#abbeys owner

[littlequeenies]

Sharna Ligus Sttarkey, Lee Starkey, Jay Mehler, Ian Broudie and Simon Aboud attend the Disney Original Documentary's "If These Walls Could Sing" London Premiere at Abbey Road Studios on December 12, 2022 in London, England.

#Lee Starkey #Sharna Liguz #Sshh Starkey #Jay Mehler #Ian Broudie #Simon Aboud #2022 Lee #2022 #2020s Lee #If these Walls Could Sing #Disney #Abbey Road #outique owner #makeup artist #fashion designer #stylist #model #actress

[calder]

In every mainline Fallout game except for New Vegas, players can earn the loyalty of a dog known as “Dogmeat.” As part of the main quest of Fallout 4, Dogmeat assists in tracking down the antagonist, even if the player has never encountered him before. When you leave Kellogg’s home, Nick simply starts talking about Dogmeat as if he’s a known quantity.

Perhaps related to this quirk of the world, Dogmeat is first named in this game when the clairvoyant Mama Murphy recognizes him and addresses him by name. The game’s UI calls him “DOG” until he is recognized by Valentine or Murphy. It seems clear that this german shepherd is somehow an independent agent with a good reputation, or something.

Dogmeat does not have a loyalty quest associated with him, which is how the player would earn the other companions’ perks. However, upon finding Astoundingly Awesome Tales #9 within the Institute, Dogmeat becomes more resistant to damage. While this isn’t coherent or conclusive evidence of Dogmeat being a synth, it’s plainly prompting the audience to consider that idea. In light of these factors, his origins have been fiercely debated among the community.

The skeptics and “hard sci-fi” fans out there would have you believe that he’s merely a famous stray dog who solves crimes. But I believe there's something more remarkable at work.

There's a section in the Fallout 2 instruction book called the Vault Dweller's Memoirs, where the player character of the first game recounts what canonically happened. Due to Fallout’s famously terrible companion AI, if you travelled to Mariposa with Dogmeat, he would consistently run into the force fields and get vaporized. So, in the Memoirs, we learn that this is exactly what became of Dogmeat Prime, in canon. He loyally sprinted into a wall of solid light, and disappeared. What if our buddy simply awoke in a new, confusing place?

In Fallout 2, Dogmeat must be found at the Cafe of Broken Dreams, which is explicitly a liminal space. It appears randomly to travellers in the desert. The NPCs within are frozen in time, such as a young version of President Tandi, who mentions that Ian went to “the Abbey,” an area cut from the game. To gain Dogmeat’s trust, the Chosen One must equip the Vault Dweller’s V-13 jumpsuit, which Dogmeat recognizes as belonging to his dead master. You can also attack him to spawn Mad Max, who claims ownership of the dog. Max fits the description of Dogmeat's original owner given in Fallout.

There’s also the “puppies” perk in Fallout 3, which enables you to restore Dogmeat, in the event of his death. “Dogmeat’s puppy” inherits his base and ref ids. In other words, they ARE the same NPC, just renamed. So, the way this actually articulates is that whenever Dogmeat dies in combat, you can find him waiting for you back at Vault 101. In practice, it’s almost Bombadilian.

Lastly, please consider the following developer context.

In June of 2021, the dog who performed Dogmeat’s motion capture and voice for Fallout 4 passed away. A statue of her was placed outside of every Vault in the China-exclusive sequel to Fallout Shelter. She still watches over each player.

River's owner, developer Joel Burgess, honored her in a brief thread about her involvement in the game, and shared much about his thought process and design goals while leading the character’s development. The Dogmeat project changed course early on, after Mr. Joel saw a new member of the art team gathering references of snarling German Shepherds. This motivated him to bring River into the studio, so the artists and developers could spend time with her.

He wanted to steer the team away from viewing Dogmeat as a weapon, and towards viewing him as a friend. Everything special about Dogmeat was inspired by River. For example, whenever you travel with Dogmeat, he’s constantly running ahead of you to scout for danger, then turning to wait for you. This was inspired by River’s consistent behavior on long walks. The only way they were able to motivate River to bark for recordings was by separating her from Joel while he waited in the next room. Reading the thread, it’s very clear that he hoped Dogmeat would make players feel safe, encouraging them to explore, and to wonder. In his closing thoughts, he said the following:

-Joel Burgess

Mr. Joel felt it was important to express that the ambiguity of Dogmeat’s origin in Fallout 4 was deliberately built into his presentation. He also felt it was important that you know Dogmeat loves you. Dogmeat was designed, on every level, to reflect the audience’s inspirations, and to empower their curiosity.

The true lore of Dogmeat is a rorschach test. The only “right” answer is to pursue whatever captures your imagination.

#dogmeat #v13 #meta #companions #animal death t

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble Jewellery

Royal and Noble jewellery is a staple of their life, a statement of the who is person is, their rank and their wealth. Jewellery simply isn't a accessory, it's an exercise in showmanship and a way to link to a past.

(Disclaimer: Many stones in pieces often have a bloody past, usually stolen or worked from the earth under the reign of Colonialism. It is best to always take this into account when admiring real world pieces)

Providence

Jewellery like this is usually inherited buy can also be bought or even given as a gift. There is three kinds of jewellery in this instance: private, owned by the crown or owned by the state.

Private jewellery is owned by a single person and worn or lent at their own descretion. Private jewellery can be no less grand than state owned jewellery. This jewellery can be inherited by anybody the owner chooses.

State jewellery is not privately owned, it belongs to the country itself. It is not inherited but used by royal family. If a royal family is deposed, the jewellery remains with the state. Such as the French Crown Jewels.

Owned by the Crown means that it can only pass monarch to monarch, worn only by consorts or the monarch and lent to anybody they choose.

Noble jewellery is not quite the same. Much of it is owned privately but there may be one or two pieces designated as official jewellery for the title such as a specific tiara.

The Rules

Jewellery like this are not just trinkets to be borrowed by anybody. Usually the monarch (or titled noble) or sometimes the spouse, is in charge of designating who can be lent which pieces and for what occasion. Even if you are a super close member of the family, you still have to take what's on offer. Sometimes certain jewellery is worn exclusively by a certain rank say the Queen or the noble themselves and would not be offered to anybody else. For example, you will note that into today's royalty you will see certain royals repeating the same tiaras such as Kate Middleton who has only worn the Cambridge Lover's Knot, the Strathmore Rose Tiara, the Lotus Tiara and once, the Cartier Halo Tiara. These would be the tiaras available to them, which usually number only a handful. Certain pieces are designated by for the monarch/Consort as well, the Vladimir Tiara & the Girls of Britain and Ireland Tiara only graced the head of the Queen in her reign. Other pieces such as earrings or bracelets would also be distributed accordingly, more elaborate and expensive pieces would be worn by the higher ranking members. Certain collections are meant to be passed on, such as the Consort's jewels but many Dowager refused to pass on their jewels such as Empress Dowager Maria Feodorovna after the death of Tsar Alexander III.

Treasure Trove

Now, just because a family has a throne or a grand title doesn't mean they have caches of jewels. Many noble families sold off their pieces to pay death duties, most only have a few pieces left today. As for tiaras most noble families would not have access to large quantities, usually only affording one or two. The Spencers for example own two, the Spencer Tiara and the Spencer Honeysuckle Tiara. This is an inaccurate protrayal in Downton Abbey, as the family have at least 6 but then again Cora is a Dollar Princess so it could be possible to own as many but it never made sense considering just how many times they almost loose the estate and never sell any off. Royal families are not exempt from this either, some families have vast stores of jewels such as the British Royal Family (I wonder where those all came from...) while the Greek Monarchy (discontinued) has only a few pieces. The Romanov collection is of course legendary and we may never know it's full extent.

#Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble jewellery #Royal jewellery #Noble jewellery #Jewellery #Fantasy Guide #writing #writeblr #writing resources #writing reference #writing advice #writer #writers #Writing resource #Writing research #Writing guide #Writing royalty #Writing royal characters

[fannyrosie]

Back in August, my mother, my sister and I did a three day roadtrip to Lake Placid in New York State, where the 1932 and 1980 Winter Olympics were hosted. We hiked and visited Adirondack natural wonders the two first days, but because my health was starting to fail me on the second day, we kept the third one for visiting the Downton Abbey costume exhibition at the Lake Placid Center for the arts.

On our way to the exhibit, we passed by the Pines Inn, formerly known as the St. Moritz Hotel, a hotel built in 1907. I had wanted to stay at that hotel, but my mom refused, saying it was in poor shape and looked haunted on the hotel booking sites (she wasn't wrong, but I love that stuff, as you know). I still insisted for us to at least visit it, and we sure did NOT regret it. We stumbled upon one of the concierges (or new owners, correct me if you see this!), and he loved my outfit so much that he gave us a tour of the hotel, including in areas closed to guests. He told us that Albert Einstein and the Kennedys had been guests at the hotel, that there was n*de sunbathing on the roof in the 1930s and that a lot of the furniture was original. Sadly, after the 80s, the hotel slowly went into decrepitude and abandonment, and many things got stolen and damaged. The new owners are currently working hard to restore the hotel, and it's indeed a lot of work.

Outfit rundown Dress: vintage Ingeborg (Pink House) Velvet michiyuki: vintage Hat: Rudsak with added brooch by Fuwari Gloves: vintage Shoes: old Clarks Bag: second-hand Vivienne Westwood Belt: thrifted Big British stamp brooch: second-hand Jane Marple Small marine cat stamp brooch: Via Carousel Anchor and crest brooches: vintage Earrings: old Dracolite

#fashion #vintage #vintage style #vintage fashion #1920's #1920's fashion #1920 fashion #20's fashion #retro fashion #pink house #jfashion #historybounding #old buildings #historical building #old hotel #lake placid #st. moritz #1900s architecture #antique #antique decor #long hairstyles #vintage hair #faux bob #vintage makeup #fanny rosie #fannyrosie

[ramblingoak]

Naps With Copia

Chapter 7: Napping With A Monster

Other Naps: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 8 / 9

For @ghuleh-recs 💙 who wanted a nap with a certain vampire cowboy…

Yeehaw Dracopia x GN Reader (this nap is technically part of my cowboy/vampire AU The Vampire's Bride but this can be read on its own!)

These are all stand alone chapters so you do not have to read one before the other! This series came from my post about wanting to nap with Copia all around the abbey. The stories will all have gender neutral readers and soft Copia naps.

Warnings: mentions of vampires feeding, slightly suggestive but still sfw, 800 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

It was strange watching him sleep. 

He was completely still except for the slight up and down movement of his chest.  Swiss had explained that they don’t need to breathe, but mostly they continued to do so out of habit.  Just like how they sometimes ate normal food.  It didn’t do anything to sustain them but sometimes they still enjoyed a more…traditional meal.  

Sometimes they also did it to blend in. 

The old couple that owned the farmhouse seemed oblivious to who they had invited to stay.  Only you and Copia were staying in the house though, the Ghouls were staying in the barn.  It was a decision that Dewdrop had complained loudly about but one low growl from Copia had shut him up.  It was really fascinating to watch how they all interacted with each other and how they respected Copia.  It was obvious though that their respect also came with a healthy dose of fear of their leader which did wonders for keeping them all in line.  

You turned to look around the sparse room but quickly stopped, hissing when the skin around the bites pulled painfully.  He had been on you as soon as the door to the room was closed, pressing you back up against it and mouthing at your neck.  Your cheeks heated up at the memory and then at the memory of all the other times he had fed from you so far.  You hadn’t expected a vampire’s bite to be so—

“You should get some rest.”

His gravelly voice startled you, his accent a little thicker than normal due to how tired he was.  The fight with Mary had taken a lot out of him and even after feeding from you he still needed time to recuperate.  You looked down at your hands and shrugged. 

“I’m not tired.”

“That’s a lie.”  He smirked when you glared at him, your eyes first mesmerized by how bright red his were before trailing down to the blood still staining his mouth.  Your blood.  “I saw you yawning all through dinner.”

“Shouldn’t someone keep watch?”  

“Keep watch from who?  The owners don’t seem the type to kill people in their sleep.”

“What if they realize you’re not…people?”  

“Then I suppose the Ghouls will have something besides deer and rabbits to feed from.”  He held out his hand, the fingers wiggling in the air towards you.  “Come here.”

“Are you still hungry?”  You were crawling towards him anyway so his answer didn’t really matter but you still wanted to know.  “Do you need to feed some more?”

His hands were surprisingly delicate but there was no doubting how strong he was when he easily lifted you up and settled you at his side.  

“I always want to feed from you.”

You shivered at his words, ducking your head down to hide your blush from him.  He probably already knew how much you enjoyed it.  Copia could feel your pulse against his lips and he could hear how fast your heart would start to beat.  You hadn’t even protested the last few times, you had willingly given yourself over to him.  Offering your neck like it was his anytime he wanted it.  

“You can if you need to.”  The unspoken ‘if you want to’ was heavy in the air.  Copia leaned down, sniffing at your neck at first before running his tongue along the fresh bites.  “Please.”

“Such a polite thing you are, even to a monster such as myself.”

You leaned your head back sharply to catch his eyes.  There was a smirk on his face that didn’t match his tone but before you could try to question it you yawned, your mouth opening comically wide.  He raised an eyebrow as you finished, your jaw even popping loudly when you closed your mouth.  It seemed like a silly thing to apologize for but you did it anyway.  

“I’m sorry.  I-I must be more tired than I thought.”

“Then sleep, we can take a little nap together before night falls.”

You weren’t sure what his plans were when that occurred but currently you were too tired to care.  His body was warm thanks to your blood pumping through his veins and you clung to him embarrassingly tight, enjoying the feel of his arms around you.  The excitement of the past few days seemed to have finally caught up with you and it was becoming impossible to keep your eyes open.  

“Copia?”  You waited until you heard his soft ‘hmm?’ before continuing,  “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

His chest vibrated under your hand but you were too close to sleep to tell if he was laughing or grunting to acknowledge what you said.   You let sleep claim you then, your body going slack against the most dangerous man in the Wild West. It was impossible to say if he was a danger to you but deep down it didn’t matter.  

He wasn’t a monster to you anymore.

@writingjourney your nap is next 😉

Other Naps: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 8 / 9

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

#my fics #my writing #naps with copia #copia x reader #cardinal copia x reader #dracopia x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #copia fanfiction #dracopia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfic #copia fanfic #dracopia #yeehaw dracopia

[sphylor]

idk weird rambly raindrop stuff that probably only makes sense to me beneath the cut (or on ao3) i am so so tired

Dew didn’t hear the voice that called him at first. He didn’t know how he had managed to ignore it once he noticed it. It was as gentle as the sound of rain, softly tapping against his brain, letting him know it was there when he was ready to listen. It felt familiar, comforting even. But still, he was apprehensive. He wondered if he was prepared enough to walk out into the rain. Should he find the welly boots Mountain had given to him after he was summoned? He hadn’t had much reason to use them before. He used to walk outside barefoot in the summer downpours, trailing muddy footprints back through the abbey when the clouds cleared and always being met with Sister Imperator holding a mop and a stern look. Or maybe he needed to wear a raincoat. Dew thought he saw one in Aether’s closet one time and he was sure the quintessence ghoul wouldn’t mind him borrowing it. Then again, he had never needed a raincoat before either. The feel of raindrops against his bare skin was his favourite feeling. Used to be his favourite feeling, at least… What if it didn’t feel the same now? 

