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some-bunniii · 3 months

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My Charming Red Savior [1]

・❥ You’re harassed by a man following you down the street. Luckily, a rather smiley demon swoops in and claims to be your husband.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

x: no use of y/n. i said this was going to be short and I lied, it’s about 6k words.

warnings: mild swearing

Warning! Battery at 1%! Device will power down in 3..

You stared down at the phone in your hands as the message lit up on the screen. Eyes widening, you quickly tapped the screen, trying to bypass the pop-up and get another glimpse at the digital map you were using.

2…

“Hold on now! Just let me see where I'm going, please!” You begged the small device, your grip tightening around it as you tried to figure out what direction you needed to go.

1..

You peered around the small pop-up. Okay.. Pete Ave was that way, which meant you needed to take a right after the stoplight and go-

Device powering down! Have a nice day :)

“Damnit!” You growled as the screen flashed once, and then faded to black. You squeezed your eyes shut, face lifted to the sky as you took a deep breath to center yourself.

“Move it, won’t ya?” A demon woman chastised as she hurried around you. Lowering your head, you realized you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, your spot interrupting the flow of pedestrian traffic. Quickly, you backpedaled until your back hit a brick wall of a building.

It was getting late in Pentagram City, and that meant you needed to hurry to get to your friend's place before the worst inhabitants of Hell came crawling out.

She had just gotten married and moved into a rather quaint little home, and you were very happy for her. You had not seen it yet, just in pictures she had shown you on her phone and the one time you drove past it.

“Oh, pleaseeee won’t you come over tonight? I can’t wait to show you all the renovations we’ve done! It looks so much better since we bought it.” She had begged over the phone that afternoon.

You had stood there, your nails clicking against the countertop in your kitchen as you thought. You had nothing important going on, just some light cleaning and shopping. What was the harm in going over there and visiting?

“Okay, sure. Yeah, I can come over.” You finally spoke.

“Ahh! I’m so excited, we’ll have a big dinner and everything. I can even rent a movie for us to watch, what are you into again? Those sappy romance flicks?”

“Whatever you want to watch, it’s your milestone we’re celebrating. I’m not the one picking.”

“Geez, you know how hard it is for me to decide things like that! But, i’ll do it. Oh! Before I forget, could you stop by the store on your way and get some Cajun seasoning? It’s for the meal!”

“Of course. I’ll see you soon.” You had told her, before hanging up. Eyes moving to the clock, you realized you two hours before needing to arrive. Which meant you had to get moving on those dishes and errands.

It didn’t take long before you were out the door. Wearing a nice outfit and new shoes, you strolled down the street. The digital map on your phone guiding you across the city as you moved.

Being so close to the city center, you didn’t have a personal vehicle. Instead, you took public transport all the way past the Entertainment District, your eyes gazing up at the rather tall VoxTek building as the bus sped by.

You didn’t know much about the Vees, other than they were very powerful Overlords with a lot of influence in the media industry. In fact, you didn’t know much about Overlords at all. Were they nasty demons? They must be, if they bartered in souls.

But there had to be better ones, right? You knew of the cannibal, Rosie, and despite her, well.. dietary choices, she seemed to be a rather motherly and courteous demon. In such a way that the residents of Cannibal Town held very high regards for her, which proved her ability to lead in a just manner. She couldn’t be the only one with a more ethical moral code.

Your mind lingered on that train of thought, before you were pulled back into reality by the bus driver’s call for your stop. Quickly, you had hurried out of the vehicle, before continuing your directed path forward.

You arrived at the large storefront, a cozy cottage-like building that whispered of deliciousness as the scents of spices and other meal-making goods wafted through the open door.

Taking a step inside, you quickly darted through the aisles, searching for the Cajun seasoning. What was your friend making tonight? You weren’t too familiar with these kinds of ingredients. Hopefully, it was going to be tasty.

When you found it, you turned it in your hands, inspecting the product. Yep, you’ve never seen this before in your life.

After paying for the item, you quickly departed. Your next destination set on your phone.. but not for long.

Just a few more blocks, and you’d have been welcomed by the two love-birds with open arms. A nice, hot meal and a good movie to finish the night.

Except, how were you supposed to get there now?!

Your phone was useless, and the digital displays around you showed nothing but advertisements and the latest news.

Frantically, you looked around for any familiar landmarks, hoping to rely on your memory to guide you. But the streets of Pentagram City, with their twisting alleys and repetitive buildings, all looked eerily similar in the dimming red light of dusk.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you tried to recall the route from memory. Pete Avenue, right after the stoplight, then… was it a left or a right at the next intersection? You berated yourself for not doing a better job at memorizing the way before you left.

Turning, you raised a fist at the VoxTek HQ building, cursing them for your suffering. Stupid technology and their shitty battery life.

Slowly, you started walking again. Past the neon signs beckoning you to take a glance at what they had to offer, past the girls on the corner who were calling out to you to come have a ‘good time’.

Sometimes, you wished you had someone else to lend a hand at times like these. But, your heart and your home were unimaginably lonely when it came to a romantic partner. It was something that others around you couldn’t stop pestering you about.

“You really need to get out more,” another friend of yours had said one day, while you two dined at a cafe, “there’s this new dating app, called ‘Ozzie’s Love Link’. Everybody is buzzing about it. You should totally give it a whirl!”

You had rolled your eyes at her suggestion, a dating app? Those things were practically a fraud. The demons on there either wanted sex, or their idea of a relationship was twisted and foul. You even had heard stories of people playing into sick traps of the perfect first meet, only to be murdered and left in an alley to rot.

“I want something real, not some.. temporary escape. Have you ever met anyone that’s actually found ‘The One’ through one of those things? And, who knows, maybe the demon of my dreams will just walk right into me one day.”

She had laughed at your words, holding a hand to her mouth to contain her giggles.

“Oh, you. You’re still hanging on to those silly stories of a Prince Charming, hm? C’mon now, this is the real world. Nobody is going to swoop in and save you, and then fall hopelessly in love with you. That's a fairy tale. You need to put in the effort.”

You shrugged. Maybe, she was right. Maybe, those stories you had digested were just fairy tales, meant to enrapture you with promises of the perfect life. You were in Hell, after all.

‘She just doesn’t understand,’ you reminded yourself, ‘all her relationships have been toxic. She doesn’t know any better.’

You weren’t going to let her judgments get to you, you could live your life however you wanted, with whatever dreams you chose.

As you walked down the bustling streets, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It was as if unseen eyes followed your every move, sending shivers down your spine.

‘Stop freaking out,’ you told yourself, ‘it’s just your imagination, there’s people all around you. They have their own lives, they’re not watching you.’

Nearing the curb to an intersection, you glanced up at the street sign. Pete Avenue, finally. Now, think. Left?

Looking left, you peer down the rows of strip clubs and bars. The crowds only got bigger from there, and there seemed to be no residential streets. You turned your head to the right, and it began to branch out into more domesticated buildings and neighborhoods. The farther your gaze traveled, the quieter the sidewalks became.

So, right it is.

You turned the corner of the block and kept moving, your pace quickening as you checked a large digital clock on the side of a building. It was getting closer to the time you had promised to be there.

