spiral of darkness where she felt she was still trapped somehow. She continued to tell Richter about her past, “I had to obey them. If I don’t, they will kill those innocent people and suck them dry. Even the children…”

Richter clenched his fists, swallowing himself up in anger. He was very pissed off that the whole clan of vampires kidnapped (Y/n), making her into a weapon. “If only I could have been there…but everything happened so fast…” he placed his hand onto hers, his face lifting up to hers sorrowfully.

(Y/n) squeezes his hand, her (e/c) orbs focused on him, “I’m here now, Richter. Never again will we ever get separated.” The two smiled at each other with comfort. (Y/n) sighed, moving away from Richter for a moment, “There’s something I have to show you…something’s that-” she couldn’t find the right words for it somehow. So she closed her eyes and began to change as Richter sat back and watched her transform into some sort…of a goddess.

Her entire body glowed into a shimmer of gold, bright as a sun. Her hair shone radiantly, floating in mid-air. A short dress with shades of red, yellow and orange appeared on her, the colours of a flame. Her eyes were flaming gold, glimmering like thousands of lights.

Richter gasped in a spark of shock, seeing her transformation for the first time. It was like he’s seeing a goddess right in front of him, standing before her, “W-woah..”

Tera and Maria barged into the room without knocking after noticing a bright light from a gap of a door, both were flabbergasted after seeing (Y/n)’s transformation. (Y/n) switched back to her human form, all the glow disappearing on her skin as she dropped to her knees, “Ugh..”

“(Y/n)!” Richter rushed to her in worry, his hands gripped onto her arms as he pulled her up. “I’m fine, this happens a lot when I transform.”

Maria stepped forward to take a closer at (Y/n), she asked her, “What are you? How did you come across this…power?” Tera was just as curious as her daughter, they wondered the same thing.

(Y/n) wish she knew how she claimed this strange power, “I don’t know. It just appeared out of nowhere. I have no idea where it came from…” she motioned her head down, her eyes set on her bruised-sore hand, “Perhaps it has something to do with me being torn away from my loved ones, my family…and..” she moved her sight onto Richter.

Richter scooped her into his strong arms, holding her in a tight embrace “I thought I lost you forever…”

Tera cleared her throat, the two turned to her, “This reunion is a blessing, truly. I’m very glad for both of you but right now…” she looked at (Y/n)’s ruined clothing, “(Y/n) needs to change her attire. Poor thing has been wearing that for god knows how long.”

(Y/n) chuckled lightly with a short smile. Maria ran out of the room to get a new set of clothes for her. She returned quickly and passed them to (Y/n) kindly, “Here you go.” (Y/n) takes it from her, “Thank you..Maria and…Tera.”

Tera and Maria smiled warmly with a slight nod. “(Y/n), I-OW!” Richter got punched in the arm by Maria, giving him a scowl, “I know you’re quite very happy to see her but bloody hell Richter! This poor woman needs to get fucking changed and we wouldn’t want you to continue your conversation with her just yet while she puts on her new clothes...” Maria had a little bicker at him, her arms folded into her chest, “You fucking pervy wanker…”

(Y/n) blushed, dipped her face into the fabric of the clothes that she was given. Tera put her hand to her lips and giggled. A reddened-faced Richter scratched the back of his head, “Y-you’re right, I’m sorry. I-I will see you in a bit..” he walked past Tera, heading downstairs as he waited for (Y/n). Tera and Maria became the last ones to leave the room.

As soon as (Y/n) slipped into her new attire. She swung open the door and headed downstairs to see Richter and the other two. Richter stood up from the table, gazing upon her. (Y/n) walked over to him, smiling gracefully.

Richter couldn’t get his eyes off her for some reason, “You look…you look good..” he was going to say ‘beautiful’ but the word escaped from his lips. (Y/n) gave a little giggle in return. Tera and her daughter noticed the way they looked at each other.

They didn’t want to say anything about it…yet.

━━━━━━━━·.༶❍༶.·━━━━━━━━

Months had passed ever since (Y/n) was finally reunited with her dear childhood friend Richter. However, the word ‘Friend’ doesn’t seem to fit the case as Richter has been looking at (Y/n) very differently, he’s been at it since he came back to her, even during vampire hunts with her and Maria.

The way (Y/n) strikes down vampires with her magic abilities, along with her rapier sword swinging towards the neck as their heads come rolling. Whenever she's in her other form, she uses her beam of light to burn out the vampires, their burning flesh dripping.

Richter tries to stay focused in the ruthless fight with the vampires, he can’t seem to get his oceanic eyes off her. Maria took a quick notice, seeing the way Richter gazes at (Y/n).

“Watch out!” (Y/n) flew down to the vampire that was about to attack Richter from behind, piercing the enemy’s head. She kicked it afterwards, watching it roll onto the ground with blood making a small swirl.

She sheathed her rapier sword, making her way to Richter, “Is everything okay, Richter? You haven’t been very…” (Y/n) wanted to know what’s on his mind, appearing to be concerned.

“I..uh…” For some reason, Richter’s heart began racing whenever (Y/n) walked close to him. Her presence somehow triggered his heart to flutter, causing him to feel a hint of awkwardness, “E-everything’s fine, (Y/n)..” Richter finally responded, his eyes looking away.

(Y/n) sighed, she smiled and lifted her hand to caress his face which set his whole body and heart in an explosion of fuzzy warm feelings. Richter was stunned by her touch, his body felt unmoving. “Try to stay focused, Richter, wouldn’t want a vampire to sink their fangs to your neck now do we?” With that, she walked off down the path, heading home as she disappeared through trees.

Richter took a deep breath, feeling his heart cooled down. As he calmed down, he earned a strong punch towards his arm by Maria, “WHAT THE FUCK, MARIA?!” He rubbed his arm, “WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR, HUH?!”

Maria scoffed, crossing her arms, “You can be such a fucking dick sometimes. I have seen the way you look at (Y/n), did you think I would not be aware of that?!” she brought it up, turning Richter’s attention to the fact he couldn’t move his eyes away from (Y/n).

Why does his heart beat so wildly whenever he’s close to (Y/n)?

Or whenever he thinks about her?

“Richter…” Maria puts her hand onto his shoulder, squeezing it, “She’s more than just a friend, isn't she?” she sensed the bond between Richter and (Y/n) had blossomed into something more special.

“You have feelings for her…”

When that popped into Richter’s head, he came to a realization that he is in love with (Y/n)...that he has strong feelings for her…

━━━━━━━━·.༶❍༶.·━━━━━━━━

Back at home, (Y/n) lends a hand to Tera, helping her with cooking which she appreciates. (Y/n) has actually been helping around the house a lot. Cooking, cleaning, picking up flowers. Tera didn’t want (Y/n) to overwork too hard. She doesn’t seem to mind at all, (Y/n) rather do something then just staying still and doing nothing.

With them keeping themselves occupied, Richter chilled in his room thinking about what Maria just said to him.

‘You have feelings for her…’

Richter heaved a sigh, slammed his head gently onto the desk. His thoughts of (Y/n) began to appear in his mind, scattering everywhere. He wishes to love her, to cherish her and to stay by her side. But what if (Y/n) doesn’t feel the same way?

“Richter?” His heart skipped a beat by the sound of (Y/n)’s voice, his whole face glowing red. “Shit, shit, shit…” Richter mumbled under his breath, clenching onto his beating heart. He slowly took a breather and went up to open the door for (Y/n).

“Richter, are you okay? You seem…a little red.” (Y/n) pointed out, spotting a faded colour on his cheeks. She stepped inside as Richter shuts the door behind her

“I..I’m fine..” Richter sat down on his bed, looking down to the ground. (Y/n) knew that was a lie coming from his mouth. She sighed disappointedly, “You’ve been distant towards me ever since I began going on vampire hunts with you and Maria..” settling herself next to Richter so she can face him properly.

“Richter, please look at me…” (Y/n) urged him. Richter believes he doesn’t deserve to look her in the eye but slowly he gains courage to turn his face towards her direction.

“We’ve known each other for so long ever since we were childhood friends. You can’t keep hiding things from me forever, Richter.” She added, moving her hand to hold his, “Please…tell me what’s bothering you.”

Richter tried to find a way to tell her, he worried that he might mess it up real bad. His heart weighed heavily, having a bad thought where (Y/n) rejects him. He shakes his head, trying hard not to think about it.

A sigh slipped across his lips, having no choice but to tell her, “(Y/n)...I began to have feelings for you..” he continued on, “I like you more than just a friend, I can’t fucking get you off my mind and ever since we were separated, I thought I would be alone forever.”

At long last, he poured out the words from his heart and confessed to her, “I love you, (Y/n).” his eyes gazed upon her. (Y/n) felt her whole body and heart melting away. She inched herself closer to him, cupping his face and locked her lips with his.

This led to Richter wrapping his arms around her, he held her close and deepened the kiss in a slow passionate motion. (Y/n) pulled away for a moment, her thumb caressing the side of Richter’s face, “Oh Richter, I wanted to be the first one to tell you. I love you so much, you’re been in my thoughts lately and I just realized that you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” (Y/n) hugged him, burying her head into his chest, “You, Richter Belmont, are the one that I shall love and cherish forever.”

Richter tightened the hug, never wanting to let her go. Their hearts connected when they had their first kiss, they came to realize that they were meant for each other. Richer moved away, motioning his hand to move (Y/n)’s hair out of her face. He leaned in to kiss her until their moment together was interrupted by a certain someone barging into the room.

