#eventually i fell from grace by becoming a little more like my friend than my prestige obsessed culture is comfortable with

[firefly-fez]

hank and john i love u, ur doing amazing sweetie but do u have any idea how hard it is to sound professional and respectable when im emailing charities about the p4a. i am trying so hard to make this sound like a lucrative promitional opportunity and then i have to say ‘worldsuck’ with a straight face. like its a great term and it captures the impossible persistent reality of suffering and injustice like no other but. buddy. it dont exactly have a professional flair. i am trying to establish myself as a humanitarian advocate and honestly nerdfighteria is, like, a genuinely good foundation for that kind of advocacy and volunteerism but it’s a little like i am trying to build on an admittedly very sturdy steel frame that also happens to have a million little smiley face stickers all over it. like. this isn’t technically impeding me but i am concerned im going to raise some eyebrows.

[jgracie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ FADE INTO YOU

↳ the chronicles of jj & smartiepants!

(american)footballer!jason grace x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

on the radio . . . fade into you (mazzy star)

an heavily inspired by the scene in miraculous ladybug w the umbrella... u know the one! also for a bit of context this is jj & smartiepants’ first time talking and she’s new to the school

of course it had to rain on the one day you didn’t bring an umbrella to school with you

for the past week, you’d brought one, thinking it was going to rain. every day was dark and gloomy so you were certain it’d have to rain eventually. however, it never did

today, on friday, you decided not to bring your umbrella to school. it wasn’t as cloudy in the morning, and besides, why would it rain now when it hadn’t on all those other days? as the school day progressed, the clouds built up in the sky and by the time your last class ended, it was pouring

you sighed as you made your way to your locker, hoping that maybe you’d kept a hoodie or something that would shield you from the rain. unfortunately, all you found were papers. there was no one to pick you up from school either, so you were just going to have to walk home and pray you don’t end up with a cold

now, you stood under the shelter of your school building. one step is all it would take for you to be drenched. considering checking your bag one last time in case maybe, just maybe, you had brought your umbrella to school, you watched as people ran to their cars or walked under the shade of their own umbrellas. it seems everyone had predicted this but you

just as you were about to begin your uncomfortable walk home, you heard a voice behind you say, “i knew it would rain today.” turning around, you found yourself facing none other than jason grace - or as you’d heard many others call him, jj. you had a couple classes with him, but this was your first time actually talking to the guy.

he’d intimidated you a little, but your newfound friend reyna explained that he was actually really sweet and ever since that day you’d become intrigued. you started paying more attention to him and noticed how he’d always treat the freshmen with kindness (despite how annoying they could be at times) and how no matter how frustrating his teammates were, not once did he lash out. you wouldn’t say you had a crush, but he definitely interested you

giving him a small smile, you replied, “yeah? well, i didn’t. i thought it’d rain every day of this week and the one time it does i don’t bring my umbrella.” he was standing next to you now, and his brows furrowed at your words

“my sister’s the same, she’s never been able to predict the weather either,” he said. you didn’t know he had a sister - he struck you for an only child. since you hadn’t heard of a second grace at your school, you assumed she didn’t go. still, you chose not to pry. from the soft tone of his voice you could tell this was a sensitive topic

a silence draped itself over you. everyone had gone home now, so the only noise heard was the pitter-patter of the rain as it fell to the ground (and maybe your heart as you fell for him?)

after about a minute, jason cleared his throat, “well, do you have a ride home? i assumed you were waiting for someone but…” you shook your head no, telling him you were going to just walk in the midst of the rain and hope for the best

“where do you live? i’ll walk you. we can share my umbrella - don’t even think about saying no, i insist. can’t let you catch a cold.”

that was that. you told him where you lived (he apparently lived nearby so there wasn’t much issue with dropping you off) and as you walked, you made small talk, discovering more about each other. jason told you about how he’d gotten the scar on his lip and you told him about your life in new york and your old school before moving to california

jason looked up at the sky - you noticed he did that a lot - and smiled, saying, “i really like the rain. it’s stupid, but my mom would say that rainy or stormy weather was a sign my father was keeping an eye on me. looking back on it, i think she just said that cause she was sick of having to wake up in the middle of the night and spend an hour putting me back to bed, but it’s still comforting.”

he had a solemn look on his face as he said this, and you put all the power you could muster into your voice as you replied, “it’s not stupid, jason.” maybe it was the light playing tricks, but you could’ve sworn you saw him blush when you used his name

after thanking jason profusely and promising you’ll pay him back someday, you ran into your home and to the solace of your bed. meanwhile, jason turned, heading the opposite way

the walk home would take double the time now, but he didn’t care

[atruththatyoudeny]

Happy 28th! Here are all the amazing fics I read this month:

Have Love, Will Travel | kingsofeverything | [97k] Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series. It soon becomes obvious to their viewers that there’s something more than friendship between them. Eventually, they figure it out.

everything of mine is yours | blueskiesrry | [33k] "Did you two have a good time?” Harry in his bathroom, brushing his teeth with frizzy hair and tired eyes. Harry on the couch cuddled up with Posy, cradling her in the crook of his elbow, humming a soft song. Harry laughing with his friends in a pub on a Friday night, a flower field in his eyes. Harry in his bed tucked under the covers, naked against fresh sheets like a shock of moonlight cutting through a storm. “Yeah,” he says. “We did.” or: With Harry in New York finishing up his PhD and Louis in London working as a solicitor, they try to navigate their eight year situationship including almost-daily phone calls, the occasional indulgence of casual phone sex, and endless gossip sessions as the feelings they have for each other get harder to ignore.

Sweeter Than I Ever Knew | mandylynn4 | [32k] Harry has spent his heats alone since he's presented, but his roommate, Niall, is convinced that he needs to try out The Agency - an app that lets alphas and omegas partner for heats. Unsure, he signs up and goes through 5 heats with different alphas. Some are good experiences, others are awful. But, in the end, he finds that his heats with the right alpha can be sweeter than he ever knew. TRIGGER WARNING FOR CHAPTER 2 - READ TAGS!!!

Cuddlebug | sun_flowr | [19k] When the call from the adoption agency finally calls, Harry and Louis are surprised to discover that they have been tentatively paired with a young pup named Rami, who suffers from a multitude of issues stemming from the abandonment he’s suffered. But no matter the challenges, they know they will do everything they can to care for and love this pup as if he was their own.

My Lungs Don't Breathe (don't want any kind of life without you, dear) | red_panda28 | [5.6k] Suddenly a cough bubbled up in his lungs and he froze. Laying in his palm was a single flower petal, pastel pink, and velvet soft. The first thought that struck him was well, guess I am in love with Louis. Then another realisation hit. It also meant that Louis didn’t love him back. OR Harry falls victim to the Hanahaki Disease after meeting Louis, Louis has his own secret, and Zayn is a good friend

Yesterday’s gone (it’ll be better than before) | red_panda28 | [3.5k] Leo’s frown. His attempt to call after Louis. Ed saying he was surprised to see Louis here. All those little moments fell into place the moment he spotted Harry Styles. Harry Styles, his former bandmate. Harry Styles, who he hadn’t seen face to face in over three years. Harry Styles, who was technically still Harry Tomlinson-Styles. OR Louis and Harry run into each other at the Euros, there's a mix up at the hotel and they have a past

It's written all over your... (or: the Red Carpet fic) | BlueNeptuune | [11k] The star-studded cast of Steal My Girl graced the red carpet on Saturday night ahead of the premiere screening, sparking an internet sensation like no other. The film itself received an average of 4-and-a-half stars from early reviews, launching it into the spotlight as a contender for the up-and-coming awards season, but the real news came from the carpet itself. Oscar-winner Louis Tomlinson (Kill My Mind, Back For You) made his first public appearance following the badly-hidden split from his management in early 2020, and he wasn’t exactly keen to talk about it. It was also the first time since his earliest work (Still The One is featured on our summer-vibes throwback list) that he’s attended the carpet by himself – rumours swirled that he’d split with his long-time girlfriend, but are the two things related? Tomlinson himself wasn’t spilling any tea, but it looks like one journalist in particular might have coaxed a little more out of him than anyone else...

Sweet Mondays | sweetkalachuchi | [3.5k] Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson have ended their marriage; neither of them knew the other would be at the Euros. Niall was there too. And there was only one bed.

Get Him Back | softfonds | [17k] After finding out his husband was unfaithful, Harry does one thing that makes him feel good again. But it's up in the air if that one thing will stay.

Wild at Heart | She_bear | [50k] Louis is a lost soul, sailing around a remote archipelago in the Philippines when he makes a surprising discovery. A castaway fic ___________ "Like the island itself, he was a quite bewildering and ever changing landscape of beauty. Nothing was the same now Louis was here. The placid solitude to which Harry had grown accustomed had been replaced by fun and exquisite physical pleasure. By conversation, affection and connection. And with that all his peace was lost."

Sugar, Sugar | parmahamlarrie | [25k] Meeting your soulmate was the most joyous event of one’s life… or at least, it’s supposed to be. Harry, in all of his 25 year old wisdom, was suspicious of the role fate plays in everyone's lives. He'd rather focus his time dating older men he meets off of a sugar baby website. Louis isn’t waiting with bated breath for his soulmate either. He has more important things to worry about than love. Mainly, his career as a writer, publishing under a pseudonym. He spends most of the year buried under research and manuscripts, taking as much time as he would like, much to his publishers' chagrin. After receiving many millions after the death of his Aunt Ethel when he was young, he technically never has to work again. As far as soulmates go, he figures if it happens, he will be so old that he’ll be stuck in his ways. Or he’ll have grey eyes forever, he doesn’t fucking care. He can get his needs met through a sugar baby website. Or… The Sugar baby soulmate AU

The Cottage | HoldingOnToChaos | [70k] Louis hates alphas and he has good reason to, but when his beloved omega grandmother dies, and he inherits her cottage, he meets Harry, an alpha hazelnut farmer who sneaks his way into Louis’ life. While Louis struggles with his severe touch deprivation, he forms a friendship with Harry that turns out to be exactly what he needed. -- Or Louis has severe touch deprivation and Harry has a hazelnut farm.

The Capillaries In My Eyes Are Bursting | 5secsoflarry | [14k] Two armoured palace guards stand there, speaking with the old, widowed beta. Harry watches curiously from the space in the back, ducking down a little in an attempt to hide. There have been whispers through the town of omegas being gathered and forced to the castle all week long - something about the King being ill - but Harry had thought they were only rumours….. OR Medieval times where King Louis is in a near death accident and enters a coma. The royal doctor says they have two weeks to find Louis’ true soulmate (omega) or he dies.

[lueurjun]

━━━━ cupid’s pond. c.soobin

soobin x reader! — when you least expect it, love can find its way into your life; like a bolt of lightning, cupid's arrows can strike at any moment in the most unpredictable places.

deep into the forest where most dare to stay away, sits a pond which sparkles beneath the kind eye of the sun. lily pads dot around the water, bobbing gently with the quiet waves and the patch of grass dances smoothly with the breeze. a sweet symphony of birdsong fills the air, quieting it into an endless serenity.

not too far from the pond stands a majestic tree, its wisdom evident in the decades it has weathered. recently, it was blessed with the sight of something new—a budding love between two strangers who find solace in its quiet seclusion.

it was a chance encounter when you stumbled upon the pond a few months ago — more precisely, six months. a sunny lunchtime called for an escape into the depths of the forest — nothing to accompany you but the music streaming from your headphones that lulled you into a state of peaceful contentment. you had no idea how far away from civilization you had traveled until the stillness was broken by this tranquil body of water. and with no sounds of traffic or people in sight, it was the perfect spot to unwind.

the pond became your haven, a peaceful refuge from the worries of the world and an escape to a faraway land only the pages of a book could bring. you’d find solace in this quiet spot, burying your nose in literature and allowing yourself to be transported away from reality.

you had only stumbled upon the hidden oasis a week prior, but already it had become like a second home to you. here, you stumbled across soobin deep in thought beneath an ancient tree. a sketch pad was balanced on his lap and a kaleidoscope of coloured pencils lay scattered around him. he hadn't noticed your presence until you inadvertently let out a surprised shriek - it had been your secret hideaway, and you were surprised to know he'd found it too.

he hastily moved to apologize for intruding, explaining that he had been visiting this spot for months and was unaware that someone else knew about it. you assured him it was alright, gesturing for him to remain there since he had arrived before you. after a brief introduction, a peaceful albeit awkward silence fell between you two as you went about your business, occasionally engaging in pleasant small talk.

the two of you crossed paths more often after that, getting into a routine of sitting in each others presence beside the pond. soobin’s jovial jokes brought warmth to your heart and your snacks eventually doubled until it felt like a picnic just for the two of you. you found yourself eagerly anticipating these meetings, savoring the private moments that felt like a little slice of paradise.

six months later, a blossoming friendship was accompanied by two flourishing crushes.

it had been a crisp sunny day when cupid sprinkled his magic.

as usual, you arrived after soobin, but his face was not lit up with its familiar brightness. earphones plugged into his ears, the pencil in his fingers moved with vigorous strokes rather than his usual feather-light touch. the frown on his lips subdued his delicate features, and the shadows in his eyes seemed darker than ever before.

reaching down, you tenderly extracted one of his earbuds, successfully garnering his focus. His head jerked up abruptly and for a moment his expression was guarded, but then his whole demeanor softened as soon as your eyes met. instead of the usual practice of taking a seat opposite him, this time you plopped yourself down beside him. he couldn't help but allow a small smile to grace his lips.

you poked his dimple. “you look stressed, is everything okay?”

a breathy chuckle drifted into the wind at your action, sending the butterflies in your stomach absolutely feral.

“i had an argument with my friend, yeonjun. it’s left me feeling tense, sorry for not greeting you. i was lost in my thoughts,” he explained, his gaze conveying a sincere apology.

his voice was filled with warmth and sincerity, a soothing balm for even the most festering of wounds. he was always so compassionate; it was impossible to imagine him angry with someone. you couldn't even fathom the thought of him ever becoming raising his voice. he had told you all about yeonjun before, and the stories between them sounded like two inseparable partners in crime, making it easy to understand just how much this argument had impacted him.

there was a brief curiosity, perhaps your inner gossip, that prodded at you to ask what the argument was about—after all, we’re only human and curiosity is natural, but you knew better. it was soobin’s issue and if he wanted to tell you, then he would on his own accord.

