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senqv · 2 months

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HOUSE OF KINGS.

blue lock ! royal / fantasy au series featuring : michael kaiser x fem! reader

warning(s): 1.1k , asshole ism , more traditional feminine roles , arranged marriage , lmk if there are more !!

a/n: how r we feeling

ONE. CHILD OF PROPHECY

in the reign of the first emperors, or so said the tales, the child of god is born — in silver moonlight and touched with the whisper of divinity.

they said that in his birth, the muses came and told it to his half-nymph mother, a beloved daughter of the water gods. they landed kisses on her sweat-sheened temple and sang each unravelling prophecy with the golden strings of their lyres; chosen by god, they purred, the emperor of kings.

they did not stay for long, but they had no need to. word travels swiftly in the whirling halls of the palace.

michael, gift of god, whom the divine had gingerly formed in their image, golden and jewel-eyed. the one who will fell men like wheat beneath a scythe and have them all crouching at his heel.

a godly son means haste to find a wife to carry on the bloodline, hungry in hopes that the gods will shine their divine light again with each beautiful son to come. and thus, the one they chose is you, daughter of house adalheidis, rumoured to have had divine blood from a sea nymph mixed in aeons ago. a nymph is the least of the lesser gods, but still a god, nonetheless, and divine blood purified the muddy dust of the human race to mould saints and heroes.

the divine blood of your house has long been watered down, with no traces of any deific features that might make an appearance in fables or folklore. but still, it is enough.

nymph, in the olden languages, is the same word for bride.

so perhaps your fate had been preordained long ago.

and so, when you first meet god, you are just short of thirteen years old.

they twine your hair with ribbons and strings of pearls, silent tittering as they dusted a pearly powder over your cheeks, an incandescent glow illuminating against the bronze mirror. your head lolls to the rhythm of their chatter, following the direction your hair was gently tugged at, eyes slow and blinking, not quite shed of the silvery sleep.

when you arrive, the sun shines brightly in the transparent sky, casting a golden glow over the white plaster of the palace architecture. banners hang from the ceiling, a royal blue, fluttering in the wind; your gaze climbs upwards, following the inscriptions of ancient fables, the effigies of the gods carved into the ceiling. the sunlight dancing in the curve of their marble eyes was so fervid you tore your gaze away in fear they might come alive.

a servant you had not caught the name of led you through the halls. he looked your age, maybe slightly older; not quite grown out into his lanky frame, eyes downcast and shy.

the emperor was not present, he had told you with nervous hands, and so you were being brought directly to the son of god himself.

your steps halt at a side door in the northernmost part of the palace. from what you could see, it was not as grand as the throne room you had passed by earlier, but it was obvious how pampered this boy prince was; before you, arched pillars loomed over the doors of imported oakwood, engraved with gentle carvings of even more obscure fables of prophetical sons and warrior kings.

he is lying on his side on a wide, pillowed bench, thick furs strewn all over the velvety couch. his eyes were half closed, lashes fluttering against his cheeks each time he blinked.

at the purposeful scuffing of your sandals against the floor, he glanced up briefly, lolling his head to the side to look at you.

lazily, his hands stroked the majestic forest cat on his lap, golden fur streaked like a lion, mirroring its owner. but no — it would be wrong to compare it as such. his hair was entirely different, lit by the sun with a spring honey lustre, spun from threads of gold. if you looked closer, within it glints the golden circlet of a prince, nearly black against the brightness of his hair.

you felt your breaths slow, gaping at the cold shock of his beauty. he was not much older than you, but incomparable with the boys your age; of jewel blue eyes sharp as a beast, cheeks and mouth tinted a cherubic rose, painted by the careful muses themselves.

if you were not a child of noble birth, you're quite sure your jaw would have been hanging slack by now. instead, you pressed your lips together and tore your gaze to the floor.

you can feel his eyes on you, and hear a slight shuffle of him leaning more forward to regard you. "what is your name?" his voice is silken, tinged with the slight crackle of sleep and boredom. you keep your gaze screwed to the ground out of spite, a muscle in your jaw ticking. your family was one of the great pillars of the empire, flourishing in trade and commerce. you were his arranged bride, to be the empress of his nation. and yet he still did not know you.

now, he sits up completely, cat yowling faintly in his lap. he speaks again, louder, clear as the glacial waters of the north. "what is your name?" the first lapse of silence was excusable, perhaps you had not heard. now, the boy prince demands an answer.

and so, you level your gaze with his, staring with all the conviction and animosity of a noble girl who had never experienced such blatant disregard. you speak your name as if casting a spell, each syllable strong and resonant, muttered with intention — to engrave your name in his mind, to make sure he could not forget it even if he wanted.

"of house adalheidis," you added in finality.

he's focused on you now, silvery blue gaze as cutting as a knife. he tips his chin up, staring downwards. "my name is michael," he purrs, "kaiser." the side of his mouth quirked slightly at the intensity of your stare. from the corner of your eyes, you faintly notice the dimples appearing at the sides of his face.

you both held the other's gaze in silence. the amusement on his face was obvious, and your brows melded together in confusion for a split second.

then he blinked, mouth cracked open like a yawning cat, mirroring the feline on his lap.

kaiser's interest came as quickly as it left, as if everything was a divine comedy preened before him to garner his delight. he no longer was looking at you.

"welcome to the palace."

you were raised in court, and you knew dismissal when you heard it. you lowered your head with clenched fingers, bruising the crushed silk of your dress.

#— HOUSE OF KINGS.#slayed #bllk #bllk royal au #blue lock #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader

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xianyoon · 2 months

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TO BE LOVED ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

CH. 2 ━ ZHONGLI, THE POET

synopsis. ⤷ to be loved by genshin men who appreciate art forms – where their favourite piece of art is you. a series where you, the reader, are their muse. let them love you in the way they know best – their mastercraft. this is a reupload + additions of my work from my previous blog.

genre + warning. ⤷ poet!zhongli x gn!reader. comfort & fluff.

to be loved by zhongli, the poet — the words he spins materialises out of his infatuation for you. at first glance, the words seem so bombastic – so huge, so big, that they don’t make any sense. but they are beautiful; his words are so sweet and lovely, coming together to form endless love poems addressed to the one person he has fallen harder and harder for every single day. you.

“are you sure that’s a real word?” you laugh lightly, peering over his shoulder to glance at the newest word on his yellowed paper. eudaimonia, you read curiously.

“my dear, i would assume so,” he replies, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “i believe it means for a person to be of a flourishing, happy state. the thesaurus that tartaglia had obtained for me says so, but if you think otherwise, we can most certainly track down the author to contest that.”

“i trust the author.” you giggle.

“as do i.” zhongli presses a kiss to your forehead, and turns back to his pen.

you watch as he strings together sentences – sentences so lovely, you could never have ever imagined them to be about you. there is a flutter in your heart as you realise that he does so with such ease – words about you come easy when they are all that have consumed him.

he describes the slight smile on your face when you reread one of your favourite books, or the fact that your laugh has two sounds – one like the tinkling of wind chimes, the other a boisterous, unbridled roar. his pen greets the paper once again, and you hear the gentle scratching of the tip against the sheet. he talks about them with such beauty that you cannot help but wonder if it really is about you at all.

you, my dear, are the reason i am able to rest at home with eudaimonia – my pillar, my rock, my lifeline.

“that’s beautiful. your poems are is lovely as always.” you whisper, wrapping your arms tenderly around him from behind. he leans into the warmth of your touch, sweetly, lovingly, falling into your embrace.

“well, my dear – it would only make sense for my words to reflect the most pleasing of things to me.”

he laughs lightly as you press a kiss to his cheek.

#― latest brew.#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x gn reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #zhongli fluff #genshin drabble #genshin drabbles #zhongli drabbles #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #astronetwrk

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fili-urzudel · 4 months

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Hi I absolutely love your writing!!! Like seriously you have me smiling to myself hard I feel like an idiot lol. Anyway, can I request a romantic Kili with fake relationship + forehead touches? Bonus points if you add teasing brother Fili into the story too!

I love getting compliments like this omg! I'm so sorry that it took me so long to get this out for you and that I sort of left Fíli out (though whoever said this couldn't have a part two?).

When I put 50. under the meet cute prompt, I meant exactly that: you're strangers when one or the other of you finds yourself in need of a fake romance to escape some situation.

I also have Taylor Swift on the brain

9. Forehead touches (again yippee!)

12. Dancing (added this one)

50. Need a fake relationship immediately

Warnings: Dancing, being a little intoxicated, lying, reader describes self as a woman

Word count: 1.2k

Enchanted - Kíli Durin x Reader

It was nice to be recognized as equals by the dwarves of Erebor. This was what you reminded yourself as you leaned against a pillar in the back of the ballroom. It was nice that they were attempting to involve the people of Dale in their culture. It was nice that, after three years of instability, the two kingdoms could afford a night of leisure.