“About fucking time you told her, you wanker!” Maria ranted on, “it was so fucking obvious you liked her more then just a friend! The way you set your eyes on her just gave it away!” (Y/n) and Richter separate from each other, their faces going all red. Richter snarled at her, “Can you just knock on next time for fuck’s sake!” he rose up “Were you fucking eavesdropping?!”

“For god’s sake, Richter, I only heard the part where (Y/n) said to you ‘You, Richter Belmont, are the one that I shall love and cherish forever.’...that’s the only thing I heard..” Maria folded her arms in irritation.

Tera sighed, entering the room. She smiled at the two people who officially became lovebirds, “You know, you two make a very fine couple. I’m glad both of you figured out your feelings for one and another.”

(Y/n) goes over to Richter, wanting to hold his hand. The two smiled warmly with their shooting gazes crashing together. A serious-looking Maria swooped in to Richter, pointing her finger at him and said, “If you ever fucking dare hurt this poor lady, I will have my magic birds tear you to shreds.”

Richer gulped humorously, his body trembling. (Y/n) let out a chuckle, giving a quick peck towards Richter’s cheek, causing him to jump a little. Tera gripped Maria’s arm, dragging her away, “Alright, Maria, let’s leave them two alone now. You, young lady, shouldn’t have barged in and ruined their moment.” With that, they left the room and closed the door on their way out.

Richter tackled a giggling (Y/n) to bed, tickling her neck with kisses. (Y/n) cried in laughter, “Richter, you know that tickles!”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this, (Y/n). Bloody hell, I’m so lucky to have you!”

(Y/n) cupped his adorable face and kissed him, her head attached to his “And I am lucky to have you, Richter..”

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

(A/n) - HOLY FUCKING HELL I WROTE A LOT FOR THIS PART! I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE UNTIL NOW. Well, I was thinking about writing a special last part for this. Not quite sure yet. You might encounter a few mistakes on here since I was writing this like a madwoman, trying to finish it. So, I hope you all enjoyed this ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ I will be sure to write more of him in the future!

UNTIL NEXT TIME 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

#castlevania #castlevania nocturne #richter belmont #castlevania fanfics #castlevania x reader #castlevania nocturne x reader #richter belmont x reader #richter belmont x you

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thefrontofmymind · 2 years

Text

Make Me Up (Eddie Munson x fem!Reader)

a/n: hiya! hope you guys enjoy! as always any feedback is greatly appreciated, kisses!

SYNOPSIS: It's early on in your relationship with Eddie, he doesn't quite know the ins and outs of everything you do yet, and you'd like to keep it that way.

WARNINGS: reader is pretty insecure, panic attack, and comfort because of said panic attack. otherwise, pure fluff!

You didn’t realise just how late you were running. Normally you were so on the ball with these things–if you so happened to spend the night at Eddie’s, you’d always wake up early enough to head back to your own place to get ready before heading to work.

You were still in the early stages of your relationship with Eddie–the honeymoon phase, also known as the ‘you don’t need to know all the steps it takes for me to look even a little bit presentable yet’ phase. You were a little self-conscious about it all–you knew that a lot of guys like natural girls who wore little-to-no makeup and woke up with perfect hair and no morning breath–and you were still determined to convince Eddie that you could be one of those girls.

But this morning, you somehow slept in–there was a power outage the night before in Eddie’s trailer that set all the clocks and alarms back, so it didn’t go off when you’d set it to. You only realised as you shot up at approximately 10 o’clock in the morning–hours after your shift was due to start–and began rushing around Eddie’s cluttered trailer to get ready.

Your outfit from the day before would just have to do–sure your boss would be mad you weren’t in your regular waitressing uniform, but she’d surely rather you be there in the wrong outfit than not there at all. Your hair was a mess, there was no saving it, so you decided just to pull it back off your face and try not to think about it too much.

You were lucky you took a leaf out of the Boy Scouts’ book–be prepared–you always had a small emergency makeup kit in your car, everything from a smaller bottle of your usual foundation, to a couple choices of eyeshadow looks, as well as at least 3 different colours of lipsticks that could be worn for any occasion.

You felt nervous as you set up in Eddie’s bathroom. You stood in front of the mirror with cosmetics spread over the small sink area below it. You really didn’t want Eddie seeing you go through the process, you’d shut the door as he sat down to eat some breakfast–a toaster waffle, but at least you’d convinced him to eat something, even if it was just a distraction to keep him busy while you preened yourself.

You made quick work of washing your face first and slathering on the first lotion you could find in the Munson bathroom, then you began applying and blending. You were so focussed on getting the job done, as quick as possible while still having a more-than-mediocre end result, you didn’t hear Eddie’s footsteps get closer and closer to the bathroom, and you didn’t notice the bathroom door opening. It wasn’t until Eddie spoke, causing you to jump, that you were made aware of his presence.

“What does that do?” he asked, receiving a small yelp of surprise in response from you.

You didn’t quite know what to do, you tried to act as natural and calmly as possible, continuing on with your routine. “It’s powder, so that my foundation doesn’t move around my face during the day,” you said with an even tone, using the powder puff to set underneath your eyes. Eddie simply let out an interested ‘hmm’, and he stayed watching you, leaning on the doorframe of the small, cramped bathroom.

You didn’t want to tell him his presence was making you feel suffocated, you didn’t want him to know that you were secretly scared of him knowing what you were really like in the morning, not just yet, you were too happy, still.

You tried to shove all your run-away thoughts into a box in your mind, you had a job to do–a job so you could get to your actual job. You moved onto carving out your eyelid crease with a cool brown eyeshadow. Your vision went blurry as you moved the brush along your crease, though you could still see the boy with messy bedhead watching out the corner of your eye.

His expression was intriguing to you–wide eyes and chewing on his lip. You tried to read what he was thinking, but you couldn’t put your finger on it, and that only made you more nervous. You were beginning to draw short breaths, and your hands began to go numb as they hovered over the sink, unsure of what to grab next.

Your vision began to blur, this time from the glaze over your eyes–you were quickly becoming overwhelmed and you didn’t know how to stop the inevitable panic that was washing over you.

You didn’t notice yourself pull back from the basin, setting yourself on top of the closed toilet seat as your legs began to wobble underneath your shaking body, which was quickly being overtaken by shortened, laboured gasps. Eddie quickly rushed to crouch in front of you, grabbing both of your shaking hands and worriedly asking you what was wrong.

When you tried to answer, no words could come out, only the tears that were on the verge finally spilled down your face. Eddie readjusted his technique.

“Just breath, baby,” he said in a calm, steady voice. “Here breathe with me. In, and out, in, and out.”

You followed his breaths, and wiped your face with a bit of toilet paper that he’d handed you. Once you’d finally managed to get your breathing in check, and you felt grounded again, Eddie asked again. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You thought silently, for a moment, just staring at your hands, which were enveloped in his. You let out a sigh, trying to muster up the courage to actually be honest with the man in front of you. “I just…” you wiggled where you sat, not sure how to get the words out. “I’ve never….done my makeup in front of you and I didn’t want you to have to see all the stuff I have to put on…”

Eddie let out a small chuckle and your heart sank, but then he spoke. “Oh honey, do you really think I care about what makeup you wear? I think you’re beautiful no matter what you do to that face of yours.” He placed a kiss on each of your cheeks, which made you smile. “I think you’re beautiful when you go off to work all done up, and when you’ve just woken up and you have crusty eyes and your hair is all everywhere, and any other way you’ll let me have you. Because you’re you, and…I really like you.”

His words went right to your heart, and you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as he pulled you into his chest for a long, tight hug.

“What do you say you call your boss and say you’re sick, and we spend the day in bed watching movies? I’ll even let you pick?” he proposed–you nodded, fervently.

And so, you spent the day in Eddie’s bed–face clean and slathered in whatever lotion he had laying around–for what purposes, you didn’t need to know.

It was a turning point in your relationship with Eddie. You finally felt like he was your partner, and not just some guy you were seeing, and it filled you with butterflies like you were a little girl with a school crush.

By the early afternoon, you and Eddie were beginning to grow bored–you’d already watched Eddie’s new tape of The Labyrinth, AND your favourite, Lord of the Rings. You both couldn’t decide on another movie, so you’d resigned to just laying in Eddie’s bed, flicking through whatever magazines he had laying around, while he fiddled with his acoustic guitar–not playing anything in particular, moreso just experimenting.

“Hey, do you wanna do something?” Eddie asked, excitedly, putting down the guitar a little less gently than he maybe should have. You simply raised an eyebrow at him in response. “Well since you have all your makeup here still, you want a model to practice on?”

He placed his hands under his chin and batted his eyelashes, with his regular winning smile trying to entice you. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun! You can make me look like Bowie or something!” he continued, wriggling closer to you and sliding his hand up your bare thigh, until he reached the hem of your–his–shirt, which in all honesty, seemed more like a dress on you, which is why you’d forgone bottoms to go with it.

You feigned thinking for a second, before letting out an exaggerated “fine!”.

You quickly got to work, directing Eddie to sit upright on his bed and pushed his mane behind his shoulders so it wouldn’t be in the way. He sat so still, you don’t think he moved even an inch as you carefully applied foundation, blush, bronzer, and everything else on top–he simply sat with his eyes closed and a small smirk on his face, he enjoyed seeing you happy, especially after the tumultuous morning you had.

He had a little trouble with you applying mascara, everytime you’d approach his now open eye with the wand, he’d flinch and pull away.

“C’mon, baby! You almost made me smudge it all over you!” you said after the fourth attempt.

“I’m sorry! It’s just scary when you have a random thing flying at your eye!” he joked. “How about I do it and you just tell me how to do it?”