Dew was… well he wasn’t scared, of course, but his confidence withered when he looked out of his window and saw the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. When the first rumble of thunder sounded through the air, the dread inside of him rumbled back in response. Like it was laughing at him. Something else bubbled up in his chest in response to this mockery. Anger. Or maybe determination. Probably both, Dewdrop decided as he wrenched open his closet doors and reached to the back for the blue welly boots. They fit his feet well, though they rubbed his heels a bit at the back as he walked to Aether’s room. 

“Dew? Satanas, you’re out of your room!” Aether leapt up from his bed when the fire ghoul entered. “How are you feeling? Wait, what are you doi-” Dew had grabbed the raincoat and left the room before Aether had even had a chance to finish what he was saying. He felt bad for ignoring his packmate but the voice in his head was growing more persistent, a gentle drizzle quickly turning into a downpour. He needed to do this now.

He sped down the halls, putting the raincoat on haphazardly along the way. He passed the common room where some of the recently summoned ghouls were watching a movie, but he knew the owner of the voice was not in there. Dew heard the thunder again and opened the door to the outside in time to see a bolt of lightning arch across the sky. The hairs on his arms raised and he felt a chill down his spine. 

By this point the voice was pooling like water in the gaps of his mind, promising to make its home there and make him whole. Now he would admit that he was scared. Scared that the voice would become so strong that he would find himself submerged in it. That he would lose himself entirely in its siren song. He stared out at the rain. He watched as it poured from the supposed heavens, pelting the earth below. He hesitated for a moment, before toeing off the welly boots and leaving them by the door. He went to go out again but decided to leave the coat behind too. Finally, he stepped outside.

His bare feet splashed in the puddles gathering on the patio. Dew didn’t remember the rainwater feeling so cold. Tentatively stepping out from under the awning, he felt the first drops of rain on his bare skin and almost wept. It felt different but it wasn’t bad. As the water ran over the freshly healed wounds on his arms from where his fins had been, it soothed the persistent ache he didn’t even know he had been feeling there. His legs shook as he took more steps but soon enough he found he was walking, and then running down the hill. He didn’t know where he was going or what he was looking for. He couldn’t see anyone else but he knew the person whose voice was now singing in his head was out there somewhere.

But of course he had to fuck it up like usual. His footing slipped on the wet grass and he fell face first to the floor. A thicker clump of grass saved his face from hitting the mud but the same couldn’t be said for the rest of his body. He lay there for a moment, the air knocked out of his lungs, and he cried. He cried for everything that he had lost, no, everything that had been taken from him. Everyone who had been taken from him. He sobbed and he screamed as the rain bore down on him. He hoped it would just wash him away. But of course he wasn’t that lucky. 

As he screamed, the voice in his head reached a deafening volume, demanding to be heard above everything else. And as Dew focused on the siren song, on the sound of the raindrops hitting the earth, he felt his own voice die down. He felt the erratic rise and fall of his chest even out and slow down and an odd calmness washed over him as he felt his thoughts get washed away. Not completely, just moved to a safe place for another time.

He lay there feeling numb for a while. Not exactly as distraught as before but also not particularly happy, either. He was content to just exist in the moment, though. The rain felt nice against his back, he thought as he breathed in the familiar smell of wet grass and petrichor. The thunder rumbled overhead but it no longer felt like a threat anymore. Maybe it was a question? Asking him if he was okay, probably. Dewdrop laughed at the question. He didn’t know the answer. With every rumble of thunder the question repeated in his mind.

Are you okay?

Are you okay?

”Are you okay?”

The voice in his head ceased as its owner spoke aloud. Dew wept in relief as two cold hands helped lift him to his feet. He had found him.

“Hey, shh, it's okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.” the ghoul pulled him in closer as Dew’s sobs picked up again. “I’ll never let you go.” Dew didn’t say anything. He fisted his hands into the front of the ghoul’s jacket, clinging on as tightly as possible. He had his water back. His Rain.

#dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul

[bopbopstyles]

I JUST WANT A LOVER

RATING: R/smut (graphic sex, alcohol use, cigarettes)

WORD COUNT: 6.8k (i'm getting back in the swing of things, okay!!!! sorry this isn't my normal 20k lmao) (also like 75% smut) (i make no apologies)

CATEGORIES: one night stand!harry

PT. 2 | MASTERLIST | TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

a/n: i know it's been about twelve billion years, but thank you for bearing with me. i had the urge to write some smutty smut, so i did — not sure how consistent i'll be, but i'm back, baby!!!!!

“You know, it’s not nice to stare.”

You glanced up and realized he was looking at you, having fully caught you investigating him. “Had to see what my shot partner was like.” 

“And what do you think?”

“Hmm…” You let your sentence hang while you figured out what to say, your tipsy brain scrambling for something flirty but not too weird. “Decent, but concerned you won’t be able to take it without a chaser.”

He chuckled, leaning his hip against the bar so the two of you were even closer. “What happens if I can’t?”

His arm brushed against your side, and you tried to not pay attention to it too much. It was taking every fiber of your body not to freak out and overthink this, because this was the first man since your ex to flirt with you in a bar—or even come up to you in a bar— and he was hotter than your ex by a landslide. Which was both flattering and also frightening. “I won’t let you follow me to the dance floor,” you answer him, plucking what little courage you had and employing it, praying it didn’t fall flat. 

But he smiled. “And if I can?”

The shots arrived, and he picked up them both, handing yours to you, your fingertips brushing. “Then I’ll let you dance as close as you want.”

or

Y/N is newly single and Harry's really into her

You’d come out at the request of your best friend, but to be honest it didn’t take much to get you out there these days. The breakup with your ex had occurred a month and a half ago and since then you decided you were done being sad, and wanted to have fun. Fun that you hadn’t had in months. Fun with your best friends in the smallest amount of clothing you could get away with, and lips lined in a deep mauve that always made you feel like the baddest bitch in the room. 

It was working too. You could feel your confidence and happiness creeping back piece by piece, every time you were dancing in a bar, screaming lyrics to your favorite songs and sweat slipping down your back, you felt one step closer to the person you remembered being. A person you had loved being too—full of life, the person people called when they wanted to have a fun night, the host of many a party, the best dance partner, and the perfect person for a heart to heart over pizza at the end of the night. 

“I missed this!” Your friend Abbey said when you’d walked into her apartment with a bottle of gin earlier that night. She swept you into a giant hug and you couldn’t help but smile. “Like, I know I’ve seen you recently, but I missed going out with you—missed being happy with you.”

“I missed it too,” you’d replied, and meant it. 

Now you were in your favorite bar in the Lower East Side, waiting impatiently at the bar amidst the many other patrons, tapping your phone on the counter to keep your mind busy. The combination of old Britney Spears songs pounding through the stereo and the rush of alcohol in your bloodstream made you full of joy, and a little more wild than usual. 

“Gin and tonic and a fireball shot,” you requested, and he nodded before turning around.

“Fireball, huh?” The voice was deep and smooth, and you couldn’t help but turn around to discover who the owner was. He was tall, at least six foot, with dark brown hair and light green eyes, tattoos littering his arms. There was a ghost of stubble on his jaw, which only made it looked more chiseled. 

He was so fucking hot it seemed unnatural. “Yeah,” you replied. “Feel like being a little crazy tonight.”

His lips curled up at the corners at that, and he took a step toward you. “Sounds like fun.” He raised his finger, grabbing the bartender’s attention, and requested a shot as well.

You took his distraction as an opportunity to study his side profile. His hair curled slightly around his ear, and his nose curved up ever so slightly at the end. There was a dash of freckles on his cheeks that you could barely make out in the low lighting. As your eyes traveled down to his clothing, you decided that he was ripped—his arm muscles bulged ever so slightly in a delicious way. He was so attractive it felt illegal to even be looking at him, much less talking to him. And having a drink with him, apparently. 

“You know, it’s not nice to stare.”

You glanced up and realized he was looking at you, having fully caught you investigating him. “Had to see what my shot partner was like.” 

“And what do you think?”

“Hmm…” You let your sentence hang while you figured out what to say, your tipsy brain scrambling for something flirty but not too weird. “Decent, but concerned you won’t be able to take it without a chaser.”

He chuckled, leaning his hip against the bar so the two of you were even closer. “What happens if I can’t?”

His arm brushed against your side, and you tried to not pay attention to it too much. It was taking every fiber of your body not to freak out and overthink this, because this was the first man since your ex to flirt with you in a bar—or even come up to you in a bar— and he was hotter than your ex by a landslide. Which was both flattering and also frightening. “I won’t let you follow me to the dance floor,” you answer him, plucking what little courage you had and employing it, praying it didn’t fall flat. 

But he smiled. “And if I can?”

The shots arrived, and he picked up them both, handing your to you, your fingertips brushing. “Then I’ll let you dance as close as you want.”

“Deal,” he replied. The two of you bumped glasses, tapped them on the bar, and threw them back, the alcohol burning your throat. You watched as he, much to your excitement, didn’t struggle with the shot in the slightest. He just set the glass back on the bar and found your eyes. “Looks like we’re dancing, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment lit up your spine, and you tried to not smile too widely. The bartender came over and asked if it was on a tab or closed, and the man told him to put it on his tab without a beat—and that’s when you got his last name. Styles. Sexy, frankly. 

He turned back to you and nodded toward the back of the bar. “Lead the way.”

The Motto by Drake was blasting through the speakers and this was the tenth song you two had been dancing to. Your gin and tonic was nearly empty, and your right hand was thrown around Harry’s neck—that was his name. Harry. It was said in your ear with his lips far too close to your skin for you to not fantasize about how they would feel on the rest of your body, the melt of his accent curling around you like a fire. His hands were on your hips, fingers curved around you so he could move with you with ease, and the two of your alternated between staring into each other’s eyes with such intensity it made you have to resist the desire to kiss him every time, and the bar around you. 

Your back was sweaty from the heat of the dance floor, but the backless shirt you were wearing meant the material wasn’t sticking to your skin. Harry had informed you about a minute ago that the shirt was “one of the hottest things he’d ever seen” and that had made you smile coyly, or at least you’d hoped it was coy. You were enjoying the way his skin felt on yours, the press of his fingers, the warmth of his breath on your cheek. 

It had been a while since you’d done this—let yourself flirt with a stranger, bask in the excitement of someone’s desire—and it felt so damn good. You dropped your head back, letting your hair fall backward, singing the lyrics you knew by heart. As you did it, you felt the tightening of Harry’s fingers on your waist, and you smiled to yourself. In return, you wrapped your fingers in the bit of hair at the nape of his neck, scratching ever so slightly. This made Harry’s grip tighten again, and you liked knowing that you were affecting him as much as he was affecting you. 

You let your head fall forward, gaze meeting his. It was burning into you, his eyes gliding from your face down your body to the rise of your breasts. The pressure of it, of his interest and desire, felt good, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a deep need to kiss him. The prospect of touching your lips to his, which looked so plush and inviting, a dark pink that looked far too kissable. The need burned at your chest, and you decided there was no reason not to give in. Tonight, you decided, you were saying yes to things that made you a bit nervous, and seeing what happened. So, you pressed your torso flat against his and leaned your head back, tugging at his with your fingers so your mouths met in harmony. 

It was like all he waiting for was permission, because the minute your lips touched he moved, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you even closer, the other moving upward, his hand cupping your throat gently. His lips were soft and plush, just like you’d hoped. You loved how they moved against yours with obvious desire, begging and pleading with you through the kiss. When he brushed his finger along the column of your neck, you let your tongue dart out, brushing against his lips, which he parted for you, and you swept into his mouth, finding his tongue. 

The kiss was messy and needy and exhilarating. From the press of his lips and the way they parted and pulled at yours, to his arm that was locked around your waist, fingers pressing int your skin, or the hand that was splayed at your neck, his fingers curled int your hair and the base of his palm on your throat.

It was, in all honesty, how you’d been wanting to be kissed for months. With desire, to feel needed and craved by another. It set your body on fire, and made you throw any apprehension you had to the wind. 

“Air,” you mumbled, pulling your mouth away. “I need air. And a cigarette.” 

He just smiled, nodding gently, and then threaded his fingers in yours, tugging you through the crowd. You hadn’t necessarily invited him to follow you outside, but you hoped he would get the hint—and he did, thankfully. There was a door in the back of the bar, a security guard standing next to it. Harry nodded at him, pointing at the door, and the guard pushed it open. It led to an alley, which had some other people down the way, but this section was empty. Perfectly, beautifully empty. 

It was quiet outside, the thrum of the bass from the music inside seeping out, and the honk of taxi cabs melding into the perfect sound of New York at nighttime. You leaned against the rough brick of the building, the bare skin of your back cooling against the brick, which felt glorious. 

“Cigarette?” You asked, reaching into your purse to pull out your pack and lighter. 

“Sure,” he answered. “But I only need half of one.”

“Share one with me then.” 

He smiled, and nodded. You placed the cigarette between your lips and lifted the lighter, flicking it so the flame appeared, lighting the end. You took a deep inhale, holding the cigarette in your teeth lightly as you exhaled out the sides of your mouth around it, placing the lighter back in your purse. Then, you took the cigarette from your mouth and offered it to Harry. 

There was something so erotic about watching him smoke the same cigarette that had just been in your mouth. You couldn’t help but stare at his mouth curved around it, the smoke leaking from his mouth as he exhaled. You wondered if he thought the same when he watched you smoke. 

“So,” you said as you held the cigarette between your fingers after taking a puff. “What’s your story, Harry?”

He stepped forward and pressed his hand to the brick at the side of your head, before leaning in and wrapping his lips around the edge of the cigarette that you still held between your fingers and taking another inhale. “I work in a record store and record some music on the side. Live a couple blocks from here with my friend Michael. Moved here a couple years ago.” He nodded to you. “And you?”

“Live in the village, work in marketing like everyone else,” that made him chuckle. “And have been here for three years.” 

“Like it?” He asked, and you nodded. 

“I do. I don’t think it’s forever, but I doubt that’s surprising. But I can’t imagine living anywhere else right now.”

He took another inhale of the cigarette before agreeing. “I know what you mean.”

“Are you here with friends?”

He nodded. “My roommate and some other people.”

“Will they miss you?” 

That earned you a smile, and a shake of his head. “Why, what do you have in mind?”

The cigarette, shot, and gin and tonic are fueling your confidence because you pressed towards him and whispered in his ear, “your bed, preferably.”

He looked at you for a beat and then pressed his lips to yours, his free hand that isn’t touching the brick wrapping around your waist and tugging you toward him. It was a fight for dominance, this kiss—heated in a way the other one hadn’t been. It was full of desire and need and curiosity, that curiosity of finding someone new and leaning what they like and how they like it. You couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan when he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, and that sound made Harry press himself into you, his erection obvious against the material of your skirt. It made you wrap your hand holding the cigarette around his neck, making sure to not singe his beautiful curls, and curl your other hand in the waistband of his jeans.