You had never really been one for parties. Talking got to be boring and stressful quickly, most of the eligible men had already picked their dancing partners, and you had made a promise to yourself to stay lucid. Unfortunately, dwarven liquor was quite strong, so you could only manage one drink for the time being.

You sighed, wondering if you had wasted too much time tailoring your dress for this event. If you had wasted too much time on practicing what few traditional dwarven group dances you could find information on.

As your eyes swept the room again, they landed on an attractive side profile. Dark hair with bangs, strong features, a dusting of stubble that you hadn't seen before but found appealing, and brown eyes—oh, no. You quickly glanced away, wondering how long you had been staring. You decided to risk raising your eyes again, in the hopes of appearing less awkward. He made eye contact once more, and smiled. It was a dazzling smile, one that you couldn't help but respond in kind to.

He was moving through the crowd before you knew it.

"I can see you're having just as much fun as I am," he said sardonically, and you chuckled.

"Never have I been so excited," you agreed with him.

"Well, there are ways to make the evening more interesting," he mused, and you wondered what he could mean. He glanced to the side, clearly recognizing someone, and he stepped closer, well within your personal space. "Are you a good actor?"

"What?" You asked in a daze. You feared your tipsiness dragging down your understanding.

"A dwarrowdam has been eagerly pursuing me for some weeks and she is beginning to refuse to believe that I have a partner."

"And do you?"

"No," he admitted, and the two of you laughed. "But you could help me uphold the lie."

You contemplated it for a moment. He was certainly more interesting than any man you had yet met. You would go so far as to say he was incredibly handsome. It was all almost enough to make you wish that his interest was more than just a ploy to escape an annoyance. But a dance partner was a dance partner.

"Dance with me," you offered, which earned you another bright smile.

"Of course, my lady," he held out his hand. You realized that neither of you had asked the others' names. Neither of you had offered.

You took his hand.

"Do you know this dance?" he asked.

"I practiced," you nodded seriously. "Just... never with someone who learned it traditionally."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he said with another easy smirk. The violins signaled that you had no more time to wonder.

The dance would have been head-spin inducing even if you were sober, especially being the tallest among the dancers. That was rare for you. Still, the intertwined elbows, quick turns, and aisles of other dancers were a thrill, and you were glad to finally be able to participate.

You gave a hearty laugh as the dance finally came to an end with a stomp and a loud cheer. "I did it!" You said proudly, to no one in particular.

Your partner smiled along with you. "You did excellently!" His expression suddenly changed. "Here she comes," he muttered, and you were barely able to steal a glance before the mass of petticoats made herself known.

"My prince!" She said with fake politeness and a painted on smile. You did your best to hide your surprise. Prince? Was that only a pet name?

He did look awfully similar to your father's description of one of the dwarves that had paraded through Laketown, now that you thought of it. "May I ask who your lovely partner may be? It's quite unusual, men dancing with dwarves, don't you think?"

"Well, then it is a good thing I am a woman," you said, chuckling in a way that you hoped matched her energy. You introduced yourself. "Thank you for calling me lovely. I am courting this handsome dwarf!"

She glanced between the two of you, looking confused and mildly angry. She hid it surprisingly well. "Is this true?" She asked your partner, and he laughed nearly naturally.

"Of course it is! I keep telling you about her, and well, here she is," he gestured to you with his free hand.

"You never mentioned her name before," she insisted.

"She's a private, quiet maiden. Something I appreciate about her," he said, pushing more warmth into his voice. He was selling it very well.

She stood, upset, observing the two of you for another moment. Just as you were about to excuse the two of you, she spoke up again.

"Why is it that neither of you have courting beads?"

Your partner's mouth gaped for a moment, and you scrambled for a believable lie. What on earth and in the heavens was a courting bead?

"Ah, well, men's traditions are different, and I am waiting to give..." you realized you still didn't know his name. "...my love a bead of his own until I can learn to forge one well enough that it is an adornment rather than a burden."

"No matter how much I assure her that any gift from her is a treasure," he said with a smile, looking up at you.

You took the opportunity to hopefully shake his suitor for good. It was the least you could do for your new friend. You dropped your forehead against him, putting on your best lovesick smile. "You're too sweet, beloved."

"Well," the impatient dam huffed. "Congratulations."

Your hair blocked your view. "Is she gone?" You murmured, realizing you could feel his breath on your lips.

"Yes, I do believe you've rescued me," he chuckled, eyelashes fluttering at your closeness.

"My pleasure," you smiled, before remembering yourself. You straightened, allowing the two of you to clear the floor before the next dance. "Why did she call you Prince?"

"Ah, right," he cast his eyes to the floor. "I am Kíli Durin, Prince of Erebor. Not that it means much, since I'm not in line for the throne."

"Huh," you said simply, sure that if this were any other circumstance, you would be all but panicking. "Well, um, I believe I've already introduced myself, Your Highness. It's a pleasure to properly make your acquaintance."

The prince's face seemed to fall. "Come now, we don't need all of that," he assured you. "I much prefer for you to call me by anything other than my title."

You laughed. "What, like 'my love'?" You referenced your earlier bluff. "I don't suppose that would do for a man I just met."

You thought you perhaps could have seen his cheeks turn pink at the name. "Well, no, but Kíli is a perfectly acceptable middle ground."

"Nice to meet you then, Kíli."

"And it is an honor to meet you."

#lotr fanfic #lotr #lotr fandom #the hobbit #lotr headcanons #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit x reader #kili x reader #kíli x reader #kili durin x reader #kíli durin x reader #kili x reader fluff

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radicallxser · 2 months

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Dance with the Divine.

The night air crashes in waves, brushing their hair out of their face. Their robes swirl around them, caught in the dance and the wind and the crowd. The waves churn below, joining the celebration.

The music swells and they're spun into the arms of yet another, laughing as they fall back into step with the stranger.

Tonight is the first of the Tide Festival, a celebration for the gods, specifically the God of Lies and the God of Truth. It consists mostly of locals, the few sailors stopping in port for a rest.

The song comes to an end, and the crowd begins to separate. Most head for the taverns, the others either hang around the stall or continue dancing to the music.

A group of young men and women about their age gather, whispering about new faces and giggling and teasing each other. A boy they're sure they've never seen before loops his arm with their's, dragging them off somewhere and laughing as if they've known him for years.

His hair is pinned neatly to his head and he is draped in red and blue fabric, a common palette for the celebration. His green eyes twinkle happily as he leads them to the center of the dance floor. He speaks, and his voice is comforting, but they can't tell what he's saying.

He spins you around and the music swells once more. The waves crash, growing higher and higher as they lick the railing around them. They almost seem to join in with the dance.

The boy continues speaking but between the waves and the music and the cacophony of voices in the crowd, he voice is drowned out.

The world is spinning and spinning and spinning.

Then,

There's an odd striking of cords and suddenly the crowd and boy are gone. The crude ribbons decorating the arches and buildings are swapped for beautiful tapestries and magnificent pillars of marble.

The musicians are gone, and yet the music begins once more. This time, it's a slower, romantic tune.

A hand snakes around their waist, settling on their hip. A low baritone hum sounds from behind them and as their new partner begins to hum and sway.

They glance to the newcomer's hand, a pang of fear striking them at the sight. Before they can react, they're spun to face their new partner.

The deity's likeness on the temple walls and different elaborate art pieces do him no justice. His face is handsome. His eyes are sharp and his lips are pulled into an amused smile. There's crescent sculpted into his skin, blood red in contrast to his his green skin.

He continues to sway, leading them in a simple waltz.

"You're a good dancer", the God of Wit muses.

They immediately feel a retort building in their throat, but they swallow it down and reply politely.

"A dancer is only as good as their partner." This seems to please him as his chest puffs a little and his smirk grows wider.

The god takes their hand, guiding them to his face. His cups then against his skin. An odd rumbling sound escapes him as he does so, staring down at them with a look no one ever has before.

"You're beautiful." It feels like a slap to be told such by the God of Lies.

The music has stopped now. The waves continue to crash, however. The water pools at the feet of two.

The boy from earlier is back, and they notice his robes match the God's. He smiles softly at them, then whisper about "Tello" and "pissed". Leonardo pulls away from them with a frown, still holding their hands.

"Goodnight", the Gods' speak to them as their vision blurs, an odd mix of 'mother' and 'my love's are the last thing they hear before waking on the beach, alone.

#deity au #deity turtles #i don't make the rules #you're welcome btw #anyway #peepaw Leo au #rottmnt au x reader #rottmnt deity au #deity Leo x reader #rottmnt Leo x reader

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nishimura-writes · 5 months

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Coriolanus x Reader

Echoes of Fate: PART 4

Paring: Coriolanus x Reader

Warning: Slow burn... REALLY SLOW BURN

Summary: In a surprising turn of events, you find yourself teamed up with Coriolanus Snow as a mentor for Lucy Gray. Although you seek change, your immediate task is to ensure her victory. As you and Snow strive for Lucy's safety, you both embark on a journey of understanding each other, for better or worse…

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

The L/N clan's residence radiated with a festive aura, bathed in a celebratory glow. Laughter and a vivid array of colours filled the air, creating a lively mosaic. The room buzzed with high-spirited energy as guests mingled in a jubilant dance of celebration. Under the gentle embrace of the bright lights, well-dressed elites added to the vibrant tapestry. Men in sharp, tailored blazers and women in flowing silks moved gracefully, their attire shimmering like jewels against the backdrop of the daylight.