“Okay,” You handed him the wand and a mirror. “It’s just like brushing hair, just do one swoop and then we’ll see if you need another layer.”

It almost didn’t go absolutely, horribly wrong. Somehow, Eddie managed to get mascara in his eye–which caused a mess of black tears to spill down one side of his face. He was speechless as he watched it, just looking at you with a panicked face as you quickly grabbed a tissue to catch the stained tears and try to save what you could of the eye makeup.

With a little smudging and reapplication, you’d managed to fix the mess caused by the boy. You weren’t mad or upset–Eddie was worried you were–you couldn’t help but laugh at him and his panicked antics and incessant apologies. In a matter of minutes, you’d applied a light layer of red to his lips and blotted it with a tissue.

You’d made sure Eddie couldn’t take a peek at the final look until you were completely finished, and he was itching to see it–the sneaky look he got during the great mascara incident of 1986 wasn’t enough to cut it.

“Okay! Keep your eyes closed!” You were directing a blind Eddie to his bathroom so he could see your handiwork in the biggest mirror in the house.

“They are!” he replied as you finally got to your destination, making sure it was bright enough so Eddie could see, but still dim enough that he wouldn’t notice your mistakes–or misadventures, as you called them.

“Okay….Open!”

Eddie opened his eyes and smiled instantly. “Baby! I look so cool!” he laughed, giving you a hug. “I look like Paul Stanley or Gene Simmons or something!”

“You like it?” you asked with a smile.

“I love it!” Eddie exclaimed, placing a kiss to the top of your head as he pulled you into the side of him, under his armpit.

“Thank you,” you said with the utmost sincerity and the strongest eye contact known to man. “For today, I mean.”

“Anytime, doll.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic

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korallion · 7 months

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Loose threads and various trivia from the Poppy War series that I can't stop thinking about

I'm writing this because I have very little time to write at the moment so I won't be able to fit all these elements into the Poppy War fic I'm writing but I still have to get it out of the system because the amount of detail is insane.

DrUgS!

Ancient Chinese medicine in general is full of hallucinogenic and poisonous plants that were dosed very carefully, but shamans used them to talk to the gods, and the most common ones were:

The fly agaric mushroom: the mushroom that Chaghan and Qara gave to Kitay and Rin for the anchor ritual.

The ephedra plant: it was generally drunk in the form of tea and I think it's the liquid from the flask Jiang gives Rin in the first book when he sends her to meditate in the forest since Rin describes its effects not as a high but more as the beneficial effects of the plant in question.

The datura plant: it's extremely poisonous and was used in small amounts for its powerful hallucinogenic effects and sometimes its flowers are a blue-violet so I think it's the famous blue powder that Chaghan carries around in a small bottle although I couldn't find anything claiming it was used in that form. On that note, one of the candidates for Chaghan's drug is also cannabis, which was also used by Taoist monks and nomadic peoples from which I assume Hinterlands are inspired and, although they are modern hybrids, there are blue variants of this plant so it could be an artistic license from Kuang.

Betel nut tree: as Shiro experiments on Altan and Rin rants that the introduction of the Speerly to opium was an idea of the Red Emperor to make them addicted to Nikan and that previously their people used the bark of a tree without specifying which one. I think this is the tree in question although in reality, it is the nuts that are consumed because in addition to being the fourth most commonly used psychoactive substance after tobacco, alcohol, and caffeinated drinks, according to the World Health Organization, it energizing effects prevent fatigue and thirst so the famous fame of the Speerly warriors, at least those in Tearza's time, perhaps also stemmed from this as well as the brutal training regime and the legend of its origin is also very much linked to the Speerly eyes.

2.The Different Peoples of Nikan

I will only talk about Speerly and Hinterlanders otherwise I will never stop writing.

Speerly: As I mentioned above, the Tiwanese legend of the birth of the Betel Tree is linked to the inspiration for the red eyes of our phoenix warriors. According to the legend of the Paiwan tribe, one day a child with red eyes was born in a village, who killed any living thing with a glance. In the end Pali, this is the child's name, after finally integrating himself into the village and using the power of his eyes in wars between the other tribes, will be put to death after accidentally killing children but a friend of his notices that a betel nut tree was born on Pali's grave, the fruits of which are as wide and red as the boy's eyes that will protect the people of the village from then on. Now, what do you do with an intriguing legend about a red-eyed boy whose death essentially gave rise to a light drug tree? Apparently Kuang's answer was an entire red-eyed people reaching out to their murderous goddess via a drug of the colour of their eyes. I love this woman.

Hinterlanders: Rather than being one of a single people they are a sort of confederation of clans inspired by the Huns and the Mongols but I find it fascinating that many have light eyes and hair isn't an artistic license by the author to make them more 'shamanic' like most fantasy writers do because apparently a lot of ancient nomadic Asian ethnic groups had light eyes and hair. I used to think it was incredibly rare and more a thing of the descendants of peoples who lived near the Silk Road or the European border.

3.The Dragon

The Dragon is a Yao not a God.

I know Chaghan has already explained this, but many seem to forget about it, while I who had read Poppy War because I was in abstinence of Wuxia like MoDaoZuShi started shouting IS A FUKING Yao! and suddenly Nezha's whole speech about how it's not like Rin suddenly makes sense. Because Yao are often confused with Magical Beasts or Gods but Yao is a broad term for any animal, plant or even inanimate object that has gained spiritual awareness and magical powers. In this case, as Chaghan explained, an animal has absorbed the power of the Caves (if we want to speak in terms of theology or even Wuxia it would be Qi or even Mana if you prefer) which are one of those places where the veil between the two worlds thins and supposedly filled with the power of the real Rain Dragon and has become the 'Dragon'. But he is not a god because, as has already been said in the trilogy, true gods do not have material bodies. This can be confirmed in the story Vaisra tells Nezha about the shaman Yu who suggests that he has turned into the Dragon when in fact he may have been eaten and absorbed into the 'collection' of the Yao because in The Nine Curves River, a story by Kuang in the collection The Books of Dragons, she suggests the Yao existed before Yu's time because she makes no mention of Yu's legend but instead it is a fisherman who becomes the dragon in one of the versions.

The Dragon (Yao) is a Yinglong

The story of the Cave Dragon that Vaisra tells Nezha is inspired by the story of the legendary King Yu, founder of the Xia Dynasty who, according to the story, controlled the flooding of the Yellow River thanks to a Yinglong a very powerful water dragon that had lost its wings to kill a drought demon. This dragon is also related to the eels, through a connection that I honestly didn't understand, at least as Wikipedia explained it, and it relates back to how Rin sees him when he attacks the cave, because at least to me he reminds me of a giant eel.

Maybe the Yin sacrifice their children to the Yao

Okay I know, it sounds absurd, now I'll explain. Also in The Nine Curves River it is understood that it is set before the reign of the Red Emperor (the monks still operate) and the people of Arlong sacrifice the most beautiful people they can find in times of severe drought. Now there is no reference to anything like this in the era in which Poppy War is set but something may have changed when Yu was the one bound to the Yao in Dragon form, because in the story it is referred to that Yu would not allow anyone else to suffer, and in The Nine Curves River the Yao can cause an abnormal and prolonged drought until the sacrifice has been made but not in the times we are shown. So Yu did something that kept the Yao at bay for over a thousand years after his death or the Yin family sacrifice their children in secret. I have this theory that the Yin took it upon themselves to nurture what they thought was a God for the sake of their people after all forms of worship had been banned and, since in The Nine Curves River it is specified that the sacrificed people must go there voluntarily (perhaps a limitation imposed by the fact that even real gods cannot invade the minds of shamans unless the latter want them to and so a Yao who feeds on their power cannot go out and eat whoever they want whenever they want) the Yin Lords of the past would have piqued the curiosity of the sacrificable children to make them go to the Grotto voluntarily and the Yao would accept them as offerings and prevent the drought. So Vaisra knew that one of his sons would be eaten? Hell yes. Or at least he hoped that Yu's legend had some truth to it (knowing Riga) and that he would end up with at least one son turned into a Dragon to use for his revolution. As they say, be careful what you wish for.

Mingzha was not devoured by accident

Of course the whole theory above is dismantled when Nezha tells Yao that he was so hungry that he hadn't even thought of keeping Mingzha for himself and had devoured him straight away and that Nezha would go with him, presumably to do what Yu did (perhaps he had intuited something that is not told) to keep him at bay for so long. But hunger may not have been Yao's only reason for choosing to eat the child. Mingzha is presented to us with gold bracelets and anklets that are good luck charms for children, and so far nothing strange apart from the potential to be a heartbreak parallel for Nezha's handcuffs. But in The Nine Curves River the author implies that all Dragon sacrifices are marked with gold bracelets and anklets, so when the Yao chose Mingzha it was because he thought he was a sacrifice to be devoured.

The Red Emperor and Yu were like Nezha and Yin.

Me with a really crazy theory? More likely than you think.

So from what I understand even though it's not specified, the Yao doesn't eat all his sacrifices otherwise people like Yu and Nezha and the Fisherman wouldn't exist, even in legend. Maybe he plays with his food or maybe he has to give a fraction of his power in return, unfortunately we don't have enough elements to determine this but in Yu's legend there is a reference to the fact that the Dragon Province had become unlivable due to the currents and climate towards the end of the Red Emperor's reign, giving us a very specific time window in which to place the tale, which is strange in itself, but also makes a heavy implication (at least to me) that it was the Emperor's presence that made Arlong prosperous and, towards the end of his life, the work of his 'sacrifice' tapered off until Yu took his place.