Your finger brushed against a sliver of skin above his boxers and below the hem of his shirt, and you heard the sharp inhale of air he took in as you did it, pressing firmly against you and deepening the kiss. You wanted him in a way that you’d forgotten how to feel, and it lit up your whole body, making you absolutely uninterested in pretending you weren’t incredibly into him. You tugged his lip between your teeth and sucked gently, before licking across it. He responded by tucking his chin and brushing a series of kisses down your neck, pulling and nipping at the skin in a way that had you digging your fingers into his skin. 

“Can we go,” you said, more a statement than a question in the way the words tumbled from your mouth. You couldn’t do this much longer or you’d end up begging him to fuck you in the bathroom of this bar. 

“Fuck yes,” he answered, placing a searing kiss on your lips. “Need to say goodbye to my friends and close out the tab. Meet me at the bar?”

You nodded, and the two of you headed inside to say your goodbyes. You found your friends, explaining the situation in excited tones, and kissed them all goodbye on the cheek, promising to text the address you ended up at. And then you went in search of Harry, easily finding his mop of curls poking out amongst the people at the bar. You headed right for him, and when he caught sight of you he reached out for you, tucking you into his side, his arm around your waist.

“Let’s go,” he mumbled into your hair after he signed his name on the receipt, and you followed him out of the bar and into the night. 

He kicked his bedroom door shut and walked to you in two paces, tugging you to him. Your lips met messily, all the pent-up tension from the evening and the walk here coming to a head. You decided to not mess around—you wanted to feel his skin desperately. The buttons of his shirt, a soft silk that was sweaty in the best way, came unbuttoned with ease, and you pushed the shirt off his shoulders, exposing his skin. It was tan and scattered with so many tattoos that you wanted to explore, but didn’t feel like you had enough time. 

“I love your tattoos,” you said, your voice cutting through the sexual tension and silence in the room. Your fingers brushed across the swallows on his chest, and you saw his muscles tighten at the touch. 

He didn’t acknowledge your statement. Instead, he was too busy staring at you. “Y/N,” he said, breathlessly, “can I take this off?” His fingers were playing with the hem of your shirt, and you nodded with ease. The material was pulled over your head in mere seconds, leaving you in just your skirt and boots. His fingers were on your skin immediately, cupping your breasts, lips brushing along the slope of your shoulder as he pulled on your nipples.

Your head fell back, a quiet “fuck” leaving your lips as his fingers moved across your skin, leaving a searing fire in their wake. He took advantage of the space, sucking on the skin at the base of your neck, nipping and pulling and you threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged gently. “Bed,” you exhaled, and he nodded, walking you backward until you fell onto the mattress. 

He leaned back and unzipped your boots for you, dropping them to the floor and then removing his own shoes. You pulled on the clasp of his belt, freeing it from his jeans, and then popped the button, pulling down the zipper. The thought crossed your mind that he was the first man you’d undressed since your ex, but you didn’t let the thought linger for too long. Instead, you busied your mind by pushing down his jeans and tugging him on top of you, finding solace in his lips. 

The kiss he gave you was deep and full of need, and you drank it in, loving each second that it held you. His fingers tugged on the zipper of your skirt and you wriggled to let him free you from it, leaving you both in just your underwear. You moved up the bed, pulling him with you, and tugged him down on top of you. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him in, your centers meeting and both of you let out a moan. Hooking up with someone new was always an interesting experience, that edge of apprehension and unsuredness, but this was feeling more and more comfortable by the second for you. Maybe it was the way his fingers felt on your skin, the way he didn’t stop touching some inch of you. Or the kisses he placed on your lips and then your skin, or the way his breathing hitched when you rolled your hips. 

He was hard against you and you loved how it felt, how the friction felt against you. His tip was nudging at your clit through your underwear and you could feel how wet you were getting, and you wondered if he could tell too. You hadn’t done any of this in a little while, but you wanted him. Craved him in a way you hadn’t lately, and you wanted more. Wanted to feel the weight of him on your tongue and the press of him against you, that glorious feeling of being held by someone and the crash of an orgasm that exhausted your bones in a way nothing else did. How it made the world slip away for a second. 

“Can you roll over?” You asked, nosing gently at his jaw. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” he answered, flopping onto his back. You were on him in seconds, straddling his waist and swiveling your hips in a slow, tantalizing circle that had his hands reaching the curve of your waist. The pressure made you grind into him deeper and the moan that fell from his lips was intoxicating. You didn’t know how much more of him you could take, the pressure just building and building and building inside of you every time he kissed another inch of your skin. 

Harry was fucking obsessed with you. This random girl he’d found at the bar who he couldn’t stop staring at. The curtain of your hair that fell around him as you bent forward and scattered kisses down his torso, making him inhale sharply, the feeling surprising in all the right ways. His fingers were pressed into your waist and he let them drop to your thighs, enjoying the softness of your skin and how he could grip them and pull ever so slightly to make your hips move over his cock, the friction feeling heavenly.

He needed you in every way, and he was simply wondering what you would be willing to give him because at this rate he would take any scrap or morsel of you. 

And that’s when you suddenly shuffled backward and hovered over his thighs, lips ghosting downward to the top of his underwear. Fuck, you were going to go down on him. Would he survive? He wasn’t sure. 

He lifted his hips and let you tug down his underwear, the sweetness of the kiss you placed on his hip bone catching him off guard. Harry lifted up onto his elbows so he could watch you as your fingers brushed along the length of him. 

“You’re pretty,” you said, words dancing across his skin like another one of his tattoos. 

“Yeah?” He answered, fingers winding through your hair. “Think I’m pretty, angel?”

You giggled—fucking giggled—and it set him on fire. “Very,” you informed him. Then, you ran your tongue up the length of him and swirled your tongue around his tip, the sight making Harry drop his head back and moan again. It felt so good, the warmth of your mouth and the caress of your tongue, the way you were delicate yet intense. 

“More,” he mumbled, “please, Y/N.”

You didn’t hesitate before spitting on the length of him and rubbing your hand up and down, creating a ruthless pace that had him panting, circling your tongue over his tip repeatedly, making every inch of his cock light on fire. Then, you dropped your hand to his balls and gently rolled them as you took him in your mouth, and that’s when Harry looked back at you, not wanting to miss this moment. 

Your eyes were on him, watching his response to your actions as you sunk lower and lower on his cock. When his tip bumped the back of your throat he groaned, and it took every inch of his willpower not to buck his hips at the sensation. And then you pulled back a bit, and then back down, creating a rhythm, your lips wrapped around him, tongue gently licking stripes up the underside of him as you worked. 

It was heaven, your mouth. He hadn’t been with someone in a while, and you were unexpected but oh so perfect. He couldn’t stop looking at you, at the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth over and over again, the sight of your eyes watering ever so slightly when you took him particularly deep, the bit of drool at the corner of your mouth. You were fucking drooling over him. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. 

When you pulled back and swirled your tongue over his tip and then sucked, he couldn’t hold back—he bucked his hips ever so slightly into your mouth. “Fuck, sorry,” he mumbled. But you just nodded, widening your lips and stilling where you hovered. 

His eyes about rolled back in his head. 

“You want me to fuck your mouth, angel?” You nodded, and Harry didn’t waste another second. 

He curled his fingers through your hair and pressed his hips up, using your mouth and you let him. You even moaned at one point when his tip brushed the back of your throat. It was like you loved this, loved the feeling of him using your mouth, and that made him even more intrigued by you. When you started sucking on his tip when he pulled back, he decided he couldn’t take this anymore—he was going to come if he didn’t stop. 

“Gotta stop,” he said, pulling your head off him. “Gonna come if I don’t.”

You looked up at him and smiled, before wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. “Liked how you felt,” you mumbled, crawling up his body toward him. He grasped your hips in his hands, and looked up at you, catching your eyes and smiling. 

“Liked it too,” he said. “Come ‘ere.” You lowered your mouth and kissed him, lips intertwining perfectly. Then you started grinding back and forth on his cock, and Harry realized how wet you were through your underwear—fucking dripping, in fact. “Roll over for me,” he requested, and you did as he said with ease. 

He hovered over you and fingered the waistband of your underwear. “Please,” you mumbled, and he smiled, before pulling the material off with ease. You were, in fact, glistening with arousal and Harry loved the sight. He pressed a kiss to your knee and began to bend down because he wanted desperately to go down on you, but you started shaking your head back and forth. “No,” you said, “Want you to fuck me. Please.” 

The please got Harry. “Yeah?” You nodded, and Harry moved closer to you, letting your legs fall to either side of him. “Wanted to go down on you, but I guess that’ll have to wait.”

Your hands swept up his sides, brushing along the tattoos that rested there. Harry pulled away just enough to reach his bedside table, grabbing a condom. Quickly, he ripped open the package and rolled it on himself, pumping gently, eyes glancing over your body spread out in front of him. Your breasts, perfectly large in all the ways he loved, the curve of your waist and the skin he was deeply enjoying holding onto, your gentle but wildly talented hands, the soft waves of your hair that smelled far too delicious to not bury his face in. It was like you were out of a dream. 

“Harry,” you said, hand reaching for his thigh and tugging gently. “Please.”

The begging really did it for Harry—he hated to admit it, but he fucking loved it when girls begged for him. Made him feel so wanted, so desired, so needed, which is exactly what he craved from sex. “Coming, I promise, love.” He rose up on his knees and nudged your thighs a little farther apart with his own, creating space for himself. Leaning over you, he caught your eyes as he nudged your entrance gently. He knew he was big, and he didn’t want to assume it wouldn’t hurt, so he was going to watch your expression to see how it felt. 

And what he saw made him keen. The way your eyelids drooped ever so slightly, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. Then, he felt your hips brush down a bit, slipping more of his cock inside of you, and a gentle moan slip from your lips. “More,” you requested, hand winding around his bicep and gripping him.

Harry didn’t make you wait a second longer, he pushed forward, watching your eyes to make sure it didn’t hurt, and it never did. You just shut your eyes and your mouth dropped open, no sound coming out. You felt like heaven—wet and warm and snug, and Harry remembered why he absolutely fucking loved sex. 

He pulled out slowly, and when you tugged slightly on his arm, as if to say Hurry up, he answered with a swift thrust in, groaning at the way your walls gripped him. You answered with a moan of your own, the words, “Feels so fucking good,” falling from your lips. 

That spurred him forward, and he built up a rhythm that was brutal in pace. You liked it hard, that was obvious, and Harry happened to love it too. He had missed sex and this pace was dizzying in all the right ways. The feeling of your thighs wrapped around his waist, keeping his hips close, and the sight of your breasts bouncing as he fucked you was too much for his brain to process. He couldn’t figure out what to watch. The sight of his cock entering you (which he really liked looking at) or your breasts, or your stomach which he for some reason had the desire to bite gently, the skin stretched there tantalizing. Your face was a dream too—the way you looked at him with desire and need and pleasure so obvious, the moans that left your mouth without a filter, not caring in the slightest who heard. 

Harry grabbed your thighs, tugging them up so your hips lifted off the bed and thrust in, hitting a deeper spot that made his head spin—and yours. 

You were losing your fucking mind at this sex. He was fucking you like, truly, no man had fucked you before. Full of power and need and dominance in all the ways you loved. The feeling of his eyes on your skin had your body on fire, and that mixed with the way his cock was stretching you out just had your brain melting away. You couldn’t decide on what to pay attention to, but currently his tattoos and the ripple of his biceps was enticing you. The black ink made you curious, and you wondered if you asked if he would tell you their stories. 

His hands slipped to hold your hips, pulling you in toward him, fucking you onto him and it made your eyes roll back, a heavy groan ripping from your throat. Missionary, you decided, was underrated. Harry knew how to fuck someone in missionary good, and you wanted it again and again and again. With your ex, you always craved the variety of positions as something to keep you engaged, but right now you had no desire to change your position. All you wanted was more intensity, more pressure, just more. 

“More,” you begged, squeezing his arm.

Harry responded with a smile, and then he lowered your hips before rotating them to the left, your right leg draping over your left. He shifted behind you ever so slightly, nudging his cock back inside of you, and you gasped at the depth of the position. You could feel him in your fucking stomach it felt like, and it made you scrabble for his skin, gripping the forearm connected to the hand that was holding your hip as he fucked you. “Good?” He asked, hair falling into his eyes as he bent forward slightly, using the leverage to fuck you harder, driving into you at a brutal but delicious pace. 

“So…fuck…good,” you answered, words a struggle in this position. You were so wet and your abdomen was tightening, a clear sign that your orgasm was rising inside of you. That wasn’t something that surprised you, though—you’d always been someone who came with ease, especially in intense sex. So you let it build, let your walls tighten and spasm around Harry. 

It had Harry’s grip tightening. The feeling of your walls fluttering around him was a clear sign your orgasm was building, and Harry couldn’t wait to feel it. He wanted to watch you come, to know that he was the reason why. He still had plenty of stamina left—he’d always had plenty of energy when it came to sex—so he decided after you came if you still wanted to have sex, he would happily keep going. 

“Fuckkk,” you let out, head dropping back and eyes shutting, hair spread all over his duvet. It was a gorgeous sight, and Harry drove into you faster, the sight of your tongue slipping out onto your lip spurring him on. Then he felt it, the way your walls clamped down tightly and the grip you had on his wrist tighten significantly. You were dripping all over him, and it felt so fucking good that he knew he needed to pause for a second, so he pulled out, turning you back onto your back gently. 

Your eyes opened and found his with a smile. “Good?” He asked, and you nodded. “Want more?” 

“Hell yes,” you answered, and he chuckled. 

Then he dropped down, ducking his mouth to your waiting pussy, the sight of your wetness smeared all over your skin and the smell of your come filling his sense. He licked over your exposed skin, picking it all up with his tongue, and you moaned, obviously sensitive. But instead of stopping him, your hands found his hair and pulled him in closer, making his nose nudge against your clit. You were so. fucking. hot. 

He went to town on you, licking inside and then over your clit, which he discovered you particularly liked. He worked his tongue in circles that had your head thrashing, mouth dropped open in a moan, hands a death grip on his hair. Thankfully, he’d always had a thing for that. When he pushed a finger inside of you at your request, that made your eyes roll back, and he fucked you with his fingers, first one and then two. He found your g-spot with relative ease, brushing against it and taking joy in the way your thighs tightened around his head. 

Going down on you was so fun; like a new mystery he was taking deep joy in discovering all the secrets of. 

You didn’t let that go on for too long, though, pulling on his hair with desperation after he’d been fucking you with his fingers particularly fast. “I’m going to come if you don’t stop, and I’d really like you inside of me again,” you said, and that made him stop immediately. He was not going to miss that opportunity.

He dropped your thighs from where he’d been holding them and moved back to his old spot between your thighs. He spit into his hand and ran it up and down his cock, getting ready to be back inside of you. To his joy, he got to watch your fingers slip down to your clit, brushing in a circle that made your hips buck up towards him. 

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he pushed back into you. Somehow, you were even tighter—likely from being close and having adjusted to his fingers. It felt glorious, and he wasted no time finding a brutal rhythm. He tugged at your legs, pulling them up, so your calves draped over his shoulder, which made you scramble for skin. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Harry,” you moaned as he thrust into you, hands reaching for his collarbone. 

He was close too, the sight of you on the edge and this feeling dizzying him. “I’m close,” he mumbled, and he watched you force your eyes open.