But, now where were you supposed to go? You turned your head, until your gaze landed on a small imp standing near an alley, a cigarette between his lips.

Walking forward, you raised your hand up in greeting. “Excuse me, do you know where Magdalene Drive is, by any chance? I’ve just gotten a little turned around and would greatly appreciate some guidance.”

The imp regarded you for a moment, his eyes squinted in thought. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, and exhaled a large breath. A plume of gray smoke vented from his lips, and he coughed harshly.

“Yeah, I do. You see that big statue over there?” He pointed to your left, the cigarette hanging between his fingers.

Turning your head, you leaned slightly backwards. Off in the distance, a large marble statue depicting an unknown owl demon practically glowed against the darker backdrop. It seemed to hold resemblance to an Ars Goetia family member, but you couldn’t put a finger on who.

“Right when you pass it, take a left. Go two blocks straight, then take another left. One more block, and another right, and you’re on Magdalene Drive.”

Jeez, that was a lot of directions thrown at you in one sitting. Not wanting to pester the man any further, you waved a thanks and walked away.

How far have you come, exactly? You turned your head behind you, looking down the sidewalk of where you had just come from. Something flickered in your peripheral vision, a dark figure skirting from your gaze. Was someone watching you?

You shook your head. No, it’s just your imagination. Keep moving.

Slowly, you turned back and started walking. The sidewalks were practically empty now, the glow from the street lamps above you illuminating your path as you strolled up the large statue.

Twisting your head to get a better look at it, your gaze skimmed across the royal figure. The owl-demon was staring up at the sky, one arm raised with what seemed to be a ball of energy in his grasp. Swirls of gold marble laced the pearly white sphere. He was holding up, like it was an offering to Heaven.

Maybe, you’d come back later and take a look at the plaque below the statue. There had to be some significance, although you didn’t see yourself as a master of the fine-arts to te-

Crunch

What was that? That sounded like someone crushing a twig beneath their feet. You twisted to face behind you, and saw nothing once more.

‘Alright, this is getting a little freaky.’

You weren’t going to stop now though, you didn’t want any potential onlookers seeing you stalking the perimeter like a weirdo simply because your paranoia was having you hallucinate things.

Keeping your pace, you took a sharp left on the corner and continued down. How many blocks did that guy say? Two, if you could recall correctly.

That’s how many blocks you traveled, before stopping in your tracks. Which way did he say to go? Right? Left?

You rubbed your face with a hand, why did you suck so badly with directions?! If only you had charged your phone before you left, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.

Turning your head, you tried to figure out which way could be the correct one. There was nothing, though. It didn’t remind you of anything you’d seen when you had driven past her house.

“Hey, you lost?” A gravelly voice came from behind you. Eyes widened, you spun on your heel to face the stranger. He was tall, much taller than you. He sported scars running across his face, one eye half-lidded permanently from some kind of nasty wound.

He sported a dark leather jacket, with a thin sweater underneath. His hoodie was up, masking most of his features like a shadow. His skin was a dark red, and his eyes were a pale yellow. He seemed to be a Succubus demon, being too large for an imp.

There was no kindness in his tone or in his smile. Your brain screamed danger, you needed to get away from him. Quickly, you shook your head, trying to give him a well-meaning smile.

“No, i’m not! I’m just uhh- waiting for someone, they’ll be here soon anyway.”

“People that aren’t lost usually don’t ask strangers on the street for directions,” he chuckled darkly, “why don’t you tell me where you’re trying to go? I can give you a lift.”

As he closed in, you could smell the bitter taste of alcohol on his breath. You had to steel yourself not to recoil at his looming figure. Widening your smile, you attempted to not display any fear as he got closer.

“No, thank you. I would hate to bother you, my.. partner should be here soon, so you can continue on with your day!”

“Don’t you know this place ain’t safe for sweet dolls like you to be roaming alone? C’mon, let me take you to where i’m parked, i’m sure you’ll enjoy my company.”

You quickly stepped backwards, trying to widen the distance from this creep. It wasn’t until your back hit the wall of an abandoned storefront, did you realize you were trapped.

“I said no. I’m not some damsel in distress. Now, if you can excuse me, I need to keep going before it gets too late.”

You turned away from him, trying to break any kind of contact with the demon. Maybe if you kept your cool, he’d abandon his little mission.

That was until you felt his hand snake around your wrist, his grip tightening and pulling you to face him. In your state of shock, you dropped the bag containing the Cajun seasoning. You tried to tug your wrist free, but his yellow nails were practically digging into your skin, preventing your escape.

“What’s the rush, Doll? Scared i’m gonna bite or something? Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna harm you. I just want to show you a good time.”

Your eyes narrowed, gaze heated at the stranger. You frowned, glimpsing at his hand on your wrist in disgust.

“What are you doing? I don’t want anything to do with you, now let go of m-!”

“There you are, my dear!” A masculine voice exclaimed next to you. You felt the creep’s grip on your wrist loosen suddenly. His hand yanked away by another, and your gaze traced the light touch of unknown dark-red fingers gently taking your hand instead.

You snapped your head to the unfamiliar voice, taking in the sight of a second demon standing right besides you, a large grin on his face. He was tall, and he stood a little bit higher than the creep in front of you. His hair was styled in a cropped, angled bob, with an odd pinkish-red shade. Two small antlers protruded from the top of his head, and were those.. ears next to them too?

He was dressed rather formally, with a red pin-stripe coat adorned with a large black bow-tie. Over his right eye, you took note of the small oval-shaped monocle. He held a cane, with an odd looking end. The small oval in the center of it reminded you of an eye. He looked very dapper, like he was from a much older era.

His gaze was soft, as he looked at you. It wasn’t until his eyes snapped to the stranger in front did they take on a cold, dark glare. That smile never faltered, though.

Who was this guy? Why was he touching you? You felt the need to tear your hand from his grip as well.

Except, when he turned back to you, his eyes sent you a hidden message. Something like, ‘Go along with it, if you want to get rid of him.’

Seeing as you were stuck between two strange demons, with no idea what this new guy had in store for you, maybe it was a good idea to follow his silent command. Your hand went limp in his grip, and the deer demon raised it to his chest, patting it lovingly.

“Goodness, I leave for ten minutes to go pick up your favorite herbal tea and poof, gone! You are a slippery one, my sweet.” Static dripped from his voice, seemingly connected to the cane at his side. Was it some kind of microphone?

“Who are you?” The stalker questioned, backing up a step as he regarded the new face.

The red demon laughed, an audible ‘ha ha’, as if the creep just told a rather good joke. He extended his free hand in greeting, and the succubus only eyed the gesture with suspicion.

“The name is Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sir, quite a pleasure. It’s rare for people these days to not recognize my face, although i’m sure it’ll become familiar soon enough.”

That ‘soon enough’ sounded quite ominous to you. And, was he some kind of celebrity or something? You didn’t remember him from anywhere.

“Well, do you mind? Me and the lady were in the middle of a conversation.” The succubus retorted, a slight growl in his tone.

“The better question is, do you mind, my good sir! Here I am, searching for my dear wife, only to see you bothering her on the corner!”

Wait a second, did this guy just call you his wife? You stood there, shocked, as you listened to the two bicker. Never would you think you’d hear that uttered from a man.