Now, why do I think the Red Emperor was a Yin? Because Kuang loves to make us suffer and since Rin is Tearza's descendant it would make sense for Nezha to be a descendant of the Red Emperor but also for a few other reasons: Kitay says that the aunts and cousins of the Yin Clan were chosen as concubines of the Emperors and if the intrigue of the Harem didn't go out of fashion it wasn't just because of their beauty, women related to Kings and Emperors were a useful chess piece in political machinations. The coat of arms of House Yin is a dragon and speaking of historical reality the only ones who could wear the dragon on their robes or as a family crest were the Emperors and his family. Reference is made to the fact that there were no survivors of his lineage almost too insistently, just as there is no reference to Tearza's lineage until she calls Rin my blood. The Yin have the Imperial Seal that was thought to be lost. I'm pretty sure the Red Emperor is historically the equivalent of Emperor Qin Shi Huang, whose birth name was Ying Zheng and well . . . I know the Ying character and the Yin character are different but they sound similar and from a plot point of view the Red Emperor's remaining descendants could have hidden themselves by changing surnames but still one that had a resemblance to the one of origin or a side branch of the family, the possibilities are many. Lastly, he might be right about the Yin feeding their children to the Yao in Dragon form.

As for Yu, I think he was another yin descendant because, at least in the Italian version, Nezha seems to know that Yu is his ancestor.

That's all for now, at least until I find the rest of my notes. If any of this inspires you to write something I would love to have a little credit, even a small one, and oh. . .I definitely want to read it, or if you want to go in the rabbit hole with me don't be shy

#poppy war #headcanon #poppy war trilogy #no time for write #so i made this #for your joy and delight #the dragon republic #the burning god #the drowning faith #The Nine Curves River #yin nezha #Red Emperor #Dragon #Yao

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mrsmusica · 1 month

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More Father of Time references!

Just two pictures this time. An updated Oceanis, with the red marks, and Hebra! Two Hebras, actually.

So Oceanis has marks that curl up on his neck, run over his shoulders and curl back behind his shoulders. When he's wearing a somewhat normal shirt, you can see them. His deity armor is slightly different than the Fierce Deity's, as he doesn't go up as high on his neck. Having the deity marks show is a point of pride for them.

This is Hebra as we see her in the story so far. She's wild looking and her hair is a mess. I thought about adding the blue tear-drop marks on her face but honestly the hair hides it. Hebra is one of the few deities who has visible scars. How did she get those? What event led to that happening? Well, maybe you'll just have to wait and see.

But when she wants to, when things are serious, Hebra cleans up quite nice.

Okay, one more picture. I mentioned that Oceanis had a Twin Sister, so here she is! I didn't edit the marks onto her but they'd be similar, not identical, to her Brother's. The curls would be on the outside of the eyes instead of the inside, for instance.

I put her hair as basically the opposite of Oceanis' in this but honestly, their hair shifts colours a lot. It changes colours as much as the ocean does so sometimes he has hair more like this and she might have the darker hair, or they might have both had the same colours at the same time.

Oh wait! Speaking of deities who are no longer around, I made one for Protector of the Summer Storms!

She was one of the deities FD/Nocturne has mentioned in the past, one of the ones he was closer to and fought with often. Often deities would form closer bonds to those they shared a region with and maybe had similar personalities to. Summer Storms was a child of Power but wickedly smart as long as her temper didn't get the best of her. She's suppose to have blue marks as well but I haven't created the pattern for them yet. She was defeated shortly after the Protector of the Night was sealed in the mask; when she heard about what had happened, she ran off to save him and fell into a trap.

And just as a reminder, I use this picrew for these concepts! It's been the best for getting the blank, white eyes and the ears are just the right size!

Maybe someday if I ever try to progress art skills, I could actually make real art of them. Just need a few extra hours every day, that's all!

#father of time fic #deity concept picrew #Oceanis #Hebra #Protector of the Western Oceans #Protector of Summer Storms

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crescentmoon-flower · 1 year

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Rewatching winx season 4 for nostalgia and realizing how wierd some things are

Ep1

Why is this intro actually fire??!

Ah yes, now they're the teachers

I actually admire season 4 for allowing the protagonists to grow up

"it almost makes me miss the trix, even they were less agressive"

TECNA MY LOVE BE SASSY MORE OFTEN

Grizelda, How exactly were they supposed to know that the room has been changed?

Also, ROOM singular? Are the teachers grouped too? Why don't the girls get their own rooms?

...griselda don't encourage students to be like the winx, you don't want more girls to put themselves in mortal danger

Are the keys to the hall of enchantment custom made for each teacher? What about no fairy teachers? Do they just not get access?

Why is this hall inside a school? Actually maybe the building became a school after

WHY ARE YOU IGNORING STELLAS QUESTION FARA?

Blooms picture is in the book of fairies, Why exactly?

"A level above enchantix" and here begins the contradiction

The animation here looks wierd?

Yes bloom just walk off mid speech

Why was the wizard's painting covered?

Wait.... were they trapped in the painting? This brought up way too many questions

Awwwww,

musa ruffling rivers hair

helia being a perfect jentleman

stella poking Brandon

Oh right He's king now. Ah plot consistency, may you rest in peace

Grizeda rocks that look though ngl

No previous planning? To shame bloom, to shame.

Yeah I honestly wouldn't be all that impressed with those tricks either

Actually good lesson here, good job techna and aisha

Why don't bloom and Stella know the damn course plan?

Why is clarice saying this infront of several people?

How don't the teachers notice clarice just walk off?

How didn't Alice feel the box being put in her bag???

I like the original enchantix song more

What is the physics of that morphics surfboard?

Also Why did she use/make it? Feels useless to me

Why detonate it on the punching bag flora's turn?

Why did they have no protection in the first place? There was open fire?

Jeez, obviously alfea and cloud tower have very different punishments, the trix got away with so much worse,

...actually maybe that's why the repercussions are so harsh now

Rip alfea's barrier (season 1 episode 2)

Ogron's so pale, like did they forget to colour in his face??

And here begins anagan x flora, with a single hello

Smh flora you naïve girl, did you learn nothing in these last three years?

Gantlos has anger issues confirmed, he's the stormy of the black circle

Why the flora abuse this episode??

How exactly does that magic work? Were the wizards invisible? Or did they teleport? And if they teleported how did they know to do it right then?

They know blooms name and not her face? Even more questions...

I like this version of duman's voice, it fits him (rai's wierd accent)

I'd actually like a musa- gantlos rivalry, being immune to each others sound based spells, sounds like a good plot point

"Well that was fun"

Ogron is a masochist confirmed

..Merlin? Did he exist in the magical universe?

EVERYTHING'S UNDER CONTROLE LITTLE MAN, GO BACK TO SLEEP XD 🤣

...Dodging is impossible? Get Stella a basic self preservation class please

Ogrons magic is actually an interesting concept, too bad they don't use it to its full potential

Hold up are their fingers black? Why?

...but what if they last earth fairy is in alfea? Why give up on it so quick?

But why did clarice admit it?

"It's an ancient story"

Time line go brrrrr

Did faragonda give the girls an ancient important book? Why???? They didn't need the whole thing

Ep2

...I'm not saying anything on faragonda's explanation mainly because of the utter confusion and amount of questions it brings up

Musas up for a fist fight

...maybe all of roxy's confusion would have been ended if she mentioned morgana's name, the girls know she's the queen now

Again, Time line go brrrr

How does making humans belive in magic weaken the wizards? this was never actually explained? Like they still had power before humanity forgot fairies?

"Where are we even going?"

Why don't you start with, oh I don't know... EARTH???

Drama King helia, love it

Word spread to the boy's that fast? Wow

Aaaawwwww rivusa, Riven picking up musa and lifting up her mood, even if he didn't think up of it himself

Riven king of common sense

Sky's entrance was actually adorable, and hilarious

The change of music really made my heart drop for a second

Why the secrecy though? Couldn't they just go with the winx ?

When did techna copy all the books without the others knowing?

A teacher is a teachers pet

Oh poor wizgiz

WHY SO MANY TREES

oh right the pixy plot, yeah I'm not comenting on it beyond it was stupid and pointless

What luck, they just so happen to come across a randomly rare magic butterfly

"Light and darkness in perfect harmony"

And yet the tree shows only fairies?

Also what luck that roxy just so happen to be in......

Actually, theory time:

What if when daphne sent bloom through the portal aiming for earth, she opened it close to a strong magical source, Morgana.

That would make more sense that a huge coincidence of two of the only magical beings on earth being in the same city

anyways

A promise never fulfilled, I wish we actually saw roxy bond with a pixy

#winx duman #winx club #winx helia #winx aisha #winx brandon #winx ogron #winx anagan #winx gantlos #winx riven #winx rivusa #winx sky #winx tecna #winx musa #winx bloom #winx stella #winx flora #winx nabu #wizards of the black circle #reactions

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mjwiththefangs · 1 month

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Trickery & Daggers, Chapter 5

In which we get to know everyone a little more. Also on AO3 Masterlist Word count: 2768 Warnings: None.

Wyll’s Patron came for him that night as they made camp. Now, he sports a pair of horns, as well as other warped demonic features. When he asks Morgana how he looks, she softens and smiles at her chivalrous friend, uncertainty painted in every line of his face, and with a chuckle, she reassures him that she sees quite the handsome devil. He laughs, and again, she is glad to feel that she can lift his spirits.

Though she can't help but feel bitter for him; it would seem that no good deed goes unpunished after all.

Karlach, meanwhile, wants to do something nice for Wyll, she tells Morgana how she’s never had a friend like him, who’d stick their neck out for her. It resonates with Morgana that neither has she, and crosses her arms, silently mulling this over and nodding at the appropriate moments.