These figures of elegance stood in stark contrast to your own attire – a uniform from the Academy, now dust-covered and wrinkled from the day's endeavours.

There, at the heart of the celebration, stood your family, always the flawless hosts. They raised their glasses, toasting to the Capitol's latest victories. Watching this scene of splendour, you felt a wave of disgust rise within you. It was a quiet rebellion, a silent scream against the extravagant merriment that seemed so detached from the stark realities that you know.

As you approach, the guards open the doors, revealing the elegant interior of your family's residence.

Immediately, you're greeted by the grandeur of the foyer. Overhead, chandeliers hang like clusters of stars, casting a warm, inviting glow. The pillars that support the high ceiling are majestic, each one intricately carved and holding up the sparkling lights.

Walking through the hallway, lined with portraits of ancestors, your eyes are drawn to one painting in particular. It stands out with its vivid colours and the lifelike depiction of a familiar face from your family's history.

A portrait capturing your uncle, President Ravinstill, and your mother draws your gaze, their painted eyes following your every move. Their painted eyes seem to follow you, compelling you to pause and look up.

Just then, you hear the familiar sound of footsteps approaching – heavy, decisive steps that break the hushed silence of the corridor.

“(Y/N), my dear,” comes the voice you recognize instantly.

Turning, you see your father, a lit cigar clamped between his lips. Despite your mother’s repeated pleas for him to give up his cigars, he never does.

“Father,” you greet him, a note of surprise in your voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be at mother's gathering?”

With an amused shake of his head, your father steps toward you, his gaze briefly caught by the portrait as well. He seems to dismiss your earlier question, focusing instead on a different topic.

“That Coriolanus Snow, the son of Crassus?” he asks, removing the cigar from his mouth to speak more clearly.

“I’m not entirely sure,” you reply, your curiosity piqued as you tilt your head slightly. “Do you know him?”

“Only by reputation. His father and I were business associates; our paths crossed often in those days. A pity about his death,” he muses, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “The Snow family, they’ve always been known for their intellect.”

"I could tell that much," you respond, absently scratching your nose, a gesture betraying your mild dissatisfaction.

“Do you think your partnership with him in the games will go smoothly?” he inquires, his tone making you feel somewhat belittled. “I saw him on the news with your tribute. The songbird, they called her.”

“I hope it does. He seems calculated, always strategizing,” you reply, noticing a flicker of amusement in your father’s eyes at your observation.

“Well then,” he says, casually strolling towards the bar area to your right, at the end of the hallway. “It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Abruptly, the doors swung open, and your mother burst into the room, a ray of sunshine personified, her energy instantly brightening the space. She was dressed in a flowing gown of bright purple that almost dazzled the eyes, yet the intricate designs on the fabric perfectly complemented the bold colour. The hues and patterns accentuated her features, making her stand out like a true gem of the Capitol.

Spotting the two of you, she exclaimed with infectious enthusiasm, “Oh, my dear (Y/N)!”

Without a moment's hesitation, she wrapped you in a warm, exuberant hug. As she drew close, the faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air, but it was clear she was still very much sober.

Your grin broadens into a chuckle as your mother finally releases you from the hug, though her hands linger on your shoulders.

“It was alright,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug, finding it the simplest way to sum up the experience.

In the background, the unmistakable sound of whiskey being poured echoes from the bar where your father stands.

“Just alright!” she exclaims with a playful pout. “Oh dear, I thought I taught you to be more expressive than that.”

You can't help but snicker. “You did, Mother, and I’m thankful for it. But really, it was just... alright.”

Changing the subject, she asks, “And how is that boy, Coriolanus, was it?”

From across the room, your father chimes in, “Snow’s boy.”

Internally, you roll your eyes. Back to this topic again. It seems that since you seldom speak to anyone other than Senjaus, your parents are eager for you to forge more connections within high society.

"Snow's boy, yes!" she responds, her voice bubbling with cheerfulness. "Is he kind to you?"

As you make your way to the sofa and settle down, you're within earshot of your father, who's still by the bar. "He's alright, I suppose. Not as approachable as Sejanus, though."

Meanwhile, your mother, still lively in her conversation, gracefully moves to join your father at the bar. She casually takes his glass and sips from it. He gives her a look that's part amusement, part annoyance.

"He's a bit of an enigma," you continue, capturing their attention. "One moment, he's all charm and grace, and the next, he's distant, almost cold. It's hard to figure him out." Your words tumble out in a ramble.

Sinking back into the sofa, you lounge comfortably, unconcerned about formalities. This is, after all, your home, your sanctuary.

"You've only just met him, haven't you? Give the boy a chance," Your father leans over to take a sip from the glass still firmly held by your mother, offering his advice with a tone of experience. She playfully refuses to let go, adding a touch of humour to the moment.

Laughing, she adds, “Your father's right. He was quite the reserved one when we first met. Look at us now!” Her voice is bright, filled with mirth.

You gaze up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Maybe there's a way to use Snow's position to your advantage, possibly to ease the harsh treatments of the tributes.

“I’ll give him a chance,” you murmur, more to yourself than to them.

The sound of the glass being set down breaks your reverie, though you’re not sure who did it.

“Wonderful! Maybe we should invite him over one day. It'd be delightful to meet such a reputedly charming young man,” your mother exclaims, clearly excited by the idea.

Your father snorts in amusement. “As if she'd want that. She doesn’t seem too fond of him.”

“Clearly,” you echo dryly. But then, considering your mother’s suggestion, you add, “It might not be a bad idea. It could help me understand him better. He’s as guarded as a fortress – doesn't reveal much about himself.”

“There’s the spirit! A green light from our very own general, our daughter, (Y/N),” she says, her words tinged with her smooth Capitol accent.

Rising from her seat, she concludes, “I must return to our guests now, my dears. We’ll talk more about this later.”

You give your mother a lazy wave from the sofa, sprawled out like a ragdoll in the plush cushions.

Moments later, you sense the sofa dip slightly as your father takes a seat at the other end.

"Building connections isn't all bad, you know. Just be cautious," he advises in a low, thoughtful tone. "Watch your back and choose your allies wisely. But ruffle the wrong feathers, and you could find yourself in trouble."

His words echo in your mind, urging you to ponder their weight. He might have a point. Is that the scent of change in the air, or just the lingering aroma of your father’s strong whiskey?

A gentle kiss on your forehead from your father pulls you from your thoughts. You glance up briefly as he stands and walks away, his footsteps echoing softly into the distance.

As the day fades to night, you're left with a quiet hope, a yearning for a brighter tomorrow.

PART 3 II MASTERLIST II PART 5 (SOON)

#coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth

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dollwritesarchive · 2 years

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Oh Pillar men, how do i love thee? Let me count the ways of what I'd let them do to me 👀 For real though, I'd love it if you could write something with either of them with exhibitionism. I just think they're so 🔥🔥 Thank you!

I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH! That’s why choosing was so hard. technically all of them are in it ❤️

𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝓎 ⎹ 𝓚.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ jojo’s bizarre adventure / kinktober 2022 / @dollsanime-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ kars ( but the others are definitely there ) x servant!reader ( f! ) [ 2k years ago ] — same reader from the santana piece

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ this is a dark fic. suggested dub con & sexual slavery, exhibitionism, cuckqueening if you squint, masturbation ( him ), facial, cum worship, master kink, threats against reader, brief fingering ( her ), degradation

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 2k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog and leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions.

you didn’t often feel envious when the Pillar Men used someone else. in fact, more often than not, your mountainous masters were much too insatiable, and your poor body could only take so much. you’d be grateful if you were gifted time to recuperate, to be fed and given water and bathed by your fellow captors.

and you’d grown accustomed to being the favorite. the one they not only fucked, but the one they doted on, and gave affectionate names. for the sake of the gods, two of them had even been so magnanimous as to kiss your lips ( Wamuu being the most affectionate, followed by Santana who preferred to devour your mouth ).

but there was just something about the way Kars was groaning. the way the sweat sparkled on his muscled abdomen when he thrusted forward, diving deep into the girl he held in the air. the way she cried out, red faced, eyes crossed, she had been taken to the brink of sexual madness and then kept there by a god.

and you were jealous.

as much as you loathed it, your body yearned to feel Kars special grade of decimation; you wanted to be in her place, to wrap around his celestial cock and be the cause of all of his boisterous grunting.

you’d been carrying a jug of pulque to altar room, where they all had gathered, but you linger by the doorway, biting on your lip, watching the sordid display with want in your eyes.