“im sorry, is there anything i can do to help?”

he shook his head, declining with a simple but resolute no. while he was grateful for your kind offer, he wasn't sure anything could really help his somber mood. he shifted slightly and offered up the other bud of his earphones. "would you like to listen to some music with me?"

soobin’s playlist surprises you with its stark contrast to his persona, given the large presence of bebe rexha. It's almost amusing, yet it also stirs some strange sort of fondness within you. it makes you realize how little you know about him and just how much there is left to discover. you find yourself more intrigued by him than ever before and wanting to learn every single detail about who he is as a person.

the music cascades into your ears as you settle, and the once forceful strokes of his pencil become gentle as his previously annoyed countenance relaxes. you have never been so close to him before, yet there's something about it that attracts you; it's soothing. a sense of ease pervades your being.

so at ease that you naturally nestled your head into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his firm biceps. soobin paused for a moment and just as you were about to pull away, embarrassed that you had gone too far, he gently set his head upon yours and you were certain you could feel the warmth of his smile. a contented calm washed over both of you as the two of embrace in a blissful moment, completely lost in each other's company.

it’s uncharted territory, but the way he draws a cluster of hearts at the very top of the page reveals that there may be more to discover in this newfound intimacy. a warmth and excitement builds inside you at the thought of venturing into something unknown, yet full of potential.

who would have imagined that the secluded pond, nestled away in a forgotten corner of the forest, would be the very spot where cupid’s magic was set loose?

[veliseraptor]

AU scenario: xue yang survives getting disarmed (hah) by lan wangji after the yi city arc! what happens next 👀

i have actually written two versions of this one! one in novelverse where Su She manages to sweep Xue Yang away (my god, I keep mentioning this one lately, but nurture the tiger) and one in cqlverse where Song Lan makes the deliberately contrary choice to leave Xue Yang alive (Walking Far From Home)

this is a rough one though!! because I want things to end better for Xue Yang but they don't look great for him at this point in time unless somehow you bring Xiao Xingchen back to life. though okay let's see what I've got here. going with novelverse for this one and at least starting with the nurture the tiger premise

so Su She manages to bring a half-dead Xue Yang away from Yi City, half-dead and an absolute wreck having lost his last ditch hope of getting Xiao Xingchen back. somehow (Xue Yang's nearly inhuman endurance) he manages to stick him back together

(since Jin Guangyao is busy, probably this is just a Su She effort; they need all the allies they can get with the way things are going, he thinks, even if this particular ally is not going to be very useful, but still. maybe Su She's a little attached, though I don't think he'd be very inclined to admit it. Xue Yang grows on you. like a fungus.)

howmever, he's got other things to do, so he does have to leave Xue Yang on his own once he's (more or less, barely) stable. and then everything goes to shit, leaving Xue Yang entirely on his own because everyone else is dead.

this becomes clear to Xue Yang (that nobody's coming back for him, anyway, though he may or may not realize that's because they're dead and just assume he's been given up for lost and not worth killing personally. dick) and he reaches out to the only option he has left, which is to say his fierce corpse masterpiece (with whom he still has at least a distant connection, as his former master, even without the nails he can at least try to summon him), figuring that at least he can die with...if not grace then a little faster than of infection, and hey, Song Lan was kind of sort of his fierce corpse best friend for a while there

anyway, Song Lan (who has nothing better to do except be miserable right now) shows up, decides to leave Xue Yang alive because he's too pathetic to kill at this point and also because Song Lan doesn't have any other (living) friends and is incredibly lonely and at least here's the only other person who understands the grief he's feeling, even if that's the last thing that Song Lan wants to admit

eventually once Xue Yang is better (ish) they leave and go off journeying together in the weirdest most miserable duo road trip ever. Song Lan is continually like "good night, I may kill you tomorrow" to which Xue Yang is like "okay, that's chill" but it gets almost comfortable

shared grief bonding!!! Song Lan is just waiting for Xiao Xingchen to heal while trying to maintain the work that they (would have done) were doing together before everything fell apart. Xue Yang is like "saving people is boring but not like I have anything better to do at this point ¯\_(ツ)_/¯"

I have no idea where this goes. but I like the idea of it just kind of continuing until eventually Xue Yang does die and it's bittersweet in the end and it's kind of like. everyone's dead now. including Song Lan. he's just ambulatory about it.

anyway this whole thing would be really fucking angsty and all about grief and mourning and I'd probably cry writing 90% of it

[berryzawati]

Rambling about wolnpc....

One of the reasons why I'm so deep into multishipping hell with my wol is that I love genuinely love exploring dynamics with different npcs. FFXIV throws so many awesome npcs at me, how can I just stick with one or two?

Ok, there's also the fact that she fell in love twice and the first time her lover died and the second time, the guy was already dead BUT...

As far as canon goes Layla had a whirlwind romance with Haurchefant. They fell in love fast and the romance ended just as fast at the Vault. It was a very cliched romance, Haurchefant swept Layla off her feet. Often literally. He was very affectionate with her and often times Layla was a bit shy, especially when they are in public. But she loved him just as much.

Her love for Ardbert was doomed due to the fact that he was already dead and not from the Source. Ardbert fell in love with Layla during Shadowbringers too but denied his feelings for her until the very end.

Layla felt like Ardbert was truly her soulmate and often wonders if she would feel similar about the other Azem shards. By then, Layla overcame her timidly and often persued Ardbert romantically and Ardbert was often unsure how to react to her advances - all the while he slowly fell for her. Also I constantly think of newlywed AUs for them lmfao

Layla and Leofard are friends with benefits but on a non-sexual level, they enjoy each other's company a lot. Leofard understands that Layla comes from a very different background and starts to banter with her accordingly. I call their dynamics charming rogue x graceful, courtly fighter.

Layla may act as if Leofard's teasing bothered her a little but deep down she appreciates him as a dear, dear companion. Someone who understands that the world is vast and that there is still so much for them to discover...

When it comes to non-canon ships, I'm afraid this is where my brainrot truly shines. I ship my wol with so many npcs, I sometimes even forget which minor msq/general npc I ship my wol with. It do be like that. Though these days I often think of job/role quest npcs.

As someone who ADORES job quest npcs, I was extremely sad that the stopped doing them in Shadowbringers.

Some of my favorites include:

Gransonwol. They're both tanks and they both lost a loved one. In my mind, Layla and Granson lick each other's wounds and get closer in the progress. Their personalities don't clash at all and they go well together.

But Granson is from the First and Layla is from the Source. Not only are they griefing but it is hard to deal with physical distance. This often leads to conflicts between them. Will they be able to overcome this? Who knows...

Oborowol. The first thing I think when I think of Layla and Oboro was how when she became a ninja, Oboro asked her to teach him about the culture of Eorzea. But Layla is not a native of Eorzea either! I think this may have lead to funny moments to them, Layla loves helping people, so she often answered all the question.

The second thing is:

Oboro's Zadnor field note gave me a lot inspiration. Layla may be experienced in all things romance but she can get pretty bashful and lets her partner lead. Oboro however is not really experienced, so she waits a long time for him to make a move on her. So, here's a rare case of Layla often taking charge in the relationship. Oboro is often thankful but eventually overcomes his own shyness, methinks.

Widargeltwol. Probably the ship that is connected to Layla's lore the most, even more than her canonical ships. Layla is half Ala Mhigan and her Ala Mhigan mother is one of the last surviving monks. This had a huge impact on Layla growing up. Growing up her mother strictly trained her to become a monk but Layla could not open a chakra despite her apititude for fighting and her strong body.

It wasn't until she met Widargelt during the first monk job quest that she opened her first chakra. Widargelt realized her potential and made plans to use her for his revenge against the Garleans (as shown during the ARR MNK job quests). I love this because during A Realm Reborn, Layla felt connected to the Ala Mhigans and started to see herself as an Ala Mhigan more and more.

So, queue in the angst when during the level 50 quest, Widargelt tried to kill her. Layla quickly became fond of Widargelt, so her heart broke after this but during the Heavensward quests they've mended their relationship fast. Even in the canonical timeline in which they don't end up together, Layla sees Widargelt as one of the most precious person she has met during her journey.

It is worth noting that Layla has kept her mother's identity hidden but after the events of the last ARR MNK quests, Layla confessed to Widargelt and Erik that her mother was a monk as well. They were the first people, Layla has told about her mother.

I think out of all my ships, this one is the one I'd label a slowburn. They saw each other as siblings in monkhood first but I also think that their romance is also a very smooth one once they realize their feelings. No need for big words, both know very well that the other has nothing but love in their heart. But first steps are hard...

[nopecho]

Some sheets I prepared for a DOL roleplay I'm organizing with a friend! It's steampunk themed, it's got trauma, it's got drama, I'm working very hard on it :> Can't wait to start writing it with my friend! ANyway, some basic info on the LIs!

Arden- the isolated

Basically my own personal take on Kylar in this universe. However, instead of bein a gross little freak, he actually has some charisma to him. Yes he's a yandere, but not the desperate type. He's more likely to silently plan to kill all his love rivals, rather than kidnap you. he will eventually if pushed over the brink, though. § He has a creepy, yet misterious aura about him. Maybe it's his big, amber eyes that scare people away. He's softspoken, but will infodump you about his passion project. people call his stories creepy. He's into writing and dolls. Will make sure you cum every time you have sex.

Codium- the merman

A merman bound to the sea. In this steampunk universe, industrialization massively impacted the environment, including the sea. it's scattered with oil and garbage. His first encounter is him trying to drown you, thinking you're polluting the waters. Once he realizes his mistake, he'll apologize profusely and be actually rather kind and sweet. If you get in trouble in the sea, with high enough love he'll come rescue you. During sex, he'll note how different you feel from his people. Will praise you endlessly, and try his best to make you cum (may not be very good at it, but he tries.)

Gear- the robot

A mischievious little street rat. He lives off of stealing stuff from the dumpsters, fixing it and selling it at overpriced rates. He's desperate to make money to help his creator, Vicky. she disapproves of his criminal life, but she can't do much about it- they need money. Despite his bratty attitude, he cares deeply for those he considers friends. That's why he isn't afraid to turn to a life of crime. He is a dirty boy, he's into all kinds of nasty shit. Is not afraid to get his hands dirty , in any occasion. He's a horny little freak. he WILL have his sexytimes with you. Even if nonconsensual, he'll always help you cum after sex.

Jamie- the orphan

It ain't a DOL universe without an orphan somewhere. He's an aspiting inventor, and is quite creative. He may need some help to pay off Bailey, he barely manages to make enough money to pay rent every week. he often has to skip lunch to save on money. His favourite inventions are small, yet useful household items. He invented a machine that warms up bread just right. Unfortunately, not many people are interested in these kinds of things. He's sweet and caring, but also naive. Has a secret dirty side to him. loves to be degraded for the useless aborted kid he is, depending on PC to pay off his debt. Doesn't care if you cum or not, if he's done he's done.

Uri Gabriel (or Uriel)- the banished

a fallen angel banished from heaven for loving someone other than God. his greatest sin was to love his partner. He fell from grace because they told on him to repent. Uriel fell, and swore to never fall in love again. He is cold and distant, intentionally pushing you away if you get too close. The only reason he even bothers interacting with you, is because you save him from the church during your first meeting. He's dominating, he's course and rough, swears a lot during sex. You're his cocksleeve, at best. unless he actually starts developing feelings... he will become more sweet once he admits his love for you. doesn't care if you cum during sex. you're his toy, at best. why would he care?

[jades-typurriter]

Take in the View/Taking the Brunt

Two women—a singer and a celestial being—have a heart-to-heart about the impossible standards they hold themselves to.

The art on this piece was a commission from @dapper-lil-arts ! Please check her out she rocks

Eyes–as blue and as vast as the sky, a pair belonging to Polaris–fell upon the Floatzel. This was one of the Gardevoir’s favorites, one of a handful towards which her attention was drawn more strongly than any of the others on the little blue garden world she watched over. She had much potential; the whole world would one day look to her as, now, only a certain admirer and Polaris herself did. Beautiful and confident, a model of grace… at least, most of the time. As Polaris found her now, it seemed she was having a rough night.

She moved part of herself “above” the Floatzel’s apartment. Or “beside”. Neither word was quite correct, but they were both closer than “inside”, at least for the moment. The singer sat at her dresser, looking into a mirror lined with fairy lights. The effect was not unlike the marquee at the lounge where she worked. A bit of motivation, the anodyne intruder supposed. Dressing for the job she wanted, even if it meant taking work home with her. Who could judge her for taking the stage name as her own? Throwing oneself into her work, especially work she was passionate about, work she believed in, was a way of powering through. The mask gets lighter when it becomes a part of you.

Yet, here she was, letting the mask down. She wiped makeup from her face, streaks of black mascara trailing from her eyes, eyeshadow making way for puffy, red circles. Instead of her usual repertoire of sparkling, slitted dresses, she now wore a faded, frayed pink sweatshirt, big enough for the collar to hang off one shoulder, and a baggy pair of pajama pants. Now seemed like as good a time as any for Polaris to step in.

She floated into the room, seemingly from nothing, as though stepping out from behind a lamppost. The three points of her crest, alight with the warm glow of a star, preceded her. Her folded hands, wrapped in matte gray gloves which obscured that same glow from the skin beneath, rested in front of a bell of layered skirts, which fluttered behind her, leaving a glittering cloud of dust in her wake. She now stood across the room, behind the Floatzel, fully visible in the mirror; even if she didn’t announce herself, it would’ve been rude to not make herself known. The Floatzel, for her part, had snatched up an umbrella that was leaning against her dresser, and whirled around to point it at the intrusion.

“Who are you!?” She shouted.

“Eleanor–”

“And how do you know my NAME!!”

“Well–” Polaris hesitated. “You could say I’m quite the fan of yours.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. A stalker? I haven’t been a performer NEARLY long enough for this, I–” the Floatzel stuttered, “I’m calling the boys from the Lounge.”

“You don’t need Derrick and Rodney,” the Gardevoir intoned calmly. “I promise, I’m not here to hurt you. I haven’t been ‘following’ you in the sense that you’re thinking, either.”

“Then just WHAT is this supposed to BE?”

“Don’t I look familiar to you, Eleanor?”

“You look like a crazy cosplayer, is what you look like. Who are you even supposed to be,” she spat, squinting, “Mother Polaris, or something?”

“The very same,” the Gardevoir replied, nodding, doing her best to appear ancient (true) and wise (debatable). Eleanor narrowed her eyes at her for a long moment, utterly still except for an eventual, perplexed blink.

“You’re kidding.”

“You just saw me step out of thin air, then name-drop the exact friends you were thinking of. I’m made of space dust,” she continued, performing a little curtsy that displaced a nebula’s worth of twinkling material from her skirts, “And I’m here because… well, you know why I’m here. That should be a bit of extra proof for you.”

“Why are you here?” Eleanor grilled her, cocking an eyebrow. The Gardevoir shook her head.

“I try not to put words in people’s mouths. I find that it often makes things worse, or reminds them of different problems from the ones I’ve come to help them with.”

“I’m asking you to guess. Maybe I’ll believe you if you get it right.”

“Well,” she began, bowing her featureless face in an approximation of a sigh, “You seemed like you could use someone to talk to. Have you been doubting yourself recently, dear?”