Friends. Hm.

She ends up finding Shadowheart after. The whole day the somewhat sour cleric has been glaring at her, and Morgana finds that her curiosity outweighs her irritation.

“Who do you worship?” Shadowheart blurts out, bristling.

“I- What?” Morgana blinks, taken aback, “I don’t worship anyone. Why?”

The dark-haired woman narrows her eyes in suspicion.

“You don’t follow Selune?”

“The- moon lady? No!”

Shadowheart relaxes, marginally, then gestures towards Morgana’s eyes.

“Then those marks that appear around your eyes- where do you channel your magic from?”

Ah. That.

She supposes that they do resemble the marks of Selunes followers, now that she thinks about it. Shadowheart is waiting.

“Well. Not from any god or goddess, that’s for sure.” She mutters.

She hasn’t ever been able to discuss her pact with others, not that she’s had the opportunity anyway and she’s not even sure if her patron would object. Seeing as her lips aren’t magically sealing themselves shut, and she senses no ill will of her patron, perhaps she can speak of it after all.

So, tentatively, slowly, she speaks.

“I am… a Warlock. My power comes from the Fey.” She scrunches her nose in thought. There's a faint stirring of magic brushing the back of her mind, telling her that’s enough, unwilling to divulge more to this particular cleric for now. “I can’t really tell you much more than that.”

“Huh. Two in one party. Though I suppose it is nice to know we only have one devil on our collective shoulders” Shadowheart seems satisfied with her response, casually flicking her braid over her shoulder.

But Morgana’s curiosity is piqued now.

“What about you?” She asks, “Who do you worship?”

Vixen-like eyes assess her cautiously, but without hostility. Finally, it seems Shadowheart reaches a conclusion. She raises her chin.

“I worship Shar. The Lady of Darkness.”

The Lady of Loss herself. No surprise of her patrons' reluctance there, they never were keen on the goddess. All the black and purple ensemble of her fellow half-elf suddenly make a lot more sense, though in fairness, Morgana did rather like the colour palette regardless.

Shadowheart is waiting.

Morgana nods, unperturbed. “... I always was a fan of her colour scheme.” To her delight, Shadowheart snorts a laugh. “Seriously though, who you follow is your business, not mine. But thank you for telling me.”

The Cleric smiles at her, and it's the first time her expression has been so warm and genuine. She looks almost like a different person.

“Well. Perhaps I should have told you earlier. Who knew you’d be so… pragmatic.”

“To sharing secrets, then.” Morgana chuckles, “But in the spirit of inquiry, what else can you tell me about yourself? None of us really know one another yet.”

“Another time, perhaps. I’ve shared enough for now.”

With what little Morgana understands of Shar’s ways, she knows secrecy is paramount to her followers, and so she nods, bidding Shadowheart a good night.

Now, though, the idea is planted in her head. She should ask the others about themselves. They’ve been travelling for a few days now, and it seems they will be stuck together for more, surely they should get to know one another?

How strange, she’s been alone for so many years, and she always thought that suited her just fine. Now though, the thought of returning to that life, to how she lived before, settles in her chest, hard and cold and lonesome.

Her brows crease. No. No, it’s fine. She’s always managed. The only one she ever needed was her patron, and even then she always relied on herself, both before, and following the events of forming her pact.

…Still. It certainly couldn’t hurt, getting to know her companions.

The Warlock approaches Lae’zel, ignoring the feeling of a pair of ruby orbs trailing after her. The gith’s sharp gaze pierces her when she stops before her tent.

“Speak.”

Yeah, no, this was a bad idea, she decides, pivoting on her heel.

“Wait.”

She freezes. This is it, she has offended the fearsome warrior, and will meet her end at Lae’zel’s blade.

“You wished to speak to me, did you not?”

Always so direct. Straightforward, even. Morgana gulps silently.

“Yes, but it’s, um, it’s nothing important.” Smooth.

Lae’zel straightens her posture. Despite her lacking in height, she poses a formidable presence. Her expression is unreadable.

“What were you seeking?” Her head cocks to the side, “Questions about the creche, perhaps?”

Huh, Morgana isn’t dead. She watches the gith closely and feels her tension ease.

“Actually, I was hoping to know a little more about you. I’ve never seen a Gith before.”

“I would imagine I am your first”

Lae’zel is proud, and uncomplicated, she says what she means and is surprisingly refreshing to speak with, Morgana finds. She is fearless and driven, her only will to serve her Queen and ascend to the Astral sea.

They spend some time, not as much as Morgana would like, discussing the astral planes, and Morgana feels as though she understands her companion a bit better than she did before. Lae’zel is a formidable ally, and Morgana finds herself feeling just a bit safer knowing that Lae’zel is watching their backs.

Gale is equally excited to glean from her knowledge of astral planes after her conversation with Lae’zel. He tells her about Tara, his tressym. She’s never seen a tressym before. He happily tells Morgana about evenings with Tara, indulging in a glass of wine, occasional poetry and sitting by the fireplace.

He asks her if she is practiced in magic.

Her mouth quirks into a grin.

“I am. Though perhaps not the same as an accomplished wizard, such as yourself.” She allows her magic to flare, the marks flashing around her eyes, and holds up a palm of Eldritch, fae-touched magic. Silently pleased, she notes the lack of interference from her patron. They are happy to allow her to share this time.

Gale's face lights up, joyful in his curiosity. “Aha! Another warlock, I did have my suspicions, mind you.” He rubs his chin speculatively, eyeing the magic above her palm. “Hm, though not quite the same as Wyll. You draw your power from the feywilds.”

She laughs, and feels the silver-bell joy of her patron echoing the sentiment. “A very good deduction, Gale of Waterdeep!”

She closes her hand, dissipating the magic. The wizard’s enthusiasm is infectious as he jumps into quizzing her about schools of magic, what spells she knows, cantrips, and how she learns.

“Do the spells just come to you, from your patron? Or do you have to study them first? Can you learn from studying, as wizards do?” He fires off, and then suddenly switches trajectory, “Ah, the Archfey you serve; they aren’t offended by this, perchance? Are you able to discuss your pact?”

Morgana finds herself pleasantly amused, and again there is no interference or ill-will from the Archfey. “I can study spells, to an extent, depending on their will. I can be gifted spells that she finds fitting; she especially thought Faerie Fire and Tasha’s hideous laughter to be such spells!” She shakes her head, smiling. “As for offending her, well. As far as I know, only one human has ever done so, and they paid with what they loved, if I recall!”

Then, she turns a bit more sombre, chewing on her lower lip as she thinks.

“I can’t discuss much of my pact. Not now. Fey can be very… particular.” In truth, she doesn’t want to, especially seeing that she can’t very well lie. Recalling the events of her pact can be… unpleasant, from a painful part of her life that she’d rather forget. Her pact is forged from a single trade; she cannot forget what she gave.

To her pleasant surprise though, Gale laughs, good-naturedly. “Ah well, perhaps we can compare notes another time. I’m always keen to learn more, a wizard's work is never done!”

She agrees, finding that it's something she would genuinely enjoy.

It’s nice to have something to look forward to.

She knows those cerise eyes have been following her all evening. He’s been watching with thinly veiled amusement and he watches her still, expectantly.

There’s a long silence between them, and his expression twinkles with mischief.

She doesn’t greet him, not really. Despite his assistance in the grove, she hasn’t really spoken to him, nor does she know anything about him. Time to remedy that. She clears her throat.

“Tell me about yourself, Astarion.”

“Oh, what’s to tell- I already told you I'm a magistrate, it's all rather tedious, really.” He breezes.

Liar.

She can’t help herself. “Does anything honest ever leave your mouth?”

He laughs. The damned elf actually has the audacity to laugh at her while she scowls, feeling petulant. She shifts her weight to one leg, jutting out her hip as she does so.

“Something funny?” She asks dryly.

His laughter fades, though he still looks bemused, peering down at her. The gaze isn’t unpleasant, but she’s quickly learning that he’s rather damn perceptive.

“You’re favouring that leg.”

Too damn perceptive. She doesn’t respond straight away.

Years of caution have served her well, and despite the comfort she’s beginning to find in her companions, she is still not prepared to trust them with her weakness. She thinks fast. She doesn’t need to tell the whole truth, but a half truth will do nicely.

“Pulled a muscle.”

“Of course, my apologies.” He tips his head in a performative bow, that perfect smirk not faltering. In doing so, he leans closer to her, his perfume washing over her senses and her pulse spikes.

She swallows and takes a tentative step back, creating space between them again, his eyes following her movement. She again silently curses him; he’s damn handsome and he knows it, and he certainly knows how to use those charms of his.

Realising the secretive, smooth-talking elf will likely not be sharing anything more about himself, or anything honest for that matter, she gives in. She can deal with him another day.

There’s one thing she has come to realise about Astarion though. He may be a devious flirt, but he’s outright vicious as a rogue. He’s cunning too, and she knows already that her patron likes him.

So, resigning herself to understanding him better another time, she excuses herself and decides to wait around the fire until it's time for her night watch and then she can pull out her journal and fill in more pages.

Later on, Morgana sits, spent and exhausted, beside the crackling flames. The sound is soothing, a comfort she has long sought out during her life. Stormy, weary eyes watch as the fire dances and pops and sparks and she hums appreciatively, basking in its warmth with palms outstretched.

Beside her, the book lies partially forgotten, the quill expectantly laid alongside its cover. Her thoughts are laid bare upon its pages; childhood, youth- incoherent noise scrawled upon the parchment surface, her study notes on literacy, her constant hunger while living rough, and crude sketches of things she's seen alongside them.