Kars’ eyes flicker up to your figure, and he tilts his head. “Jealous, little one?” he teased, experimenting with bouncing the girl up and down harder, until she was choking out cries for mercy. you look to your feet, knowing better than to meet Kars’ gaze lest you be whipped for your audacity, but you peeked at the display. you thought about taking her place; you wouldn’t beg for mercy, you’d moan for him— let your cunt milk him, you’d thank him for all the pain and ecstasy he bestowed upon you. you could feel Kars’ gaze on you, watching your reaction.

Esidisi let out a bellowing bowl of laughter, as he approached you, circling you, pushing you forward into the room. “You’ve been spoiled by cock, have you? Do you think you deserve it more than any other whore here?”

“N-no, master!” you insisted, gripping the jug.

“Yes, you do.” Kars snorts, pounding away. “Tell the truth or Wamuu will beat it out of you”

your heart was pounding when Wamuu stood up, and you recoil back against the giant to your back. “I—I’m envious,” you admitted, sheepish, “I—I only live to serve my masters, and I—“ you look down at your bare feet, wishing you’d not been so transparent, “I am envious when they choose anyone else…”

Santana was staring at you, hungry eyes darting up and down your naked frame, and you shift on your feet, feeling the heat of his gaze. “I would be happy to stuff you full of all the cock your little body can handle, slave. Come over here—“

“Santana.” Kars cut him off, cutting a sharp glance in his direction. “Don’t be gluttonous. I’ve allowed you enough of her, have I not?”

Santana grimaced; you were stealing shots of their countenances. he didn’t want to admit that Kars could snatch you away from his underlings just as easily as he gives you over to them. “Well…” Santana pondered the question, submitting to his superior as he leaned back in his seat, “I can smell her sweet, wet cunt from over here.” he fired back, and you squeeze your thighs together, humiliated, but Esidisi quirks a brow and reaches down to cup your sex, teasing your slit to see just how wet you were. you yelp, obediently spreading your legs for him, closing your eyes tight.

“He’s right, Kars,” Esidisi confirmed with a nod, his thick fingers worming their way into you. interior walls spasmed and clenched around the digits, but he teased by spreading you open with those fingers, testing your elasticity. “It would be a shame to waste such a tight, warm hole. If you’ll not have her, I’ll bend her over right now—“ you were already leaning forward as he pushed against your shoulder blades, whimpering in submission, when Santana jumped to his feet.

“I want her!” he roared, suddenly, the heat of his desire overpowering his respect for his superiors in this moment, and you flinch, trembling with your head down.

when you peeked up from under your browline with one eye, you saw Wamuu grasping Santana’s shoulder and hurling him backwards to slam into the stone wall. “Respect our masters, Santana.” it did more damage to the wall than to the manbeast, who snarled, but was dropping to one knee and dipping his head in tandem with his adoptive brother.

“Forgive me, masters,” he cut his eyes to Kars, peering up at him before adding begrudgingly, “Father.”

Kars seems pleased enough, exhaling as he releases the girl from his grasp and she crumbles to the floor, and is soon forgotten there. even you couldn’t bother to look to her, because Kars was stepping around her, wrapping a powerful fist around his massive cock, shiny and pointing towards his belly button. the sight made you dizzy, and you clenched around Esidisi’s fingers with a soft, hopeful whimper on your lips. “Well, well, causing quite the rift, aren’t you, little one?” he mutters to you, tilting his head to watch your expression. you keep your eyes averted downwards, staring at his nudity instead, and you whine a quiet apology.

Esidisi chortles low and wicked, pumping his fingers into you, “Little witch. She must enjoy watching her masters fight over who will use her as a cocksheath, she’s tightening up already!”

“Give her to me.”

Esidisi nods, grinning from ear to ear, and shoves you off of his fingers towards Kars. your weak knees start to buckle as the force of his push sends you tumbling helplessly on to the hard floor at Kars’ feet with a pathetic oomf. for a moment, you just stay there, your thigh aching where you’d landed, staring at his feet, they were spread in a wide stance, and you knew if you looked up, his mighty cock would be directly above you. “Mm… Master…” you whispered, uncertain if it was acceptable to raise your head or not, even though you so desperately wanted to. “Please… please allow me to serve you…”

“Lie back, slave.” he demanded instead.

you do as instructed, lying back on the floor. it’s gritty and solid, and it hurts to straighten out, but when he takes a powerful step, planting a bare foot on either side of you, you hold your breath. peering up at him, you see that his countenance is heavily obstructed from this angle, the shape and size of his manhood taking up most of your visage of him, and you blush hotter, both hands resting on your chest, one pressing over your heart as if to stop it from pounding.

“Esidisi is right, perhaps we have spoiled you,” he utters, thoughtfully looking you up and down, “your greedy, little cunt just dripping and begging to be filled with cock, isn’t she?” you nod, albeit humiliated because of just how true it is, and shift, rubbing your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure building between them. Kars smirks, pulling a furious stroke from his base to his tip, watching you writhe, and moans out, “Good. Let her weep.” another stroke, and then another, each one picking up the pace, falling into a quick, brutal rhythm, “I want you soaked and clenching around air, wishing it was a thick cock, I want to see you so pathetic and in need of a mind-numbing fucking that you cry for it.”

your eyes were glued to the display above you, but every word of his sent a deep warmth straight to your core, tying your lower belly in knots, and you squirm, haplessly whimpering, wincing to keep the tears at bay.

Kars saw this, and groans again, fucking his fist harder, his brows furrowing, jaw tightening. “That’s it. That’s it. Beg me to fuck your greedy, little pussy, whore. Let me hear that desperation in your voice.”

“Please, master!” you mewled in acquiescence, fanning your lashes against the steamy apples of your cheeks. “Please fuck my greedy pussy! I— I need it, please!” you didn’t sound like the girl you used to be; your voice broke as you howled like an animal in heat in need of breeding, and you couldn’t stay still, rocking your hips into the air in hopes of persuading him to impale you.

the others were watching, eyes all on fire with lust, and Kars squeezed the plump tip of his dick, before stroking hard and slow. “Mmhm, I know, little one, your poor body wants mine so bad. But you don’t deserve it, do you?” he crooned, and placed a foot on your chest, leaning his weight on to you. he’s heavy, but not enough to hurt too much. still, you wince and shake your head obediently, “No, you don’t. But your masters— we’re so good to you, aren’t we? We make that little cunt feel so full, even though you’re unworthy of us?”

nodding, you pant, your lungs trying to inflate under his foot, but you’re still entranced as he fucks himself. “Y—yes master! You’re so good to me!”

Kars bites down on his lip, leaning against your chest until you let out a whiny, little wheeze, and he smirks, snorting pleasure through his flared nostrils, “Tonight you’re getting only what you deserve, slave. I’m going to cum knowing you’re going mad without a cock splitting you open, and I’m going to cover you in it. Open your mouth and accept my generosity like the needy piece of fuck meat you’ve been trained to be.”

you wanted to beg him to be nice; just fuck your brains out, or at the very least, let Santana or Esidisi. your core throbbed with need, walls fluttering in protest of just how empty you felt, but you opened your mouth and allowed your tongue to laze out over your lower lip just as he started to pull his release out with slow, hard strokes and bestial grunting.

you closed your eyes when the warmth rained down on you, splattering on your face and your chest, but you were able to lap at the sticky, raw essence as it lands on your lips or on your tastebuds, eliciting a grateful moan. you wanted more, but Kars was much too strict to give in, so you’d have to make due with what little you were given.

when you cracked your lids to see the god above you, he was softening, the waterfall of his offering running dry, and then it lay, spent and soft, against his thigh. “Watch her,” he said to the others, squatting down over you. you could feel the tip still twitch as it dragged over your skin, and his grin was wide and wicked, “see her bathe in my cum and moan for the opportunity? No more spoiling her cunt unless she earns it.”

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nerdraging4point0 · 1 month

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Blood of Eden // Part Eight // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

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Jolly strode into the grand council chamber, adjusting the lapels of his suit and surveying the scene before him. Fellow mages mingled in small groups, their hushed conversations echoing off the circular walls and intricately carved marble pillars. His gaze swept down the stairs to the center of the room, where the massive, oaken table of the Head Magistrate sat, its surface polished to a gleaming shine and inlaid with intricate sigils and runes. Flanking it were the four smaller tables of the Council Elders, simple and unadorned in contrast. Off to the side, almost as an afterthought, were the utilitarian desks of the Secretary, Scribe, and Guardsman, stacked high with parchment and quills. Jolly slumped into his seat at one of the Elders' tables, crossing one leg lazily over the other and leaning back with a sigh. Another mind-numbing meeting awaited him, just like all the others this month. These interminable gatherings were the bane of his workday existence. He often found himself zoning out as the Magistrate droned on, his imagination drifting to literally anything else - magical experiments in his workshop, reading in the archives, even watching paint dry. Today would be no exception, he mused, stifling a yawn and steeling himself for the boredom ahead.

Jolly's mind wanders to Rosa as he waits for the meeting to start. He thinks back to this morning at the breakfast table, when he caught a brief glimpse of the intensity simmering behind her eyes. For just a moment, he saw the aurora glow of her irises - greens, blues and purples swirling together like a cosmic storm.