The note of genuine affection in Polaris’ voice seemed to catch Eleanor off guard. While Eleanor was no stranger to Polaris, the same could not be said for the converse. She hesitated, then glanced at the tissues and make-up pads on her dresser.

“Am I really doing so bad,” she asked weakly, shoulders slumping as she turned back toward the celestial woman, “That I’m being visited by… by, by, guardian figures from literal myths?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” The Gardevoir prompted, hovering by the edge of Eleanor’s bed, gently patting a spot next to her. Another moment’s hesitation–another moment’s disbelief–came and went, and the Floatzel acquiesced, joining her on the bed.

“Well, you’re here already, so you must have some idea of it,” she began. Polaris nodded along, encouraging her. “Sometimes… I don’t see a way forward for myself. I know it doesn’t really make sense, I know that. I’m the headliner at a wonderful little club. My boss–”

“Donna? The Lapras.”

“Y…yes, her,” she continued, still unsettled. “She loves having me there. Thinks I’m talented, thinks I liven up the place. My coworkers are all so supportive, too, I just… I don’t know if I’m waiting for some cliché ‘big break’, or if working my way up from the bottom is just going too slowly for me to feel good about it…”

“But?”

“But…” She sighed. She hadn’t admitted this out loud before, or at least, Polaris hadn’t been paying enough attention to hear it. It was rare, but she did have her lapses. They always seemed to be at the most important moments. “I look at the people who have already made it–”

“Like Carlotta. The Altaria, your mentor.”

“Right.”

“And I know that that Purugly is another person you admire.”

“Mhm.”

“You look at them, and you see what?”

“It’s less something I see in them, and more something I don’t see in myself. They’re so, so talented, and… I know my own abilities. I know I’ve worked hard, I practiced, Carlotta took me under her wing to teach her half of what I know herself, and I’ve got her approval for sure. But their work is so inspiring, so moving, and mine is just… well, I’m only me.”

“And you do not hear the same ring in your work, see the same poise in your movement, as you hear and see in theirs?”

“I suppose I don’t. I don’t really know what the difference is. I just don’t feel like I’m enough.”

“Well, I meant what I said earlier. I’m a big fan of yours.” At this, Eleanor barked out a laugh, rubbing one of her eyes with the ball of her palm.

“Aren’t you known for loving everyone on Earth? Caring for all?” She made a wavy little arcing gesture to poke at the grandiosity of it. “That feels almost like a compliment from my mom!” Polaris giggled in return, politely covering the place her mouth would be with a hand.

“I suppose that’s fair. Would it cheer you up at all if I told you a secret about what people call me nowadays?”

“It couldn’t hurt. Normally the best gossip I get is from Donna.”

“You all haven’t always called me Mother Polaris.”

“No?”

“No! In fact, when I first approached you, before I had even chosen the name Polaris for myself, I declared that you all should call me mom.

“PfffHAH! Just mom?”

“Just mom! I listened in on you all for a little while and decided, ‘oh, that’s what I need to be for them, the poor things!’”

“HAAHAHAHA, wow! Just imagining someone who looks as elegant and awe-inspiring as you, who talks as politely as you, just going ‘I’m your mom now’. HA!”

“Thankfully, I developed a better grasp on the nuances and the connotations eventually. I never did want to give up that sort of maternal position, though.”

“Well, you work it,” Eleanor reassured her, her laughter dying down to a faint grin. “It did make me feel a bit better.” There was a long pause. Eleanor looked down at the floor; Polaris suspected she was working up to discussing another difficult subject. Eventually, she spoke again:

“Would it be okay if I talked about something else? I really do appreciate the visit–you’ve already cheered me up, and just the time you took to come see me–but I guess I don’t feel like I’ve gotten it all off my chest.”

“Say as much as you feel you need to, Eleanor. This is what I’m here for,” she comforted the poor thing, though the true depth of the statement was likely lost on her.

“Alright. Thank you.” She paused, finding the words, then discarding them. “So, since we’re talking about names. Um. I don’t get to talk to deities all that often,” she chuckled, feeling awkward. “Can I ask why you settled on Polaris?”

“Dear, I don’t believe that was what you were so worried about saying.” The Floatzel screwed up her lip, glancing away from the Gardevoir. “How about this: I’ll tell you more about my name if you tell me more about how you’re feeling. Are you comfortable with that?” Eleanor slowly dragged her eyes back to meet Polaris’, and hesitantly nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t know if this is the missing… quality that I was talking about earlier, or if it’s something separate, but it’s also part of what’s been bugging me. I look at Carlotta, and honestly, I even look at Donna, and they’re just, so in-their-own-element, so confident, like, like they never miss a beat. And like I said, Carlotta taught me most of what I know–especially, I guess, faking it until I make it.

“But it’s just so hard to keep up with them. I’m exhausted after performing all night, keeping that calm, collected persona up while I chat up the patrons and ‘relax’ with my friends. They don’t even break a sweat. I’ve seen Donna haul a heckler or a creep up by his shirt collar and throw him out into the street, then go right back to laughing with the regulars like it never happened, and I just don’t get it. Carlotta’s smile never wavers for a moment. Donna can keep an eye on us around the clock. It feels like so much more work when I do it than when they do! It takes everything I have just to be at a point where I feel out of my depth, and I know it only gets deeper the further I want to go. I don’t know if I have it in me.”

Polaris nodded thoughtfully, appraising Eleanor before offering a response. She considered what might help her–her, specifically, with her disposition and her problems–to hear in this moment. She couldn’t solve her problem for her, that much she knew; her position relegated her largely to moral support. Even the most basic of contributions, taking an active role like providing reminders of accountability, even just regular encouragement, often felt like an impossible commitment given how she spread her mental resources. Then, ought she reassure the Floatzel? Suggest how she might solve the problem herself?

She decided that a bit of perspective would serve her best, and Polaris was perhaps the best-equipped to provide a step back.

“Eleanor,” she began, smoothing out her skirts, choosing her words deliberately and with consideration, “You already know that I keep track of… well, most things that go on. Yes?”

Eleanor nodded, scooting further onto her bed, having drawn up her knees to her chest.

“Then you’ll trust my insight into your relations.”

She nodded again.

“You are not the only one who struggles to keep up with the demands of her life. Nor are you the only one who keeps up a façade to put their best foot forward at all times. Carlotta would tell you that ‘that’s showbusiness’, but do not mistake me. Neither she nor I tell you this to dismiss your problems, or suggest that you need only get used to it. Rather, it is to instill in you a mutual understanding with your peers: even those of them who appear to succeed effortlessly toil behind closed doors. They have to practice every bit as much as you. They have to take time to decompress as often as you.”

“Right. They’re there to help me and the other girls who work the place feel safe.”

“I… I struggle to see it, even still. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize, dear,” Polaris hushed her as she moved closer. “Perhaps this will make it easier. Donna keeps those two Incineroar boys on staff, yes?”

“Of course. And you mentioned that Donna takes such matters into her own hands as well, yes?”

“She does.”

“Do you think that she would bother continuing to pay two employees if she were utterly, totally confident in her ability to keep you safe herself?” A pause, then a defeated sigh through Eleanor’s nose.

“I don’t suppose she would.”

“She would not! Even someone as self-assured, as decidedly capable as Donna knows her limits. But if she were to draw attention to those limits, it might make you and the other girls feel less safe, right?”

“I guess so.”

“They want to seem professional as badly as you do, Eleanor.” She placed a gloved hand on the performer’s shoulder, looking her directly in the eyes. “Your achievements are earned. You are not falling behind. You work harder than most anybody under my watch.”

Eleanor’s eyes fell again, but this time the movement was accompanied by a smile, tinged with relief.

“That… means a lot to hear. Thank you. So much.”

“Of course, dear. Now,” she said, rising to her full floating height, “Is there anything else you wish to talk about? Anything else I can try to help you with?”

“You promised me another story about your name.”

“Ah. That I did.”

“Go ahead! Make yourself comfortable,” Eleanor said, waving to the other half of her bed and to a sofa in the corner of the room. Hardly.

“What was your question again, dear?” The Gardevoir asked, floating away from Eleanor, her skirts rising and then settling as she rested herself in the cushioned chair. “Why I chose my name?”

“Mhm!” She had grabbed a pillow from by the headboard of her bed and was holding it in her lap. She almost seemed like she was sitting at a slumber party, talking about pettier secrets with girlfriends, like who was crushing on who.

“You see…” Yet again, she chose her words carefully. “Motherhood was not the only concept among your cultures that I saw fit to embody. Guidance, constancy, stalwartness… Many cultures rely on the stars for navigation. Their ever-presence, their reliability, makes them indispensable; they serve a necessary function. As for the name Polaris specifically, I found that it was emblematic of these qualities–though I just as well could have found a way to make the Southern Cross my namesake, had I first contacted you below the equator.��

“I see… Names with personal meanings like that are the best ones, in my opinion.”

“I agree. It wouldn’t do for one to live by a name that rang hollow to them. A good name is one that truly represents you, or that you can at least strive to live up to.”

“Do you feel that way about your name?”

“How do you mean?”

“Do you feel like you actively try to live up to it?” So she had caught on. This was why she had tried to depart early, but there was no sense in being rude–or worse, arousing concern–by attempting to worm out of it now. She had had this conversation many times before.

“I do my best,” was Polaris’ outward response.

“And… I’m sorry if this is overstepping, but–”

“No, by all means. You were promised a story, were you not?”

“Are you trying to look professional, too? Maybe, in trying to reassure me, you don’t want to let on that… Well, I don’t want to put words in your mouth.”

“I appreciate that, dear. To answer your question, yes, I was speaking from experience on the subject of façades.”

“I imagine that you’re very busy trying to help everybody on the planet.”

“Yes.”

“And you try to ‘look professional’ for all of them as well, since you find such deep personal meaning in being their rock.”

“Naturally.”

“So have you ever actually… talked to anyone about how stressful it is for you?”

“Of course.”

“Oh.” She seemed taken aback by that answer. “Um.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“I guess I just thought that a goddess would be able to handle it better than a regular girl could? Or that, at least, you could put up with it for longer. I don’t know why I’m surprised that someone who’s been around as long as you have has… had a heart-to-heart with someone before.” She still seemed curious; Polaris could reasonably figure what her remaining unanswered questions were.

“Well, I try not to. For reasons beyond ‘seeming professional’, I mean.” The Floatzel opened her mouth to ask, and Polaris cut her off. “No, I will not give you the details.”

“Why not? It’s only fair that I should offer you help after you’ve cleared my head.”

“Eleanor, do you remember that joke from that old cartoon about whether mailmen deliver their own mail?” She watched her brow furrow in confusion–it was an odd example, she knew, but one that would almost definitely be familiar. After a moment of gear-turning, the Floatzel nodded at her. “There’s a similar saying about therapists: each of them needs a therapist of their own to handle the things they hear about in the course of their work.”

“So why not be each other’s therapists?”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand the things I hear in my work, dear. How can I illustrate this for you…” Polaris brought a hand to her chin and pondered for a moment. These concepts were often difficult for earthly beings to grasp, but she’d had many opportunities to try, and she was reasonably sure she could convey them properly. “Imagine… imagine a mural on the side of the building.”

“Okay.”

“The mural takes up the whole wall of this building.” A nod. “Now imagine that this building is a skyscraper.” Another nod, concern evident on her face. “Imagine that you are big enough that you can take in the mural in its entirety. Then, simultaneously, imagine that you have enough eyes to focus on every inch of that mural at once. Try to appreciate the mural’s every detail, in your mind; not one-by-one, but every detail, with full clarity, all at once. As though there were two sharp spots in the center of your field of vision, but, well, far more than two.”

“I…” The Floatzel shrunk. “Alright. I take your point, I think.”

“What kind of mural might this be, Eleanor? What situations call for a guardian angel to poke her head into your life?”

“Yes. Okay.”

“You can imagine, if the mere concept is this disquieting, why I shy away from confiding fully in any one person.”

“I can.” Once again, Polaris met Eleanor’s eyes. The silence was long. Uncomfortable. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing for you to apologize for, dear. I promised you an answer, and now you have it.”

“No, I mean… I’m sorry that you have to deal with that. Don’t you ever have time to, to rest?”

“Eleanor, I’m with about a dozen people besides you at this very moment.” Another painfully long silence.

“How can you put up with it? I know I push myself for my music, but… that’s something that fulfills me. It’s a calling, I get something out of it.”

“One could say that this is something of a calling for me, as well. Regardless, it is as I said–”

“‘A necessary function`.”

“Indeed.”

Silence.

“Though,” the Gardevoir spoke again, “I suppose that does not answer the question of why I carry on this way.” The Floatzel lifted her chin from her knees and cocked her head at Polaris. “Outwardly, I know, I am quite akin to things you refer to as ‘heavenly bodies’, but I am not actually divine, as many of you assume. As I said, I simply appeared before some of your people; that was shortly after I first made a chance discovery of your world. I did not create you, and while I am not responsible for you…

“Someone of my abilities–my constitution, one who does not tire and sleep the way you earthly beings do, has no need for food or drink… I can. Therefore I should. It is difficult, I suppose, not to feel responsible for you.”

…

“There has to be… has to be something that makes that easier for you, Polaris. Isn’t there anything I can do–anything anyone can do? If you don’t want to… can’t, talk about it, maybe I can do something that isn’t talking.”

This gave Polaris pause; even with the Floatzel’s words ringing in her ears, that fair is fair, and help for help was only reasonable, she… she would have felt deeply that she was imposing by asking for much of anything. Even one of her songs would’ve felt like putting her out of her way, especially since the Gardevoir could listen in on one of her performances on any night she wished. Or. Any night she could spare the attention. 

Something that required even less work than that, then. Something the Floatzel could offer that required barely any effort at all. Something Polaris could enjoy merely by being in her presence. She sucked in a deep breath, willing herself not to shudder as she did so.

“Dear. Pardon. Eleanor,” she wrung the words from her throat. “Would you be willing to… simply allow me to hold you? The touch would be… comforting.” She couldn’t meet the Floatzel’s eyes as she spoke, this time. Had her mask been on, Polaris was sure she would’ve had a cute, flirtatious remark about the opportunity to cuddle a goddess instead of just pick her brain, but shake–and mercifully considerate–as she was, she made no such jest.

“Of course. Yes, Polaris, I can.” She placed the pillow aside and patted the bed beside her, opening her arms to the Gardevoir, who drifted to her side like a dry leaf on the wind.

Polaris pulled the Floatzel up halfway onto the mound of her skirts, allowing her to get comfortable. Eleanor, smaller by a head or two, nestled her head against the watcher just beneath her crest, wrapping her arms around her waist. The Gardevoir’s gentle hands rested on her companion’s back, arms draped gingerly over her shoulders.