Tonight, her journal is far from her mind as she drifts off, welcoming the permeable heat of the fire and the lulling embrace of sleep.

But, the journal is not unnoticed by another. An elegant pale hand plucks the journal and quill from the earth noiselessly, gracefully.

Ruby eyes flit over the pages. The crude sketches, messy and hastily drawn, recount the recent sights and events in varying detail. He recognises the crashed nautiloid ship, and skims the notes surrounding it.

“Why does a ship need sphincters?” he reads aloud with amusement colouring his voice. The word ‘sphincters’ is spelled incorrectly, scribbled out and rewritten a couple of times before finding the correct spelling, complete with an exclamation mark.

He flips back a few pages. A, presumably, forgotten appointment is crossed out for the Blushing Mermaid, first light! The words ‘fucking mindflayers’ are scrawled bitterly beside them.

He chuckles once, and nods his approval of the unfinished mermaid sketch on the opposite page.

He flips the pages back in bigger chunks now, catching glimpses and peeks into her life, spotting idle thoughts dotted through the pages, including ‘cold day’, ‘another headache’, a few odd instances of just ‘hunger’ that he finds himself very much relating to. Then his brow creases in thought. He should have reached the first page by now, yet it still appears as if he is barely halfway through, and even the pages are beginning to look a little more old and worn and yellowed with time and he clicks his tongue in realisation.

She's enchanted the journal; infinite pages, so she never needs to carry more than the singular tome with her. His expression softens as he glances at the messier writing, the simpler drawings and the clumsy spelling. The repeated lines written by unsteady hands. Most of it is in common, but he recognises the few bits of script in very rough elvish.

The journal snaps shut suddenly, and he rolls his eyes with an irritated tsk.

“I was reading that.”

“It's private.” She glares, well squints really, at him from where she's propped up on one elbow on the ground, her hair mussed up from her brief sleep. She flicks her wrist and the journal jerks into her hand.

Astarions lips curl up and he cocks his head, facing her fully.

“Neat trick.”

Morgana huffs and narrows her eyes, unamused, sparing a quick worried glance at the journal before tucking it away back in her pack. She seems to squirm under his gaze.

“You seem tired, darling, perhaps I should take over the watch?” He suggests, lowering his voice to a smooth purr. He studies her, as she blinks and considers him. The way she worries at her lower lip, the bags under her eyes and smudged eyeliner.

He isn’t jesting when he says she looks worn out. She relents with a heavy sigh, and sluggishly gets to her feet, brushing dust and dirt from her clothes. It's even more apparent now, standing unsteadily on her feet, that she’s favouring her leg. The little half-human is very unbalanced, her full weight bearing on one side, and under closer examination, he realises her left leg is not completely straight. Up until this evening, she’d been hiding it well.

Ah. So this isn’t something new.

This is habitual, the way she adjusts her posture. She blinks sleep from her eyes, and it dawns on her that he’s watching, and she shifts, ever so slightly, but just enough to be stood straight, her crooked leg carefully turned to appear not so.

She clears her throat, and her guard is up again.

“In any case. If you’re taking over my watch, I'll retire for the night.”

Astarion says nothing. He bends at the waist and opens his arm towards her tent, wishing her ‘Sweet dreams’ as she passes him. Her gait is practised, but in her exhaustion, it fails to hide the oh-so-subtle limp in her step.

Curious. He rubs his hand over his chin in thought. He had assumed he was getting to her lately, luring her in with flirtations and suggestive words. He’d seen that pretty flush on her cheeks, his sharp ears had heard how her heart sped up. Yet, she still maintains a distance.

He would have to try something different.

Even more curious, he realised, he’d seen the scrawl near the start of her book. Her literary difficulty with reading and writing, had she taught herself? What about Elvish?

Oh the things he could murmur in her ear in their shared tongue.

Astarion decides that he rather liked the sound of that, actually.

#mj writes #fanfiction #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate fanfic #baldurs gate fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

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dozing-marshmallow · 9 months

Note

If requests are open... Chris and reader watching Heathers the original release together?

Ooo! I haven’t actually watched it until today, and it was worth the watch! I hope you have a good time reading this as I did watching the film! This took me the entire day to write since there was so many good scenes to choose from.🥲

Spoiler warning to those who haven’t seen it!

WATCHING HEATHERS: ORIGINAL RELEASE WITH CHRIS MCLEAN

“Yo Chris.” You approached him one evening,“You wanna watch a fun nostalgic movie that involves childhood trauma as a plot point, the idiocy of teenagers in love and girl power?”

“As innnn?”

“Heathers!”

He recognised the film, but his response didn’t demonstrate that,“You know I can never see that name the same way after meeting Heather.”

You knew it wouldn’t,“I don’t think anyone can, but lucky for us, this film isn’t about her.”

“Of course it isn’t, no one with a brain would centre a movie around something like her.”

“Chriiiis.” You pout, setting the disc into the DVD player. You weren’t on tv so there was no need for him to be so destructive.

“What? Can’t I tell the truth?” He asks in a sassy manner,“Producers don’t want someone controversial leading their movie, the public would tear it down before it’s even released! Then again, it is a good way to ensure people will watch, even if it’s not for the reason they were hoping for.”

The film opens with a blonde girl tying her hair back in a red scrunchie with a feminine song elegantly lacing the girls’ beauty and image. The clothes, the hair, the camera quality pull Chris in to reminisce.

“I remember those times! All the gals loved keeping their hair fluffy and in scrunchies!” A shot of the girls stepping on the flowers brings him to ponder,“Can’t remember if they loved mallets though.”

“I thought they would have the colour coded everything.”

“What do you mean?”

You explained,“As in, they were gonna wear the same thing just in their colour, and have their hairstyles identical too.”

“Ohh, yeah, I think that was in the musical.” He recalled,“Speaking of which, if I end up liking this movie, we’ll totally go watch that too.”

Hearing that potential chance to see it made your heart skip a beat, disguising it with,“It’s crazy coincidence that all three of these girls happened to be named Heather.”

“I for one hope they end up like Heather.” So in other words, he wanted them to suffer tremendously.

You’re introduced to the sore thumb protagonist, Veronica, who was being ordered by red Heather to forge hot and horny, but realistically low-key note Kurt’s handwriting and we’ll slip it onto Martha Dumptruck’s lunch tray. The note will give her shower nozzle masturbation material for weeks.

Chris’ eyes ran corner to corner,“How did she say that with a straight face?”

“Welll it’s clearly not their first ploy, and you’ll be surprised to know that’s how teenage girls talk.”

“I have experience, (Y/N).”

The camera pans on an unconventionally attractive girl in sweatpants and a pink hoodie getting her lunch tray. Must’ve been the Martha the girls were planning on upsetting.

“Beth? I didn’t know she was in this film.” Chris chirped.

Your mouth drops at his attempt to slander another one of his contestants,“Chris, you know that’s not Beth! Beth has longer hair and she wears glasses!”

“Scissors and contacts exist, (Y/N).” He pats your back, treating you like a simpleton,“Wouldn’t be surprised if she did them herself for the film.”

Heather pulled Veronica with her on a poll protocol, featuring a question about five million dollars given two days before an alien explosion. She began the poll by a table with a girl named Courtney sitting there.

“Oh, great.” Chris groans,“It’s already a nightmare that three girls are named Heather, now there’s someone called Courtney? Who’s next, Harold?”

“Huh? Chris, Harold is a complete anomaly with Heather and Courtney. I thought you were going to say someone like Tyler.”

“My badd.”

There was a montage of teens from different cliques having individual screen time to answer Heather number one’s question.

“This scene has to mean something, right? I am betting you a hundred bucks that these question protocols are some sort of motif and have a deeper meaning.” Chris confidentially proposes.

“Alright.” It was pointless, but whatever made him happy.

“Uh.” He pauses the movie,“You’re supposed to hedge now.”

“What?”

“Y’know, if I end up being right, you give me a hundred dollars instead.”

What is this man on,“No? If you end up being right, you get to keep your hundred bucks.”

“But whyy? Come on (Y/NN)...it’ll be fun! Live a little.” He rested his head on your shoulder. If that was meant to convince you, it backfired.

“I’m good.”

“Booo! You’re boring! Bo-ring!”

“Chris, a hundred dollars doesn’t even equate to a dollar in your eyes, why are you so bothered?”

The movie focuses on Martha again, clearly in a trance from the letter she was misled into believing was written by her presumed crush. Chris waved at the screen,“Hi Beth!” As music in the background played, with the enhancement of a woman breathing like she was having an orgasm.

You pre-flinched at the motion of Martha getting up and appearing to be walking over to the Jock table, forged letter in hand, anticipating the next few seconds to be nothing, but ripping insults and a confused girl with her heart broken, returning sulkily to her table in confusion and tears. Meanwhile, Chris was sitting up in his seat, smiling.

And your guess was correct: the second that guy, Kurt saw the letter, the dreamy music was replaced by a jagged cruelty of laughter escaping him as he passed the letter to his mate, where he also started laughing. The Heathers were gracefully infected by it too and so was Chris. Feeling humiliated, Martha stomps out of the cafeteria.

“Oh dear. Poor girl.” You verbalise your pity, leaning more towards Veronica’s reaction.

“She’ll be fine.” Chris coughs,“As far as Beth knows, he’s just trying to deny how much he loves her.”

You don’t try scolding him anymore,“Let’s hope she doesn’t turn out to be a yandere.”

“A what now?”

The guy you and Chris questioned the relevance of was revealed to be named Jason Dean. You didn’t pay attention to the problem those jocks had with him, but you couldn’t connect the reason to the utterly random choice on Jason’s part to take a gun out and fire it. Twice.