“Not only that, but touching her without her consent? My word, what degenerate behavior!” The demon, Alastor, continued. He shook his head in disapproval, an audible tsk-tsk coming from his lips.

“There was no harm in it, we were only having some fun. Ain’t that right, Doll?” The stalker turned to you, fire in his gaze as if daring you to speak.

You shook your head, your gaze snapping to Alastor. He watched you for a moment, before turning his attention back to the succubus.

“It seems your mother neglected to instill in you even a modicum of respect. If my wife weren’t here to witness, I'd be more than obligated to educate you on proper decorum.”

Something flickered in the creep’s eyes, and for a moment he looked almost afraid. After a moment, He sneered, eyeing you up and down. "I don't see a ring on her finger."

Alastor smirked, and gently lifted your hand forward for the demon to get a look at. His grin was that of triumph, as though he was showcasing a prized possession.

Your eyes widened at the sight, a gasp almost escaping your lips. On your finger, was a small gold ring. It was snuggled nicely around your digit, a perfect fit.

The Succubus leaned in, and so did you. Where the hell did that come from? That was not there a few minutes ago!

On closer inspection, you noticed something about the small band. Engraved in a tiny rose-gold font, was a single letter.

"There, now do you see?" Alastor's grin widened, his demeanor playful yet menacing. His eyes narrowed, as he waited for the demon's response. You felt the air crackle with some kind of energy, it was dark and cold. The hair on the back of your neck began to stand on its end, like static. Which one of the demons was doing that?

The stalker’s expression shifted from arrogance to confusion, then to frustration. He furrowed his brow, studying the ring intently as if searching for some kind of flaw.

Was he going to try and argue? The proof was there, albeit fabricated. Alastor dropped your hand, and instead snaked his arm around yours, locking you in place.

There was no argument didn’t, instead, the succubus took another step back. The demon straightened himself and shrugged, like the scene before him was not a bother, like his filthy plan wasn’t thwarted by the appearance of the powerful deer man.

“Whatever, I ain’t got time for this anyway. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lovebirds.”

As the man turned away, Alastor’s grin widened as he nodded his head. “Farewell, and may your endeavors be as futile as your manners!”

He turned to you, that dark look gone from his eyes as he gently tugged at your arm, still laced with his. “Now, my dear, shall we continue on our evening stroll?”

You nodded slowly, and together, the two of you turned away from the creep and began to walk. You had only made it a few steps before you heard the soft knocking of Alastor’s staff hitting the cement walkway. What was he doing?

Behind you, a strangled cry filled the silence, before a loud thump hit your ears. You jolted at the sound, did something just happen? It sounded like someone got hurt!

Right as you were about to turn your head to look at where the noises had emanated from, Alastor’s head snapped to you and you felt another gentle tug on your arm to turn your attention back to him.

You looked up at him, a smile forming on your lips as your nerves settled. “Thank you, for saving me, kind sir. I could have been a goner.”

“It was no trouble at all my dear, and please, call me Alastor. I was simply in the neighborhood and couldn’t just stand by and let that rapscallion manhandle you like that! Now, where are we off to, if I might ask?”

“Oh, well, Magdalene Drive! It’s a house right at the end of a street, my friend's place actually. She’s expecting me for dinner, that’s why I have this bag of…”

You became suddenly aware of the empty feeling in your hand. Did you forget to pick up the seasoning after you dropped it?! You groaned internally, your head hung in defeat. After all that, you didn’t have the one item you had taken this route to get.

Alastor raised an eyebrow at your reaction, and you quickly explained, “I needed to get Cajun seasoning for the meal they are making, but I dropped it when that.. man was harassing me! I’m terribly sorry, I have to go back and get it.”

Alastor only smiled, as usual, and shook his head. He waved his hand in a sweeping motion, brushing off your attempt to turn around.

“Nonsense! We don’t need to bother that poor soul any longer. Here, let me give you one from my personal collection!”

He lifted his free hand, and snapped his fingers. In a flicker of green light, a small spice jar landed in his palm. Your eyes widened, an amused smile gracing your lips as you watched the little trick. That was pretty cool. Was that the same kind of magic he used to secretly place the ring on your finger?

“Here you are! The best Cajun seasoning you can find in Pentagram City, my personal favorite. I was going to use it for something special, but it seems you are in need of it more than I.”

He lifted his hand toward you, and you took it gratefully. Lifting it to your nose, you inhaled deeply. It was an odd scent, one you couldn’t quite place, but it smelled quite delicious.

“Not many dishes require such flavoring, what is the meal you are having tonight?”

You shrugged, “I'm not really sure, to be honest. She didn’t say.”

“Hm, a pity. Have you ever tried Jambalaya? It is a rather magnificent dish, my personal favorite actually! My mother was quite the cook, indeed, and her craft would never miss when producing such delicacies.”

“No, I've never tried it before. What does it taste like?”

“It is hard to put a description on it. It’s almost like.. fireworkings popping off in your mouth! Ha ha, that is a good way to put it. You really must try it sometime.”

You smiled at Alastor as you listened to his words. Perhaps, you would.

“What got you into this pickle, anyway? Surely you didn’t actually feel like taking a stroll so late in the evening, hm?” He questioned as the two of you continued your pace, “a pretty face like yours will cause quite the stir amongst the filthy rats that like to inhabit this place.”

“Oh, well, I was using my phone for directions. It died on the way here, unfortunately I'm not familiar with this area and couldn’t find my way forward.”

His words finally processed in your brain. Did he just call you pretty? You didn’t get to think about that for much longer as his static-laced voice filled the air once more.

“Ah, of course. This new.. modern technology is nothing short of a fraud, if I do say. What ever happened to the old fashioned paper map? If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be so reliant on such faulty equipment.”

“Is that what your staff is? It looks like a microphone.” You said, pointing to the cane in his other hand.

Alastor glanced down to his cane, and then back to you. “Aha, a clever one indeed! Yes, my dear, I use it for my radio broadcasts!”

You perked at that. Radio? You had one of your own at home. Although it was quite dusty, you did occasionally turn it on to see what latest hits were circling around in the music industry.

“You do radio? That’s actually kind of interesting! Do you have a big audience?”

“Yes, indeed! Back when I was at my highest with it, I had many listeners. Unfortunately, my absence from Pentagram City has led to other forms taking the spotlight. I plan on rectifying that once I've settled in. Perhaps, you could listen in as well to see what I have to offer?”

You nodded at that, perhaps, you would listen in. He had a nice, pleasant voice. It felt like you could sit there for hours and just listen to him speak. Even if the words that came from his mouth was nothing but gibberish, you’d still let his voice drown out your thoughts.

“What about you?” The static dripping from his voice causes you to turn your head, “what do you do for a living?”

“Oh, well, I work at a men’s formalwear store. So, like tuxedos, dress shirts, and all that jazz. I help assist with fittings and greet guests, basically the doorgirl. Nothing too important.”

His ears perked slightly as he listened, and he turned his head to you. “Well, isn’t that interesting! Just recently, I had an awfully rude encounter with another demon, who had torn a piece of my suit. That slippery little serpent got away before I could.. question him about his antics.”

“That’s awful! Who was it?”