“I think—fuck—I think I might squirt. Is that, shit, is that okay?” The way you stumbled over your words made him smile, and so did what you said. It was a treat, something he’d never expected, but holy hell did he want. 

“Fuck yes it is,” he answered, bending forward slightly so your thighs strained. “What do you need?”

“Fingers,” you replied. “On my clit. And a towel below me if you don’t mind your duvet getting wet.”

The prospect of leaving your pussy sounded downright unfathomable, so Harry decided he didn’t give a single shit about the state of his bed. He had plenty of blankets. Who cared about a duvet. “It’s fine,” he told you. Then, he reached between your legs and brushed his fingers over your clit, which made your pussy tighten immediately and your hips buck.

It was like you couldn’t control yourself, the way your hips moved. Harry had to stay incredibly close, so he didn’t slip out, but he didn’t mind. He loved how you felt around him, all consuming and deliciously wet. He wanted to see you squirt more than anything, so he was staving off his orgasm until after you finished, but the effort was torture. The distraction of rubbing your clit was helping, but he didn’t know how much longer he could last. 

“Gonna come for me, love?” He mumbled, words tumbling from his fucked out brain. “Wanna see you squirt all over me.”

That, it seemed like, did the trick. Your walls tightened immediately, and Harry felt the rush of your orgasm immediately, coating his lower body in wet. The sight of it, mixed with the load moans spilling from your mouth and the sight of your hand gripping your breast, pulling taut on the skin did it for him. It put him over the edge, and he stuttered, his pace faltering as he came into the condom, gripping your thighs as he rode his finish, the feeling of your squirt making his finish even more intense than usual. 

Panting, he gently pulled out of you, letting your thighs fall to the side. “Holy shit,” he said, chest heaving. 

You laughed gently, hand dropping to the bed. “Holy shit is right.”

He looked down at your pussy, where a large area around it was wet from you squirting. Harry had only had one girl squirt on him before, and it had been a while ago, so he’d forgotten what it felt like. And how much he fucking loved it. “That was insane.” He looked up at you. “You doing okay?”

You nodded. “Just a little sticky.”

He laughed. “Want to take a shower?” 

“Please,” you answered. He reached his hand out for you, and you took it, letting him help you up. When you got to sitting, he pressed a gentle kiss to your nose. The gesture made your heart warm, especially after how vulnerable you’d been with him. You hadn’t done that with every guy you’d been with, and you weren’t fully sure why you trusted him with it, but you were happy you did. Your mind was floaty, drained from most thoughts, and your body felt light in all the right ways. 

He led you to the shower, turning on the hot water for you and pointing to where the fresh towels and soap were. “Going to change the sheets,” he said, giving you a kiss on the lips before leaving you to it. 

You stood under the shower, letting the warm water fall on your skin. It brought you back into your body. You used the soap and washed up, cleaning all the aftermath of sex from your skin. Then, you stepped out, grabbing a fresh towel, and sat on the toilet to pee, before heading back to his room.

The bed was freshly made, the wet duvet gone from sight. Harry was still naked, tucking a blanket onto the bed when you walked in. “Feel better?”

“Perfect,” you answered. “Thanks for letting me do that.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m going to take one myself—help yourself to anything you need.”

He patted down the hall, leaving you alone in his room. It was fun to be left alone in a boy’s room, allowing you to snoop just a bit. You explored the framed photos on his dresser and bedside table, finding out he had a sister, and found some photos of him and some friends, boys you thought might be his roommates. His cologne sat on the dresser, and you made a mental note of the brand and scent name, deciding that you’d make the next boyfriend you had wear it because you loved the way Harry smelled. 

A book you’d never read before sat on the bedside table and you picked it up, curious. You were reading the inside flap when Harry re-entered the room, causing you to look up. “It’s good,” he said. “The book.”

“Good to know.”

“So.” He pushed the door shut and gestured to the bed. “You’re welcome to stay the night—it’s pretty late. But if you want to head home that’s totally fine too, happy to call you an Uber. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He was sweet, you decided. That much was clear, from the way his green eyes gleamed with honesty. Sometimes guys would say all that just as a way to pressure you to leave, but this time you truly felt like he didn’t mind either way. “I’ll stay if you’re okay with it.”

Harry smiled at you, and you knew you’d made the right decision. You weren’t quite ready for the night to end, and you didn’t really feel like putting on your clothes and sitting in a stranger’s car right now. “Of course—need something to sleep in?”

“I, uh, usually sleep naked,” you said. 

That made Harry split a wide grin. “Knew I liked you for a reason.”

You returned his smile, and as the two of you got into his bed, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. If this was just a random hookup or maybe turn into a multiple time thing. Because honestly, you wouldn’t mind if it happened again. You were even curious what this boy was like during the daytime, if you were completed truthful with yourself. And as you laid on his pillows and he asked you questions about your life, seeming to be genuinely interested, you couldn’t help wonder if maybe he felt the same way. 

fill my inbox with your favorite moments, lines, things you’re having ~feels~ about, or other concepts you’re dreaming up for me!!! missed you all <;3

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles x mc

[dearspiritss]

The Ghouls are Giant House Cats

Warnings: none besides language :)

They purr, growl, and hiss. Do I need to explain more?

CUDDLE PILES. All of them wrapped up together, cuddling and chasing warmth. Mountain right in the middle, everyone has some part of them touching him. Dew always cuddled up to Aether, either clinging onto his side or snoring on his chest. Always up his ass. Rain is curled up next to someone, anyone. The boy loves being held/holding someone. The ghoulettes holding each other, running their fingers through each others hair; just perfecto. Swiss needs to have his tail wrapped around someone’s leg, can’t sleep without it. Phantom finds somewhere to be, basically plays tetris with himself. Beside Aether, curled behind Rain, latching onto Swiss or Mountain. You’ll find him anywhere.

—

Copia, walking into the ghouls wing to check on them: *Opens the door and multiple pairs of glowing eyes staring at him* “Never mind..”

—

Crazy Protective. If a sibling or other member walks in while one or more ghouls are cuddled next to each other, there’s a good chance you’ll hear a growl or hiss. If they’re holding something they hold dear and you try and take it from them? They will bite. Be prepared to go to the medical wing if you’re dumb enough to try that. If there are kits around, it’d be best to walk away if you’re a mortal. The ghouls won’t take their eyes off the small, wandering kit for one second.

—

Sibling of Sin, trying to take away a dirty blanket from Dew: “Give it, Dew, it needs to be washed!

Dew, holding onto the blanket for dear life: *Growls and lunges forward, biting the sibling on the arm*

(He was punished with a Stern talking for Aether and extra chores from Copia)

—

After Ritual Zoomies. Best believe they’ll be running and rolling around outside the abbey, full of energy. Papa purposely puts them outside after rituals so they don’t break anything. They will climb on anything they see, knocking everything over in their path. All the papas learned that mistake. By the time they come back down to the surface, they’re dirty, tired, and hungry.

—

Copia, watching as the ghouls come up to the door, covered in dirt: “Ya’ll done?”

—

Basically just the current papa acting as a owner to the ghouls.

#swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #aurora ghoulette #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #aether ghoul #copia ghost #cirrus ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #ghoul headcanons #ghost band #silly little headcanons #multi ghoul

[sebastiancats]

Probably a clue to the cult that kidnapped the twins

Ok, this is my first post here and I don't know much about English so I'll use the translator.I hope that a part of kurofandom can see this and tell me what they think.

A few days ago I started rereading the twin reveal arc manga, and since lately I've been doing research on gothic/medieval architecture, I saw this panel from chapter 135 and thought "this castle seems to be medieval".

then the idea of looking for information on satanic sects during the Victorian era occurred to me, and although in reality there was very little information about it, after searching for a while I finally found a page that told me about what I was looking for.

Well this information is about a man named Sir Francis Dashwood, like many of the young people of Victorian England who prided themselves on being part of blue blood families, he was an inexhaustible traveler. He toured almost all of Europe as part of his training, but he always expressed a very marked passion for Italy. Dashwood was a man of the world, surrounded by powerful friends in politics, banking and the art world. He held important positions in the civil service of England. He was also a notable lover of parties, music, food, drink and women in large quantities, in addition to art and Greco-Roman cultures. Quite a character with notable influences that he had access to practically what he wanted. He lived near the River Thames, in Buckinghamshire, in a huge mansion in West Wycombe, surrounded by luxuries and servants who fulfilled any mandate 24 hours a day. In it he held meetings with notable friends of his and members of Masonic lodges in which his vices surfaced permanently.

However, he had in mind the creation of a select secret group in which he could discuss freely about political and philosophical issues exclusively, made up of elegant and influential gentlemen from English high society. This is how he found the ideal place to carry out these meetings: Medmenham Abbey, whose owners were members of the Duffield family, and which was about five kilometers away from his mansion. The Duffields agreed to rent the property, erected around 1200 by a congregation of Cistercian monks. The place was perfect in every way: away from prying eyes and with an atmosphere of mysticism, thanks to its medieval air that enchanted Sir Francis.

He had a good number of statues of pagan gods moved to the property and decorated the walls with mocking phrases such as: Peni tento, non penitenti ("a stiff penis, no penance"). On the reception door he had the following legend engraved: Fay ce que voudras (<< Do what you want »), which would later be adopted by the magician Aleister Crowley as his personal phrase. The place was ready to receive Dashwood's guests and start the meetings of the new Hell-Fire Club. From this moment is where the myths and legends are born around the dark activities of this sinister cult where its members arrive at the abbey aboard small boats, dressed as monks, carrying candles in their hands and singing Gregorian chants.

It should be clarified that in reality the cult called themselves "The Monks of Medmenham". The name "Hell-Fire" club was more of a derogatory nickname.

So reading all this information I realized something, the phrase that this cult used was "fray ce que voudras" which means "Do what you want" or "Do your will" and this same phrase is used by the members of the cult that kidnapped to the twins.

In this part of chapter 135.

here I realized that when they arrive at that castle the receptionist asks "are you a monk?" To which the other responds with "Fay ce que voudras" (Do what you want). The same phrase used by members of the cult The Monks of Medmenham.

So I would assume that this is a hint that Yana left us and I don't see anyone else talking about it. I don't know if so many people from kurofandom follow me but tell me what you think about this, we should investigate further but I think this is a very obvious clue. 😸

#black butler #Kuroshitsuji #ciel phamtonhive #sebastian michaelis #No sé qué más agregar pero porfavor leanlo #kuroshitsuji theory

[dabiconcordia]

Consolation

How agreeable it is not to be touring Italy this summer, wandering her cities and ascending her torrid hilltowns. How much better to cruise these local, familiar streets, fully grasping the meaning of every roadsign and billboard and all the sudden hand gestures of my compatriots.

There are no abbeys here, no crumbling frescoes or famous domes and there is no need to memorize a succession of kings or tour the dripping corners of a dungeon. No need to stand around a sarcophagus, see Napoleon's little bed on Elba, or view the bones of a saint under glass.

How much better to command the simple precinct of home than be dwarfed by pillar, arch, and basilica. Why hide my head in phrase books and wrinkled maps? Why feed scenery into a hungry, one-eyes camera eager to eat the world one monument at a time?

Instead of slouching in a café ignorant of the word for ice, I will head down to the coffee shop and the waitress known as Dot. I will slide into the flow of the morning paper, all language barriers down, rivers of idiom running freely, eggs over easy on the way.

And after breakfast, I will not have to find someone willing to photograph me with my arm around the owner. I will not puzzle over the bill or record in a journal what I had to eat and how the sun came in the window. It is enough to climb back into the car

as if it were the great car of English itself and sounding my loud vernacular horn, speed off down a road that will never lead to Rome, not even Bologna. By Billy Collins

#areg every #photo pinterest.com #consolation #billy collins #car #staying at home

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

Grimsthorpe Castle

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing another grand english state! 

House History:  The building was originally a small castle on the crest of a ridge on the road inland from the Lincolnshire fen edge towards the Great North Road. It is said to have been begun by Gilbert de Gant, Earl of Lincoln in the early 13th century. However, he was the first and last in this creation of the Earldom of Lincoln and he died in 1156. Gilbert's heyday was the peak time of castle building in England, during the Anarchy. It is quite possible that the castle was built around 1140. However, the tower at the south-east corner of the present building is usually said to have been part of the original castle and it is known as King John's Tower. The naming of King John's tower seems to have led to a misattribution of the castle's origin to his time.

Gilbert de Gant spent much of his life in the power of the Earl of Chester and Grimsthorpe is likely to have fallen into his hands in 1156 when Gilbert died, though the title 'Earl of Lincoln' reverted to the crown. In the next creation of the earldom, in 1217, it was Ranulph de Blondeville, 4th Earl of Chester (1172–1232) who was ennobled with it. It seems that the title, if not the property was in the hands of King John during his reign; hence perhaps, the name of the tower.

During the last years of the Plantagenet kings of England, it was in the hands of Lord Lovell. He was a prominent supporter of Richard III. After Henry VII came to the throne, Lovell supported a rebellion to restore the earlier royal dynasty. The rebellion failed and Lovell's property was taken confiscated and given to a supporter of the Tudor Dynasty.[2]

The Tudor period

This grant by Henry VIII, Henry Tudor's son, to the 11th Baron Willoughby de Eresby was made in 1516, together with the hand in marriage of Maria de Salinas, a Spanish lady-in-waiting to Queen Catherine of Aragon. Their daughter Katherine inherited the title and estate on the death of her father in 1526, when she was aged just seven. In 1533, she became the fourth wife of Charles Brandon, 1st Duke of Suffolk, a close ally of Henry VIII. In 1539, Henry VIII granted Charles Suffolk the lands of the nearby suppressed Vaudey Abbey, founded in 1147, and he used its stone as building material for his new house. Suffolk set about extending and rebuilding his wife's house, and in only eighteen months it was ready for a visit in 1541 by King Henry, on his way to York to meet his nephew, James V of Scotland. In 1551, James's widow Mary of Guise also stayed at Grimsthorpe. The house stands on glacial till and it seems that the additions were hastily constructed. Substantial repairs were required later owing to the poor state of the foundations, but much of this Tudor house can still be seen today.

During Mary's reign the castle's owners, Katherine Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk (née Willoughby) and her second husband, Richard Bertie, were forced to leave it owing to their Anglican views. On Elizabeth's succeeding to the throne, they returned with their daughter, Susan, later Countess of Kent and their new son Peregrine, later the 13th Baron. He became a soldier and spent much of his time away from Grimsthorpe.

The Vanbrugh building

By 1707, when Grimsthorpe was illustrated in Britannia Illustrata, the 15th Baron Willoughby de Eresby and 3rd Earl Lindsey had rebuilt the north front of Grimsthorpe in the classical style. However, in 1715, Robert Bertie, the 16th Baron Willoughby de Eresby, employed Sir John Vanbrugh to design a Baroque front to the house to celebrate his ennoblement as the first Duke of Ancaster and Kesteven. It is Vanbrugh's last masterpiece. He also prepared designs for the reconstruction of the other three ranges of the house, but they were not carried out. His proposed elevation for the south front was in the Palladian style, which was just coming into fashion, and is quite different from all of his built designs.