“What the hell!” You exclaimed.

“What’s the big deal? I do that all the time.” Your boyfriend shrugs lightly.

“Not funny.”

It transitions back to the scenery the Heathers were in the beginning, with their mallets, their balls, the grass and statues.

“God they won’t expel him, they’ll just suspend him for a week or something.” The one in yellow claimed.

“He used a real gun. They should throw his ass in jail.” The leader Heather levelled more logically.

“So it actually happened?” You thought aloud, seeing that Veronica was now not only on the same ground as the others; she possessed her own mallet in blue,“In the beginning, I thought this was place was meant to be a metaphor.”

“A metaphor for what, (Y/N)?”

“...Sisterhood?”

He shakes his head in disapproval.

No way, they were actually plotting on killing Heather Chandler- After the disastrous party at Remington university where Veronica blows it and potentially foreshadows the bad dust forming between her and the rest of the Heathers, Jason crawls in through her window and stayed the night with her, topless. In the morning, they mixed something together with cleaning liquid and orange juice to bring for Heather, Jason’s “family recipe” for her hangover.

After indirect peer pressure, Heather takes the cup from Jason and right after consuming it, the damage instantly kicks in. To Heather’s horror, her gagging became more and more tyrannical to the point of her clasping her hands around her neck and gluing her eyes shut. She wheezes out an incoherent statement, before she falls face first unexpectedly into her glass table, motionless pink robed body landing on a bed of broken glass shards and her flowers, magazines.

Where that scene was meant to be silent, Chris revived an equal reaction of Kurt’s in the beginning- Hilarity.

You were still processing it. You didn’t think they would kill the leader off so early. You thought it would be one of those things where the protagonist would have started off with the lower ranks, saving the leader for last. Not in this story.

“Ahahaha!” In your partner’s fit, he shakily grabs the remote,“I’ve...I’ve got to see it again!”

He rewinded it a few seconds back. Since he knew what was going to happen, his relentless laughter ran in prematurely and lasted longer.

“Chris, come on.”

“One more- one more time.” He repeated, readying to hold onto his stomach again.

You rewatch Heather fall into the glass table. How did he not get bored?

He rewinded it again.

That’s where your patience ran too,“Enough, Chris!” You asserted, trying to grab the remote from him.

He still had that large smile on his face as he holds it away from you,“Wait (Y/N), maybe she won’t fall down this time.” You both know that’s not possible, as she disproves his statement for the fourth time,“Nope!”

“Can we move on now please?” You screech.

“Augh, fine! Let’s have it your way then.” He throws the remote to the floor and latches his arms folding,“Remind me to never watch anything with you again.”

“I won’t.”

“Uh uh...” Chris chuckled, watching the note Veronica forged as Heather’s suicide note be present in the teacher’s hand to be shared around the class so they can “feel its pathetic beauty for yourself”.

“Isn’t that like...a major piece of evidence at the crime scene though? How did she get a hold of it?” You were thinking too deeply about it.

“I don’t know dude, but it seems that no one really liked Heather to take her death personally.” His enthusiasm profound,“Isn’t that similar to the situation for our Heather? Chick was so despicable, her own parents wanted her gone!”

“Do you see how everyone else is dressed in black and she came in navy?” You pointed out Veronica’s standing out funeral attire.

“I’d have done the same.” Chris retorted,“You won’t get a dime of respect from me.”

You scoffed at the prayers Heather’s guests made over her death bed, most of them not even being about her,“The amount of disrespect at her own funeral.”

“Could never be me. The world would die with me.” Of course Chris needed a time of the movie to stroke his ego.

Two days after an atrocious “double date”, Kurt and Ram were coming to school early for some promised fun with Veronica; in reality, they were going to mask a double suicide. They? Why, yes! Jason was waiting behind a tree, with his gun loaded and the two notes Veronica forged the night before, confessing their dying sorrow of the love they felt for each other, that could never be revealed to an uncaring and ununderstanding world.

“Hi Veronica.” Speaking of the devils, they had smugly arrived to the told meeting spot, behind the school.

Chris rubs his hands together deviously, the performing girl requesting them to strip,“Ooo here we go!”

“You do know she’s not actually going to-“

“I know (Y/N), I wasn’t talking about that. I was referring to the part where their bodies fall to the ground helplessly in blood. What kinda sicko do you take me for to think I’d want to see high schoolers have a sword fight with their dicks?” God, he was actually offended.

“Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“I was kind of hoping you could rip my clothes off me sport.” Veronica flirtatiously played.

“Girl’s got serious game!”

“She’d have to, to be able to fool those guys.”

Baam! After Jason’s chasing steps terrified Kurt to return back to where he once successfully fled from, Veronica finally pulled the trigger to send his nearly naked body falling to the ground. Despite Chris getting what he wanted, he was unamused,“So he had enough sense to run the first time, but was paralysed the second time? Seriously? She didn’t even have the gun ready!”

“One more dead body to add to your collection.” Gruesome words, but it cheered him up.

Unnecessary to inform, but they were real killer bullets used on Kurt and Ram that day. When Veronica wrapped her head around it, Chris made it known that he took much pleasure in her screaming at her boyfriend in his car that she never wanted to kill them, while he was trying to unveil the intention that she did. The start of their crumbling relationship.

You shake your head in disbelief when the movie cut to their funeral and how their corpses wore football helmets.

Who names their child Kurt or Ram...?

“It was chaos, fucking chaos!” Veronica ranted, distressed from the next day event that happened in school. It was bad enough that teacher Pauline was attempting to use the second tragedy that week to liven things up as a positive thing, it was broadcasted.

“What are you talking about, huh? I mean today was great! Chaos is great. Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling.”

“I like him. He gets it!” Chris too acknowledged the similarity he held with the male protagonist.

He started laughing from shock when he blew up his radio with his gun. That was the breaking point for Veronica to furiously get up and declare the end of their relationship.

...You know when you’re uneasy seeing something, but your mind forces you to keep watching to see the end of it? That’s what was happening to Chris when Jason grabbed Veronica back down and tried to convince her to stay by forcefully kissing her.

“Oh jeez...I am highly uncomfortable.” Chris lets out, turning his head away from the screen.

At least Jason could manipulate Heather Duke into taking the place of leader to carry out some petition (which Chris bragged that he knew the poll in the beginning would be significant to the plot) that would need all students to sign. After failing to persuade Veronica though, Heather leaves, not before taking pride in how ruthless she’s become.

“You know, I really love the colour symbolism here. That one started off as jealous of the first Heather’s power, so she wore green, cuz green is like a symbol for envy, and now that she’s embodied Heather Chandler’s position, her change of colour to red symbolises how her character developed for the worst.”

“Good observation.” The closest Chris will get to complimenting you.

Out of nowhere, Jason descends from the stairs, in his signature waistcoat.

“He’s back.”

“Or rather, she’s back.” Chris appropriately clarified as Jason took Veronica into his arms, fooling you into believing they were rejoining as a couple.

“So... Are they back together?” The second Chris asked that, Veronica hastily rejected his embrace and stood her ground otherwise,“Haha, guess not.”

Chris huffed in annoyance when Jason kneeled by Veronica’s bed, with Moby Dick in his hand.

“I’m super confused, do you like this guy or not?” You called out on him, not noticing you were taking some of his annoyance as yours.

“I do! But it’s nagging me that he’s everywhere!”

After snatching the largest kitchen knife you’ve ever seen, Jason sprinted to Heather Duke’s room where said girl was asleep in her bed and locked the door shut to prevent any witnesses (i.e. Veronica) from interrupting his ploy.

“That’s why you don’t leave your bedroom door open at night!” Chris raised his voice at the tv like the characters could hear him.

By this point, the priest is fed up with leading these constant funerals for popular teens. No one was taking it seriously anymore either- Hell, the guests were wearing lab coats and 3D glasses.

“Out of all the death beds, I think I’d rather die in her one.” Chris trivialised her funeral with his liking to her unusual coffin of a replica of green gunk in a bathtub.

Veronica stands at the back of the ceremony, a Heather dressed in all black joins her. It wasn’t until she sneered about the smaller number of people at this Heather’s funeral that you’re alerted it’s the former leader Heather.

“Plot twist!” Chris declares, downing his entire glass of wine.

“No way...” You’re stunned,“Do you think she actually survived or Veronica’s hallucinating?”

“No idea.”

Turns out it was all dream.

“Oh good because she can’t be going to sleep in tights.” All that Chris was concerned about, Veronica writing her last entry.

“She’s dead!?” Chris regurgitated on his popcorn at the sight of Veronica’s body hanging from the ceiling,“Duuuude! I thought she’d have main character armour!”

You yell when Jason theatrically talks like his ex girlfriend could see,“Look at how he’s reacting to it! He’s acting like she’s not dead! Deraaaanged!”

“That’s probably the most relatable scene yet.”

You flip your head to him,“Sorry?”

“Ohhh listen listen, he’s going to take right after his old man!” Someone regained their composure,”Blowing up the school. Respect. Only so little of us could pull that off.”

“No, what did you say just then?” You probed him, refusing to let him off the hook so easily.

“Huh? That Veronica’s dead?”

“After that.”

“...He’s going to blow up the school?” You can’t tell if Chris genuinely forgot or was playing dumb, but never mind, you lost motivation to interrogate further. Attention is his life source.

Jason reads and reveals,“We students of Westerberg High will die today, our burning bodies will be the ultimate protest to a society that degrades us.”

“So the entire time, they were signing up to die?”

“Sound familiar?”