Alastor chuckled, rolling his eyes as he recalled the event. “Oh, nobody of importance, I assure you. Just some pretentious upstart fancying himself as an Overlord, with a knack for building rather ghastly creations of destruction. Since that encounter, I've been in the market for a fresh look. If a place of formal employs such splendid characters like you, I think it would be in my best interest to take a look in your establishment for a new coat”

Your eyes widened, he wanted to buy a new suit at your work because.. you were there? How charming.

Taking another glance at him, you realized he was rather good-looking. His red hair popped out against his much paler skin, it shined against the streetlights above. It looked rather silky and smooth, like you could comb them with your fingers and not find a single knot.

And those ears? They were pretty cute, actually. They stuck up from his head, and every so often they would twitch or shrivel in the direction of sudden noises. They seemed so soft too, would they feel as good as they looked if you were to squish them between your fingers?

He was a well-mannered gentleman, a pretty rare specimen in Hell. Not only that, but he stepped in to defend you from that creep when he could have simply walked by. He didn’t, and that made your cheeks heat up. Especially with the fact he called you his wife, instead of something simpler like ‘friend’.

What about when he called you pretty? Did he actually mean that? You never regarded yourself as such, but if Alastor thought that, maybe you cou-

“Is this the house?” Alastor’s words pulled you back into reality. You blinked, before looking up at the pale blue cottage snuggled nicely between two large Victorian homes. The talks you were having must have kept you from noticing the large distance.

“Yes! This is the place!” You exclaimed happily, finally, you were here. You turned to him, before looking down at your arm, still laced with his. Slowly, you pulled your arm free. The cold that replaced his touch was unwelcomed. Which felt odd to you, why did you want him touching you still?

You had only just met him, but perhaps his way of speaking and heroics swooned you enough to miss the warmth of his grasp. Lifting your head to meet his gaze, you tried to see what he was thinking behind that constant smile.

His eyes were unreadable, but the cold stare he had given the succubus, and to the other onlookers that you had occasionally passed was missing as he looked at you. There seemed to be a smile in his eyes, one that was meaningful and true.

“Well, I'm glad I could assist you in finding your way home, my dear. I quite enjoyed our chat, it is refreshing to hear from a new face once in a while. Especially one as eloquent as yours.”

You had to keep yourself from visibly blushing. He really was a gentleman in all regards. You bowed your head respectfully, before meeting his gaze again.

“The only reason why I'm here is because of you, Alastor. Thank you, and I do hope to run into you in the future. Our conversation was very interesting, I'd love to hear more of it sometime.”

He tilted his head at you, as he regarded your words. “Indeed, perhaps we will. Maybe, the next time we cross paths, I can give you a glimpse into my mothers recipe of Jambalaya. I’m sure your friend would be interested in trying something new the next time you sit down for dinner.”

You smiled at him, before waving goodbye. Turning towards the door you lightly rapped your knuckles against its wooden frame. It was then that you realized you never properly introduce yourself.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I never got to tell you, my name is-”

The words halted in your mouth, as you found the space in front of you empty. Alastor had vanished, not a single trace of his presence remained.

He was gone already? Damn, that guy moved quickly. Maybe, he was just a hallucination, a dream too good to be true. You stood there for a moment, before closing your mouth in thought.

Suddenly, the front door was flung open and a hand reached out and grasped your top. You turned your head just as you were yanked inside. Before you had time to blink, the door was slammed shut behind you. The window near it was shielded by curtains in seconds.

In front of you, your friend stood there. She was breathing heavily, a hand to her heart as if she just witnessed the scariest thing in her life. She quickly held your shoulders, scanning your body for any injuries.

“Oh my gosh! You’re lucky I pulled you in here quickly,” She exhaled a breath to calm her nerves, “You could have been that guy’s next meal!”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, an eyebrow raised at her strange demeanor.

“Alastor! The Radio Demon! Y’know, the guy that murdered all those overlords years ago?”

You raised an eyebrow as her words settled in your head. That demon was the Radio Demon? No way! He was such a gentleman, and rather pleasant too!

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not! I don’t know what happened between the two of you, hopefully not a deal, but you need to stay away from him. He’s nothing but a bad omen!”

You smiled, shaking your head at her antics. She was just being silly, Alastor saved you from potentially being kidnapped. You doubted he’d lay a finger on you in a harmful manner.

“Well, I brought that seasoning. Why don’t we go take a tour of the place, hm?” You said, pulling her away from the doorway and down the hall.

She nodded, her face lighting up instantly. “Yes, a great idea! I can’t wait to show you the kitchen, we replaced practically everything. The flooring is a beautiful marble tile and…“

She trailed off as her gaze shot to your hand, her eyes widening at the sight. Quickly, she grasped it, and pulled it closer to inspect it. You tensed, what was she doing?

“..what is that on your finger? I didn’t know you wore this kind of jewelry!”

Following her gaze, you turned your hand slightly to see what she was so enthralled about, and your eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight.

Still perfectly snug on your finger, was that gold ring Alastor had magically placed on you. You assumed that it would have dissolved or vanished when he left, but that small A still glimmered in the overhead light.

“I’ll explain it over dinner.” You simply replied, pulling your hand out of her grip and beginning to walk further into the house.

Your eyes kept landing on the golden band, though. Alastor not far from your mind as you listened to your friend fill you in on all the renovations. It was quite pretty, and it seemed to look great on you. For a moment, a rather odd thought crossed your mind, causing your cheeks to heat as you lamented over it.

Would it be so bad if you just.. kept it on?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

woah, first fic of Alastor! I thought he’d be the perfect guy for this scenario. i wrote the reader as sort of a hopeless romantic bc it’s the complete opposite of al and i thought it was funny

EDIT: Part 2 is coming!!

lmk what you think! :)

#Alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #Alastor #radioapple is my crack ship so it makes sense i give al and luci love on my blog lmao

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leaentries · 4 months

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shield | nico hischier

summary: nico is very protective of his girl, so when someone hurts her, he takes it personally.

warnings: protective nico, physical harassment, swearing, slight violent themes

wc: 1.6k+

a/n: another 3am nico fic 🕺 this one’s a lil bit heavier than most of my nico fics, but don’t worry! i have some new spicy things coming up!

the captain’s girl masterlist

The bar was jammed. Sweaty bodies pressed into every corner of the bricked building, the heat almost unbearable. A door in the back, propped open was your only solace, serving nicely with the winter air wafting in. Although, despite the sticky air and stench of beer, you couldn’t be happier.

You stood by Nico’s side, practically glued to him, not that he would complain. Nico loved the feeling of your body against his, it brought him comfort knowing you were safely tucked away from the world. He was over the moon, still riding the high of tonight’s win. It was a solid win too. Nico got out with a 3-point night, his ego soaring.

Now, you would never admit this sober, but you loved when he got cocky. The way his body demeanor would change and he would have a special swagger in his step. The sexy smirk that never seemed to leave his face every time his gleaming eyes would settle down to yours. It was almost embarrassing the grasp this man had on you, but you loved every second of it.

His dark shirt clung tightly to his sweaty body, the heat around you two making a visible impression.

You sat next to him at a table with some of the team, celebrating their win. Seeing the wide smile on Nico’s face made you want to take everything bad in the world and toss it away. That way Nico could smile forever.