The North Front of Grimsthorpe as rebuilt by Vanbrugh, drawn in 1819. Vanbrugh's Stone Hall occupies the space between the columns on both floors.

Inside, the Vanbrugh hall is monumental with stone arcades all around at two levels. Arcaded screens at each end of the hall separate the hall from staircases, much like those at Audley End House and Castle Howard. The staircase is behind the hall screen and leads to the staterooms on the first floor. The State Dining Room occupies Vanbrugh's north-east tower, with its painted ceiling lit by a Venetian window. It contains the throne used by George IV at his Coronation Banquet, and a Regency giltwood throne and footstool used by Queen Victoria in the old House of Lords. There is also a walnut and parcel gilt chair and footstool made for the use of George III at Westminster. The King James and State Drawing Rooms have been redecorated over the centuries, and contain portraits by Reynolds and Van Dyck, European furniture, and yellow Soho Tapestries woven by Joshua Morris around 1730. The South Corridor contains thrones used by Prince Albert and Edward VII, as well as the desk on which Queen Victoria signed her coronation oath. A series of rooms follows in the Tudor east range, with recessed oriel windows and ornate ceilings. The Chinese drawing room has a splendidly rich ceiling and an 18th-century fan-vaulted oriel window. The walls are hung with Chinese wallpaper depicting birds amidst bamboo. The chapel is magnificent with superb 17th-century plasterwork.

More history: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grimsthorpe_Castle

This house fits a 64x64 lot and features several impressive rooms, more than 29 bedrooms, a servants hall and several state rooms!

I only decored some of the main rooms, for you to have a glimpse of the distribution. The rest is up to you, as I have stated that I do not like interiors :P

Be warned: I did not have the floor plan for the tudor rooms, thus, the distribution is based on my own decision and can not fit the real house :P.

You will need the usual CC I use: all of Felixandre, The Jim, SYB, Anachrosims, Regal Sims, TGS, The Golden Sanctuary, Dndr recolors, etc.

Please enjoy, comment if you like it and share pictures with me if you use my creations!

DOWNLOAD (Early acces: June 30) https://www.patreon.com/posts/grimsthorpe-101891128

#sims 4 architecture #sims 4 build #sims4 #sims4play #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 historical #sims4building #sims4palace #sims 4 royalty #ts4 download #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 simblr #ts4cc #ts4 legacy #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 cc #thesims4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 aesthetic #ts4 cc #english manor

[tgmsunmontue]

To wake, perchance to dream WIP 1/?

Hangster - Jake wakes up 10 years in the future and thinks he has amnesia. Instead it's a glimpse of what his life could be. When he wakes up right before being called back to Top Gun for the special detachment he's going to try his damndest to make that future come true...

CHAPTER ONE

                Jake wakes up too warm, pinned beneath the weight of someone’s arm and he opens an eye and squints out into the glaring morning light.

                This is not his room.

                He has blackout curtains in his room, not gauzy nets that blow around in the breeze from an open window.

                This is not the couch in Javy’s apartment.

                Nor is it the guest room at the Machado’s home.

                He didn’t drink anything last night, but he’s feeling stiffer than he usually does.

                Something is… not right.

                “Hrmgh.”

                He shifts so he can glance over his shoulder at the owner of the arm and sleepy-mumble and his mouth drops open in surprise.

                Bradley Bradshaw.

                Not only Bradley Bradshaw, but at least half-naked Bradley Bradshaw, spooning him and… wearing a wedding ring. And hopefully maybe pants.

                Fuck.

                He pushes the arm and attached hand away, wiggles away a little and then sees the ring on his own hand and just stares at it.

                What the fuck is going on.

                He’d remember getting married right?

                Surely?

                “Jake… turn off the sun.”

                “You’re the one that didn’t shut the curtains,” he says, and he has no idea what made him say that, but Bradley just groans, pulls a pillow over his head and Jake decides that now is a good time to run for the bathroom.

…            …            …

                He looks old. Not bad, but he’s definitely got more wrinkles than he did when he last remembers looking into the mirror and he’s either got some weird type of amnesia or he’s dreaming or he’s in an alternate timeline. Those are his top three theories and he knew being obsessed with science fiction as a teenager would come in use someday. He uses the bathroom and cups his hands to drink some water from the tap.

                Right.

                Information gathering.

                Best place to start is going to be his phone, if he can find it. Surely he still has a phone in the future and hasn’t allowed anyone to insert a chip into his brain. He dries his hands and tiptoes back into the bedroom, takes in the naked torso of Bradley Bradshaw and okay, he did good if he somehow managed to lock that down, regardless of timeline or potential amnesia. He spies a phone on the side of bed he woke up on, lying on a flat platform type thing, along with a watch and something that looks like it attaches to his ear, which he leaves. He pulls the curtains closed and hopes that buys him a little more time before he grabs a pair of jeans tiptoes back out, carefully closing the door behind him.

                He pulls the jeans on and walks down the hall, phone gripped tightly in his hand and takes in the pictures on the walls. This version of himself and Bradshaw are definitely married, couple of photos that can be nothing but wedding photos. They have lots of people in their lives if the number of photos are anything to go by, although he doesn’t recognize half of them. It’s only just after six in the morning, the clock in the kitchen informs him and he spies a coffee machine and it’s already on, filling steadily and he wonders who turned it on or if these things are automatic now.

                While he waits for it to finish he open his phone, going to contacts and scans through them.

                Abbey. Admrl Simp. Alex. Alicia. Amber. Austin. BamBam. Best Person Ever. Blake. Bob. Brendan. Bryce. Dan. Dave. Dickhead. Directory. DJ. Fanboy. Fritz. Hadley. Halo. Harvard. Hin. Hondo. Jack. JB. Javy. Jared. Jason. Klaus. Kyle. Mark. Matty. Mike. Mom. Morgan. Neil (not Omaha). Nick. Nix. Olivia. Omaha. Payback. Penny. Per. Pete. Phil. Robert (not Bob). Rooster. Sally. Scott. Steffan. Tony. Voicemail. Wayne. Yale.

                There are so many names he doesn’t recognize and he feels his breath coming a little short and forces himself to calm down. Panicking will not help. There are names he does recognize so he will start there. Actually, now that he looks he realizes he recognizes more, but they’re callsigns of other pilots, not friends he’d expect to have in his phone. Except if he has somehow time travelled then maybe they’re his friends now too?

                Javy though, he knows Javy now, and he looks at the most recent messages from Javy and is glad he didn’t immediately call him, because admitting he didn’t know Javy had kids and that apparently they’re under his care… Fuck. Where are they? He swallows down the rising panic again, years of training kicking in and walks down the hall and carefully pushes open the almost closed door he’d walked past earlier and sure enough there are kids in there. Three of them, and he’s not sure what’s the most surprising, that Javy finally got hitched and settled enough to have three kids, or that he apparently trusts Jake to look after them. Jake and Bradshaw that is. Apparently.

                This bedroom is bigger than the room he woke in, but it’s clearly been decorated for these kids in mind and he wonders how often they stay over, to have individual beds. He doesn’t know kids, he was the youngest of four and they were all pretty close in age. He’s been deployed while his brother’s and sisters had started having kids, sees them irregularly at best. But he can probably hazard a guess at ages. Their names are above their beds, two being cribs and he peers in, wonders just how little these children are. Alleisha, James, Brandy.

                Alleisha is in a bed, and he’d put her around six or seven years old, can’t really project her length int height, and being tall doesn’t always equal age anyway. She’s definitely the oldest by far though, the little boy, James, maybe two or three, splayed out like a starfish, thumb lax in his mouth and he looks so much like Javy it makes him smile and something in his gut relaxes an infinitesimal amount. The fact that he looks older, that Javy has kids is making him think he’s got amnesia. That’s more likely than time travel, but he’s feeling a little bit sick regardless, everything unfamiliar.

                He moves over to the final crib and there is a baby, a legit, tiny human, it can’t even be a year old, and it’s eyes are open, watching him quietly and he freezes, wonders what he’s meant to do with it. He’s seen other people do things with babies. Knows the theory. In theory. Okay. He can fly multi-million dollar planes, he can pick up a baby. He leans down, making a shushing noise and he gets a wide grin and a slap to the face for his troubles as he picks Brandy up and cradles her to him. She’s heavier than he thought she’d be.

                Right. What do you do with babies. Diaper change right? Oh god. There’s a change table and he lies her down, looks at the snaps and zips covering the baby and wonders if he should just go and wake Bradshaw up and get him to deal with it. Except this is Javy’s kid. Plus he doesn’t need anyone’s help. He works at the zipper and snaps and finally finds a sodden diaper before he realizes he’s going to need a new one, fortunately located right beneath the change table, along with some wipes. Okay. This is going well.

                He pays attention as he undoes the little tabs, knowing he’s going to have to do the whole thing in reverse, and he has a fucking engineering degree, he can figure out a fucking diaper. Fortunately only a wet diaper and he wipes, wipes again, wonders how many times he’s meant to wipe before deciding that someone else can take the next diaper change. There’s a little diaper pail which he’s grateful for, one hand not leaving her little body, terrified she might just roll off. When do babies start rolling around? Planes don’t move unless you tell them to, she’s moving all limbs independently and with no apparent control, sucking on a fist but thankfully quiet and happy. He doesn’t want to see not-quiet and not-happy if he can help it.

                He takes her out of the weird sack thing, assumes it’s a blanket thing for sleeping and carries her back to the kitchen, desperate for coffee now, and he realizes he’s going to need to feed her. Okay. Javy wouldn’t have left a baby here without food and he opens the refrigerator and sure enough there’s a few bottles already lined up and he grabs one out, the high-pitched squeal that Brandy lets out a clear agreement that he at least is on the right path.

                There’s an electronic bucket type thing beside the coffee machine which makes him think of a mini ice-bucket, it has the same brand logo as the bottle and he wonders if it’s really that simple. Puts the bottle in and presses the button on the front, and it’s definitely doing something, button turning from blue to red. Brandy is almost headbanging in excitement so he again feels like he’s once again picked the right step. While he waits for the button to hopefully change color again and provide a warm bottle he opens his phone again, wonders if he should message Javy and tell him they all made it through the night. Is that something he would do now?

                He opens up the photo gallery instead and okay… if he has amnesia then he’ll just wait to get his memories back. Whenever he’s in a photo his smile is so wide it splits his face. His camera roll is filled with photos of Bradshaw and these kids, and a dog, and some people he doesn’t recognize, but then there is Javy and a woman… he zooms in and heads back into the hall to look at the photos on the wall more closely. Phoenix. Natasha Trace. She’s in a lot of the photos as well and he opens up his contacts again, scans through the names. There’s no Phoenix, Trace or Natasha… but there is a Nix and he opens them as he walks back to the kitchen, hoping the bottle is hopefully done because Brandy is getting less patient.

                Fortunately it’s clearly designed to be operated by either an idiot or sleep deprived parents and the light is now green and flashing and he swirls it and tries to squirt some in his mouth just to check the temperature, Brandy seems horrified at his actions and makes a high pitched squeal of displeasure, struggling to get to the bottle but he doesn’t want her to get a burnt mouth or anything.

                “It’s okay baby girl, I’m not stealing it from you…”

                She makes the same displeased squealing noise, hands reaching for the bottle and Jake wonders if he’s meant to hold her, or get a cloth to cover her or something. Ah well. Problem for future Jake. He hands her the bottle and moves into the living room, settles into the corner of an incredibly comfy sofa and she squirms a little until she’s nestled into the crook of his arm, eyes wide and watching him, both hands clasped on the bottle and he doesn’t resist the urge to place a soft kiss on her forehead.

                He opens his phone again and navigates back to the messages, looking for Nix and then opening the message history. The messages between them alternate between scathing teasing and then more serious things about the kids, he’s sent her lots of photos and he clearly has a lot to do with these kids. To have the bedroom set up like it is, it looks like a permanent thing, except his messages with both Javy and Phoenix are as recent as yesterday, so nothing has happened to them to explain why their kids are here, with him and Bradshaw.

                Fucking hell.

                Bradley Bradshaw.

                Phoenix he can kind of get his head around in a way, especially if she’s married to Javy. Bradshaw on the other hand, he doesn’t know if they’ve managed to exchange any casual civil words with each other. When flying they simply seem to rub each other the wrong way and when not flying they really rub each other up the wrong way. And yet here he is, apparently married to him and looking after his best friend’s kids. What has become of his life? In another world he’d definitely have made more than one pass at Bradshaw, but he’d never got even the slightest inkling that it would be welcomed, let alone reciprocated.

                And yet here he is.

                He glances down and startles, Brandy has finished the bottle, is sucking in air and he knows enough that that can’t be good so he takes the bottle from her, which she gratefully allows him to do. Then a dog appears, looks at him and gives a soft whuff before settling on the floor just near him and Jake wonders if the dog is his. He doesn’t want to move, Brandy apparently content to simply lie with him, the dog as well and he’s wondering if he needs to let it out when he hears footsteps approaching and he twists his head.

                “You look good like that…” Bradshaw says, and he’s almost upside down, smiling at him softly, like he expects Jake to say something back and he has no idea what it might be.

                “Morning…”

                “Morning…” Bradshaw replies, giving him a weird little smile like Jake didn’t say quite what he expected. “Thanks for letting me sleep in…”

                “You’re, uh, welcome…” Jake says, shifting and standing up because he feels too vulnerable lying on his back on the sofa with Bradshaw sort-of looming over him. Of course, now he’s got an even better view of Bradshaw and he can’t help but look his fill, Bradshaw in nothing but low-hanging sleep pants and looking sleep-tousled. He also looks older, maybe in his mid-forties, but he’s still firm and smooth and Jake wants to lick a stripe over his stomach. Nothing wrong with his sex drive at least.

                “And this is why we don’t have kids ourselves. Get your mind out of the gutter Mr Bradshaw, we’ve got kids today and cannot go back to bed…” Bradshaw says, moving close to him and taking Brandy from him and he lets her go, misses the warmth of her tiny body.

                “Pity…” he says, and finds he means it, because even if he’s freaking out about this weird waking-dream he’s in, Bradshaw is still a certified snack and Jake wants him. And apparently he took his name when they got married. He’s not surprised he was willing to give up Seresin considering how little he cares for it even now.

                “I’m sure you’ll make it up to me tonight. And tomorrow morning if you’re feeling athletic enough.”

                “When am I not feeling athletic enough?” Jake asks, because he can’t imagine his personality is that different even if he can’t remember time lapsed.

                “Mmm, there’s that fighting spirit. Like it when you feel like you have to prove a point.”

                Then Bradshaw is kissing him, his fingers sneaking under his shirt to stroke Jake’s bare skin and he feels his entire body erupt in goosebumps, suddenly hyperaware, every little hair on his body standing on end and seemingly aching for attention. He’s not used to this, not used to someone who just touches him and moves him like they know exactly what to do and god it feels both terrifying and exhilarating.

                “Come on, we better get breakfast going for trouble one and trouble two…”

                “Yeah, course,” Jake agrees, because he’s the one out of time and place and he’s going to need to figure out a way to break that news to Bradshaw and a little more time sounds good. Regarding breakfast though, fortunately Bradshaw seems to be the one that makes it, but he watches carefully which cupboards and drawers have what items, his mind racing trying to figure out whether he’s suddenly going to remember everything in a rush, or have it trickle through.