As Jolly poured himself another cup of coffee in the kitchen, he overheard Rosa telling Noah about the victims of the disease she called The Rage. But it wasn't really a disease at all- just uncontrolled magic consuming Unclaimed Mages from within.

Jolly shudders at the thought. Where would he be now if his own magic had spiraled out of control like that? He feels a swell of gratitude for his mentor, who helped him harness and master his abilities.

His family was a lineage of mages with a magic that spanned generations, each adept at wielding the immense power of water. He had a cousin who made her home right on the tumultuous waves of the Aegean Sea in Greece - open her back door and the ocean spray hits you in the face. Another cousin was an Olympic swimmer - clearly the family gifts gave him an advantage in the pool. It was no coincidence they hailed from the icy north, where snow covered the ground most of the year. His parents were in their element among the glaciers and snowdrifts. They never understood why he felt compelled to head west to the sweltering city.

The simplicity of it resonated within him. Blood. The one common thread that bound humans, mages, and hunters together as one. Its rhythmic flow coursed through every living being, connecting them in an intimate dance of life. As he stood among the pulsing thrum of bodies, feeling their sanguine energy swirl around him, he found peace. In that moment, all differences faded away, and there was only the blood - the vital, crimson river that made them all one.

As she sits down next to him, he can't help but notice her defeated sigh, though her appearance exudes anything but. Maria's dark caramel locks cascade in perfect curls down to the middle of her back, effortlessly framing her sweet mocha skin. While her heather grey suit accentuates her figure, her aura commands the room. He knows Maria to be a confident, successful woman who carries herself with poise and grace, yet in this moment she seems weary. Though she looks as put together as ever, her sigh betrays her, hinting at an exhaustion or worry she tries hard not to show. He wonders what could be weighing on her mind to make her shoulders slump ever so slightly under that perfectly fitted jacket.

Jolly's lips curl into a playful smile as he asks, "What is it this time, Maria dear?" The two have been best friends ever since his arrival from Sweden. Maria herself was born and raised in Brazil - two foreigners who found companionship in one another.

"What isn't the matter?" she exclaims, throwing her head back in defeat. "My experiments are failing left and right. And my herbal farm in the west? It got hit with an unexpected frost. Half our stock is dead and the rest are in shock." Poor Maria lets out an exaggerated sigh, hands slapping her face as her fresh red manicure slides down pulling her skin with it.

With a warm smile, Jolly noticed the sparkling diamond ring on Maria’s finger. "So how's Oliver handling his new promotion?" he asked.

Maria sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "About as well as can be expected. He's determined to support the hunters and make me proud, but I can tell his mind has been preoccupied." A frown tugged at her lips as she absentmindedly twisted the ring. "I just hope all the added responsibilities aren't weighing too heavily on him."

Jolly nodded in understanding, giving her arm a reassuring pat. "I'm sure he'll get the hang of it. Oliver's got a good head on his shoulders." He offered an encouraging grin. "And if he needs any advice, tell him to give me a call. I'd be happy to help however I can."

The magistrate's presence silenced the room as all eyes fell upon him. His receding dark hair and heavy-lidded eyes, now dulled by age, did nothing to diminish the air of authority he exuded. With shoulders squared, he strode in with the confidence of a man accustomed to commanding obedience. Though time had etched its marks on his face, the magistrate's piercing gaze and imposing stature ensured that he remained an intimidating, powerful figure that few would dare defy. Flanked by armed guards with hands ready at their weapons and fierce hunters prowling in his wake, he exuded power. The assembled mages and council members watched with bated breath as he took his place at the head of the room. His piercing gaze swept over the crowd; with but a look, he could end any man's life. When he spoke, his deep voice echoed off the stone walls, steel underlying his every word. This was not a man to be trifled with. All knew that to defy him meant certain death. His will would be done, one way or another.

The magistrate called the meeting to order, his gravelly voice booming through the crowded hall. As the magistrate continued explaining the agenda for their meeting, Jolly listened intently, waiting for the right moment to make his case with passion and conviction. Jolly had been concerned about laboratory finances being off for months now, although it was only slight loss each month he wanted to propose more access to the financial bracket in order to ensure the funding was being spent appropriately. As the head researcher at the biotech firm, Jolly took pride in running an efficient and productive lab. He had assembled a top-notch team of scientists who were making great strides in genetic research that could lead to new disease treatments. However, Jolly had noticed some peculiarities in the monthly budgets that left him scratching his head. Each month, there seemed to be a small but consistent discrepancy between the approved funding for equipment, materials, and salaries and the actual spending. The differences were not huge - usually just a few thousand dollars - but they bothered Jolly, who liked to have full transparency and understanding of his lab's finances. He began to wonder if the discrepancies were a sign of innocent accounting errors or something more concerning like misconduct or fraud.

The council chamber erupted into a tumultuous debate as the mages representing the western territories voiced their strong objections to the proposed expansion plans. The western mages were incensed, but controlled in their anger, as they argued against the council's designs to push westward, establishing new laboratories, research facilities, and magical institutions on their lands. They fretted that such development would tax their resources, both material and magical, to a breaking point. More than that, the mages worried how the humans living in the west would react. So much of the mages' livelihood and profits depended on providing services to the non-magical humans there.

The western mages implored the council to reconsider the westward expansion, lest they lose the faith and business of the humans and thereby undermine the prosperity of mage and human alike. But not even ten minutes had passed when Jolly's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pressed it between his palm and thigh, silencing it until the buzzing stopped. A minute later, it buzzed again. Maria turned to him, concern swimming in her soft brown eyes. Jolly never got calls during meetings, especially not with the High Council of Mages. He was always diligent about turning his phone off beforehand. Yet here it was, buzzing insistently in his pocket, disrupting the solemn proceedings. Jolly shifted in his seat, ignoring Maria's worried glance. The phone vibrated again, persistently. Noah knew better than to call during High Council meetings, but after the third buzz, Jolly discreetly slid his phone out from his deep pocket and tapped back a quick message: "In a meeting."

The phone hummed once more against his leg. He offered Maria an apologetic nod before slipping to the back of the room. He could feel the eyes of the other Mages following him, their curiosity mingled with annoyance at the disruption. What could be so urgent that Noah would risk the ire of the High Council? Jolly's grip tightened on his phone as he stepped into the shadowed recesses of the hall.

"Noah, what's going on?" he whispered.

Before Jolly could even finish the question, Noah blurted out: "It's Rosa. She's been sick all morning, shaking and sobbing. I think she's having trouble breathing." Jolly could hear Rosa whimpering and choking back sobs in the background. His heart sank with worry.

Jolly ended the call and quietly returned to his seat beside Maria. Crouching down, he saw her eyes widen as she took in the evident concern on his face.

"Go," she whispered. "I'll check in after the meeting."

NOAH’S POV

He glances down at Rosa's small, trembling body curled up in his lap. Her fever still rages even as she finally drifts into a fitful sleep. He gently rubs circles on her back, hoping to provide some small comfort as they huddle near the warming fire. Jolly has been on the phone with Maria all day, both of them racking their brains trying to figure out how to make Rosa feel better. They've tried everything - bland foods, rest, warm baths, piles of blankets - but nothing seems to break this persistent fever. He feels so helpless watching his young mistress suffer. His heart aches to see her so miserable and weak. If only there was something more he could do to ease her discomfort. He continues rubbing her back, wishing he could absorb her illness into himself and spare her this torment.

Late into the night, the apartment was dark and still. Noah's eyes peered through the shadows, his night vision sharp. In the next room, Jolly tapped away at his keyboard, the occasional thud against the desk revealing his frustration. They were all on edge.

Before the knock came at the door, Noah caught their scent on the air - the earthy musk of Oli mixed with his wife's exotic floral perfume. Hushed voices murmured as Nick let them in, arms laden with bags. The commotion stirred Rosa from her sleep. She groaned, turning her head in Noah's lap as the visitors carried in their chaotic noise. He stroked her hair, hoping to soothe her back to rest, even as his own nerves remained taut.

Noah gently scoops her up, cradling her in his strong arms as if she were the most delicate porcelain doll. Carrying her down the hall to the room she shares with Jolly. His face softens as he gazes down at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Oli and Nick follow closely behind, ever-watchful guardians ready to protect their cherished friend.

Oli takes up his post by the tall windows, his tall, lean frame leaning casually against the glass as he keeps a close eye on the surroundings below. Nick stations himself firmly by the door, arms crossed, prepared to ward off any disturbance.

Noah lays Rosa down tenderly on the bed, tucking the blankets snugly around her resting form. His touch is feather-light, yet secure and comforting. Oli and Nick exchange a quick glance, reassured by the care Noah takes with his vulnerable mistress.

Noah stops tucking her in, looking up at Oli with a questioning gaze. "She's different now," Oli said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Since that night. Something's changed."

Nick chimed in, sounding puzzled. "She's sick, right?" But he had never even seen Rosa before. How could he know?