“You’re kidding. So he went through the difficulty of planting the bombs in the boiler room, just to blow himself up outside the school?”

He’ll finally be with mommy. Chris’ whining disappointment didn’t stop an ashy, bleeding, wild haired Veronica(who by the miracle of God didn’t actually die that scene) to go back inside, like she didn’t witness her crazy ex kill himself moments ago. She stumbles upon Martha, in a wheelchair and as the rest of the school leaves, the both of them decide to stay together, inside, smiling, marking an implication that they may bloom into something tender.

What a bittersweet hour and forty three minutes.

“Oh! That’s it. Well... That was dark.” Chris firstly begins his thoughts by underlining the conspicuous theme of the movie,“No joke, it was really messed up. But you know my vibe.” He sniffled, flicking a teardrop from his eye,“I loved it! See, this is a perfect example as to why the eighties were the best! You don’t get a lot of dark colourful movies like these nowadays, everybody’s so boring and sensitive and unoriginal.”

You added onto that, from another aspect,“I think we were desensitised to a lot of things that happened though. Still can’t get over how Veronica’s mom thought she’d off herself because she couldn’t get some job at the mall.”

He sighs,“What can I say? We were bound to see it one way or another. A fine film that shows a stupid world that’s still accurate today.” That pessimism didn’t go well with Chris gaining satisfaction from stretching his stiff arms out,“Overall, it was sick! Ten outta ten, would watch again. It just feels a tad bit weird watching it all happen as a grown man. I would literally close my eyes at some points, and every time, I would be confused if it was still the movie playing, or if you switched it to Total Drama.”

On the topic of his show...“When you think about it, Jason is the alternative Trent and Veronica is the alternative Gwen.”

Lightbulb moment. Uh oh.

(Sorry if it feels incomplete, there was a lot of things I had to take out to avoid it being too lengthy 😞 If anyone’s interested, though, I’ll publish some of the things that didn’t make the final post, but would have been great to have :))

#td chris #request #chris mclean #chris mclean x reader #total drama chris mclean #tdi x reader #heathers 1988 #heathers #td chris mclean x reader #total drama island chris #total drama

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roo-ster-brad-shaw · 10 months

Text

Desires in the Dark

A dark mafia romance between Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw and female character

Warnings: Themes of torture, death, swearing, rough sex, sex without consent, kidnapping. Fluff and Smut. Suggested for those above 18 years of age.

Note: You can change the description and note of the fem character to match your needs. Most importantly enjoy reading all you filthy people 😉

PS: Sorry this a little less slutty than the last 2 chapters, but I wanted to post ASAP and didn't get time as I was travelling. Also, thank you for all the love and support! 😁

Chapter 4

I woke up the next morning from the best sleep I had in years. I always had the most horrible nightmares every night, but this night had been dreamless or at least I thought so. I closed my eyes as I took a deep breath, her face appeared before mine. Had she been my freedom from my night terrors? I exhaled the breath I had been holding. My phone rang and I picked it up while staring at the street below.

“Hmm?”, I hummed absent mindedly.

“Get ready bitchass, I’ll be at your place in 15 minutes to pick you up. Ask your bodyguard to get ready too.”

“Only if you track a name for me”

“A name?”

“Aditi”

“That’s all ya got?”

“Mhmm”

“Fuck. Any description?”

“Dark-skinned. Straight, dark hair. Deep, brown, doe eyes.” I caught myself before I could get lost in describing her and in-advertently revealing my true intentions.

“I’ll get you what I got.”

“Fine”, I replied as I cut the phone. I shot a text to Seresin- Get ready. Phoenix is coming to get us in 15

Noted- Seresin texted back.

I bathed and changed into my usual work attire- a simple coloured shirt and a suit on top. Today’s colours would be red on the inside with black on the outside, it seemed. I quickly descended the stairs after setting my hair in place and grabbing my Ray Bans. Jake stood there wearing his usual attire.

“Good morning, sir. Hope your night was pleasant?”

“Yeah, thanks Seresin. How about you?”

I could see the surprise etched all over his face as he simply nodded in response.

“Hey, grab a set of casuals. You’ll need it today.”

“Alright, sir, if you say so.” He was confused but did as I commanded. He wasn’t so incompetent after all. I too headed upstairs to pack myself a different suit set as I decided what I should wear for today evening. I wanted to go for a classic tux to match her gorgeous red slit dress, one that I had seen a couple days back in the window of a shop. I packed that and headed downstairs with Seresin.

“Do me a favour. Get my black Huracan and go to that dress shop. The one owned by Liv. Buy a red slit dress in XXL size. Tell her I’ll pay the next time I come there. Then come back to the office and show me the dress immediately.”

“Alright, sir. But will you and Phoenix manage without me?”

“We’ll be just fine Seresin.” He headed off with a curt nod. I saw Natasha parked outside and headed off to meet up with her. I got into her car and we drove off.

She broke the silence by saying, “I found the girl.”

“Phone number? Address?”

“Everything”, she smirked, “The question is- why do you want to know?” I gritted my teeth and she hummed in response.

“She owes me something and I just wanna make sure I get my dues”

“Alright. I’ll send the details to you.” She had conceded. This was so unlike her; she never gave up so easily. But I chose to count my blessings and move on.

The day’s business moved on and I was just waiting for Hangman to show up with the dress. I wanted to give it to her as soon as possible. It was now 9:30 am, just one hour had passed since I started working and I already wanted to skip to 7 pm. I scrolled through my phone and found the number for the best restaurant in the city. I wanted to take her there, to show her the power I had. I wanted to impress her with all I had, with all my achievements. I wanted to give her no reason to see another man as better than me. But, would all this be enough? I sighed as I heard my door creak open.

“I have brought a dress, as requested, sir.”

“Thank you, Jake. I appreciate it.” He nodded and opened the package, revealing the gorgeous dress inside. It was red, as requested. I was short enough, reaching about knee-length for her height, which made up for the lack of a slit.

I lost myself in my thoughts, which mostly consisted of picturing her in the gorgeous dress. I imagined her, walking into the restaurant, her dark eyes searching for mine in the crowd. As she finds me, she’s surprised and I stand up and grin at her. She walks over and I notice her light makeup and delicate jewellery that she dons very effortlessly. She looks fucking gorgeous. I pulled her into a hug, inhaling her heavy perfume. My thoughts then took a dark turn. I was kissing her now, my wet kisses trailing down her neck. I left hickeys and bite marks as I inched towards her breasts. I could feel her pebble nipples. I gently massaged them from over the dress with one hand as the other inched lower to finger her pussy. It was wet and tight. I entered her as she gasped in response. She moaned my name and buried her head into my neck. Her hands snaked around my neck, trying to maintain her composure and posture. I could feel myself getting hard just imagining it.

“Sir, shall I pack it back up?” His words shook me out of my day dreaming. I hummed in response and nodded.

“Change into your casuals as well. I need us to run another errand.”

“Alright, sir.”

“And bring the dress with you.”

We were parked near her house now. I could see a dark window, which I guessed was hers. She hadn’t checked her phone by now. Suddenly I saw movement in the window. I pondered for a few moments, formulating a text message. I suddenly got a call from Phoenix. I picked it up, utterly surprised.

“Parked under her house?” I was completely taken aback! How did she know?!

“Are you tracking me Natasha?!” I was going to rip her fucking head off if she was.

“Yep”, she said defiantly.

“What the hell! What is wrong with you! Leave me the fuck alone!”

“If you need help texting her or talking to her, I’m here to help.”

“I don’t need your fucking help!”

“Remind me how many girls have you actually dated? Like taken somewhere, spent more than a night fucking?”

“One”

“Only one, that being me.” I saw Hangman’s eyes widen as the cat jumped out of the bag.

“What’s your point?”

“I know more about romance than you do.”

“How come? How many guys have you dated?” I asked in a sing-song manner to annoy her.

“Definitely more than one. See, I can see you care about her. Let me help you, Rooster.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“You didn’t try to kill her when she spilt that drink. You didn’t try to force her. You bought her a dress. And I can presume you want to give her your all by the way you are actually planning this date?”

“How do you know about the club Phoenix?” I hissed into the phone.

“You do know who your chief of security is, right?” I grunted in response.

“Fine.”

“Good. Now, what exactly do you wish to accomplish with this ‘visit’ of yours?”

“Nothing. Just informing her that we have a dinner date at 7 pm and that I have a dress for her.”

“Fine. You should text her something very dominating yet sweet. She’ll like that.”

“Like what?”

“God, must I do everything?” She rolled her eyes. “Wish her a good morning. Ask her if she slept well. Then tell her about the date and dinner.”

“How’s ‘Good morning, beautiful. Hope you slept well and dreamt of me. Just a reminder, we have a dinner date @7 pm today. I’ll send you a dress and pick you up. Don’t be late. Love, Bradley.’”

“You’ll be a natural in no time.”

“Sent. You can go now. Bye.”

“Bye bitch!” She said enthusiastically. I rolled my eyes and smiled in response.

“Jake, why don’t you go deliver the parcel? I’ll wait here, I don’t wanna spook her.”

“Alright”, he sighed. I gave him a tight-lipped smile.

I sighed as I watched him go into the building. I heard the bell ring and saw two people move in the window. I had guessed right, albeit it was an educated one. I was now enthusiastic for the date. I let out a shaky breath as I smiled to myself. I could do this. I could manage both my commitments. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the head rest. I heard Jake close the door. I opened my eyes to look at him.

“Thank man. I know this wasn’t in the job description but I’m really thankful to have you by my side.”

His eyes softened, “I’m glad you see it that way. And I��m happy to help out.” He grinned as he completed his sentence.

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

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