With her charge no longer looking her in the face, her visage relaxed, and the etchings of exhaustion revealed themselves. Tired circles hung under her eyes like the distortions of gravity around a black hole. If she had a mouth, frown lines would have deepened at its corners. But it was a welcome change. Down came Polaris’ mask, and down were her eyes cast, taking in the sight of the girl who had offered her this act of compassion, this moment of privacy and of connection, both of which the guardian had desperately needed.

Tears welled in her blue eyes, and though she strangled a sob, hoping neither to lose her composure in a way Eleanor could see, nor to disturb her, they began to run down her face. Gleaming, shimmering streaks lined both of her cheeks, now, broad strokes of deep, near-black blues shot through with simmering, rusty red. She hoped Eleanor wouldn’t fall the teardrops falling onto her orange coat, hoped that they wouldn’t stain her dress and leave any evidence of the emotion slipping through the cracks, but ultimately could do nothing to stop it. She couldn’t bring herself to break away from the embrace–its warmth could have filled the whole of her starry domain.

Despite herself, she squeezed the Floatzel ever-so-slightly tighter, and did not let go until she was sound asleep in her lap. Polaris held her for some time even after that, still unwilling to leave this. When she finally collected herself, she disappeared in much the same way as she had arrived, vanishing through a gateway that did not exist, ceasing to intersect with Eleanor’s bedroom. She took great care to set Eleanor down gently as she went, silently thanking her the whole way, and silently vowing to make it to her next show. Even if Eleanor did not know she was there, Polaris would attend. For herself.

[crackedrockskunta]

ratella remastered: in the beginning.

old tumblr had some beautiful fan fic of a homophobic ratty looking man from school, rewriting for the sake of all that is beauty.

i stand, stare and disbelieve the sight before my eyes, I am finally graduating high school and while I am more terrified than ever of what is to come, I know that this is going to open my chances of not only accomplishing everything I've ever wanted, but becoming the girl I was meant to be.

all my life I knew I was different, ever sense I was enrolled into the cheese nibbler academy for divergent and violent rats in kindergarten I knew that something was off about who I wanted to be. off about how when I looked at the most beautiful girls in my class, I felt not a sense of love or sweaty hands and typical childhood emotions, but a feeling of intense and unfixable envy. I pushed this as deep as I could, assuming the alpha male position in my school years binge influences by the works of the most inspirational men I could find to repress my identity. Ben Shapiro, Andrew Tate and of course Dreamybull. but thought my elementary school these urge to dress and act more feminine and truly my self did not dissipate, this caused me to repel against all of my natural instincts I was taught at the academy.

so I turned to violence, bullying every smaller rat, mouse and my biggest achievement the eldest neighborhood Cat Maswon Gyatfreigh after I almost fell victim to eating from his litter box. this continued through my young adult life, but no matter how many fights I started and then lost to or how bruised and bloody I was, I always felt an invisible pull towards something more, something I couldn't ever put my finger on as a source for all my hurt and anger.

it wasn't until I was in my last years as a little nibbler that I had finally met my match, my legs never got any bigger but my ego sure did, eventually leading to me finding the man who I realize now changed my life for the better. I was in the hallway at the academy and one of my notorious rivals "the Parm packer" challenged me to a dual which I could not refuse, I began to fight with my friends around me and fully beloved I should take him on, but within 5 seconds I was swept off my feet by his big strong arms. as he began to jump on my head, I felt my skull bang against the floor and the flashes of the cameras were exaggerated beyond anything I had seen, but with one last bang he was pulled away from me and my saving grace was there, the dean of students Melty Briar was there scooping me off the floor and showing the cameras away.

in the days following I came to the most shocking realization I ever had, I was not me. well I was of course but in the way that my body matched my face and my face my hair, but where does my soul fit there? in short, it didn't. I only had a few more years at the academy To go, but after the continuous fighting I was forced to leave for my own safety. while I was home I tried to body build but no matter what I did I never felt like anything of any meaning was changing the way my own soul did not fit into my body. it hit my like a truck 2 weeks after the fight, I just was in the bathroom one day looking down in the shower, slicking my wet fur with soap when the thought went across my head. "imagine I you just had some more curve there?" it seemed innocent enough and I assumed it was just more muscle definition so I started following workout videos on how to grow my hips, glutes, and shrink my waist, this was all rationalized in my head. I had found something I was happy with and it was always a bit more, a bit less there, all until the first time I got misgendered at the grocery store. I couldn't help but like it, even online I had started to go by my name now "Ratella" but there was no way I was a woman, right? was there?

[morbidlyhumorous]

Beauty From Destruction (Loki Laufeyson)

Loki's POV

I sat there in the jet, my disinterested gaze falling on the panels on the walls. Captain Rogers and his band of imbeciles were talking closer to the cockpit, reviewing their plan for how they were going to capture this person they were after. I wasn't participating in their little chit-chat because I knew my part and didn't have to be reminded of it every five seconds. "Hey, reindeer games, you wanna get ready? We're almost there." I turned to glare at the insufferable tin man before I stood and joined the others at the door."I still don't know why I had to come." I grumbled. "Because this person we're dealing with seems to be having fun with her little magic tricks, and that's your specialty Mr. Magic Man." Stark said without turning back towards me, instead choosing to keep his eyes trained on the ground below flying past us. After a few more minutes, Steve began yelling at us to jump as we were over the jumping point. I simply drifted down to the ground, unlike the puny mortals who simply just fell. I was going to laugh, but it quickly died in my throat when I took in the surroundings.It seemed like a desolate wasteland.

Everything had been flattened and burned, and the few trees that were still somehow standing were extremely thin twigs of charcoal. Everyone seemed to be affected by this atmosphere because they all remained silent, even Stark and his quick remarks, and they took in their surroundings. After a moment, Steve cleared his throat and said "Alright, let's get moving." We began our trek through the woods, passing all manner of burned and destroyed things. I liked guessing what each thing was before it had been reduced to ash. I had to admit, whoever did this seemed pretty powerful and there was some beauty in what they had done. Eventually, we reached the crumbling remains of several stone buildings. The earth was scorched in a circle around the remains and we could sense this was where our person was. "Let's do a sweep of the area. Stay close and be careful." Steve called out. I slowly strode through the remains, eyeing the charcoaled remnants. "You getting a feel for this person?" Stark asked as he joined my side. "They're a force to be reckoned with, I'll admit." As soon as those words left my mouth, the ground opened up beneath me and I fell through, the last thing I saw was Stark's bewildered face.

I tumbled down, hitting the sides and anything else along it, before I hit the ground hard. A melodic laugh filled my ears as I picked myself up. "Really, I never thought I'd see the day when the great god of mischief was in awe of my work." I lifted my head to see where the voice came from and was met by the sight of a woman before me, hovering off the ground. Her eyes sparkled and a wicked grin graced her lips. In an effort to regain my composure, I said "Well it's not every day I see someone who's power could be somewhat close to my own." She laughed again and then began to circle me slowly as she levitated. "So this is who earth's protectors send when they can't handle someone." "I beg your pardon, I am their first choice. I am better than all of them combined!" "Of course you are, Loki." She said as she landed in front of me. I reached to grab her, but she disappeared in the blink of an eye. She reappeared a few feet away, lazily lounging on a dangling tree root. "Now, now, Loki. I'm not that easy. I want to talk to you just a moment more." She practically purred from her perch. I eyed her, feeling myself becoming captivated by her. She was different from most people I had met and had an air about her that drew me in. "Do you know why your little Avenger friends are after me?" I shook my head because I honestly didn't know, they had only mentioned she did magic. "It's because they don't understand the beauty in the things I do and how I haven't really done anything wrong, they just like to be in control of everything." She said, suddenly appearing inches from my face. I stumbled back, startled, and she smiled to herself. "But I'm sure you already knew that." She said as her piercing and inquisitive eyes stared into my very soul.

I shrugged nonchalantly as I knew she was right. Insufferable Stark liked to be in control of everything along with his bumbling band of imbeciles, claiming to protect the world. She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment before she said "I quite like you. I wish we could talk more, but it seems like our time is up." In that instant, a hole broke open in the ceiling with Stark, Steve, and everyone else jumping through, ready to fight. A simple snap of her fingers produced a ring of fire around her feet that began to spread, licking at and destroying everything it touched. Stark tried to put it out, but his attempt seemed to make the fire angrier. Her eyes found mine and she said "One more thing, Loki. As acquaintances, it is only fair you know my name. You may call me Y/n, and I hope to see you soon." With those parting words, she disappeared and the fire raged."We have to get out of here!" Natasha shouted. We all scrambled out of the hole, and once we were at the surface, we felt the ground begin to shake and then break off. We ran as Stark was shouting stuff into his communicator. A minute later, the helicopter came down and we threw ourselves in and took off just before the ground beneath us crumbled away. Later that night, the news called it one of the worst earthquakes ever and said that it might have opened a natural gas deposit because of all the burning. As I watched the footage of the giant crater that extended for miles, I couldn't help but smile at the thought of Y/n and wondered when I would have the pleasure of seeing her again.

[peacehopeandrats]

NaNo, prompt 8

Reminder that I am still taking asks for the remaining numbers: 3, 6, 10, and 20. I am also up to getting a few combinations meshed together for the last days of November. This has been a fun little experiment in opening myself up to revealing the rough side of my work and I thank everyone who has participated either by prompting or interacting with the finished product.

The winter festivities in Storybrooke lasted all day and into the night, with the usual members of Gideon's very extended family all gathering for a beginning of the season feast. It was the equivalent of an American Thanksgiving and since it fell on the day of that holiday, Gideon had begun his own yearly tradition of watching the New York parade before venturing out into the crowds of people he should feel most connected to.

There was something not quite binding him to one ritual or the other, though. He'd gone through his own, then followed along through the day in Storybrooke and now found himself hovering like a wall flower while music played in the jukebox and people gathered in semininterested clusters.

"Is this how Storybrooke 'celebrates' things?" He turned to his sister, who shrugged.

"Tradition, I guess. Everyone who was here before gets it. Can't say those of us from other places do."

Gideon did a quick head count. "Not many from other places hers. Just the two of us and a couple like Henry's family who ended up in Seattle."

"The Hatter's here," Alice pointed out. "Wonder how he made it to the party."

"I invited him " Gideon told her, rolling his eyes at her insatiable curiosity. "Grace works for me now, so she's as much a part of the Gold tradition as you and I have become. They belong here."

His sister let out a huff at that and stared out at the crowd. "It does seem like somethings missing though. It's so... serious."

"Only one way to deal with that," Gideon told her before slipping away to whisper into his fairy godmother ear.

"That's hardly what would be expected," she told him, though she smiled through the mild reprimand.

A minute later, the song on the juke box faded, changing instead to the one Cher had performed at the parade that morning. The upbeat tune had more dance club vibes than diner oldies feeling and it made everyone turn in circles as if thwy couldn't figure out where the change was coming from.

"What in the..." Regina's eyes narrowed a little, showing interest but confusion.

Elsewhere in the crowd, some of the party goers began to slightly move with.thw beat, but no one took it upon themselves to truly let loose.

"Come on," Gideon grabbed Jefferson and hauled him into the center of the room with one hand and Alice with the other. "No one is going to start unless we do."

Jefferson's eyes went so wide it was almost comical. "Are you sure changing their evening gathering should really be on the menu? Im a little long in the tooth to be doing this..."

Gideon didn't even blink. "You're not a horse," he said, hoping to draw a reaction that would put Jefferson into his more playful mode.

It worked. The other man glanced down at himself and pouted back. "Inthought I had SOMETHING to offer."

"We're the crazy ones," Alice pointed out, rolling her eyes at both of them and pretending the conversationwaant going on around her. "We're allowed to break traditions."

Gideon ignored the rest of their conversation, focusing instead on the lyrics. "It's tough outside, but it's love in here..." How was that not a theme of this particularly odd family unit?

Surprisingly, Grumpy and King David were the first to join the group on the newly created dance floor, followed immediately by Queen Snow, who happily writhed her way around her husband while her Dwarf friend hauled his brothers into what became something like a bowl of popcorn, with heads bobbing as the seven of them bounced up and down in place to the beat.

Eventually, there were more people moving to the rhythm than there were observing, and Gideon had to grin. Maybe he could help make change here after all.

P.s

Thanks for putting up with my worst word dump ever. This is so disjointed because I'm trying to write it in a minute or two between clients while I run around the world and try to make time for my family too.

For those of you who didnt see the parade, here's the viseo:

Here's the video in case you didn't see it in the parade.

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Kuroshitsuji II Drabbles

orphan_account

Summary:

A collection of kinky one shots - majority Claude x Alois, though other pairings will feature.

Chapter 1: The Stripper and the Bachelor

Chapter Text

~ The Stripper and the Bachelor ~

Underage - stripper - cheating - oral sex

“You are not eighteen, I just know it.” Claude said, gritting his teeth as a lingerie covered crotched rubbed against the growing erection in his pants.

The night had begun as any decent stag-do did. His friends first took him to a bar where they had some drinks and eventually, they made their way to a strip club. At first, Claude protested. He had always one to believe that even allowing your eyes to stray to another amounted to cheating, and a strip club would hardly allow your eyes to do anything other than wander. He considered that he would be safe enough in the club, however, considering he was well satisfied by his bride-to-be.

Hannah had a body beyond belief. He hardly needed to look elsewhere to find gratification.

That was, until one of the strippers doing their rounds had made their way to Claude’s table. At first, Claude considered himself repulsed at the sight of the clearly pre-pubescent girl. He wanted to riot at the fact that they would allow a girl so clearly underaged to participate in sex work.

That was, until he felt the very subtle bulge of the child’s crotch brush against his arm.

After that, he was less concerned with ethics and more concerned with reserving himself a private dance.

What he thought was a little girl just so happened to be a little boy. And Claude had a hidden weakness for pretty little boys. Especially pretty little boys in pretty little panties.

The private dance had started out as just that, his own personal strip show, until the little minx took it upon himself to straddle Claude’s lap and grind against him wantonly. There was no grace or refinement about it. Nothing from the action could allude to it being a part of the dance. These were simply movements to incite pleasure.

“For the third time, I AM eighteen.” The blonde boy answered him back, grinding down particularly hard and forcing a moan from Claude’s throat.

The onyx haired man surged forward, licking and nipping at the stripper’s neck. He smelt like candy and the sweetness permeated the sweat beading across the pale skin. This pretty little baby boy was delicious, and Claude wanted to eat him like it was his last meal.

The little boy moaned and bucked his hips, neck clearly sensitive to the stimulation. “Feels good,” he moaned out. He reached down to unbutton Claude’s pants and he tugged at them until Claude lifted his hips so the fabric could be pulled down enough for his cock to be freed.

“What’s your name?” Claude asked, grunting out loud as a tiny hand wrapped around his dick and began to pump.

“Pixie,” the boy responded, using his other hand to fondle Claude’s balls. He tightened, sensitive to the touch.