Oli hesitated, sensing there was more to it. "No, it's...something else. Something more." His tone was laced with curiosity and unease.

Noah gazed upon his mistress' sleeping form, a knot of unease twisting in his gut. She was his to protect, yet he sensed a power within her that gave him pause. As she shifted in slumber, a lock of hair fell across her face. But as his fingers grazed her cheek, her eyes flashed open, swirling with the cosmic colors of the morning sky.

He whimpered, feeling her gaze pierce his soul. His body shuddered, dropping to all fours in supplication before her might. With but a glance, she commanded the room. Oli and Nick, too, succumbed, bowing as beasts before her.

Though uncertainty gripped him, Noah felt no fear. He would surrender all to keep her safe. There was power here, yes, but no evil. Only light.

JOLLY’S POV

Jolly's leg bounced impatiently as he watched Maria pore over the results for the fifth time. "Well?" he finally burst out, unable to contain himself any longer.

Maria glanced up, one eyebrow raised. "This is unbelievable," she murmured. "Nightshade serum? Created in someone's home lab? Preposterous."

She turned back to the email, reading through it again with pursed lips. Jolly groaned and leaned his head against the back of the couch.

"I just can't wrap my mind around it," Maria said after another minute. "This Rosa woman managed to synthesize a complex biochemical compound using makeshift equipment? And achieved these kind of results?"

He sits casually on the couch, legs crossed, as he considers the situation. "Seems like it," he muses. "She's been getting nightshade from some garden shop over on the east side."

Maria thinks quietly to herself. "Well, I don't own that shop. And I certainly don't sell deadly nightshade here." She shakes her head slightly.

Jolly sat up, placing both feet firmly on the ground as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His hands clasped together tightly as he looked at Maria expectantly.

"Well, will any of that mumbo jumbo you brought actually help or not?" he asked, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. He needed something real, something tangible to help Rosa get through this.

Maria just leaned back in the office chair, clicking her tongue thoughtfully. "I might be able to whip something up, but it may only provide temporary relief. She may just have to ride this thing out."

Jolly shook his head, countering firmly but not unkindly, "She needs strength, real medicine, if she's going to recover and get back on her feet. Something to help her keep food and water down, not just take the edge off."

Maria nodded contemplatively, eyes glazing over as she turned ideas over in her head. "Let me see what I can do. Oh, and when she's better, I'd love to be able to pick her brain a bit." At Jolly's confused look, she continued, "My experiments keep failing, but with a brilliant mind like hers, maybe I can finally achieve what I'm looking for."

Jolly sighed, but had to admit her skills could help. "We'll see when she's back on her feet. For now, let's just focus on getting her well."

Maria spins out of the chair, gliding across the room before she rummages through her bags with eager hands, searching for the ingredients she needs. Maria finds them and gets to work, pouring and mixing with practiced motions. Several syringes are filled with a murky green concoction. She tidies her workspace, then picks up one of the syringes. gives it a flick, making sure there are no bubbles, before securing the needle. Her eyes gleam as she admires the fruits of her labor.

Jolly scrambles to his feet as she catwalks out of the room, her words trailing behind her. "Let's see if it works." He hurries after her, struggling to keep up with her long strides. They make their way down the hall to his room. As he opens the door, they both freeze, startled by the sight before them.

Between the soft cotton sheets and warm down blankets, Rosa rests peacefully, her head propped up on the plush pillows. Next to her, Noah, rests his furry head on her belly, his legs twitching occasionally as he sleeps curled up close to Rosa, ever watchful and protective. At her feet, paws crossed over her legs, lies Nick, snoring softly in tranquil slumber. And there, curled perfectly at Rosa's thighs, eyes open and alert, is Oli, the vigilant comander.

Jolly leans against the door frame, crossing his arms as he watches the faithful guardians wake and look at Maria with curious yet cautious eyes. They have locked onto the syringe in her hand. Noah turns to Jolly, who offers a reassuring nod as Maria approaches slowly. The protective canine companions follow her every move, never leaving their posts at Rosa's side. Jolly looks on calmly from the doorway as Maria grasps Rosa's arm, finding the right spot and delivering the medicine from the syringe. When the syringe is empty, Maria walks away, and the devoted guardians snuggle into Rosa even tighter, continuing their vigil watch.

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talesoftheunimagined · 1 day

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[Mistaken Identity] Chapter 1

Rating: General Fandom: Good Omens (Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett) Relationships: Aziraphale x Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley Tags: Angst, Fluff, Heartbreak, Love, Georgian Era Summary: The year is 1797. King George has just gotten over a bout of illness and a member of the English royal family had just gotten married to a Duchess of Holland, so why not throw a masquerade ball to celebrate the occasion and invite all the noblemen and women of The United Kingdom and surrounding areas?

Crowley and Aziraphale meet at the ball. Crowley, though, mistakes some identities. Chapter 2 is now up! [here]

😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈

ENGLAND 1797 Candlelight flickered over segments of intricate and boundless tiling, almost making it twinkle beneath the frilled edges of gowns and waltzing heeled shoes, lavishly gilded marble pillars adorned with various flowers joined the flooring to gilded balconies and up again to a florally carved and a gloriously painted plaster ceiling that supported the vast weight of what could well have been solid gold chandeliers that gleamed dully next to the candles that burnt in their arms amongst an abundance of crystal and diamond. Portraits of members of the English aristocracy adorned the walls and appeared with colorful landscapes and shining bright frames of bowls of fruits; apples, grapes, and bananas. A light summer breeze blew in through open windows which divulged any passers-by of the grandeur that the ballroom's event held.

Indeed. That night, at its very core, would be defined by the words grandeur and affluent.

George William Frederick, otherwise known as Mad King George in this modern day and had thrown a masquerade ball after marriage in the family and recovery a long bout of illness (although, his absence at the ball had arisen suspicions of deceit).

"I just absolutely knew that I'd see you here." "Oh, 'course. Wouldn't miss something like this." He looked at is companion briefly.

Two men stood by a pillar. One clad in deep wine knickerbockers, white high socks and a matching wine tailcoat with shiny new obsidian buttons the colour of crows down; had his hair in neat copper rolls fastened just above his ears and a low ponytail fastened with a black ribbon hung over the back of his collar. Over his face, he wore a finely crafted mask of mahogany red. Gold rimmed the dramatically flicked eye holes that were shaded with black glass so that his eyes weren't visible. Two golden snakes seemed to search curiously for his eyes at the sides of the mask that was tied neatly with a black lace bow. The other was dressed quite similarly, except his knickerbockers were a nice magnolia that matched his hair and he wore a waistcoat of sky blue. He wore his hair naturally short and took pride in the sheen of his polished and buckled shoes in the candlelight. His mask was made of white porcelain rimmed with thick silver swirls and ornate curves. Blue gems nestled themselves amongst the curls and caught the light in a way that looked almost like a halo at the top of his mask. It wasn't quite clear how he kept such a mask from falling off of his face without a fastening, but he was doing it.

Aziraphale took a small sip from his glass (he was drinking honey spirits) and smiled at his surroundings and the people. Maybe even at nothing in particular. He was just happy to be in the presence of fine people, fine food and Crowley. His eyes creased at the sides and his cheeks glowed. It had been the first time since Paris 1793 that the pair had seen each other. "It's really rather lovely, isn't it? All these people here, together. Having a wonderful time." The music swelled "Yesss, well," Crowley mused. "with all that going on out in France, they all need it." The corners of his mouth turned down, but he wasn't frowning, or upset. It was just a Crowley thing.

The pair of them spotted a young woman bashfully approaching Crowley from across the other side of the room amidst the flurry of dress fabric and petticoats. She was wearing a swan mask, made of the same porcelain is Aziraphale's. She had a pretty face, her deep blue eyes peered out of her mask with shy curiosity and her dark hair was the nest for a large swan feather. "Excuse me for being so bold, Count Crowley, but if you aren't occupied at the moment, I was wondering if you would like to dance?" Crowley turned to Aziraphale ever so slightly. "With...me." She clarified although both men (well, men shaped ethereal and occult beings) knew what she meant. Crowley accepted the invitation. It wouldn't do any harm to do some tempting tonight. "I suppose I'll see you later then, eh?" He shot a small smirk at Aziraphale before disappearing into the sea of expensive fabrics leaving Aziraphale alone with his drink.

The angel watched with content at the couples that swirled and waltzed and box stepped. It wasn't long before he himself was asked to dance by a young woman. He smiled, asked a butler to kindly hold his drink, adjusted his waistcoat and set off to dance under the twinkling candles.

The night was still young.

#aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #good omens #crowley #aziracrow #fluff #angst #masked ball #aziraphale/crowley #chapter 1

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pattywinchester · 7 months

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Suptober 2023, Day 12 - Swap Meat

The impact of the spell is so powerful that it hits both men like a shockwave, sending them careening along the Bunker floor, only coming to rest in a tangle against one of the marble pillars of the library.