His arm rested on your thigh, corded with thick veins, squeezed slightly, just as reassurance. You squeezed his hand back.

“You know, I still can’t believe that Merc just left like that! I was in the middle of talking too. What an ass.”

You looked over to where Jack’s voice echoed. His annoyed face set on where Dawson was talking to some girl near the bar. You felt a chuckle rise in your throat, causing you to shove your face into Nico’s arm in an attempt to smother it.

Nico looked down at you with amused eyes, “What’s so funny, schatzi?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head, “Nothing much, Neeks. Just Jacky.”

Nico glanced over his shoulder at Jack, who was still complaining to his, very bored, little brother. He nodded his head slowly in understanding. When he turned back to the table, he noticed your tired eyes.

“You tired, pretty? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

This was true, but only because you enjoyed watching Nico so much. To you, that was more entertaining than talking.

“Yep, I’m all good!” You gave him a big smile. Nico searched your eyes for any insincerity but failed to find any. Accepting your answer, he turned back to Holtz, engaging in a spirited conversation about certain plays during the game.

After half an hour or so, your drink had finally run out, your empty cup now urging to be filled. You nudged Nico’s arm, gaining his attention.

“I’m gonna go get a refill,” You shook your empty cup, proving your point.

His brows furrowed, “Want me to come with you?” His eyes flickered to the large number of people, “It’s a bit crowded over by the bar.”

You smiled at his concern, but denied his request, “No thank you, baby. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitantly agreed, placing a kiss on your temple and a quick, “Be careful,” as you left.

Shimmying your way through the dense population proved to be a lot harder than you originally anticipated, getting bumped back and forth violently. By the time you had reached the bar, you could have sworn you had whiplash.

Quickly flagging down a bartender, you ordered your drink and secured a spot to wait. You bit the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling uncomfortable by the obvious male gazes from every direction. You could only hope that one didn’t have the balls to approach you, but alas, luck wasn’t on your side tonight.

A lean man, of about 5’8, approached you, clearly too inebriated to be thinking correctly. His scruff was patchy and gross, the tell-tail signs of a failed attempt at growing a beard. His red shirt loosely hung on his body, beer wetting the sides of it. At least, you hoped it was beer. He stumbled into the slot beside you, almost on top of you.

“Hey, sexy. What’s your name?” His voice was grating, not a sultry tone to be heard. You found yourself repulsed by his presence, now desperately wishing Nico had come with you.

“None of your business, but thanks for asking.” You gave him a snide smile, hoping he would take the very obvious hint that you weren’t interested.

“Whoa, attitude, missy. I just asked your name.”

“And I don’t care.” You rolled your eyes, the strange man not making an effort to leave.

“Damn, if you’re this feisty all the time, I know a much better way to put that mouth to use.”

Fear pitted deep in your stomach at the dark look on the man’s face. Needing toi escape, you tried to make a move to leave, but he blocked your way, now caging you to the bar top. Your breath picked up in a panic, frantically searching for someone to help. It was far too loud to call for anyone and everyone around you was already preoccupied with their own conversations.

Deciding to fight back, you lifted your arm to slap the man who was rapidly approaching you. His hand came up to grip your arm harshly, drawing a hiss from your lips as pain spiked through your wrist. Tears sprung in your eyes as you tried your hardest to free yourself from the man’s body. You felt helpless as your voice died in your throat, shutting your eyes tightly.

You prepared yourself for the worst until you felt the man’s weight abruptly leave. Your eyes shot open, seeing a blur of the man get thrown to the ground. The familiar figure of your boyfriend towered over the cowering stranger.

Nico reached down, gripping the man’s collar, dragging him to his feet, and slamming him against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck, do you think you’re doing?” Nico’s eyes were ablaze with fury, a hard look resting on his once-happy face.

“I-I don’t know man,” The stranger was gasping, obviously terrified of the much larger man holding him to the wall, “I was just trying to get some pussy, like every other guy in the bar.” His meek words only fueled Nico’s anger.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch my woman like that again. Don’t ever touch any woman like that. You’re a fucking pussy.” Nico’s voice was laced with disgust as he spat at the man. Holtz and Jack rushed over, attempting to pull Nico away. He dropped the guy, worry for you now seeping into his clouded mind.

Nico was by your side within seconds, pulling your shaking form into his arms. He tucked you under his chin, tightly holding you, “It’s okay, schatzi,” He brought up a hand to cradle your head, “You’re okay. I’m here now, Nico’s here.”

You let out a slight sob, your arms recoiling into your body as you gingerly held your bruising wrist. Nico pulled away, eyes desperately raking your body to determine the cause of your pain. Once his eyes settled on your wrist, he held out his hand, silently asking to inspect the damage.

Nico felt a new wave of anger take over his body, now practically shaking as he tried his hardest to not go beat the shit out of the guy. The man had hurt you. Hurt his girl. If it were up to Nico, that guy wouldn’t be breathing right now, but fortunately for the stranger, murder is illegal. Nico carefully guided your body to the exit, not bothering to bid goodbyes.

Only once the two of you hit the cold parking lot and the adrenaline started to wear off, did you fully begin to comprehend the severity of what had happened. A fresh batch of tears formed in your eyes, sobs rapidly pouring from your lips. Your body shook with the pure force of the cries that pierced their way through Nico’s chest.

He immediately pulled you tightly into his body, making sure to be mindful of your wrist. Nico felt his own tears well up in his eyes at your pain. He hated that he couldn’t help you, but he hated even more that he was in the building when it happened and didn’t get to you soon enough.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Nico sniffed, “It’s all my fault this happened.”

You shook your head against his chest, slightly pulling away to look into his deeply saddened eyes, “No, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t control.”

“I knew I should have gone with you. If I was there then he wouldn’t have hurt you.” He looked away biting his lip as he tried not to cry. His broken voice stabbed your heart. It was gut-wrenching to see Nico blame himself for what that man did.

“Stop, Nico. It was not your fault,” You held his face gently, forcing him to meet your eyes, “Please, stop blaming yourself. I chose to go by myself, that’s not on you.” He opened his mouth to protest, but you were too quick, “Don’t say anything else. Please, for me? Stop.”

He nodded slowly as tears silently slid down his cheeks. Nico reached up, carefully cradling your wrist that was near his face, leaning to place a sweet kiss on the black and blue splotches.

“Let me get you home, schatzi. Wanna take care of you.”

#the captain’s girl au!#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier smut #nico hischier imagine #njd #new jersey devils #jack hughes #luke hughes #dawson mercer #leawrites💋

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avatartophblindbanditbeifong · 11 months

Text

Miles Morales Headcanons

Miles Morales x Reader

557 words

In honor of Across the Spider-Verse releasing in theaters this Friday, I decided to come out of my cocoon and post some fluff about our beloved.

Hope you enjoy!