He slid one of his own hands down the boy’s back, pushing his hand into the pretty blue panties and letting a finger caress the tiny asshole hidden beneath them. The other hand reached under the useless matching bra and squeezed at a small nipple. “I’m not calling you Pixie,” he said as he pushed his middle finger into the boy’s ass, gently and shallowly to make up for the lack of lubrication. “What is your real name?”

The little thing was practically drooling for him now, becoming sloppy in his own ministrations on Claude’s cock. “It is my real name,” he eventually replied, half-heartedly. His resolve seemed to be crumbling as he fell victim to the grown man’s touch.

“Want to be a good little stripper?” Claude asked him as he switched to pinching at the previously neglected nipple, also allowing his finger to slide just a little deeper as he shallowly fingered the boy.

“Yes, I wanna be good.” He was literally drooling now, a panting and quivering mess upon his lap. The boy child was either an extraordinary actor or truly had never experienced the pleasure which could be inflicted by a real man – a man finely attuned to what is appreciated by the body of a young boy.

“Then hold on tight.”

In one fluid motion, Claude stood up with the boy in his arms and flipped him around so that the boy was upside down. The little thing was eye level with his cock, while Claude was in the perfect position to tilt his head down and feast on the pretty little pink hold which was now exposed to his hungry gaze.

They were both well aware of their task, and neither hesitated in enthusiastically pleasuring the other with their mouth.

Claude pushed his extraordinarily long tongue into the small hole and used it to massage the inner walls. He could feel the way the muscles shuddered and contracted with the intrusion. Meanwhile, the boy was doing a marvellous job at bringing Claude to the brink, especially considering his oxygen would be quite limited upside down. Claude could, however, feel the boy’s saliva spreading everywhere, uncontrollably. It was accompanied by a wet choking sound every time Claude pumped his hips forward and felt his cockhead hit the back of the stripper’s throat.

It didn’t take long until Claude came, expelling himself into the blonde’s mouth, onto his face and over the floor.

When he was finished, he put the child down on the floor and appraised him. His face was completely red from the blood rushing to it and he had cum matted in his blonde locks and streaked across that pretty red face.

The boy was still hard but Claude still had every intention of remedying that situation. In just a moment, he would push that lithe little body down onto the floor and use his own cum to press his fingers into that beautiful little ass and rub against his prostate until he reached completion.

But first…

“What’s your name?”

“Alois.”

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

Yes, Claude was not so sure Hannah was the only one who could draw his attention any longer.

Chapter 2: Reluctant Bondage

Chapter Text

After a long day of work, Claude was looking forward to finally coming home and unwinding by fucking his pretty little human cock sleeve. He was a hard-working man and he deserved to come home to dinner on the table and ass for dessert. Alois had cost him a damn fortune and he was going to make the pretty slave be worth every cent.

“I’m home!” Claude called out as he opened the door and removed his shoes. His little bride should be waiting for him, ready to take his coat and ask him about his day and say how much he had been missed while he was gone.

But Alois was not waiting for him like a puppy dog. In fact, Claude couldn’t even hear him fussing about in the kitchen or laundry, so clearly he wasn’t preoccupied with anything remotely useful.

He went straight to the bedroom, assuming that perhaps the boy wasn’t well and was taking a nap.

However, when he opened the door, he found quite the sight before him, indeed.

Alois was laying on the bed on his back, with his wrists bound to the headboard. His beautiful blue eyes were covered with a black blindfold and he had a ball gag spreading his lips apart and keeping him quiet. His legs were pressed together, so he didn’t see – but rather, could hear – that he had something vibrating inside of him. Probably his favourite egg toy.

“What are you doing?” Claude hissed, practically seething.

His slave should only be doing exactly what is asked of him. He should NOT be displayed in such a manner.

Claude was more concerned with who had touched his prized possession in order for him to become in such a position.

Alois seemed to jerk in surprise but was unable to respond, given the gag in his mouth. Claude quickly crossed the room and harshly pulled the gag from the boy’s mouth and the blindfold from over his eyes.

The pretty blue depths blinked up at him, first adjusting to the light and then widening in surprise when he came to see the livid expression that was marring Claude’s face.

Had he fucked up, or was this part of the game?

“Who did this to you?” He enquired harshly, pulling at the simple restraints around frail wrists until they became free, falling to Alois’ sides. The boy was surprised. In his fantasy, he had imagined that Claude would go crazy with lust at the sight of his bound and waiting slave, pull the egg from inside of him, and mount him until his own pleasure was sated.

Alois lived to please his master and he was upset that this clearly hadn’t done so.

“I asked Ciel to come around and tie me up. I wanted to surprise you,” the blonde’s voice was small and meek. His posture curled up, trying to make himself appear smaller than he already was. His heart tugged at the thought of having disappointed his owner.

“You did nothing to surprise me. You’ve simply pissed me off,” Claude scowled at his lover and reached between his legs to the cord which was protruding from his ass. He turned the toy off and yanked it out harshly, causing Alois to cry out in a mixture of pain and the pleasure of the humiliation.

Claude grabbed him by his throat and squeezed, just enough to make the threat clear. “I don’t like that kind of thing. I paid good money for you. Do you really expect me to be doing all the work when we fuck?”

He bit Alois’ ear and then pulled his own head away. He shook Alois by the neck, revelling in the sight of his body giving into the motions like a rag doll and enjoying the slight sound of his choking.

With his message clearly sent, he let go of Alois and turned his back to him. “I’m going to shower, make sure dinner is ready when I am finished.”

Alois scurried from the bed, ready to complete the task that was asked of him. As he reached the door, Claude’s voice stopped him. “And Alois, don’t let this happen again.”

-.-

The next day, when Claude got home from work, his slave wasn’t waiting for him at the door. Again.

This time, he stormed directly to his bedroom, already prepared to berate his slave for deliberately going against his wishes.

When he stepped though the door, however, he had to stop dead in his tracks.

Once again, Alois was bound…but this time, it was different.

He was kneeling on the bed, back to the door. His arms were behind his back and there was a beautiful blue rope binding the entire length of his back. It began at his shoulders and wound its way around his torso, arms and wrists – all of it coming together to form a series of aesthetically pleasing knots.

Claude was not one for bondage but he was one for beauty.

He had bought Alois because he was young and beautiful, and now that beauty was enhanced by such an artistic display.

He felt his cock hardening in appreciation.

Yes, he much preferred this to the lewd and uncouth display from the day before.

“So,” he said as he slowly approached the bed. “You invited Ciel around once again so you could deliberately defy me?” He ran his fingers down Alois’ neck and then traced the line of the ropes down his back. He could hardly complain, given the outcome, but he had to let it be known that he wasn’t going to allow rule breaking to be excused just because it was done so beautifully.

“Sorry Claude, but I had to try again. I really want this,” his voice was trembling and Claude moved so that he would be able to look at his bride’s face. He had tears falling from his eyes, which were rimmed red but incredible bright from the tears welling in them. His cheeks were flushed a beautiful pink, likely both in arousal and from the crying.

“Hmm, you’re lucky I am so forgiving. I’ll fuck you but only because you’re lucky.” Claude planted a kiss on rosy lips which tasted of salt from the tears. When he pulled back, he looked into Alois’ eyes sternly. “What do you say? You’re lucky you have a husband as kind as I am.”

“You’re right,” Alois answered. He was still sobbing, but he was smiling through his tears. “I’m so, so lucky. Thank you, Claude. I love you.”

Claude gave him a smirk in response and pecked him on the lips again. Wasting no more words, he knelt behind Alois on the bed, sliding his hands over the intricate knotting of the rope, caressing the boy’s sides and his thighs. When he finally came to his ass, Alois was squirming and crying from the stimulation.

Claude slowly pulled the plug from the boy’s ass – he always kept himself prepared in some form or another – and gripped his own cock to slide it into the stretched opening.

Alois didn’t hold himself up, instead letting out a loud moan and collapsing forward.

He couldn’t catch himself with his arms bound, so his face was pressed down into the mattress and his hips were still in the air. They had fucked like this before but Claude had always allowed Alois to turn his head to the side so he could breathe properly and hear his moans.

This time, however, he was feeling a little mean after being disobeyed.

Before Alois was able to turn his head, Claude threaded one of his hands through the hair on the back of his head and used the grip to pin his head face-down into the mattress. He would still be able to breathe, but it would be much harder than normal. If Alois was a good little whore, he would take it without a complaint.

Claude pistoned his hips, roughly fucking Alois on his dick without any concern for the boy’s own pleasure. Claude used him as the sex doll he was always intended to be.

Though he normally didn’t like doing all the work and usually appreciated Alois’ enthusiasm to meet all of his thrusts, he enjoyed the way he could take hold of the knots with his free hand and use the leverage to pull Alois back against him and fuck him harder.

So consumed with his own pleasure, it didn’t take long for Claude to cum. When he was finished, he pulled out and got out of the bed, allowing Alois’ body to flop down onto the mattress.

“I’m taking a shower,” he announced and walked away. He didn’t know if Alois had come and he didn’t particularly care. He left him there, bound and breathing heavily, with a bucket load of warm cum leaking out of his stretched rim.

And Alois had the biggest smile on his face.

Chapter 3: Swinging

Summary:

Pairing: Ciel x Alois

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this is safe?” Alois asked Claude, looking down at the couple profile displayed on his phone. When Claude had suggested they sign up to a kink website in hope of finding another couple to have fun with, Alois didn’t expect that it would return any results. Yet, there they were, in the car and on their way to a stranger’s house so that Alois could get fucked by another man and Claude could dick down another hole.

It wasn’t like their sex life was lacking; on the contrary, it was actually more vibrant than ever. For the first time in each of their lives, they were with a person with a sexual appetite to match their own. So much so, that when they first started having sex, they could hardly stop long enough to remember that they needed to eat food. But they were both curious and sexually explorative. When Claude one day confessed that he would love to watch as Alois got pounded into the mattress by someone else, Alois thought it would only be fair if he allowed Claude the opportunity…with the added bonus of being able to watch another twink get destroyed by Claude’s cock and think to himself ‘yes, he’s mine. You’ll never have him again.’

Two weeks had passed and already they had found another willing couple. Alois had left the task to Claude, trusting that his partner respected him enough to ensure he would be getting fucked by only the highest quality of cock. Claude had committed himself to being diligent in his task, professing that he would only allow the very best of the best to experience a night of pleasure with them.

Alois had insisted he didn’t want to be involved in the process and wanted to be surprised when he met them for the first time. However, his curiosity had gotten the best of him on their drive and he had demanded Claude show him the profile of the other couple.

He found himself impressed, to say the least. The couple didn’t have any lewd pictures of themselves, simply opting for tasteful pictures of the two of them dressed for events, or cute selfies. They were a gorgeous couple and the top was definitely his type – looked somewhat similar to Claude, if he was honest. He found he certainly had no qualms about who they would be sleeping with.

Now, his only concern was that this was some kind of stitch up and when they arrived they would be tortured and killed by some homophobes.

Maybe he was being a crazy Scorpio with that one, though he’d never admit it.

“I promise if it isn’t safe, they won’t live to see another day.” Claude answered him, looking stoic. As usual, he was unbothered by Alois’ dramatics.

The blonde giggled, “Oh, how I adore when you talk of murdering for me!”

Before long, they slowed to a stop outside a bloody mansion. Thank God, people who shared a similar passion for the finer things in life.

Claude didn’t hesitate in getting out of the car and walking to the front door, Alois not far behind him.

A knock.

A moment passed.

When the door opened, the air was almost knocked out of Alois. The obvious top was so much better looking in real life, it was ridiculous. He was ridiculously tall and perfectly slender, in the way the blonde appreciated. His dark hair and vibrant eyes contrasted beautifully against his fair skin. The lines of his face were so sharp they seemed to be carved out of granite.

“Hello, I’m Sebastian. Nice to make your acquaintance.” He smiled kindly, extending a hand.

Claude grasped it and gave a firm shake, “Claude.”

The man, Sebastian, turned his attention down to Alois and held his hand out, smile still firmly in place. Alois took it and gave his own shake. That hand was huge and perfectly slender, holding his hand with just the right amount of strength. “Alois. You’re handsome as hell.”

Sebastian’s smile seemed to widen just a little at the blunt comment, “Thank you. Come in and meet Ciel.”

They followed Sebastian down the hall, Alois taking the opportunity of the man’s back being turned to look at Claude and widen his eyes. Good job, he mouthed to his partner, giving him a thumbs up.

Claude simply rolled his eyes, though Alois could read beyond his expression to see that the man was pleased he had managed to find someone good enough to impress Alois. Not an easy task. Especially when you already had the best looking man in the entirety of the United Kingdom (and debatably the planet).

They stopped in a large living room, greeted with the sight of a pretty little twink lounging on the couch and reading a book. He put it down when he noticed he had company, standing up to greet them.

Alois was floored, truly.

No photograph could possibly do Ciel justice. He was short – even shorter than Alois himself – and thin. His skin was so perfectly smooth he looked like he was airbrushed. And his eyes, they were a brilliant dark blue and so large they took up the focus of his entire face (a face which was near perfectly symmetrical, by the way).

Where Sebastian had sparked Alois’ interest, Ciel created an entire bonfire. Any lingering doubts he had in the back of his mind were quashed at the mere sight of him.

Alois had to have him.

He heard Claude’s breath hitch beside him but it only served to make Alois angry. Oh no you don’t, Claude, he thought. He’s all mine.

“Hi! I’m Alois and this is Claude and you belong in a magazine,” Alois greeted enthusiastically.

Ciel looked startled, “What?”

Alois bounded forward and pulled Ciel into a hug. For how thin he was, Alois found that the boy was surprisingly soft to hold, even if his posture was stiff as a board at the contact. “Wow, you really are gorgeous. We’re going to have so much fun!”

He heard Sebastian huff in amusement behind him before speaking, “I suppose we should all get to know each other. Perhaps over some tea?”

“What’s the point?” Alois interjected before his stupid boyfriend could respond on his behalf.

Stupid tea.

He leant forward and licked at Ciel’s pierced ear, the smaller boy jumping in surprise and grasping his forearms. “W-wha…”

“Alois, come off it. Practice some patience, for once.” He heard Claude say, clearly unimpressed.

Sebastian laughed, “You weren’t lying in your profile when you said your lover was enthusiastic.”

“Sod off and go have your tea. I’m going to play with Ciel.”

Ciel’s cheeks were coloured pink with his blush, clearly embarrassed and somewhat uncomfortable. Alois knew he wanted it, though. He felt it in the way his biceps were being squeezed, in the way Ciel had been the one to step just a bit closer to him, the way their eyes met and it was like he could feel Ciel begging him to ravish him.

So he did.

With little regard to the two taller men in the room, Alois leant forward and kissed Ciel on the mouth. His affections were returned immediately, Ciel pressing into him and parting his lips so that Alois could slide his tongue into that pretty little mouth and do to his mouth what he wanted to do with the rest of their bodies.