“Oooo, sorry boys, I dinna remember that spell packing such a wallop,” Rowena says with a smile that challenges the sincerity of her apology.

“Rowena!” Sam hollers as he rushes to check on Dean and Cas. “What the hell did you do?”

“Helping, Samuel,” is all she says before traipsing out of the library, up the stairs, and out of the Bunker.

As the two stunned men regain their wits, Sam helps them both up from the floor.

“Dean, are you ok?” Sam asks.

“What? How could I know?” Castiel responds with a confused look on his face.

“What are you talking about? Did you hit your head?” Sam muses as he grabs Castiel’s head in his hands to examine for injury.

“Sam, why are you calling me Dean?” Castiel says, when he turns to look at the other man next to him... and what he sees is his own face staring back at him in wide-eyed wonder.

Castiel murmurs, “Dean?”

Dean stares at his own face staring back at him, mouth now agape. The hunter looks down at himself and notes the trench coat and blue dress pants. His eyes go wider still, and he whispers, “Cas, is that you? Are you inside my body?” Immediately regretting his word choice, Dean turns beet red, focuses his attention on Sam and asks, “What the fuck is going on? What happened? The last thing I remember, me and Cas were arguing about some stupid shit and Rowena was here, and... Holy fuck, did that witch of yours do something to us?”

Read the rest on ao3

#destiel #supernatural #cas x dean #castiel supernatural #dean winchester #destiel fic #cw supernatural #suptober23 #winchester-reload

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cobwebcorner · 8 months

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Excerpt: False Luck

Some of you were really excited over the prospect of a fic where Wesker shows up in person in RE 4 remake, so here's an excerpt for you.

I have no idea when/if I will get around to finishing the whole thing (I have too many WIPs ;_;) I just thought I'd share this bit because I'm proud of it.

Characters: Leon Kennedy, Albert Wesker, Ashley Graham. Brief cameo by a Verdugo.

This mission really just kept throwing curveball after curveball at him, Leon mused as he paced the confines of the cage. He was kicking himself for not noticing anything off about the floor or the pillars here. Now Ashley was on her own, pursued by a horde of monsters, and there was nothing he could do to help. At least he could comfort himself that he’d heard her voice a short while ago from the upper floor, and she still sounded alright.

From above, he heard the rattling and clanking of a gate lowering. All the tension in his chest eased when Ashley’s blond head peaked over the railing.

“Leon! Hold on, I’ll get you out.”

He nodded to her.

Unfortunately, there was a dead body lying on top of the release lever. That was Leon’s bad. He just hadn’t reacted well to getting shot at. Ashley struggled to lift the man’s dead weight for a little bit, until something fell to the floor with a high clink. Ashley bent down to grab it.

“Leon, here!” she called, and tossed something at him.

Because the god of luck actively laughed in Leon’s face, the little metal object bounced off the tips of Leon’s fingers and went skittering across the floor, between the bars, and out of reach.

It was a key.

“Oh no! I’m sorry!”

“It’s ok, Ashley,” Leon said.

"I-I'll try to get the lever," Ashley said, once again laying her hands on the heavy corpse that was draped over said lever.

"Wait. See that ladder over there?" Leon pointed to the end of the upper walkway. "You can get down that way."

Ashley nodded to him.

Behind her, a hulking figure with glowing eyes stepped out from the darkness.

"Ashley!" Leon cried in alarm.

One of Salazar's giant robed monstrosities seized Ashley around the waist with an enormous clawed hand, picking her up as if she were a doll. She screamed and kicked to no avail. Leon drew his pistol, but he dared not fire. He couldn't get a clear shot with Ashley in the way.

There was nothing he could do to stop her getting dragged away.

And he was still in the goddamn cage.

With renewed desperation, he shoved his arm through the bars and grasped after the key. It was useless to try. The key was several feet away, even when he shoved his arm through all the way up to his shoulder. He pulled back, drew his knife, and tried to catch it that way. Still not enough reach. Shit.

He turned around, looking over the cage for the 30th time for some way to escape. Nothing new caught his eye. The statue was still too short for him to reach the top by climbing on it, the bars were too narrow to squeeze through, and there was nothing he could shoot down that would help.

If he got lucky, maybe a stupid cultist would open the door to come kill him?

Footsteps echoed on the tile behind him, followed by a clink of metal. He turned.

The well-dressed stranger was leaning against the cage, idly examining the key in his hand.

“Well. Hello again.”

“I need that!”

Leon lunged for the key. The stranger pulled it just out of reach, smirking down at him. He was taller than Leon by a few infuriating inches.

“The first one was free,” the stranger purred. “If you want another favor, you will have to pay for it.”

Leon bared his teeth, fingers clenching impotently around the bars.

“What do you want?” he bit out.

“Just a little favor in return. An agent of your caliber should be able to handle it with ease.”

Never give a man a blank check, as his dad used to say. Especially not handsome, mysterious men who were acting like an ass to him. Yet, he had no choice. Neither he nor Ashley had time to waste.

“Fine. Yes. I’ll do whatever you want--within reason.”

“That’s more like it.”

The stranger paced over to the cage door and unlocked it. Leon burst through it before the man even stepped out of the way, just in case the stranger had any second thoughts.

“What’s the favor?” he asked, uncomfortably aware of their proximity but too stubborn to back up.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now a few of the monsters around here are a cut above the rest. I want to know more about them. They must have been engineered somewhere. Find me the information about their creation. Any sort of study or laboratory would be worth searching.”

“And what are you going to do with that information?”

“Ah-ah.” The stranger waggled a finger in his face like he was a misbehaving school boy. “You already agreed to my terms. There’s no backing out now. Be a good boy, or you’re going back in the kennel.”

Internally, Leon seethed. He did not consent to this pet play bullshit.

The radio clipped to his belt buzzed.

“Leon. Still being stubborn?” At the sound of Ada’s voice, the stranger’s head tilted. “If you are, I’ve got a tip for you. They’re taking the girl up to the clock tower. Better get a move on. Babysitting’s tough, huh?”

Leon’s fists clenched. He didn’t have time.

“Fine. But I have to get Ashley back first.”

The stranger shrugged.

“Do as you will. In that case, I’ll explore the castle in the other direction.”

“Can I get a name? Or do I have to pay for that too?”

The stranger hummed, like he was thinking about it.

“I don’t think you realize how steep the price would be. No, it will avoid complications if we skip the introductions.”

The stranger didn’t want Leon to run a background check on him, then. That only made him more uneasy about this arrangement. He could describe the man later in his report, but ‘blond, muscular Caucasian with douchey sunglasses’ would fit hundreds of thousands if not millions of people.

“Fine. When I radio, I’ll give you the call sign ‘hey, asshole,’ then,” he said.

Before he could blink, his collar had been seized and he was dragged in nose to nose with the man.

“Have a little respect. I have saved your ass twice now when it profited me very little to do so.”

“You’re a real hot and cold kind of guy, aren’t you?” Leon said.

“And you’re like a little crow who can’t resist pulling on wolf tails,” the stranger replied. He released Leon’s collar, letting the agent stagger back from him.

Leon banged his shoulder on the cage door and caught his hand on it. He braced himself with it, all too aware of the fact the stranger was still blocking his path, and could all too easily shove him back in that cage.

“If you must have something to call me...” the thin lips twitched at one corner. “Let’s just say that I’m a ghost.”

“Ghost?” Leon repeated.

The man adjusted his sunglasses, shot him a smirk, and then vanished. The air rippled in his wake like smoke.

What the actual fuck.

Leon swallowed hard, looking around the grand hall for some sign of the man. There was none.

But that was nonsense. Ada wouldn’t be working for a supernatural entity. He must have just...dropped down a trap door? Turned invisible? Leon waved his arm experimentally through the air in front of him, testing that it was empty. His hand hit nothing.

Right. Later problems.

#my fic #resident evil #leon kennedy #albert wesker

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fabunicorn · 1 year

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Pillarmen agere part 3

Finally realised how to use the font size shit lol anyways let’s Get on with it

Warnings

Kidnapping

Forced agere

Agere

Mention of drugs

Yanderism

Diapers

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

A few hours later…

At the moment you were laid in the middle of a plush rug with your self proclaimed daddy, papa and brother trying to play with you, waving rattles and teethers in your face cooing at any sound or movement you make.

“Come on little one play with your daddy, we got all of these toys for you” Kars interrupted your thoughts tucking a little teddy bear under your arm, you refused to play with them choosing to use stare blankly at the ceiling ignoring the three mens presence, Kars picked you up settling you onto his lap “I know these toys aren’t very interesting for your current mental age but you must understand that those humans did not raise you right you are only a newborn, your not big enough for any other toys.” Kars mused taking note of your unamused face and blank stare. You huffed in annoyance at the constant presence of the three men they had yet to leave you alone since you woke up “maybe the little cub needs a change and that’s why she’s so grumpy” said Eisidisi rising up from his position on the floor to walk towards you and kars.