Late at night, after hours patrolling the city on a Saturday, Miles swings over to your apartment. It’s late, he knows that, but a little part of him hopes that you are awake and your window is unlocked so he can make up for the time lost between the two of you. It doesn't matter how heavy sleep is wearing on his body, Miles always climbs up to your bedroom window to check on you; to see if you're safe, before going home. With his fingers sticking onto the brick beside your window, he peaks through the curtains of your room to catch a glimpse of one of his favorite sights; your body snuggly curled up underneath your duvet covers sleeping soundly. Before he thiwps away, Miles pulls out his phone to send you a text that you'll be sure to see first thing in the morning. “Buenas noches, mi amor<3”

In the afternoons, Miles’ head nods as he goes in and out of sleep during lunch hour. Ganke is in the middle of a rant while you listen to him with faux understanding. If Miles were in front of anyone else, he would be considered rude to fall asleep in the middle of someone's conversation but, with you and Ganke being the only ones to know of Miles’ secret identity and what it entails, the two of you let it slide. You look at your boyfriend in his state of exhaustion. You slide your hand across the expanse of his broad shoulders and pull him into you; his head resting on your shoulder and nose tucked into your neck. For the rest of lunch, Miles finds his reprise in the warmth of your body.

Evenings when Miles just gets to be Miles are his favorite. Especially when those evenings are planned with you coming over to his apartment to have dinner with him and his family. With a knock on the front door, Miles starts out of his room to greet you with a sweet, soft kiss on the lips that causes him to blush before quietly letting you in. At the dining table, Miles watches you interact with his family like they're your very own. You and his mother gossip like sisters while you laugh at his father's jokes and embarrassing stories that make him want to melt into his chair. But, with all of the torment he endures for your entertainment, watching you interact with his family, the way you laugh with them, and connect with them; Miles can’t help but daydream about what dinners will be like when the two of you have a family of your own.

Early Monday mornings aren’t what they used to be for you. Waking up extra early to make the commute to Visions Academy was still very much in the plans for your morning routine. But, being up early now that you're with Miles means being able to take early morning swings with him before school starts. Miles would surprise you with your favorite breakfast sandwich and a kiss before he swung you both to school. Inside, hand in hand, Miles walks you to your first class, giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek goodbye. Before fully entering the classroom, you watch him sprint down the hallway to make it to his classroom before he’s marked tardy…again.

#miles morales #spider man across the spider verse #spiderman into the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #miles morales imagine #miles morales x you #headcanon #x reader #miles morales drabble #miles morales headcanons #miles morales 1610

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sinsandsweetness · 9 months

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I’m thinking of any of the boys, how would they react to being teased with? And I don’t mean oh that’s cute- I mean hardcore teasing. I’m thinking wearing cute outfits or saying things in the vicinity of the boys, where they can’t do anything about it. I might have asked this before so if I did, oops. but I’m never without a backup! I love the scene Aaron meets Rick and Michonne, them jumping out of bed. But what if it was the reader and Rick or the reader with Daryl or Rickyl or….? “tell your mom and dad…”

“huh?” Carl rolls his eyes at who it is and calls them gross and lame. Lol (idk; that’s what my teen would have done)

Hehe ok I’m using this as a little bonus blurb for poison… I promise part 4 is coming soon but here’s something to tie us all off in the meantime <3

“You gotta tell her to cut it out. I can’t believe I’m bricked up at a children's birthday party, right now.” Shane slumps down next to Rick. Visibly irritated, grabbing the throw pillow from beside him, and placing it in his lap to conceal the tent in his blue jeans.

“Why don’t you tell her?” Rick asks.

They both look over at you from their spot on the deck. Watching you throw neon rings into the water from the side of the pool. Entertaining the half a dozen 10 year olds whose parents are all too busy getting drunk in your parents house, to look after their own children.

“You’re the only one she actually listens to.”

Rick just shakes his head with a little huff, “She’s a fuckin’ brat. Doesn’t listen to anyone.”

You know they're watching you. They have been all day. From the second you asked Rick to help tighten the strings of your bikini top, you had them in a damn trance. Unable to control their constant wandering gaze.

“What kinda swimsuit is that? Barely even covers her nipples.” Shane whines.

“She’s doin’ it on purpose. Tryna get a reaction out of you. And it’s workin’, so just… quit starin’. She’ll give it up soon enough.”

“I need her to put a shirt on before I cream my frickin’ jeans, Ricky. Go on and tell her that.”

“Tell her what?” Daryl interjects the conversation with gifts from the garage. He hands the two men a beer, plopping down on the love seat across them.

“Tell her to quit teasin us’. It ain’t funny and she ain’t bein’ very subtle about it either.” Shane nods over at you. Unfortunately for him, you catch his stare and wave back at him. A sweet, innocent little wave that sends butterflies swarming around in his gut.

“Shit.” Shane shifts his gaze to the floor.

“What?”

“Made eye contact. She’s coming over.”

They all share a look before you reach the couch. Dripping wet and wringing out your hair with a towel.

“Hey,” You plop down next to Daryl, the only open seat available.

“You’re soaking.” He complains, moving further into the armrest.

“What? You afraid of a little water?” You tease, over aware of the clenched jaws staring you down from the couch.

He lets out a little grunt, sipping his beer to distract himself from your practically naked legs, brushing up against his jeans.

“Shoot, I think I’m starting to burn,” you act all concerned, looking down at your decolletage and running delicate fingers over your sun kissed skin, “think one of you could reapply for me?” You ask, reaching for the coffee table where your sunscreen so conveniently happens to be sitting right in front of the three men.

You see Shane’s fist tighten around the beer as he struggles to avoid your gaze.

“Shane?” You ask, knowing he’s always the first to break for you.

“Me..?” he looks over at Rick and sighs, tipping his head back. Asking god why the hell he was testing him so hard today.

Rick lets out an involuntary groan at his friend’s attitude.

“Alright, get over here.” He waves you over, snatching the bottle from your hands.

You stifle your laugh by biting your lip. Practically crawling over Daryl to reach Rick’s lap. Sitting down, bikini bottoms dampening his denim clad thigh, though he doesn’t complain. He just takes the sunscreen and squeezes a generous amount on his hands. Handing you the bottle back and rubbing the cream together before starting on your shoulders.

You sigh at his touch, leaning your head to the side and pulling your hair out of the way to give him better access to your back.

“I know what you’re doing.” His voice is low in your ear. Lips dangerously close to your neck. “Ain’t foolin anybody. Acting like a damn brat. Teasin’ us right in front of your daddy…” he chuckles. His breath sends goosebumps down your spine as his hands rub the muscles on your back.

“I- don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” you play dumb. Lids fluttering closed at the wonderful sensation of Rick's fingers working at the knots between your shoulder blades. Gliding back and forth and then slipping down to your lower back. Where his touch starts feeling less like a massage and more like a tickle. Threatening to send a shiver through your body.

“Sure you do,” he slides his hands down to your hips, grabbing on to you and pulling you even further into his lap, the sudden movement makes your breath hitch in your throat. “You know exactly what you’re doin’. Know exactly what game you’re trying to play. Guess you didn't realize that we might know how to play too, hm?” He uses his grip on your hips to grind you down on his lap, and the huge bulge that’s making the front of his jeans so tight.

Your eyes go wide at his boldness. Knowing that any of your fathers friends could see from their various spots all over the yard. Hell your father could see if he just turned away from his conversation with Deanna. Fortunate for you, they’re all too focused on their own conversations to pay attention to the borderline filth happening on the patio furniture.