After a few moments of passionate kissing, Alois felt a hand touch his back. He took one hand from Ciel’s waist and used it to reach back and slap that hand away from him. Claude or Sebastian or whoever the fuck could leave them alone.

They were busy.

With the distraction gone, Alois used that same hand to squeeze one of Ciel’s tiny arse cheeks, drawing a moan from the smaller boy. With a smile, Alois brought his other hand down to the other cheek and hoisted Ciel into his arms.

He like this. He liked feeling like he had control. He could just throw Ciel around like a ragdoll and fuck him however he pleased.

He dropped Ciel down onto the couch, falling on top of him so they could continue intertwining their tongues while also grinding their hardening, clothed cocks against each other. They were frantic, rushed, but that was exactly how Alois liked it. He liked feeling desperate and right then he felt that if he didn’t get inside of Ciel soon, he would spontaneously combust.

“Seba,” Ciel moaned out when their mouths parted for a moment. Sebastian was there in a second, probably hoping that he would finally be included in some way.

Fat chance of that.

“Go get the lube,” Ciel instructed. Alois couldn’t hold back his laugh at the way Sebastian’s face fell at the demand.

Poor little lamb. Acting as if he didn’t get to fuck that pretty little ass every other day of the week.

Alois kissed and licked at Ciel’s neck while they waited, still grinding their crotches together and using one of his hands to unbutton Ciel’s shirt and his own. In the mere minutes it took Sebastian to return, both their shirts had been removed and Alois had one of Ciel’s pretty little nipples in his mouth.

Sebastian handed the small bottle to Ciel, going to take a seat on one of the armchairs in the room, where he would have a good view of the show he had been sidelined for.

Both Alois and Ciel kicked off their shorts, eager to get to the real fun.

They pressed their cocks together, Ciel taking them both in hand to stroke them while Alois lubed up his fingers and rubbed them against Ciel’s asshole.

Alois appreciated that his dick was bigger than Ciel’s. Claude’s favourite hobby was bullying Alois for having a small dick but next to Ciel, his seemed of a perfectly average size (which it was, though Claude would never let him think it).

Right as Alois was about to slide his fingers into Ciel to begin prepping him, Claude sat directly behind him, kissing his shoulder. “Need some help there, my prince?”

“Ever want a blowjob again in your life?”

Claude raised his hands and backed away, threat clearly received. Wonderful, now Alois could focus on the gourmet meal in front of him.

He watched Ciel’s face as he slid a finger in, the smaller male moaning in pleasure. He appreciated the way Ciel’s abdomen tensed and flexed as he slid in the first finger and then a second, panting prettily as he kept jerking both of their cocks.

Once he was adequately stretched, Alois kissed him again, pulling his fingers out and respositioning himself so that the head of his dick was pressed against Ciel’s rim. Then, he slid home, eyes rolling into the back of his head when he bottomed out.

Alois had topped before, but the instances had been few and far between. The last time Claude had let him top had been a year before, and while it had been mindblowing for the both of them, Claude was too uncomfortable with the idea of bottoming more frequently.

The wait was surely worth it, considering Ciel fit around him like a glove. Those inner muscles were well trained to knowing just how and when to squeeze to push him closer and closer to the precipice.

He rose up into his knees and wrapped one of Ciel’s legs around his hip and put the other over his shoulder. With one arm, he held onto the leg over his shoulder and with the other he started stroking Ciel’s cock in time with his own thrusts. He wasn’t going to last very long, so he needed to make sure he got Ciel to cum soon.

He focused on the way Ciel felt, and when he angled his hips to the point where it caused Ciel’s breath to hitch in his throat, he focused his thrusts at that angle. Using the leverage of Ciel’s slender legs, he pounded against that spot with as much strength as he could muster.

It was difficult to keep his thrusts consistent when he was so out of practice and so close himself, but the attention to Ciel’s prostate as well as jerking him off had Ciel cumming sooner than Alois thought he would.

And Ciel’s face while he was orgasiming was stunning, his mouth open and eyes wide and blissed out, like he was surpsied it even happened. The sight, coupled with the way Ciel clamped down on him, had Alois finishing as well. He pulled out, stroking himself harshly as he came in streaks over Ciel’s flat stomach and flushed chest.

Boneless, he collapsed on top of Ciel, only finding the energy to tilt his head up and give Ciel one last lingering kiss.

Well, Claude did say he wanted to see Alois fucking someone else…

[lovesickletters]

Hello!! I saw your Yandere Alphabet post and fell in love!! I love reading this type of content! :D

I was wondering if I could get a request for Affogato? (A,C,D,G,I,J,M,& P.)

I love him sooo much and instantly struck me as the manipulative type! Can’t get enough of him!

Whatever you do I’ll be happy! Feel free to ignore.

Love and Kisses,

- Anon

💜𝒜𝒻𝒻𝑜𝑔𝒶𝓉𝑜 𝒞𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝑒 | 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒜𝓁𝓅𝒽𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓉💜

I’m delighted you loved them! You have excellent taste Anon, I played the Dark Cacao Kingdom chapters to answer this to the best of my ability 💜

Attachment

How do they become obsessed?

The highly esteemed advisor couldn’t help but take notice of his darling when they were the only one to offer him shelter from the freezing cold after his fall from grace at the hands of that wretched Caramel Arrow Cookie and her new friends. How kind of you to take pity on him, meagre as your offering may be after his life of luxury and lavishness. But he supposes he can make an exception in this particular scenario.

Caring

How well do they take care of their darling?

Affogato Cookie will take about as much care to manipulate his darling into taking care of him as they will once they have been fully blinded by his sweet words, laced with sugar and honey. He will go to great efforts to steer you in any direction he so pleases with his honeyed tongue and lying lips.

Depraved

Does your yandere have a shrine? (If so, what's on it?)

Naturally, as a cookie who knows the significance of shrines to important figures in a cookies’s life he collects a few trinkets should he ever have the mind to perform any unsavoury rituals should his web of deceit ever falter. A lock of hair here, a small painting of your image, some incense resembling your favourite scent. Definitely far tamer and less degenerated than some other shrines, but considering their purposes and use in potential dark magic rituals it might be less preferable.

Good

Do they reward their darling for good behavior?

Of course! The carrot is always just as valuable as the stick, and he is not above laying as many honeyed words and compliments upon you as it takes for you to trust him with your life. Small rewards and treats in the form of gifts he won’t explain the origins of are bound to show up pressed into your hands eventually.

Intimacy

How intimate are they with their darling?

Affogato Cookie has always been fond of leaning in just a little too close, letting his luxurious clothing brush against you, pushing himself just a little too far into your personal space. Speaking in a tone just barely distinguishable from a whisper, so you are tempted to lean in towards him even closer to hear, only to be tutted for being so eager.

Jealous

What makes them the most jealous?

Should you somehow begin to press your eager ears and respect towards another cookie, despite all of the efforts he’s gone to to make himself the only cookie you admire, the look on his face would be one of distaste and repulsion rarely seen in such intensity.

Makeout

What are their kisses like?

He will always initiate them, catching you by surprise but always leaving you wanting more. A chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes you lean in for more, only to face his overindulgent smirk at your own accord

Pleasure

What is something they love making their darling do?

If it hasn’t been outlined enough already, Affogato Cookie deeply enjoys teasing you with something, just before pulling it out of your reach moments before it is in your grasp. He makes a sadistic game out of it that keeps you frustrated and obedient, always in the hope that maybe next time he will finish what he started (he won’t).

[blzzrdstryr]

Signed in blood

Yandere!Zhongli x Yaksha!gn!reader

Wordcount: 2541

CW: Yandere themes, mentioned violence and death, unhealthy power dynamics

Long before Liyue’s borders had been established and the harbor bloomed into the prosperous city that it is today, the Geo Lord, Rex Lapis gathered all lesser deities and spirits dwelling in the current nation’s territory and concluded a contract with most of them, ensuring the protection of his country and people. Some of them signed a contract out of fear before archon’s power, some did it for mutual benefit and some out of gratitude and deep reverence. You are in the latter category, a simple forest spirit that was saved from the distorted monsters left after the archon war by his grace and power alone.

It was a simple day when you felt an enormously malicious energy surrounding your green abode, and soon they showed up, killing intent and will of dead archons seeping out of them. You were fast and agile enough to dodge creatures' hits, which couldn't be said about the others. Your fellow spirits and animals with whom you were sharing this forest soon fell victim to the perpetrators' attacks. Dark energy entered and desecrated the lands, poisoned the waters and even possessed the bodies of your old friends.

You were running away, fatigue finally catching up to you, despite the inhuman nature and you soon fell to the ground. There were a myriad of thoughts and feelings reeling inside of you - grief for your now dead friends and home, anger at the monsters and most importantly frustration with yourself. You aren’t human, not a single part of you is, so why were you so weak and helpless, unable to do anything as you left your loved ones for slaughter and massacre?

Guilt and shame washed over you, as you allowed tears to burst free - you were bad, you were disgusting for not doing anything, not helping anyone. Monstrous roars and growls got closer, a promise and a threat of what will happen to you. You closed your eyes, accepting the imminent end and bracing for the upcoming pain. And then the most unexpected thing happened - the earth underneath you vibrated, tremors knocking the beasts off their feet, as a tall basalt pillar rose from the ground.

Soon the stranger appeared, ending the monsters in one swift and elegant slash of his spear. He donned an otherwise simple white attire adorned with golden threads, with a long ponytail showing from the hood, but the most eye-catching details were piercing amber eyes and the glowing patterns all over his body of the same colour. You forgot how to breathe for a second as you watched your unexpected savior - he was beyond handsome, possessing the kind of beauty that would have mortals blushing and stuttering.

He then looked around, finally noticing your sprawled form. “Are you all right?”he asked, his tranquil and calm voice tinted by the shadow of concern and lending his hand. “I am”, you sputtered out and took an outstretched limb, feeling infinitely clumsy and ugly, face heating up from embarrassment. “That is good”, his voice despite still possessing the same serenity took a warmer tone.

As you learned later, you were saved by one of the seven remaining archons, a lord of geo. Filled with shame for your dishonorable escape and gratitude for your unforeseen salvation you signed the tightest contract with Rex Lapis - a blood written pact.

Unlike the contracts mortals establish, a contract between two immortal beings lacks the parchment or ink or a signature, they use magic and techniques that echo directly into their soul, preventing even the possibility of the terms' violation. Blood written pact binds to the vital essences of one, an ancient magic flaring up once the contractor intends to break the agreement, stopping and warning them of what's to come once they do breach it.

Your blood sizzled and boiled as you pledged your life to Liyue, magic singing in your veins and resonating with your soul - Rex Lapis saw the potential in you to be a great warrior and designated you to serve him as one of the yakshas, so you obeyed, training your body and spirit to withstand the endless calamities you no doubt will have to face. One day, after a grueling training you almost gave up, but forced yourself past your limits. I must redeem myself and repay Rex Lapis, you thought, gritting your teeth and taking a battle stance again, and then a miracle happened: a blue glowing orb materialized in the air - a vision bestowed by the hydro archon.

Sometimes you still reminisce about this moment and recite the oath you gave back then - I pledge my life to the protection of the Liyue nation and the will of Geo Archon, Rex Lapis for all the centuries to come.

Soon, you ended your training and started to protect Liyue just like other four adeptis all of whom were also saved by the Geo Lord. For centuries you five defended the nation as it bloomed and grew into something that you couldn't even imagine. And even after centuries of slaughter as your karmic debt started to slowly eat you from inside, slowly, but surely devouring your sanity by the smallest pieces you always found strength to move forward by recalling your first meeting with Rex Lapis, reverence before your God and guilt before the dead driving you further and further.

With time a dull, yet constant pain made its way into your bones. Sometimes it would make your eyes fill with unshed tears, sometimes wake you up in those rare times you slept without nightmares, sometimes it made your hands tremble, almost dropping the weapon in the middle of the battle. You couldn’t suppress and endure it like Xiao does, letting out a pained whimper here and there, yet you still upheld your duty to the Liyue. It almost felt like routine, until two awful events happened: the death and defection.

The fear and hatred of all those who fell victims to your weapons were slowly seeping in your minds, driving you mad with bloodlust. It all happened so quickly: you were watching out for other demons as Bonanus and Pervases were patching up Alatus after the intense battle, while Bosacius looked at the other front, weapons ready, and then Bonanus lashed out, aiming for Xiao's neck. The anemo yaksha quickly darted to the side, but the weapon still grazed the copper bird's neck, his blood forming a quickly growing pool underneath. You had to put the bloodlusted yaksha yourself, something inside of you breaking as you did so - it was one thing to stand against hordes of demons and monsters and it was another to kill your friend.

You couldn’t talk or look into the eyes of the other two after that, despising yourself for yet another failure - first your forest, then your friends, you were helpless to save anyone. And then Bosacius left, you had no idea where he vanished, but these two events prompted Rex Lapis to visit both you and Xiao, as yakshas shrinked in numbers from five to two in less than a week.

You kneel before the Geo archon when you notice his tall figure between the ancient trees - unlike Xiao, you prefer to live in the woods, the familiarity of nature reminiscent of a home you once lost. Your Lord ushers you to stand up, his face solemn and grim.

“[First]”, he starts, exhaustion evident in each syllable: "For centuries you protected my Harbor, and despite turbulent times passing you still uphold your duty. I find that admirable".

Your eyes go wide and you turn your head, unable to receive such high praise from your God, you feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, acknowledgement of your hard work, and even constant pain or the death and disappearance of your colleagues became less serious of the issue for a mere moment.

"I am not worthy of such praise, my lord, I am only doing my job, fulfilling the contract", you deflect, looking at him again. Archon's eyes crease a little and a small frown appears as you say "contract", yet he quickly wills his face into an impassive mask.

"I suppose I made a mistake when I asked you to be my yaksha back then, I have misjudged your worth ", he continues, voice becoming distant and strangely tense, as he reminisces about the days long past, amber eyes looking both at and through you.

"My lord, I…", you start and then stumble over the words, unsure what to say next. Is this his way of telling you that you're bad at your job? You cast your head down, eyes lowered in shame, hands that spilled adeptus' blood trembling and burning. "I am deeply sorry for letting you down in that way, I will do my best to redeem myself from now on” .

A warm hand touches your shoulder, squeezing it slightly in a comforting manner. His palm is warm and firm, comforting in its steadiness like a tall cliff standing proudly against the raging tides, indestructible and reliable.

"You have no reason to apologize for this. Something like this would inevitably happen sooner or later, you have no fault in the events that occured. I suppose karmic debt would drive one of you insane eventually".

He sounds calming, reassuring, like a parent soothing a child. You still don’t lift your head to meet his gaze - you’re too guilty and unworthy to do that. There are no words you can speak now, not when you have been so thoroughly destroyed by your lord’s kindness - how can he look at you and see someone innocent?