“Possibly” Kars hummed in agreeance, sticking his fingers into the leg cuff of you or cloth nappy swiping for any wetness only to unsurprisingly finding you still dry, he then moved to your bladder feeling it seeing that it is indeed bloated. “Whamu, fetch the tonic and a bottle of milk, her bladder is swollen I believe that is the reason for her discomfort” Kars ordered, Whamu obeyed without hesitation making your eyes widen in what was to come ‘no they wouldn’t dare that’s disgusting’ your thoughts raced in your mind a feeling of anxiety settling in your stomach causing you to shift and whine pitifully in Kars arms.

Kars just hushed you bouncing you slightly on his knee in an attempt to comfort you to no avail, the sound of Whaus returning footsteps only made you whine and wriggle more trying to get away from the three men, Kars grip tightened on you grabbing the bottle from Whamu and settling you in his arm cradling your neck and putting the bottle into your mouth. Kars glared at you as you once again refused to drink “little one do not test my patience as I said before if we find you too young for a bottle one of us will have to breastfeed you and I’m sure that’s the last thing you want” Kars threat in mind you began drinking maybe you just shouldn’t resist it anymore, ‘breastfeed me they’re men, men can’t produce milk… can they’ You suckled on the bottle looking Kars in the eye seeing pure love and care in his eyes which you though was impossible for a being like Kars voice you were finished Kars burped you and laid you across his lap so that he had full access to your stomach.

The pillar man started rubbing your stomach slowly trying to ease the lump on your stomach as you become ever so aware of the growing pressure in your bladder, you tried to whine in protest and turn away from Kars only for Eisidisi to hold you in place “poor cub can’t even relieve herself must be all that bad human food and drink in her system, certainly not suitable for a baby.” The pressure began to build and you could not handle it anymore wetting the diaper as you sobbed pathetically, Kars gestured for the other men to leave the room as he carried you to the changing table in order to give you some sort of modesty and to increase your trust in him.

He put your pacifier in your mouth to soothe you as he unpinned the cloth around your hips and got the cleaning supplies he needed and changed you into a new cloth kissing your forehead as he picked you back up off of the changing table. he sat down in a chair in the order of th room and cuddled you rocking back and forth whispering sweet nothings like “daddys so proud of you baby” and “hush now sweet girl daddy’s here”. When you finally stopped crying Kars put you back down onto the plush rug and gave you a small bear which was a light brown colour with a little pink bow wrapped around its neck, you snuggled the bear closer feeling great comfort from the somewhat childish item, Kars held back a light coo at how adorable you were.

Kars started humming a soft lullaby you didn’t recognise the lullaby it must have been one of his people, the combination of having an emotional hangover, a full belly and the light humming and rocking motions of Kars lulled you to sleep. Kars cuddles you for a few minutes longer cooing whenever a soft snore left your small mouth he gently placed the pacifier in your mouth and watched as you began sucking on it making little content sighs between snores. Kars finally stood up carrying you over to your bassinet hushing you when you began to stir placing you in the bassinet he grabbed a chair and placed it next to your bassinet rocking you and watching you sleep with a soft smile on his face, unbeknownst to Kars two heads were packing through the door of your nursery watching the scene between you and Kars.

Whamu watched with a jealous expression Kars was never that gentle with him when he was young, damn he wasn’t even allowed to call him father without being punished and berated for being so weak as to have familial attachment and to see him so smitten with you unleashed a hidden jealousy that Whamu was sure he wasn’t capable of feeling, however he couldn’t bring himself to blame you after all you were only a baby that had been mistreated by humans he felt sorry for you, but just to spite Kars Whamu made a mental plan of being your favourite just so that he could rub it in his masters face.

Surely it will work it has to… right?

End of part 3

Yup so that’s the end of part 3 hope you enjoyed let me know what else you would like to see and if you would like to see more of this, I may move it too Wattpad as well my username is the same on there and have a great day or night ily

#daddy kars #yandere #yandere kars #yandere esidisi #yandere whamu #forced agere #yandere agere #yandere diapers.#daddy eisidisi #brother whamu

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capriccio-ffxiv · 22 days

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oak : who would your muse consider the strongest person they know ?

Ryuu: Probably her uncle Valdeaulain. Val has been through so, so much awful bullshit—losing his wife and daughter to Black Rose (Ryuu's aunt and cousin), losing then his in-laws in the Calamity (ryuu's parents, who he was actually fairly close to), then... everything else. But he kept on living, despite everything. She also felt she would have killed Gaius anyway, and considers Val to be incredibly strong for seeing the bigger picture and letting the man live.

Illyria: WoL!Illyria doesn't know anymore. What's strength? What's the point? What's anything? Serve save slay. One foot in front of the other. It doesn't mean anything.

Not!WoL Illyria... proooobably Edmont de Fortemps, especially because he's a big reason that she's not nearly as messed up as WoL Illy.

Hyperion: Venat. Straight up. There's no question. His elder sister went through more, endured more, suffered more than anyone else he knew and yet still chose to see the brightness in things... and that was before she took on the mantle of Hydaelyn. He could only hope to try to make her proud.

Dionysos: Strength is an illusion conjured by men in power to convince others that they are weak. The truly strong are those we consider the weakest. This worm, here, is the strongest, for it churns the soil, the aether of the earth, such that we may draw sustenance from it. Kill the worms, those things we call "vilekin," and watch as the aether stagnates. Who is strong, then? The one who kills himself by killing the weak, or the weak who hold up the pillars of the world?

#oc: ryuu tenshi #oc: illyria capriccio #oc: hyperion #oc: dionysos

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imagineitdearies-old · 1 year

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Would you consider writing a modern au after d&s? Maybe with switch Lucemond 👀 lol or do you have other things lined up

'Things lined up' is waaaay too organized for me, anon 😂

Do I have a doc just filled with HOTD plot bunnies, though?? Yes, yes I do. Weirdly the only modern au on there right now is a rhaenicent religious trauma/'summer before college' slowburn, but I'm happy to get inspired at any point toward a modern lucemond story, just haven't yet. (prompts welcome!)

Switch lucemond though?? Anything that's not a one-shot would involve switching at some point, ngl. And though I've loved being stuck in Aemond's unreliable narrator head for D&S, I think I'd want to switch POVs in most of them too, lol. So yeah, here's a couple of my current long-form lucemond plot bunnies:

Luke gets poisoned: a bit of a whump!Luke fic at the start. Rhaenyra stays in KL and is Regent. When Corlys recovers from the wounds they thought might kill him, she holds a feast to celebrate. At the feast, Luke gets weirdly sick really fast, thinks it was the seafood he ate, and tries to go to his chambers but collapses in some small corner of the castle in pain. Enter Aemond, who followed thinking Luke was crazy drunk and that this is a perfect opportunity to remove his eye--right up until he realizes Luke is coughing up blood. Suddenly he is Not CoolTM with someone else hurting his nephew (he's the only one allowed), and gets him to a maester fast. He stays at Luke's bedside the whole time he's nearly dying, no one can make him leave, does a lot of the caring/nursing him back to health stuff. And then, after the two talk it out of course, they embark on a vengeful murder-spree together killing everyone who was involved in poisoning Luke. It gets a bit kinky.

Storm’s End Time Loop: When Lucerys dies, he’s brought back with a clang of a knife falling between him and Aemond, back to that moment he demanded his eye. Thinking the gods gave him a do-over, this time Luke does not wait for his uncle’s words, just runs. He and Arrax hide amidst the rock pillars until the storm passes, safely making it home…but the moment he falls asleep, Lucerys returns to that moment at Storm’s End.

He tries different things as time continues to loop—once convincing Lord Borros to let him stay the night, another throwing the knife at Aemond’s face, even attempting to put his sword through him from the start—but the moment he dies or falls asleep, it starts again. Lucerys begins to wonder if the gods have a sick sense of humor and won’t let him rest until he fulfills Aemond’s request.

So the next time, he does put out his eye...and it still reloops. But this time Aemond remembers too. (Cue the two of them doing the day over again and again till they get it right, aka fall in love lol.)

Diplomatic mission to Essos: Rhaenyra is queen but Corlys did die of his injuries, so Luke became Lord of the Tides quite young. Years later the queen asks him to go on his first diplomatic mission to Essos. Since he has little experience, however, she sends Aemond to accompany him, as her brother has had great diplomatic success in Dorne for the last few years. Cue the two of them begrudgingly trying to get along in the tight quarters of a ship and work together on their approach with the trade deal (a lot of Aemond impatiently coaching Luke, lol). But they're both mature men--mostly--now, and actually find a lot in common, becoming friends. Eventually they share quarters because Aemond's keeps flooding, UST builds...until Aemond comes onto him one night, justifying that it's a common thing for sailors to do when they go a long time between ports. (Cue family-with-benefits situationship angst)

What will I work on next?? Maybe none of these, who knows 😂 the muse is a fickle thing. After I finish D&S I'll probably want a break with some one-shots, we'll see. Thanks for the ask!

#lucemond #plot bunnies #shit I wrote #ask me shit #fanfic prompt

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