“I- I wasn't-“

“See boys? She sure loves to dish it out but the second you start dishin’ it back,” he huffs a laugh before continuing, “she turns into a needy, little mess.”

pick your poison taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck @imyourbratzdoll @olive3oil @taylormarieee @spidermonkey2423 @fanngirl19

#pick your poison #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x y/n #Rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #shane walsh smut #shane walsh #shane walsh x you #shane walsh x reader #bonus blurb

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hometoursandotherstuff · 3 months

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Madly in love with this amazing factory conversion with an art gallery on the ground floor, in Jersey City, New Jersey. 5bds, 5ba, $5.25M.

Very pretty stained glass doors. The beams are probably original to the old factory.

Very large kitchen. The handles on the cabinets look like art.

The dining area is lovely.

This isn't the art gallery, but this 1st floor sitting area looks like one.

What a delightful room with butterflies on the ceiling.

Here's an area that the owners use as a home gym.

What an interesting vintage sink with 3 faucets.

Someone actually climbed into this old freight elevator shaft to hang pictures, b/c it's been enclosed in glass.

The living room has lovely marble floors and is light and bright.

Look at the large bar. Well, this is a home that would be perfect for entertaining.

The railings on the stairs are a work of art in themselves. Love the exposed brick wall.

At first I thought that wall was wallpaper- so many colorful books.

Isn't this a whimsical fireplace?

The primary bedroom is gigantic and the freight elevator lets you off right inside.

The en-suite is huge and has the laundry in here, too.

Beautiful toile mural in this bedroom.

Attractive tiled bath with a wonderful door.

It has a large basement with tons of storage.

Plus, it has a garage which is golden in a city.

There's more than one rooftop patio.

Here's a wooden deck.

Jersey City has a direct New York City view, too.

#factory conversions #penthouses #houses #house tours #home tour

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blayresmuses · 1 year

Note

Hello love, if you are taking requests would you pls write one on Aemond Targaryen x Y/n Targaryen (uncle/ niece) where they are enemies but definitely have a lot of sexual tension between the two. Maybe they have snuck around before and she’s scared of getting caught? Maybe he’s trapped her somewhere and they get into an argument and try to kill eachother but reader makes smartass comments like how it seems as if he’s lost one of his balls instead of his eye or how she prefers her husband to have all of his parts etc) and he starts choking her, realises she’s into it and then gets turned on himself. They end up fucking but it’s very raunchy with lots of choking, dirty talk, hair pulling etc etc

the fire you crave

summary: you’re the bane of aemonds existence and he never fails to put you in your place when it’s needed.

warnings: sexual content, degradation, choking, hair pulling

authors note: it isn’t specified that they’re related and this is quite different to what you asked for but i hope you enjoy anyway <3

your heart is thumping, betraying you completely as his steps grow nearer. aemond’s dagger is heavy in your hand, the other one tracing along the damp brick of the wall to help guide you along the corridor, buried so deeply in the castle. you understand that if he catches up to you there would be no one around to help, to guard you from that cool temper, but that’s what makes it so exciting.

you remembered his face when you managed to grab it from his side, taking his attention away from the books he so loved. somewhere behind you he whistled, as if this was just another chore he had to complete. looking behind you, you could just see the flame of the lantern he was carrying reflecting on the walls. quickly, with a wicked grin on your features, you rushed into a nook in the wall, hoping the darkness disguised you.

his footsteps seemed so slow. you held your breath, anticipation and excitement making your stomach turn. ‘why is it Y/N,’ aemond said into the darkness. you could just tell he was gritting his teeth, burning in agitation. ‘that whenever you need attention it’s me you have to come to?’

it was a good attempt you admitted. he was baiting you but you kept still, lip trapped between your teeth. the silence weighed as heavy as the blade in your palm, that sensor inside of you that went insane when aemond was near was pulsing like crazy and you knew he was close, felt his presence deep in your bones. ‘where’s your flock of suitors, hmm? can’t they keep you entertained?’

his voice sent shivers of pleasure down your spine. you adored this - being the centre of his attention, the object of his ire - even though he claimed to hate it, made his degrading comments - he loved it too, burned just as brightly for you as you did him. you pushed further against the wall, feeling the roughness scrape down your exposed back. in your imagination you could feel aemond there, breathing down your neck -

you screamed when he appeared round the corner, sneering down at you in distaste. the flame lit him up beautifully like he was some ethereal devil come to drag you down to the pits of hell. his eye was a burning pit of flame, his anger evident as he looked upon you. his free hand reached for the dagger, not bothering with your silly games.

‘where’s your manners aemond,’ you lectured with a pout. deftly you hid the blade behind you, pinning your hand between your back and the stone. ‘maybe if you’re nice i’ll give you it.’

‘you really are nothing but an attention seeking brat,’ he spat at you, taking a step towards you. it felt like the air was being sucked from your lungs, a giddy state of mind overtaking you. ‘give me it back and i won’t have your hand for stealing, how about that?’

‘beg me,’ you insisted, blinking prettily up at him in the way you knew drove him mad.

‘it’s a fair deal,’ he countered, looking away from you as if he couldn’t stand to see. his jaw clenched and you resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. ‘don’t think i won’t do it. i’m sure i’ll still find uses for you, with or without your hand i still wouldn’t be able to escape your whorish pestering.’

you desperately wanted to hate him, wanted to hate the constant spew of filthy words he threw in your direction. it only excited you further, dragged you down into a never ending rabbit hole of lust and hatred and desire. ‘you claim to hate me but here you are, drawn to me like a moth to flame,’ he continued on, staring harshly down at you. ‘what are you going to do when i’m married off hmm? take yourself down to the street of silk every night?’

you bristled at the blatant insult. you weren’t some needy little girl, following after him. he pushed and pulled as much as you did. ‘don’t worry, my precious girl,’ he cooed condescendingly, running his fingers through your hair. ‘you know i wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. i’m sure one of my guards would love a pretty little wife like you. i don’t think they’d even care that you’ve been broken in.’

you moved so quickly that he dropped the lantern in shock. it clattered to the floor, the noise echoing through the halls as you aimed the dagger at him, attempting to jam it in the space between his neck and shoulder. you knew deep down it wouldn’t work, he made quick work of grabbing it from you and throwing it on the ground.

then his hand was around your throat, lightly at first just so he could see your eyes widen, the little bit of fear creep into them. ‘did that hurt your feelings?’ he growled at you, backing you against the wall until your neck was stretched as far as it could go just so you could look at him. ‘or is it jealousy that’s made you do something so fucking stupid?’

‘as if i’d want to marry you aemond,’ you countered. both of your breathing had picked up and you did your best to ignore the cravings you had to be close to him, to have him sate your desires the way only he could. his forehead lowered to yours and his lips were so close you almost lost the ability to speak. ‘i like my men to have all of their parts. from what i make of it you lost an eye and your balls.’

immediately his grip tightened further, completely cutting off your air way. you tried to gasp but failed - you could only gaze into his eye, watch the emotions swirl around. you should have concentrated more on your own, felt that needy ache between your thighs intensify at the feeling of being so under this thumb. you wanted it to mark you, wanted to carry a piece of him with you everyday, you loved being at his mercy so much a choked moan rose from your throat.