“No, I meant that all those centuries ago, when I first met you I didn’t discern the gem hidden in the crude ore” he adopts reminiscent tone again, his hand now moving on your shoulder in slow and steady rhythm: “I knew I wanted you to be by my side, I didn’t know who I wanted you to be though. I needed time to understand my own feelings and the way I viewed you, and then I needed some more time to accept those sentiments”.

“What sentiments, my lord?”, you ask, finally looking up to him, brows slightly frowned in confusion and curiosity - it’s rare to see the Geo archon talk about his inner workings so openly, as he usually prefers to keep a cordial distance or masterfully redirects the conversation into a completely different direction.

“Over the years, as you protected my nation and my people, I finally understood it”, his hand shifts from your shoulder and now he cups your own two palms in a firm yet gentle hold: “I cherish you, [First]”.

The sudden declaration leaves you stunned and speechless for a good minute: you look at your god with wide eyes, mouth opening several times like a fish out of water. A myriad of thoughts and feelings go through you: confusion, disbelief, inferiority.

“I… That is very sudden for me to… learn about your affections”, you finally utter, forgetting to add respectful “my lord” at the end. Your voice comes off as small and hesitant as you say so. Rex Lapis doesn’t seem to mind your confusion as he takes a second to collect his own thoughts.

“The yaksha title I have burdened you with takes a toll both on your mind and your body. I severely miscalculated, so I want to redeem this mistake”, he sounds regretful now, one hand moving to caress and cup your face. You go stiff, still overwhelmed by the whole conversation. “I can free you from your contract if you decide to become my life companion”.

“But, my lord, it’s so sudden I can’t just..”

“Hush, I won’t pressure you into an intimate relationship right away. No, we will wait and learn about each other and once you will be comfortable enough to let me enter your life and your heart we will marry, uniting our fates with a contract that shall never end”.

You lower your head again, but this time in contemplation instead of guilt and shame. What do you feel for Rex Lapis? Admiration - he is a powerful deity, capable enough to flatten mountains and raise new ones with a single slash of his spear. Gratitude - he was the one that saved you and sheltered you, until you grew strong enough, he gave you a reason to live when you had none. Respect - he is a capable leader, smart enough to build a foundation and guide people of the most magnificent nation in Teyvat.

You feel no love for him, not the kind of love he wants anyway. You know about his patience and how affections sometimes take years to finally mature and bloom, but the thought of spending decades, maybe even centuries in hopes that one day you will reciprocate is nauseating to you.

How do you feel about it? A part of you wants it - it’s an easy way out to get rid of the pain, of the fear and bloodshed, of the death that clings to you at every waking moment. You remember how you spend most of your nights sleepless, drowsiness leaving you the same second you dream of blood and carnage and massacre. You remember your whole body throbbing and burning on especially bad days, when even Remedium Tertiorum can’t do its job. You remember crying and gasping for air after the weight of the slaughtered gets too heavy for you to handle.

You almost say yes, out of these reasons alone, but you stop yourself - you think of Xiao, of how lonely he will become once you leave. You think of heartfelt smiles that mortals gift you with on those rare occasions you have to save them. You think of the slaughtered spirits before whom you still have to atone to.

“I am sorry, my lord” You look him straight in the eyes, bracing yourself for the words you are about to say: “I can’t match your feelings, nor can I accept your offer, not now at least”.

Amber eyes lose their warmth in the instance, the comforting aura he was exuding earlier replaced by the weird tension between you two. Looking at this image, you suddenly remember how ruthless Rex Lapis can be on the battlefield as for a fraction of the second he looks at you as you’re an enemy.

A horrible pain shoots right through your body, and your short scream follows. You fall on the floor, gasping for air, deaf and blind from the overwhelming pain. Geo archon quickly takes your form, carrying you to your sleeping place, as you try your best to breathe and not cry.

“It must be a blood pact acting up, the magic must have taken your refusal as disobedience to the contract”, he says once the agony lightens, enough for you to focus on the conversation, “you did pledge your life to my will”.

You try to half sit on your elbow, to look him in the eyes and say something other than the pained groans and whimpers, as his next words instill a sense of quiet dread in you:

“I hope you will rethink and take back your words out of your own volition, [First]. I would hate to order you to”.

[imagine-a-fangirl]

A/n: Welcome to my first bridgerton fanfic, which will eventually become an anthony bridgerton x female! reader fanfic. This is a bit of an introduction chapter, so it will get better I promise The ton, the high society of London. If you were someone who mattered you were a part of it. The young ladies that came out into society all had the same goal in mind, marry the one person who can give you the best live, with love only being a small part in those arrangements.

Your family had moved away from London after the passing of your mother. Your father couldn’t cope with the memories London held and decided to move towards the Netherlands. He went back every so often for business and travelled around a lot, giving you and your brothers all the freedom you would never have had in London. You had come out into society a couple years back already, your father needed to handle some business in London and took you with him. That way you could be presented at court and he could take you to the debutant ball before travelling back to the Netherlands. He wanted you to be out in society, just so you could have gotten married if there had been any eligible men. But there you were returning to London, joining society and the ton for real this time.

“It will be alright.” Thomas tried to calm your nerves while he helped you out of the carriage. Your father still had to arrive in London, meaning your brothers escorted you to your first ball of the season. You didn’t really mind, this way you could get used to the pressure of the ton again without your father constantly watching over you.

As the oldest Thomas always felt the urge to support and protect you, and he saw it as his duty to find you someone who suited you perfectly. Nicholas on the other hand was more easy going, he looked out for you as well but he was always open to let you try new things. Both of them were the reason you had been able to do things a lady would never be able to do otherwise.

The three of you walked into the ballroom, heads of many men turning your way. You knew they were mostly just curious, especially the slightly older men who had yet to marry. A new woman your age was rare but here you were. “You remember any of these men?” You asked Thomas

“Some of them, old friends. Not sure if they are the right suitors." He answered honestly

“We will figure out who is for you.” Nicholas

After an hour of introductions, catching up with old friends and even a dance you noticed no other than the Duke of Hastings joining the room. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” You excused yourself from your current company and quickly made your way through the crowd. “Your Grace!” you greeted your old friend before quickly making a small curtesy as was expected of you.

“Lady y/n, have they finally convinced you to join society?” Simon returned the curtesy “Convinced is a big word your Grace, forced me comes closer.” You tried to brush it off with a joke "Well I'm sure there are a lot of eligible gentlemen that are glad you did." He had already noticed multiple men looking your way. "How wonderful." You answered sarcastically. “To what does the ton owe the pleasure of a visit from its newest Duke?” “I was forced to be here as well.” “I didn’t know it was possible for a Duke to be forced into doing anything.” “Tell that to Lady Danbury, she doesn’t take no for answer.” “She can be very convincing.” You agreed. “At least we will be able to suffer together, shall we go for a walk around the room.” He suggested “It would be my pleasure, your Grace.” You said before linking your arm and walking with him. Your walk mostly consisted of him telling what he came to do and the fact that you were forced to search a husband. That was until your conversation was harshly interrupted by a man. “Basset? Basset!”

“Bridgerton!” Simon excitedly greeted his friend as he let go of you.

“Come here old friend, I heard news about your father.” It only then seemed to hit the man what that meant for Simons name “Hastings, for ever more known as the Duke of Hastings.”

You observed the gentleman as they continued their conversation, your mother had been friends with the viscountess when you were little, but your mother often kept you away from the boys. She felt like you were already influenced greatly by your brothers and didn’t want others to do the same. Because of that you couldn’t immediately point out if this was either the Viscount you were looking at or Benedict. The man’s eye fell on you and you made a small curtesy, which he returned with a bow of his head. Before turning back to Simon “I can see you are occupied right now. So we should properly get together, I expect to see you at our club then.”

“Indeed, evening Bridgerton.” Simon bid his goodbyes to his friend and continued his walk with you “Was that Benedict or the Viscount?” You asked Simon “That was The Viscount, Anthony. You know the Bridgertons?” “My mother was friends with the Viscountess, but I didn’t go as often as she or my brothers. To many men to influence me. “That certainly made a difference.” You shook your head “Is your father escorting you this evening?” “No Thomas and Nicholas are, father will arrive in London in three days.” “You don’t seem to excited for that?” Simon noticed your change in mood “It’s not that I’m not excited to see him, but I just hope he doesn’t expect me to be married at the end of the season.” “You know he probably will.” “That is what I am afraid of.” You agreed. “Let’s go the other way.” Simon suddenly said, softly pushing you in a different direction then you were walking.

“Lady y/n, how wonderful to see you finally joining society. Haven’t you grown in a beautiful young woman.” “To late.” Simon whispered, causing you to let a small chuckle escape. “Thank you, Lady Danbury.” You curtsied as you got your act together again “It’s so wonderful to see you, how have you been?" “I’ve been wonderful dear. I see you’ve already met the Duke.” Lady Danbury seemed a bit too happy with herself “The Duke and I have actually known each other for a couple years.” “Have you now?” It wasn’t often Lady Danbury wasn’t aware of everything that happened within society and it seemed she wasn’t too happy about it.

“We have, we met in France actually.” Simon told her.

“Very well, then is there a reason we haven’t seen the two of you on the dance floor yet?”

“Let’s not get to far ahead of ourselves.” Simon insisted. After some small talk you excused yourself to go find your brothers again “I’ll see you around Lady y/n.” Simon told you.

At one point during the evening you were caught in a dull conversation with Lord Berbrooke. Every time Lord Berbrooke came a little closer you took a small step back, keeping your distance until you bumped into the woman behind you. “I am so sorry.”

“That is quite alright, dear.” The woman smiled, she seemed very familiar but you couldn’t quite place her. Lord Berbrooke kept continuing his one sided conversation with you and you kept looking around the room for an escape. When you spotted Simon again in a corner, observing the room and you as well. “Ask me to dance.” You mouthed towards Simon to get him to save you. You were lucky enough he understood you and he paced towards the two of you.

“Lord Berbrooke may I interrupt?

“Your Grace, of course.” Lord Berbrooke seemed caught off guard that the duke wanted to join his conversation and Simon used the moment to turn his attention to you.

“Lady y/n would you care for a dance?

“Of course your Grace.” He held out his hand which you happily accepted “Thank you for saving me.” You whispered once out of hearing distance.

“You owe me one, a big one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time you are distressed by a mother.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

As the music started the two of you moved across the room as if you had never done anything else. “For someone who doesn’t dance, you are quite skilled your Grace.” y/n grinned

“Do you want me to return you to Lord Berbrooke or will you stop the teasing.”

“I’ll be stopping the teasing at once your Grace.” You laughed

“Thank you.” When the set ended Simon guided you off the floor, the furthest away from Nigel and escorted you back to your brothers.

“I heard of the presence of the Duke of Hastings, I did not expect him to act on my sister so soon.” Thomas joked when he saw the two of you walking over.

“Only saving her from some unwanted suitor.” He held his hands up in defense before greeting Thomas.

“I didn’t expect anything else from her old friend. Was lord Berbrooke bothering you?”

“He was.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Thomas promised you.

“Thank you.”

“Before I forget I ran into Lady Bridgerton, she invited us for dinner with her family.” Thomas informed you “I already accepted her invitation, if that’s alright with you.”

“I’m sure we will have a lot of catching up to do with them.” You agreed The rest of the evening consisted of more dancing, conversations and introductions. Simon stayed close to the three of you most of the evening, as it gave him an easy excuse not to converse with other. And you caught the eye of many more men. You were even re introduced to three members of the Birdgerton family. As soon as Thomas had done that you knew the familiar woman you had bumped into earlier that night, had been Lady Bridgerton herself. You apologized once more for bumping into her earlier, but she played it off with a joke. Your re introduction to the Bridgerton family resulted in a dance with both Benedict and Colin. Where dancing with the other men made you slightly nervous, dancing with them felt familiar. Just as your dance with Simon had, it was as if you never done anything else. It had only been your first evening back into society, everything in you told you this could be an interesting season.

[kaiqarker]

the watchtower’s lighthouse | stan vogel

pairing: stan vogel x reader

warnings: smut, swearing

summary: months after a disasterous first date with stan vogel, your paths cross once more when you’re lost within the depths of kern canyon national park during a thunderstorm and stan happens to have inherited a shift patrolling from the watchtower.

a/n: back from the dead because of this man. hope y’all enjoy :)

THE SKY EMULATED STAN VOGEL'S morals, consisting of gray unpredictability. If he was within the familiar walls of his assigned cabin, located along the grounds of Kern Canyon National Park, it would be an indication he wouldn't have to do much patrolling. Campers usually stayed put if there was rainfall, sticking to their own site and not off doing God knows what to the land Stan takes pride in preserving. Cascading a thick husk of superiority and knowledge was his favorite thing about the job, which is why he was disappointed he was stuck maintaining the watchtower for tonight.

The surveillance for the watchtower was run by a tight knit schedule of volunteers and the occasional firefighter that needed a change of scenery for a couple days. Needless to say with all the strange occurrences and sightings, there have been less and less people willing to take on the task. And now the duty was bestowed upon the park ranger— at least for tonight. He swore to himself that at sunrise he would be out of there and back to being the persistent, vexing gum stuck to the bottom of everyone's shoe.

Stan now sat in a wobbly chair, feet propped up on the desk and his trusty binoculars in hand. His surroundings were darkening, quicker than they would at his cabin because of the parade of trees towering over the area. He could mostly only see shadows and the outlines of the forest. His paranoia kept him on the lookout, knowing all too well what kind of perilous entities the park harbored, dark secrets he was trusted in keeping.

It was why his body jolted and he nearly fell out of his seat at a sign of movement. His hands itched to drop the binoculars and reunite with the shotgun propped up in the corner. His burst of anxiety was halted, however, once the lenses revealed a person. A wandering, soaked person clearly becoming victim to the thunderstorm that had been periodically easing and worsening for the past two hours.

Stan stood, walking over to the window with his binoculars hanging from the strap around his neck. He easily pried it open and stuck out his head. The drizzle of rain didn't reach him because of the roof stretching out along the perimeter of the watchtower, but he still felt the dip in the temperature. He estimated that it had dropped at least fifteen degrees since the start of the storm, the disappearance of the sun only escalating the drafty change.

He was about to shout down at what is most certainly a woman who had strayed too far from her campsite but then she twisted around, finally noticing the light emitting from up above. Recognization crumbles both of their attentive expressions. She becomes more than a drenched, carmine tank top, huddled body, and ropes of wet hair. He transforms into the exact opposite of a saving grace when his beige uniform and ironically angelic face are perceived.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is. Stalking your ex, eh?" Stan called down to her. The pattern of swift and drawned out words, swirled into a provoking and often mocking Australian accent, reached her ears over the light patter of rainfall.