                “Morning uncle Jay…”

                “Morning,” Jake replies, knows the greeting is for him because he’s also getting a hug to his side and he likes being called Uncle Jay, wants to hear it all the time. God, no wonder these kids have a bedroom here if he’s already this much in love with them all. Best case of amnesia ever. He needs to figure out how to let Bradshaw know about that too, not to freak him out, but just to let him know, because he should probably get checked out even if he does feel fine physically. The fact he’s missing a chunk of time isn’t normal. Of course, there is the chance that he’s still dreaming, but his dreams have never seemed real like this.

                Or as domestic.

                Or as detailed.

                The dog makes another quiet whuff and he can hear the front door opening, but it’s clearly someone with a key and he has to stop himself from freaking out that he’s going to have another person he doesn’t know enter his new reality.

                “You two wearing pants?” a woman’s voice calls out and Jake catches Bradshaw’s eye roll.

                “Jesus Amelia, of course we’re wearing pants, the kids are here!”

                “Well, I have to ask.”

                “It was one time, and you didn’t knock…”

                “And I’m still getting therapy for it,” a woman apparently called Amelia says, pulling a face and Jake doesn’t know whether to smile or say something or… okay, he’s being hugged in greeting and he hugs back, swallows back the automatic nice to meet you because he clearly knows her already, even if he has no fucking clue who she is. She’s definitely younger than him and Bradshaw though.

                “Aunty Amelia!” Alleisha says, and Jake feels a spark of jealousy at the joy and excitement in her voice, directed at someone else, and then reminds himself the love and affection are not a finite resource as he watches Amelia hug Alleisha, then James and then slaps Bradshaw on the ass, making him squawk. She just laughs and takes Brandy from Bradshaw, and the baby just goes happily. Jake is so confused.

                The dog paws at him and whines, and he glances down and pats her; she’s definitely his, with the way she’s hovering near his side. Bradshaw is looking at him with a raised eyebrow though when he looks up from paying her attention, but goes back to setting out bowls and glasses of water, cuts up fruit and slides another cup of coffee across to him with a soft smile. Jake smiles back, wonders when he might get a moment alone with him. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out.

Best Person Ever>> Stop staring at his ass. You’ve been home for two weeks. Honeymoon period should be over.

                He glances up and Amelia is smirking at him, and he doesn’t know where she fits into all of this, who she is to them, other than someone he has in his phone as Best Person Ever and judging from her smirk he wouldn’t put it past her to have changed that herself. He shoves his phone back in his pocket. If he’s been home for two weeks then he’s probably been deployed, which means he’s still in the Navy. That settles some of the uneasiness in his gut, not everything in his world is that different then. And this is what he comes home to. That’s pretty fucking cool.

                They eat, Brandy being placed in a highchair that materializes from the laundry and she’s given some slices of banana to mash up, which is gross and horrifying to watch. The expression on his face must be amusing, because both Alleisha and James are giggling at him, and even Bradshaw is hiding a grin, but he gets up and brushes a soft kiss on his forehead, murmurs something about every time and he wants to know what the hell he means. Amelia is also eating breakfast, making herself at home and wiping at James’ face and even though he has no idea who she is it doesn’t feel wrong that she’s here and part of their domesticity.

                “Right, I’m taking Lady Alleisha and Knight James to their swimming lessons. I’ll be back after we’ve visited the library… We might also swing by a playground on our way back.”

                Bradshaw is nodding like this is the standard routine and Jake just smiles, because the kids are happy and excited and now he has his opportunity to talk to Bradshaw. Tell him that he’s not… well. Can’t remember anything.

                Yeah.

                This is going to be awkward as fuck.

#To Wake perchance to Dream #Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun maverick fanfiction

[bloodfin]

✭・.・✫

Rain Ghoul x Dewdrop Ghoul x Phantom Ghoul (plus some background polyghouls)

Rated: E for Explicit, 18+ only

Word Count: 4.347

Summary: Dew spills some wine on Rain's pretty moonrise outfit; shenanigans ensue

Pronoun tags for this fic: She/Her Rain, He/Him Dewdrop, He/They Phantom (everyone has a dick today)

Warnings: pre-existing relationships (and therefore pre-existing kink negotiations), ma'am kink, mommy kink, alcohol consumption, blood kink/drinking, spitting, aether is always a little stressed (and gets called daddy once), handjob, blowjob, anal fingering, spit as lube, anal sex, dumbification, come play, come eating, there is so much come, praise kink, knotting, breeding kink (very mild and only if you squint but just in case), horribly unreliable narrator, no beta we die like nihil; as is typical of my writing sensitive kink (mommy in this case) has been italicized and bolded for easy skipping - i know this isn't a kink for everyone, please keep yourself safe

Author’s Note: as always please mind the tags and don't read if anything squicks you out! i fear my brainrot is now terminal and i am making that everyone else's problem (sorry). if i missed a tag in the warnings or you think i should add something please let me know - i try and be thorough! enjoy, share what you can, and be well ~

additional disclaimer: this is about literal demons straight from hell and has absolutely nothing to do with the actual band members of Ghost, unless someone dyed themselves blue or gold and we all missed it

read on ao3

Vernal equinox had passed, but the ghouls were still in celebration mode, the walls of the den overflowing with small paper flowers. The pink moon was due to rise - the first full moon of spring always cause for extra celebration. It was welcomed around the abbey by all members for ushering in growth and change, solidifying partnerships of all sorts. 

Phantom, Aurora, and Dew decorated while Sunshine and Cirrus cooked, the den slowly filling with the warm smell of freshly baked bread. Mountain and Aether were arranging the plants to best receive the moon's energy, while Swiss and Cumulus worked on setting up a large nest in the center of the den. 

The only one absent from the preparations was Rain, but her packmates were certain that she would come by when she was ready if she felt so called. Every moonrise was different, but this moon in particular had a strong effect on her. Sometimes the pull was so intense she would spend the evening at the bottom of the lake worshiping in her own way, or she would slink away with the other water ghouls of the abbey. 

Today, however, she wanted to play with her pack, painting her face with a gentle pink blush and lipstick. It stood out beautifully against her navy-freckled teal skin, making her sharp teeth seem even brighter. She hummed at her reflection once she finished smudging her eyeliner, the red she put on the waterline bleeding into faded black. Predatory. 

Rain was flicking through her closet when the smell of dinner wafted under her door, her ears flickering once they picked up on the sound of quiet laughter. She huffed, passing over dress after dress, jumpsuit after crop top, nothing feeling quite right or looking as powerful as the moon was making her feel. She was fiddling with her belly ring when her eyes landed on a small black skirt next to the laundry that she had been meaning to return. One more wear wouldn’t make her anymore late on giving the clothing back to its rightful owner, right? 

“Perfect,” she smiled to herself, wriggling into the skintight black leather miniskirt, sporting a slit that left absolutely no thigh to the imagination. It hugged every part of her perfectly, highlighting where her cock was straining against a too small pair of panties. Once satisfied with its placement she put on a black lace bandeau, followed by a sheer black crop top. 

The only thing missing was shoes, and she slipped into pink heels that matched her lipstick before heading out the door, her tail wagging slowly through the air. 

When she rounded the corner into the den’s common room the air shifted, the whole pack taking a collective breath when they saw her. 

“Wow,” Swiss whispered under his breath, his foot tapping rapidly under the table. 

“Mo- mo- mom-m-” 

Phantom was stuttering, frozen in place before Cumulus clapped her hand over his mouth, whispering in their ear. 

“She will eat you alive baby. Let her get settled, she just got here.” 

Their ears started to twitch like he was going to make a move, but when they saw how Rain's teeth seemed to glow in the light he nodded, leaning into Cumulus's side, content to watch for the moment. Dew, however, was not. He wanted Rain near him always, and especially now. 

Dew was probably a little too inebriated to be attempting anything close to chivalry, but anytime he saw Rain like this his brain deflated while his blood supply funneled south. 

“Saved you a chair, beautiful,” he hummed, standing to pull out the seat beside his own. 

He should have left his glass on the table, really, but the thought didn't cross his mind until he bumped into Rain, burgundy wine sloshing out of his glass to drip down her exposed stomach. The room was still, Mountain having sucked in a sharp breath while Aether started to stand, readying himself to intervene. The sparkle of Dew's skin began to fade as his face fell, turning to run into the kitchen for a towel. 

He didn't make it very far, Rain's hand reaching out to grab the back of his neck. She pulled him back and pushed him to his knees, leaning on the chair. 

“Clean your mess, Dewdrop.” 

Aether breathed a sigh of relief and plopped back into his chair while the color returned to Phantom's face, eager to see what was next. His tail thumped quietly on their chair. 

Dew looked at Rain for a brief moment before dropping his head, speaking quickly. 

“Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am.” 

Rain's eyes dilated and her fingers flexed, breath stuttering for just a moment when Dew’s hot tongue met the cool skin of her stomach, lapping up the wine. He made sure to clean around the band of her skirt first, knowing how much she hated stains. 

Once he felt the area was thoroughly cleaned he delicately worked his way to her belly button, wrapping his tongue around the glittery, dangling jewelry and sucking it clean. He tongued around the attached belly chains, not wanting to miss a single drop. There was a quiet moan from behind them, but Dew didn't dare lift his eyes, focusing instead on the beautiful creature before him.

Rain stuck her hand out and Cirrus placed Dew's half spilled glass of wine into it, complimenting her skirt. 

She smiled while she swirled the glass in her hand, bringing it to her nose for a quick sniff. 

“Thank you, I've been meaning to return it -” 

Cirrus's laugh sounded like little bells in the wind. 

“Please, keep it. You look better in it then I do.” 

Rain smiled and bent to the side, knocking their horns together. “You're too sweet to me Cici, I'll be sure to properly thank you later.” 

She smiled back, blowing her a soft kiss before returning her attention back to Mountain, tugging him from the table and towards the nest. Chairs scraped on the floor as everyone shuffled around, still watching Rain and Dew’s exchange.  

Rain studied the glass of wine in her hand, turning it slowly. It was her favorite one, thick and full bodied, a few citrus notes at the end. 

Expensive. 

“How many dicks did you have to suck to get this?” 

Dew shrugged while lapping at her cool skin. It didn’t matter to him so he didn't keep count, he would do anything for his mate. Anything to see her smile, even if he wasn't sure she'd attend the evening festivities. 

“Four,” Sunshine giggled from Cumulus's lap. Rain purred, licking the tips of her fangs. 

Dew had finished his task and was sitting back on his heels, looking up to watch Rain take another sip of the wine. His tongue darted out from between his lips with a quiet whimper. Rain looked down at him, one perfectly done brow raised. 

“Need more?” 

Dew nodded his head rapidly before opening his mouth wide, groaning when Rain slipped her thumb into his mouth, pulling at his cheek. She took a large sip of wine before setting the glass down, bending at the waist to bring her lips to Dew's. His sharp gag as he struggled to swallow triggered a series of muffled groans and the slick sounds of hands meeting wet skin. 

“Thank you ma'am,” he panted, struggling to speak around her thumb. He rolled his head to the side, exposing his thick veins and the silvery scars of their prior couplings. 

“Got plenty for you, too, if you need.” 

Dew often begged to be bitten where his gills once were, aching to feel something there again. But now he was offering in submission, to let Rain take what she needed under the power of the moon. 

Her tongue darted out of the corner of her mouth as she looked him up and down. 

With a quick nod of her head Dew was scrambling towards the nest, quickly divesting himself of his clothes as he went. She slowly followed him, sinking to her knees to pull his back to her chest, running her nose along his neck. 

“Please,” Dew sighed, flexing his claws against his thighs.

Rain inhaled deeply against his cinnamon-scented skin, fangs fully dropping before she sank them into the crook of his neck, blood quickly filling her mouth. He groaned low, the pitch only going higher when she took his hard cock into her hand, slowly stroking him from root to tip as she drank. 

“Rainy,” Aether warned gently from across the nest, voice cracking with the way Swiss had his mouth wrapped around his cock. 

She pulled herself from Dew's neck, licking at the corner of her mouth to gather a drop of his shimmering blood. 

“Don’t worry so much daddy, Dewdrop knows his limits. Would never hurt him more than he wants, promise.” 

“All good Aeth,” Dew agreed, raising a thumbs up which quickly dropped back to the pillows with a loud purr when Rain started to clean the wounds at his neck. Her tongue slowly worked around each puncture, her fist mimicking the movements of her mouth against the quickly darkening head of his cock. 

Aether nodded and fell back on his elbows, digging his fingers into Swiss’s hair, determined to enjoy the first night off in… a while. But a set of eyes still remained fully planted on Rain and Dew, the movement of a flickering tail catching her attention from the corner of her eye. 

“You okay bug? Not in the mood to play?” 

Dew barely opened his eyes, biting into his lower lip with a groan as Rain gently stroked him. 

“Wanted to watch, if that's okay with you both mm-ma'am.” 

Dew was nodding before he even finished their sentence, and Rain was grinning like a shark, Dew's crimson blood smeared all over her lips and chin. She didn't miss the way Phantom's eyes dropped to her mouth, watching her lick another spot clean. 

“Just want to watch?” 

Phantom blinked hard before forcing their eyes away from the mess, chewing at the corner of his lip. 

“He um… He just smells really good.” 

“Would you like a taste, sweetness?” 

Phantom nodded eagerly, eyes back on her mouth. “Please ma'am, please.” 

Rain beckoned him over with two crooked fingers, stifling a laugh at the eager way Phantom's tongue licked across her chin. Dew whined in her lap, quickly hushed by the drag of her pre soaked fingers up his chest to toy with the bar running through his nipple. 

Phantom hummed as he licked at her lips and chin, quiet thank you's between their breaths. 

“So polite,” Rain smiled, holding his chin to kiss them deep and slow. Phantom groaned when she slipped her tongue into their mouth, filling him with the taste of a beachside bonfire and hot iron. It was intoxicating, and they would let her have every ounce of air in his lungs if they could stay just like this forever. 

When they broke apart Phantom was a panting mess, claws digging into his own thighs. 

“Thank you mommy -” 

They paused, blinking his eyes and shaking their head to clear it. 

“Sorry thank you mommy -”

Another huff, trying to hide a whine that would rival Dew's. 

“I'm sorry momm- ma’am. Thank you ma’am.” 

Rain just smiled as she twisted Dew’s nipple between her fingers, his keen cutting through the heavier sounds of fucking that had filled the room. The way her head was tilted probably should've sent Phantom running, but instead his cock kicked against their thigh, a shiver running up his back. 

“So dumb you're having trouble speaking and I've only kissed you. Don't worry sweet little bug, mommy will take good care of you.” 

Phantom choked on their inhale as pre blurted on his leg, and Dew whined even louder, drawing Rain's attention back to him. His cock was weeping freely, begging for release while she kept teasing at his chest, working her other hand under his chin to turn him towards her. 

“Did you lose your words too?” 

Dew groaned when she started to slide her hand back towards his cock, lifting his hips to try and meet her. 

“You know I love your voice Dewdrop, if you need a moment you can watch Phantom and I play for a while.” 

Phantom's tail smacked against the pillows so quickly it sounded like someone running down the hall. Dew shook his head, voice just starting to splinter with need. 