She sighed, dramatically enough for Stan to see the rise and fall of her diaphragm. She considered turning around and braving the unknown of the wilderness again. If it wasn't for her sore feet and her prediction that she would develop some sort of hyperthermia if she stayed out in the cold, then she would've already been on her way.

"We went out on one date. You don't count as an ex," she clarified, craning her neck up at him. His smirk from knowing she was in a miserable condition and that he was the only one that could do anything about it ignited the first sense of heat she had felt in awhile. Her fists clenched against her crossed arms. "And you're the one with the pervy binoculars. On the prowel for half-naked campers, are you?"

He scoffed, winding his head to the side for a moment. "Enough with the bullshit. Are you coming up or not?"

In any other situation, he probably would've dragged their reunion out, teased her for being so helpless and naive. But she was shivering and looked so small curling into herself; it was a sight that played his heartstrings like a mystical harp. Even after a date gone wrong and the resentment that followed, he couldn't bare to see her like this.

She, on the other hand, still clung to some hesitation. Cozying up in a small, confined space with Stan where there were no other people around to ground her into the realms of sanity wasn't a compelling option. The both of them simply didn't get along. The nightmare of their date was very vivid in her mind, too, and she didn't want tonight to be a repeat of that.

Almost like nature could sense her doubts, thunder crackled and reverberated around the forest. Lightning flashed, incandescent and forbiding. The rain intensified, hitting her bare skin with a harsh force. Muddy shoes stumble forward a few steps but still don't gravitate towards the ladder.

"Better move your ass, sweetheart! Unless you'd prefer to get struck by lightning? Not to mention all the dangerous things lurking around that you haven't the slightest idea about."

Undeniable complacency was weaved into his taunt. However, it did get her moving. If she would've bothered to look up or if there wasn't such vast distance between them from their differing heights, she might've seen the concern nestled into glimmering, cobalt eyes.

Suffering through a climb where her wobbly legs and white knuckles were put the use, she eventually made it to top. Stan already had the latch swung open, bent down in the center of the room and waiting for her with an outstretched arm. Reluctantly, she took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her inside the watchtower.

"Crickey, you're freezing," he murmured. There was a softness to his features and the low timber of his voice. He'd even began rubbing over her fingers with his own, attempting to summon some warmth back into him, before he realized what he was doing and backed away.

"That's what happens when you get lost and separated from your friends and then get caught up in a storm," she summed up, monotonous.

"Your friends are idiots," Stan muttered.

She was about to deter the insults back his way until she suddenly felt a subtle weight on her shoulders. The scent combination of spearmint gum and lingering campfire smoke was sensed with a mere sniffle, and soon her hands were reaching up to pull on the sage green trim of his coat.

"You don't even know them," she settled for saying.

"They let you get lost, didn't they?" Stan's eyes found her wide ones, squinting slightly in familiar anger, but she could tell—this time at least—it wasn't directed towards her. "Yeah, bunch of mates, they are."

It was her turn to break the intimacy blossoming between them. She disconnects their stare that was inevitably going to convey all the unspoken feelings that still flourished inside of her to spare a glance over his shoulder. The furnace filled with a burning stack of dry wood lures her away from Stan, and she kneels down in front of it.

His hands go to his belt, elbows bent outward like he was posing as a chicken. He was unsettled by how consumed he was by his emotions. He wanted to give her space but then he finds himself reaching for her. He wanted to remain civil but the distaste in her tone and her infuriating, unreasonable glare casted towards him causes him to delve into his own hostile urges. The confusion of what to do and how to deal with her presence was boardering on insufferable.

But facing her, watching her beneath the firelight, the strain of his internal compass ebbed. He was no longer directionless or purposeless. The orange glare enducing a riveting shine to her hair and her tranquil countenance she upheld gazing into the flames had him feeling certain in just about every single thing that made the universe, the universe.

"You're staring," she whispers, a tremble in her reply she blames on recovering from the weather.

"And you won't even look over at me for a second." His observation coaxes her into peering at him, finding that he enclosed the distance between them by a few steps. A playful smile twitches across his lips. "What? Don't like a man in uniform?"

"I wouldn't be bragging about your outfit, Stan. You're a glorified Boy Scout," she remarks, rising from her position on her knees. Her thumb and pointer finger pinch the small, golden slate pinned to his shirt. "Even have badges and everything,"

"Get your grubby little hands away from my name tag. You're gonna smudge it," he grumbles, smacking her hand away; she lets out a humorless, short-lived laugh at his overreaction.

"Still an uptight asshole, I see."

"Still a mouthy brat, then?"

His retort makes her face harden. "Being honest doesn't make me a mouthy brat."

"Just inconsiderate?"

"You're preaching to me about being inconsiderate? You live off of ridiculing people. On our date, you insulted and humiliated our waiter because he didn't know the exact species of deer mounted to the wall."

"I was just taking a moment to educate him!"

"You called him a fumbling idiot who didn't know the basic fundamentals of biology!"

"Oh, like you were any better! Shoving your tits into the bartender's face to get free drinks!" He throws his hands up, easily overtaken by frustration and unresolved jealously.

"I know how much you make, Stan. You should be thanking me for that," she says slowly, deliberately, bringing up the one thing she knows will push him over the edge. He takes the bait, but she doesn't expect what he throws back at her.

"You're right. Thank you, sweetheart, for acting like such a slut on our first date that all anyone had to do for dessert was crouch down between your open legs."

Her mouth dropped at his statement. His exasperation dissolves to shock at processing his own harsh comment. He isn't able to focus on it for long, though, because she properly acts by allowing her palm to connect to his cheek.

Head snapped to the side, he can begin to taste a droplet of blood on his tongue, emitting from where his incisor pinched his bottom lip. He licks over the minor wound thoughtfully, heaving out a breath of false amusement. When he looks at her again, his face is dark and full of cruel intentions of revenge.

Stan surges forward and doesn't stop until her body crashes against the wall like she was just a bag of dismantled bones. His coat falls from her shoulders and slumps against the hardwood floor during the journey. His towering height and weight pin her in place, leaving her at the mercy of splayed hands and the relentless motions of his mouth against hers.

The awakening, leftover flavor of gum he must've chewed eariler just sinks in when he bites down hard on her lip. A whimper, the first sound she makes besides the ejection of a surprised gasp, is forced out her from the harsh gesture. A metallic taste replaces the one prior, one eager swipe of his tongue rolling past her parted lips.

The instinct to shoot her hands up and enmesh them in the soft, chestnut strands of his cropped hair is interrupted by an action of his own. He eases the intensity of the kiss, allowing her to breathe through languid, desperate puckers she reciprocates, but his fingers hook around both her bra and tank top straps, yanking them down her arms. She lifts herself out of them only to have him grasp the collar of her shirt and pull it down, her bra in tow, until they were just bundled material around her midriff.

Calloused hands fondled her breasts while his mouth diverts to her neck, sucking and nipping until her skin resembled the colorful patches of a quilt. She throws her head back against the wall, leaning into his touch and letting out the most delicate moans that had all of his blood gushing to the apex of his legs; she felt proof of it when he rutted himself against her.

Her forearms are squeezed between their bodies so she can reach the buttons of his shirt, manicured fingers working hastily and with not as much care she knew Stan would've liked, but he seemed to be too preoccupied by kissing her all over. Soon her hands were tugging up the white t-shirt he always wore underneath his uniform, and he helped her out by shifting it over his head and discarding it to the growing pile of clothes.

His chest was warm and inviting compared to hers. Her skin felt like cool marble underneath his fingertips, keeping her nipples pebbled and sweat from the heated exchange at bay. It was quite a contrast as their bodies continued to press together, her hands sliding along the expanse of his taut back while he concentrated on undoing her shorts.

"All mine," he mumbled against her jaw; it was certainly hard to disagree with him and all his handsy clutches and kisses that left her craving more.

"All yours," she confirmed softly.

The words barely left her mouth before she felt the heart-jolting sensation that was his hand sliding past her unzipped shorts and underwear. His fingers ran up and down down her folds, taking his time, ever the explorer. He often grazed her clit, encouraging her hips to arch into him for more direct contact, but he was careful to only give her a slight, fleeting amount.

"Stan." His name parted from her in a low whine—somewhat shamefully because she never thought she'd be in this circumstance, begging a hardass park ranger with a major superiority complex for a release.

"So wet for me. Awful naughty of you to get this soaked from one arguement with me, don't you think?"

She nuzzled her face into the side of his, nose brushing along his chiseled cheekbone. "Please."

"Aw, look at you. So sweet. You'd never think that you live to slander me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I am nothing but nice to you."

"Oh?" He inserts his middle finger into her, curling it precisely, while the heel of his hand grinds against her clit with every deliberate pump.

"Yes," she gasps.

Shallow pants gradually rack through her torso, and the ache of his throbbing cock becomes unbearable at the sight of her defenseless against his advances. He adds another finger, the grip and warmth of her slick walls causing him to shudder in anticipation.

"Such a little liar," he groans out after a particularly provocative contraction around his digits, one that rids him of whatever patience he had left.

He abruptly removes his hand from her shorts, something that makes her closed eyes flicker open. Her mouth immediately morphs into a pout and she squeezes his biceps in protest.

She isn't left waiting for long, hands on her hips guiding her away from the wall until the underside of her knees hit the edge of a cot. His mouth parts from hers once more, a sweet dragging of overlapped lips exchanged during the slow steps, so he can pull back the blanket. She looks over her shoulder at the neatly presented cot, which Stan must've brought with him along with his own fitted bedspread. She was now appreciative that he always came prepared.

Without having to be told, she crawled underneath the covers after ridding herself of the remainder of her clothing. Stan did the same once she was settled, becoming the final layer that draped over her body. The blanket and the crisp white of a top sheet stopped at the dimples of his back, and she was trapped in warmth, intensified by the glorious weight of his bare body on hers. Arms on either side of her head latch the cage as he leans down for another kiss.

"Don't mistake me keeping you warm as forgiveness. I'm still very mad at you. You drive me crazy," he sighs against her jaw, his eyelashes fluttering against the apple of her cheek.

"Don't mistake me moaning for you as an apology. You don't deserve one." Her strokes at the nape of his neck never faltered. Her thighs spread, legs winding around his, desperate for him to do something with his cock that laid twitching and swollen on her navel. "Well, you might if you fuck me hard enough."

"Shut up already."

Long fingers brick over her parted mouth in time with the repositioning of his hips, muffling the cries of consumption that came from him sinking inside of her. Eyes roll to the back of her head, almost completely sated by just the feeling of being filled. The head of his shaft glided against her most sensitive spot like a brush of shoulders, and her thighs tightening around his waist was her turning around, ready to chase shattering gratification.

Although slow, his thrusts into her were brutal. They held onto to each other like you would to ropes of a ruinous bridge connecting two cliffs, like they would be faced with a plummeting death if they were to let go. And yet, they were fighting along the wobbly planks, the semicircles of hip bones clashing together like medieval swords. It was all extremes, but neither of them would have it any other way.

He was making the most beautiful sounds above her. Through his ruthless motions, were breathy moans and whines of her name, the occasional praise intertwined into his enticing responses. Eventually, he allowed his hand to stop sealing her lips, sliding it down to clutch the flesh of her thigh with the promise of bruises. Her soft pleas and moans of euphoria joined his to create a symphony worthy of a ballet orchestra.

Strings of saliva conntected rouge lips to the marked skin of his neck, where she continued to suckle and playfully nip. The roll of their bodies picked up speed, both becoming impatient by the delicious ache they kept provoking, daring one another to spasm out of control. They craved for their muscles to become a tightrope and for the most intimate parts of them to pulsate from the finality of release.

"You've never looked prettier than you do right now. Your cunt squeezing me so tight, your mouth only able to form breathless whispers... completely wrecked. I love it."

"Please," she cannot help but beg, flickering eyes undecided on whether to shut her continue their hazy, half-lidded stare into his own.

"You want to come?" The inward pull of his eyebrows and the slight curl of his parted mouth way as well have been a mocking pout. "I know you do. I shouldn't even let you, though. You've been intolerable. I should just come all over your writhing body and leave you here without any satisfaction. Even if you were to finish yourself off, it wouldn't be enough. It would only feel subpar, and you know that, don't you?" His breath fans her face like the furnace had moments ago, and she can only whimper in reply. "Only I can sate you, sweetheart."

Her hands, whose nails had already inflicted damage to the freckled canvas of his back, sweep over his shoulders to cup his jaw. Her thumb strokes his jawline while the other ventures down the column of his throat, feeling the bob of his adam's apple with every constristing swallow he took. She could tell he was close, too, and decided to nod her head gently in agreement to his words, to wave her white flag.

Her surrender is reassured by fingertips dragging down her torso to her enlarged clit, granting bone-vanishing swipes that causes stuttered gasps and limbs going slack. It only takes a few seconds of coaxing rubbing for her release to erupt, the molten lava bursting from the pit of her stomach to electrify just about every nerve in her body. Her encompassing walls clutch around him so tightly that it summons a delirious climax from him.

His strenuous pace wavers, his hold on the cot becoming prudent, as if it was a buoy keeping him afloat through the thrashing waves of pleasure. White, sticky ribbons coat the inside of her thighs, and it's only when his heartbeat ebbs from his eardrums that he cracks his eyes open and collaspes into the small remaining space between her and the wall.

Stan speaks after catching his breath, remaining pants interwoven into his declaration. "This should've happened sooner."

"It would've if you weren't such a prick," she noted, sparing him a quick glance.

"Okay, maybe... I wasn't on my best behavior. But I was nervous. I liked you a lot. I wanted to impress you."

"And you thought bragging about how you're a know-it-all when it comes to plants and wildlife and the park's terrain was going to the trick?"She questioned, snorting at his logic. His nose twitch, an indicator of embarrassment, and she grabs his arm and tucks herself into his side. "You're such a dork."

He smiled at the gesture before she continued, "I'm sorry that I flirted with the bartender. I didn't mean to make you feel like you were second best or anything. Honest to God, I just wanted free stuff."

"Well, the cream puffs you got out of it were actually delicious," Stan admitted, tilting his head in her direction.

She smiled back at him. "I know, right?"

Stan may not be a prime example of a good guy but he had always took glory in being good at his job. That's what kept him going, that's what fueled him all these years. Now, he was considering what life entailed outside of that. Outside of the stressful responsibilities and government conspiracies and the never-ending studious tendencies. She came to him for refuge tonight, but, the truth is, he had been relying on her for a long time. To fascinate him, to stand up to him, to guide him back to where he belonged.

He felt like he was finally pursuing something that was more important than his duties here, than anything else he's ever experienced. He was an off-bound ship, cruising blind into the dead of the night, and she was a lighthouse, promising purpose and salvation from every bad thing that ever tried to sink him.

// idk who to tag but i think @sojournmichael @fckinsupreme & @instinctsxbaby might be interested (you’re all so talented)!