“No ma'am, need you. Need you please.” 

“What do you need,” she cooed, pushing a lock of golden hair behind his half drooped ears. 

“Want - need your cock, your knot. Need you to fill me ‘til I swell with you, please, need you so bad.” 

Rain hummed, tapping her fingers along Dew's length while he squirmed. Phantom crept closer, kneeling in front of the pair, fangs poking into their lower lip. 

She paused, looking across both Phantom and Dew, finally settling on an idea. 

“Phantom, sweetness, you're being so good. Do you want a nice hot dick in your mouth?” 

“Please, mommy.” 

“Excellent,” she purred, kneeling tall behind Dew as she folded him to the floor.

“Why don't you come get this skirt off, without ripping it, while I get Dew all worked open hm?” 

They smiled so wide Rain was sure his ears would fall off, scrambling to her side to examine the zipper. With careful fingers Phantom undid the clasp, gently sliding the zipper down while watching Rain run her nails down Dew's back, making him arch. 

He leaned in close to her to work the band of the skirt down, breath hitching when they caught the gentle scent of orange blossoms on a sea breeze. Rain was always dangerous, the sharp iridescent scales that framed her face and joints were a reminder of that. But right now, she was deadly. 

A whine bubbled up from their throat when the band of her skirt caught on her cock, unable to bring it any lower. Rain glanced down to find Phantom gently pawing at her, looking up at her with big sad eyes. 

“Wanna be good and help you, but it's stuck. Don't wanna ruin your pretty skirt.” 

“Sweet little bug.” 

She smiled as she stood, gently ruffling their mop of hair before letting the skirt pool around her ankles. She stepped out of it and her shoes, returning to her spot behind Dew. Phantom's mouth watered at the sight of her cock hard and leaking into delicate pink lace, barely contained. 

She brought two fingers to his lips, tapping them as she spoke. 

“Get these nice and wet for me, then you can have a taste.” 

Dew groaned loud, wrapping his tail around Rain's free wrist. He pushed his ass further up, hips swaying slightly. 

Phantom moaned around Rain's fingers, wrapping their tongue around her long digits while sucking at the tips. When they pulled away he made sure to leave a thick line of saliva up her fingers, watching with rapt attention as she smeared it around with her thumb. 

She nodded her head towards Dew's exposed hole, telling him to spit. They were happy to oblige, sticky with want themselves, aching to make Rain happy. He trilled when she hummed with approval, bringing her wet fingers to Dew's hole, pressing the tip of her index finger inside. Dew's gasp was anything but quiet. 

“You're both being so good for me,” Rain praised, shifting on her legs to make the bulge of her cock more prominent. Phantom couldn't help the thin line of saliva that dripped from their fangs and down his chin. 

“Come have a taste, Ant.” 

Phantom eagerly licked across his lips, dipping down to settle against Rain's lap. They began to mouth at her cock through her already too wet panties, running his tongue up and down her length. She purred low, her free hand working into their hair while the other pressed into Dew. 

“Just the best bug, sweetest little thing,” she cooed. 

“Rainy,” Dew whined, wiggling back onto her fingers. “I need -” 

She curled her finger up, stroking against his prostate while shushing him gently. 

“I know baby, I know.” 

Dew adjusted his arms so he could rest his face against them, his back making a pretty arch. His golden skin always seemed to glitter most in dim light; he’d certainly be glowing once the moon fully rose.. Rain hummed as she worked a second finger into him, quickly followed by a third. She scissored them as much as she could, making sure Dew was starting to stretch. He was already leaking, a leftover trait from his time as a water ghoul, the slick sound filling the space. 

Phantom moaned at the sight, his drool further wetting Rain's cock. She rolled her hips gently against their chin, his attention quickly returning to suckling at her tip. 

“Please,” Dew whimpered, claws flexing into whatever poor cushion he latched on to, “ready for you now. Need to feel you, want it to ache.” 

Rain purred as she pulled her fingers from Dew, her other hand still nested in Phantom’s curls. 

“Don't worry baby, it's coming. Being so good for me. Showing off for Phantom, huh? Showing them how good you can be?” 

“Only for you ma'am,” Dew sighed, wiggling his little hips. 

Rain pinched at his nearly non-existent ass cheek before returning her attention back to Phantom, gently pulling him away from her cock. 

“Do you want to watch, or would you like to play with Dew?” 

Dew trilled, his answer obvious. Phantom had the sense to at least look like he was thinking about it before planting a kiss to her cheek and shuffling towards Dew's head, settling on their knees in front of him. 

Dew stretched out as much as he could, wrapping first his fist and then his tongue around Phantom's cock. Plum-flushed like Aether gets, although the purple was swirled with grey instead of gold. He hissed when Dew took them into his mouth, head dropping back at the heat of his tongue. 

Rain smirked as she watched them, taking her own cock in hand and pressing the head to Dew's hole. He leaned back into her, stretching himself between his partners, urging her to give him more. 

She wrapped her long fingers around the base of his tail and tugged, using the extra leverage to slide inside with a guttural moan. Dew responded with one of his own, muffled by Phantom pushing themself deeper down his throat. 

“Not gonna last,” Phantom grumbled, his hand locked around Dew's bun. “Feels too good.” 

“Mhm I know,” Rain smiled, rolling her hips to drive her cock straight against Dew's prostate. He popped off of Phantom with a little whine of protest, his breathing heavy when she began to pull at his puffy nipples. 

“Dewy isn't gonna last so long either, huh baby?” 

She asked with a particularly hard thrust into him, Phantom's eyes wide watching Dew's roll back into his head. They pulled from Dew’s mouth to rest for a moment, unwillingly to reach his end so soon. Dew’s mouth was legendary for a reason, after all. 

“Go ahead, get that pretty mouth on Dew's little cock, he wants it so bad.” 

Rain's words pulled them from their trance, blinking a few times with his head tilted just to the side before nodding quickly, shuffling back down to take Dew to the back of his throat. 

Rain wrapped one of her arms around Dew's waist and the other tangled back into Phantom's hair, rubbing gently at the sensitive skin behind their ear. Dew's hands were everywhere, flying from Rain's head to Phantom's, digging in his own thighs and pressing on Rain's, lifting his hips to help guide her into that perfect spot while desperately trying to not choke Phantom. 

She didn’t need the help, she knew Dew's body as well as she knew her own. Maybe better, even, with the way she had him moaning while dragging her cock over the perfect spot. Each roll of her hips was punctuated by one of his breathy sighs, adding to the cacophony of the room. 

Phantom for his part was chirping happily, licking long trails across the thick veins on the underside of Dew’s cock. When Rain pushed them forward he happily followed, swallowing around Dew's length with a pleased hum. Rain cooed at him from over Dew's shoulder, scratching behind his ear again before grabbing the back of his head. 

“Tap twice if you need to breathe, yeah?” 

Phantom brought his tail up and tapped the spade twice against her hand, rolling their hips gently into the nest of blankets below him. 

Rain smiled that far too toothy grin, thrusting into Dew and driving his cock further into Phantom's throat. Dew was all but jelly between them, held up by Rain's arm around his waist and Phantom’s hand pressed into his chest, his tail slowly tangling with Rain's in search of something more to hold onto. 

Phantom's tongue was good, great actually, Dew's thoughts on the matter filling the space as choked off babbling. When Phantom wrapped their tongue underneath Dew's head and sucked Dew was certain he'd open his eyes and be back in the pit, unholy pleasure running hot in his veins. 

Rain hooked her chin over Dew's shoulder, nuzzling at the space below his ear. 

“Don't swallow sweetness, let him dribble out of your mouth, down your face. That okay?” 

Phantom moaned in affirmation around Dew's length, nodding his head as best he could. It wouldn't be long now, Dew's balls were heavy in their hands, getting tighter with every thrust of Rain's hips driving him further into their mouth. 

She drove harder into him, and Dew's hands fisted Phantom's soft hair right next to Rain’s. 

“Rain, Rain, Rainy, fuck -” 

Dew's voice went high until it broke off, dying out as he painted inside Phantom's mouth. Phantom hummed as he took every drop, careful to not swallow. Once Dew had stopped pulsing they pulled away, sitting back with their head slightly tilted slightly forward before smiling, Dew's spend trickling out of his mouth and down their neck. 

“Fucking nasty,” Rain mumbled, pressing herself hard against Dew, grinding her hips to his ass. “Just how you like it, huh?”  

Dew nodded in agreement, his voice breaking on every whimper Rain pulled from him as she chased her own release. 

“Lay back bug, slide closer to me.” 

Phantom melted for her, nearly pressing themself into Dew's chest before dropping onto his back, tail shifting to rest on Dew’s thigh. They moaned when Rain wrapped her talented hand around his length, back lifting from the pillows. 

“Haven't even been touched yet,” she cooed, and Phantom shook their head. “Such a good, patient little thing.” 

Phantom nodded hard, like he was trying to say waiting for you. 

“Whenever you like, sweetness.” 

Their voice was trapped in his throat, muffled by every unholy sound Rain could pull from them as she worked his cock at the same tempo she nailed Dew, who was putty at this point. He was limp in her arms, begging for her release, her knot. For everything, for nothing, for all of it at once. 

Phantom wasn't sure how long they'd last, and when Rain rubbed her finger across his slit to gather a pearl of pre just to taste it they knew it wouldn't be long. 

She hummed in pleasure at the tang of him, mixed with the carbonated vanilla of their benzoin scent. Her hand quickly returned, long manicured fingers wrapping around their length, pulling in the most devastating way. 

Phantom could feel their eyes crossing as he watched, Rain's hand firm against him, the other tight around Dew. They brought their tail to where Rain and Dew’s were tangled together, joining the heap. 

Dew was crying now, his cock hard again, gold skin glistening. He begged, Rain purred, Phantom tried to keep their claws to themself but he looked so pretty, eyes screwed tight under a crown of sweat, his golden bun no longer neat and tidy. So they reached out, grabbing Dew by the base, feeling his little knot start to inflate under their hand. And if Phantom thought Dew had been crying before, well… He was really going now. 

“Little bug is being so sweet to you, aren't they,” Rain purred, licking below the shell of Dew's ear as she slowly ground her knot into his rim. 

“Yeah, yeah you both are. Need it ma'am, need your knot, need to cum -” 

The movement of Rain's hips became more frantic as she pressed more firmly into Dew, hissing when his tight body finally swallowed her knot, enveloping her in delicious heat. Dew keened, high pitched and devastated as he came into Phantom's hand, a string of thankyouthankyouthankyou falling from his wine stained lips. 

Dew was babbling, words broken and punctuated with breathy moans. Phantom wasn't much quieter, egging Dew on with their own muttering. C'mon Dewy, come for mommy. Make a mess, make me a mess. 

Rain followed quickly, the squeeze of Dew around her knot too much, biting into his neck with a groan from the depths of her throat. 

Phantom wasn't sure what brought them to the edge. Dew's hot come, the scent of his blood, the noise Rain made when she slid fully into his body. Maybe it was the way her calloused fingers rubbed against their frenulum with a talent flick of her wrist. All he knew was that they were floating, high in space, coated from the chin down in their own and Dew's release. 

He stirred when they heard Rain shuffling on her knees, laying down next to them with Dew tight in her arms. He hissed a little at the shuffle but it was good natured, her knot still buried tight inside his hole. Dew shuffled a bit closer, admiring the mess that was Phantom before turning his head to bat his lashes at Rain. 

“Go ahead Dew,” Rain smiled, blood dotting her lips. “Clean up your mess.”

#nameless ghouls #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #phantom ghoul #raindrop #raintomdrop #the band ghost fanfic #all warnings are as described above i will run out of tags down here #she/her rain #lunar cycle gender fluid rain my beloved #phantom and dew see rain dressed up as their sexy vampire girlfriend and their brains flatline #(same) #pls let me know if i missed a warning tag i try to be specific and nothing is ever intentionally left out! #love you all byeeee

[strugglingwriterwattpad]

walter deville teaser

In the magnificent ballroom of a majestic Tudor manor, a spellbinding scene unfolds. Bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, a mysterious woman glided across the polished floor, her movements as graceful as a swan. The haunting melody that filled the air seemed to possess her, guiding her every step between each guest. In the depths of the shadows, a figure stood, his presence both alluring and enigmatic. His face remained concealed, adding an air of intrigue to his already captivating aura. Their eyes locked, two souls drawn together by an invisible force, and the world around them faded into insignificance.

As the music swelled, reaching its crescendo, the stranger took a bold step forward. His voice, filled with a whisper of longing, broke the silence, confessing a love that seems to transcend time itself. “you have no idea how much I love you, Miss Stoker.” The woman's heart raced, her breath catching in her throat, as she was swept away by the intensity of his words.

In the moment frozen in time, their lips finally met in a passionate kiss. It was a collision of desire and longing, a union of souls that defied explanation. But as their embrace deepened, a peculiar taste lingered on the woman's tongue, a metallic tang that sent a shiver down her spine. Suddenly, a surge of curiosity mixed with a hint of fear flooded her heart. The taste of blood upon his lips was unmistakable, a jarring contrast to the tender moment they shared. Questions swirled in her mind, like whispers in the wind. Who was this faceless man? “(Y/N)?” he whispered. “(Y/N)?”

With a sudden jolt, the woman catapulted out of her seat, causing Evie to quickly reach for her pills. "We've landed," Evie whispered, handing her boss a pill with a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry about it," she added, noticing the beads of sweat on her forehead. "Oliver's waiting for us, let's go!" with a nod of her head (Y/N) slowly stood from her seat.

“So, who lives here again?” Evie asked as (Y/N) sat in the car, cruising along the secluded roads on the outskirts of Whitby, she couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia. The ever-changing weather, a characteristic she had missed dearly, played its whimsical game once again. One moment, the sky was a brilliant canvas of blue, devoid of any clouds, and the next, it transformed into a murky grey, with gusts of wind that seemed to dance through the air. “The De Ville family.” As they continued their journey, (Y/N)'s gaze was drawn to the enchanting woodland that enveloped their family estate. It was as if nature had painted a masterpiece, with emerald green shades blending seamlessly into fern green's vibrant hues. The lushness of the trees and foliage created a mesmerizing tapestry, inviting her to explore its hidden secrets. “But our family will be staying the weekend for the festivities.”

“Holy shit. are they royalty or something?” as the manor came into view (Y/N) felt a sense of familiarity. Nestled amidst a sprawling landscape, stood an opulent white brick mansion exuding an aura of wealth and influence. Its majesty matched only by the pristine gardens that surrounded it, meticulously manicured to perfection. Every corner of the magnificent abode reflected the abundance of riches it houses, while the walls remained untouched by even the tiniest speck of dirt. “No, it's just old money. England's full of it.” the artist knew something felt strange about the manor. It felt like home to her, and she couldn’t tell if she liked it or not.

“Welcome to New Carfax Abbey. Let me find our host.” As Oliver wandered off to find the owner (Y/N) also started to wander around the outside of the beautiful building. As she approached the entrance, the pillar carvings beckoned to her with an irresistible allure. Intricate and mesmerizing, they depicted a whimsical dance of enchanting forest creatures, each one brought to life in the bleached stone. These were no ordinary animals; they were the very same majestic beings she had encountered in her adventures. The sight filled her with an overwhelming sense of wonder and curiosity, igniting a fire within her. She yearned for the owner's permission to document every intricate detail, to capture the essence of this extraordinary building. Her excitement surged through her veins, as her mind raced with a flood of ideas, eager to be transformed into words on paper.

“I hope you don’t mind I brought a friend with me, Lord Deville,” Evie spoke pointing towards (Y/N) as she traced the pillar with her manicured nails. “(Y/N).” She called out but the girl seemed to ignore her. evie and the lord watched her closely, the rich gentleman listened to her breathing slow down as if slipping into a trance. “(Y/N)!” Evie called once again but still no reply. As the man gracefully approached the mesmerized woman, his presence seemed to cast a spell of intrigue. With a gentle touch, his large hand found its place on her shoulder, as if to guide her deeper into the enchanting world of his home. And there she stood, lost in a trance, her gaze fixated on the captivating artwork that adorned the brick. “miss are you alright.” His voice as smooth as milk snapped her from her brain her twinkling eyes locking with his stormy ones. The two matched their gaze smiling lightly at the sense of familiarity of each other.

“I'm sorry were you both calling me?” she stuttered looking towards Evie was an embarrassed look. “don’t worry (Y/N) your probably jet lagged.” She laughed picking up the poor girl's bag from the ground. “Walter, this is (Y/N). the artist I was telling you about.” The man now known as Walter stared back at (Y/N) his storm eyes now swapped with a flash of light of excitement. “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stoker. I am a very big fan of your work. obviously.” The sun-kissed hue of his skin suddenly blushed with a fiery red, as if caught off guard by his own rambling. It was almost endearing to witness him in such a vulnerable state as if his emotions were laid bare for all to see. But there was no denying the transformative power of the new face that had entered his life, for it had swiftly altered his entire demeanour. “I'm glad you enjoyed them Mr Deville and thank you for the generous donation to the gallery I can assure you there are big plans for it.” his smile couldn’t get any bigger, but it did. The sound of her voice lulled his heart into a stuttering beat as if it had been out of service for many moons.

“come let me show you around the manor. I hope you like how I've displayed your art.” His cotton-covered arm poked out to her as an invitation to his home. She slowly slipped her arm into his feeling a familiar spark ignite in their touch. His smell was so calming and alluring sending her into a high, her doing the same to him. Walter held her small hand in a comfortable tightness not wanting her to slip from him again.

#fanfiction #xreader #walter deville #walter deville x reader #the invitation #vampire #horror films #romantichorror #thomas doherty #thomas doherty x reader #wattpadwriter #wattpad #coming soon #teaser

[ramblingoak]

Satan’s Toy Box

Hello anon!  Thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy what I came up with!  

~ As the owner of the local sex toy shop you find yourself developing a crush on a Cardinal from the local Satanic church ~

The prompt was: attempting to find out if they are single/available

Cardinal Copia x GN Reader (nsfw, 18+, mdni)

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Today was going to be the day.

You had been working up the courage for months at this point, ever since the man had first walked into your store.  He was definitely handsome, if a little old fashioned.  Not many people sported sideburns and mustaches anymore, but he pulled them both off.  It made him seem distinguished, especially with the salt and pepper strands creeping in at his temples. 

He was older than who you usually went for.  Of course maybe that was a good idea given your recent track record.  It seemed like most people your age weren’t ready to settle down yet.  You weren’t exactly looking to settle down yourself, the thought of a white picket fence and 2.5 kids was vaguely terrifying if you were being honest.  Unfortunately the main obstacle in your dating life was where you worked: Satan’s Toy Box.

It was rather irritating how fast some people would leave after learning you owned a sex supply shop.  You really didn’t know what the big deal was.  Some people were still way too hung up on topics surrounding sex.  It seemed like you either got people that were immediately turned off at the news or they thought you personally experimented with every item you sold.

Although honestly that wasn’t too far from the truth.

I mean, you had your limits, but you were taught that it was important for a business owner to know their product.  First hand experience and all that.  So if your products happened to be sex toys, so be it.  You’d never been one to shy away from some adventure in the bedroom.  Or out of it even.

Setting up shop in a town that also had a Satanic Church had seemed like a brilliant idea.  Kind of like Girl Scouts selling cookies right outside pot dispensaries.  It was a match made in Heaven.  Well, Hell.  Whatever.  Anyway, the various church members were regulars in your shop.  Siblings of Sin as they were called, people in masks called Ghouls, a few men in skull paint that called themselves ‘Papa’ and the man you had been trying to build up the courage to ask out: Cardinal Copia.

So yes, when Copia had waltzed into your store for the first time in a tight red suit you had been immediately interested.  He cut an interesting figure, what with the facial hair and the paint around his eyes and on his upper lip.  You had been behind the front counter and called out a welcome, but the poor man had been startled at your sudden voice and walked right into a display of neon butt plugs.

His cheeks had turned the same color of his suit and he tripped over an apology while trying to pick up the display.  You had rushed over to help, assuring him it was no problem while desperately trying not to stare at his face.  His Italian accent was giving you thoughts and it was possible when your hands both reached for the same neon pink butt plug you already had hearts in your eyes.

It was like you were starring in a Hallmark movie.

After everything had been cleaned up he had introduced himself and mentioned he was there to pick up an order for the church.  The transaction had gone quickly, only a little small talk before he had left with his large order of lube.  It was really adorable how often he felt the need to clarify it was for the church and not just him.  Like it mattered to you, you liked a man that was prepared.

By now though months had passed and you were fairly embarrassed with yourself that you hadn’t asked him out yet.  You just kept thinking he probably had some cute young sibling at the abbey.  Probably multiple siblings.  Why would he want to settle with one person when he was surrounded by beautiful people literally there to sin 24/7?  Plus you didn’t want to make things awkward, he was a regular customer after all. 

It’s just…what if he was interested as well?  He definitely had a flirty vibe whenever you spoke, but it’s possible he was just being nice.  There had been a few times he’d come in with some of the Ghouls and both times it looked like they had been arguing, only speaking in fierce whispers.  You wouldn’t have necessarily thought it was about you, but the last time they had been in the shop you overheard one of them tell Copia to ‘grow a pair’.

That had been what really drove you to decide that today was it, you were going to ask Cardinal Copia out on a date.  He was going to (maybe) say yes, you both would later have (probably) amazing sex and then in a year or so you’d (possibly) have that white picket fence everyone seemed to be clamoring for.  Or whatever the Satanic equivalent was, you weren’t going to be picky.

You had been doing laps around the shop all morning.  Dusting shelves and straightening products.  Making sure the movies were organized by genre and then alphabetized within each section.  The store hadn’t even been this clean when you first opened it.  As you made another meandering lap by the front door you stopped when you heard raised voices.

Creeping closer you peeked through the window expecting to see maybe a group of religious nuts or protestors, something you’d unfortunately dealt with before.  Instead what you saw was the Cardinal and a few of the Ghouls seemingly arguing with each other.  Not really wanting them to continue making a scene on the sidewalk, you swung the door open to ask if everything was ok, but Copia’s raised voice stopped you in your tracks.

“For the last time I’m not a virgin!”

Copia’s back was to you as he faced the other two, but you could see him tense up when the sound of the bell on your door registered.  One of the Ghoul’s immediately hung their head, the other covered their mouth with their hands to try and hide their laughter.  Honestly you wanted to laugh too, you could only imagine the look on poor Copia’s face.  He slowly turned around and his shoulders sagged when he saw you.  

“Good to know, Cardinal.”  You felt a little bad teasing him, but you also could have said something much, much worse.  He was lucky you liked him so much.  “Come on in!  I’ve got your order ready for you.”

You heard him mutter something to the Ghouls but they all trailed behind you inside the store.  The Ghouls took off to different corners, but Copia stayed behind you.  When he cleared his throat you turned nearly causing him to run into you.

“Cara mia, I’m not.  Uh, you know.”

“You’re not what?”

“A virgin.”

You gave him a soft smile, really it didn’t matter to you either way.  Experienced lovers were great but being able to teach someone was also great.  Really, really great.

“Oh well, it’s ok if you are.  I won’t judge.”

Copia fidgeted for a moment and reached a hand out to rest it on the nearby butt plug display.  The damn thing wasn’t very sturdy to do that, which he should know, so a few of the plugs fell off and clattered onto the floor.  You dug your teeth into your lip to stop from laughing, watching as he hurried to pick them up and get them back where they belonged.

“That’s very kind of you, but again, I’m not.”

He got everything back in place and then brushed his hands on the front of his suit, awkwardly resting them on his hips when he was done.  You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over him for a moment because really, those suits were a gift.  When Copia cleared his throat you quickly looked back up at his face.

“Ok.  Um, cool.”

God, why were you still talking about this?  Cool?  He would never agree to go on a date with you now.  You sighed and gave him a brief smile before turning to get behind the counter and grab the church’s delivery.  ‘Yeah it’s super cool you aren’t a virgin, here’s the ten bottles of lube you ordered, have a great time’.  You were such an idiot.  Grunting you picked up the box and then set it on the counter. 

“Uh, actually, I had something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”  You glanced up from the box, watching as he nervously rubbed his hands together.  What could he possibly be nervous about?  He opened his mouth to continue but one of the Ghoul’s jogged up and slammed something down next to the box.

“Hey Boss, found the tentacle dildo you wanted.”

Copia immediately let loose a string of Italian and shoved the Ghoul away.

“For fucks sake Dewdrop would you piss off?!  Aether!”  The other Ghoul hurried up to the front, taking one look at the dildo then at the other Ghoul and sighed.

Aether grabbed the box and shoved it into Dewdrop’s hands.  He then grabbed the Ghoul by his shoulders and started pulling him out of the store.  Dewdrop was dragging and kicking his feet as he went, one kick sending the butt plug display flying and really, maybe you should just put that thing out of its misery.  You looked over to Copia, his cheeks as red as his suit as he looked at all the plugs scattered across the floor.  Again.

“Kids these days, huh?”  

Copia snorted and when you made your way around to pick everything up he leaned down and started helping you.

“I’m sorry, cara mia.  The Ghouls are a little uh, rambunctious.”

“No worries, we’re old hands at fixing this thing by now.”

You turned to smile at him, your smile growing when you saw that his cheeks were still red.  He picked up the last plug on the floor, but stared down at it for a moment before speaking.

“I feel like I’m always bringing chaos with me when I visit.”  Copia nibbled his lip briefly before handing the plug over.  “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Oh if he only knew.  You stared at him for a moment, your mind going a mile a minute as you tried to get the courage to ask him out.

“Coffee?”

“Oh, si!  I can go get you a coffee!”

Shit.  You took a deep breath and reached a hand out to touch his arm.

“No, I meant, do you want to get a coffee…with me?”  Copia stood there for a moment, his mouth open and you instantly had a sinking feeling in your gut.  Fuck.  Ok, fuck.  That wasn’t what he meant, of course he would just want to go get you a coffee.  “I’m sorry, Cardinal!  That was unprofessional of me.  Just forget I said anything, let me get your receipt.”

As you started to rush by he shot out a hand and grasped your elbow.  You looked up at him, taking in his handsome features for what you hoped wasn’t the last time.

“What if I don’t want to?  Forget it, I mean.”

It took every ounce of self control you had not to start doing a little dance.

“So you do want to get coffee?  Together?”

“Si, si.  But I was actually hoping we could have dinner instead, would that be alright?”

Holy fuck.

“Yes!  I mean yes, dinner would be great.”

“Bene!  Molto bene.”  Copia was positively beaming at you and you probably looked exactly the same.  “Would tomorrow night work, cara?”

“Yes, that would be great.  I close at 6 so anytime after that.”

“Okie dokie, I will be here at 6.  Then dinner.”

You were afraid to open your mouth again and let out the ridiculous screeching sound you wanted to make so you just smiled wider and hurried off toward the counter.  When you turned with the receipt in your hand you bumped right into his chest, not realizing he had followed you.

“Oh, sorry Cardinal!”

Ugh, could you embarrass yourself any more today?  Copia didn’t seem bothered though, he took the receipt from you with one hand and with the other he pulled your hand to his mouth.  He placed a quick kiss on the back, smiling softly at you after.

“It’s Copia to you, cara mia.”  He dropped another kiss onto your hand and then slowly started walking backwards toward the door.  Copia looked a little smug watching as your hand remained frozen in the air.  “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

You were grinning like an idiot now, barely holding in the dreamy sigh that was desperately wanting to come out.  Copia gave you an equally goofy smile back and then spun on his heel to leave.  Unfortunately he ran right into the display again and once more your floor was covered in neon colored butt plugs.

Ok, maybe not exactly like a Hallmark movie, but close enough for you.

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#my fics #my writing #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

do you guys know of any fics where kurt or blaine likes being called pet names a lot? or when they begin to try them out and one admits they like it and want to continue using them?

I know that in most of her fics, @gleefulpoppet uses pet names. Here is one example, but check out the rest.

Pressed against the Glass by @gleefulpoppet

Is it possible that the most extraordinary love story ever told starts on a chilly October morning in New York with an impromptu twirl and an elbow to a stranger’s face? Kurt wouldn’t have thought so, but when it happens, his heart stops. It’s just one touch, but is that all it takes to believe? Should he take a chance and never look back? But what happens when the stranger runs away, even though he finally feels complete and brought to life? Is it just a dream—or will he let his walls come down? Will they live with regrets or find the love that will make them feel young forever?

AKA: The one about soulmates (by choice) and the italicized Oh.

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In this one< Blaine calls him "babe" or "Baby" a lot, and at first Kurt isn't sure.

Go your own way by zavacado

Kurt Hummel just wants to get through his Junior Year at McKinley in one piece. But when the new guy from Dalton Academy Reform School for Boys takes an alarming interest in him, he's certain he's going to be in for a wild ride. Badboy!Blaine, Klaine, AU

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From a previous ask - check out these:

The Symphony Verse by shandyall

Blaine has spent most of his life feeling like the only thing people notice about him is that he stutters. He’s working hard to overcome his (mostly self created) roadblocks when he meets Kurt in an online class the summer after his freshman year of college.

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Glory Series by  Cleverboots (Amberlovesocean)

Kurt is assaulted after singing at a school dance and is left for dead, thrown aboard an empty train car at the railroad freight yard to hide the crime.

He wakes up to find he’s been tossed off the car somewhere in an Oregon logging camp, 2500 miles from home. A curly-haired kid named Blaine finds Kurt and protects him by hiding him in his cabin and teaching him how to survive.

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When The Time Is Right by @fictionallylost

Kurt is 25, successful, handsome and sought after by all, but still looking for more, Bar Owner Blaine 10 years his senior is on the exact same journey of looking for love and life. A/U

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Westerville Abbey Verse by @hkvoyage

Blaine is the second son of the earl of Westerville, and is considered the spare heir. After his 18th birthday, he attends the London Season to fulfill his duty of finding a wife. He soon realizes he is more attracted to the new footman. Kurt, who has just arrived at Westerville Abbey to work alongside his father, becomes equally as smitten with the earl’s youngest son. Will Blaine and Kurt be able to overcome their class differences in 1910s England? Will their forbidden love survive WW1? A Downton Abbey inspired historical Klaine AU.

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Let us know anymore! ~Jen

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