‘you’re enjoying this aren’t you?’ aemond grumbled. he was wearing that god awful smirk now, eyes alight with amusement at your state. ‘you pretend to be a lady but look at you - you’re sick.’

his voice was like liquid fire, turning your nerves to mush. you struggled to move your hand, aemond groaned when you made contact with his cock, squeezing more roughly than you should have. ‘i’m sick?’ you managed to croak out. ‘you’re the one who’s aroused by choking a lady-’

he squeezed once more, completely cutting off your air before smashing his lips to yours, so rough your head collided back with the wall. bewildering, overwhelming, you tugged at his hair, twirling strands of it around your finger then yanking until he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth. his hands tore at the bodice of your dress, tearing through the clasps and exposing your breasts.

he bent before you and you took the respite for air, your chest shuddered and you found yourself pinned before his gaze, somewhat softer now than what it had been. ‘why does it have to be you that makes me feel like this,’ aemond murmured, leaning his forehead against your thigh as he yanked your dress the rest of the way down and helped you step out of it.

it was a soft action, one that left your heart a puddle on the floor by his feet. coupled up with those words - it left you a shaking mess, still struggling to breathe because you were so frustratingly enamoured by him. ‘quiet now, are we?’ he queried, leaving a kiss by the side of your knee. it was when he treated you like this you imagined the future, could imagine being married to him, you didn’t bother imagining him being happy about those ideals though. ‘we’ll have to change that won’t we?’

he gripped the plush skin of your thigh, you watched as he admired the way your soft skin gave way before him, watched him take his fingers off to admire the red finger marks he left behind. aemond guided your thigh over his shoulder and you gulped at the strange vulnerability that overtook you - no matter how many times he did it you didn’t think you’d ever be comfortable with the intensity of it, the intimacy of having him so close to you. ‘you’re beautiful,’ he praised, his voice hoarse. ‘and you’re all mine. my little whore aren’t you?’ you nodded, arching your back when he bit down on your hip, taking the tender skin between his teeth.

kisses were placed over the sore spot, soothing it with his tongue. you were lured into it, letting the pleasure overtake you before you yelped when he spanked your clit, a burning pleasure taking over your whole body. ‘say it. i want to hear you say it.’

‘i’m yours aemond,’ you whispered. his possessive, obsessed side gave you butterflies. it was what you thought of before bed, the dominating words he murmured to you in these sacred moments. he rewarded you by kissing the inside of your thigh, softly sucking the skin into his mouth. ‘are you scared you can’t perform?’ you asked cheekily, breaking the tension. ‘you’re really taking your time.’

he hummed before chuckling darkly and your back arched against his grip impatiently. ‘you need to learn the act of patience, pet,’ aemond replied, not bothering to hide the bite in his voice. it was if you’d interrupted him during his favourite hobby, as if having you was something he should savour rather than rush. you blushed and moved your hips again, enjoying the bite of his fingers into the skin of them. ‘i was willing to warm you up but since you want to be such an impatient slut we’ll just skip to good part.’

aemond stood, loosening his breaches and pulling his cock out. your greedy fingers pulled at his tunic, urging it off of him so you could feel his bare skin, bring his chest close to yours. he smirked but didn’t comment, merely tugged your ear lobe between his teeth and adjusted your thigh around his waist. ‘you didn’t need warmed up did you? can fucking feel you coating me already.’

he ran the tip of his cock up and down your slit, gathering the wetness until you were almost losing your mind. aemonds self control never managed to surprise you, especially when he started tapping against your clit making you jerk in his arms. ‘i’m starting to think you really lost your balls-’

before you could resist his fingers were in your mouth, pushing down on your tongue and that’s when he pushed himself in. not slowly, you didn’t deserve that, he sheathed himself completely, not bothering to let you adjust to the size of him. the sting was bitter and you moaned around the digits in your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

‘yeah that’s it, good girl,’ aemond praised, eyes glued to where the two of you were connected. he watched as he disappeared into your slick, coming back out covered in you, heard the lewd noises - it drove him mad in the best way. ‘take it and don’t say a word.’

you didn’t, simply raked your nails as hard as you could down his back, enjoying the harsh thrust he gave you in return. wet fingers trailed down your chin until his hand was a necklace around your throat yet again, you met his eye and he squeezed, a determined look on his pale features. he went for your mouth but you twisted, not wanting to get this confused with something it wasn’t - an act of intimacy and genuine love.

‘come on pretty girl, give in to me. give in to your prince.’ you tried to resist, focused solely on the scrape of his cock against your walls, the hand around your neck. your cunt took him in without questioning, welcoming the pleasure, the heady sense of mind it gave you but his mouth was right there, you wanted to taste him. you felt the fire dying out in you like it always did. you fell impossibly further into his arms, let him capture your mouth.

you felt him pick you up fully and you tightened your legs around his waist, drawing him in closer. you felt the clammy skin that pressed against you, the subtle grind of his lower torso against your clit. the rough stone ravaged your back but you didn’t complain, just moaned his name into the hotness of his mouth. the new angle had him rocking straight into your spot as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling harshly as if that gave him some semblance of control. ‘oh it’s perfect -’ the words were stuttered, bitten out as if he truly was losing it. you were glad because you felt the same like some dam waiting to burst. ‘and it’s all mine, perfect cunt just for me.’

aemond felt you tightening and he could only grin, completely drunk on the delicious way you spasmed around his length. ‘do you like that Y/N? i think you do. you pretend to hate me but you love that i can get you like this. you belong to me. never forget that.’

you knew it deep in your bones. he’d ruined you for any man so you just let yourself enjoy the moment, let yourself be taken closer to the edge as this thumb rubbed your clit. it didn’t take long, merely a minute or two for you to near the precipice of orgasm. you could tell he was close too, biting down on your shoulder to keep his noises in. ‘say it,’ he groaned. ‘say it or i won’t let you finish.’

your stomach sank at the request although you’d learned to expect it. he asked it of you every time though he never bothered to return the sentiment. the words made you feel ill. to leave yourself so vulnerable for him, it was the most difficult thing you could do but as close as you were, your body was preparing to finish, you craved it. so you shut your eyes and whispered what he wanted to hear.

‘avy jorrāelan, aemond.’

one deep thrust and you were falling over the edge, aemond following. his lips found yours during, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth so softly you wanted to scream. he let you cling to him in the moments after, let you shudder in his arms as he rubbed the sore skin of your back. it was too much you thought, so you unraveled yourself from him and watched as he put himself back to rights.

the silence was deafening in the aftermath. as if you had to be modest, you picked up the scraps of your gown and held them over yourself. ‘why do you make me say it?’

aemond didn’t answer, just kept on sorting himself. you felt the chance slipping through your fingers. you didn’t care how desperate or needy it was to ask, to want answers. you felt broken apart, like he’d opened you up and looked inside then decided you weren’t worthy and shut you back over. before you realised it there were tears in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling. ‘you never say it back,’ you murmured and you hated how truly sad you sounded.

‘don’t act like you meant it,’ aemond snapped but even he looked emotional, seeming more content to look at the floor than at you. ‘you say it because i ask you to, not because you want to. it means nothing.’

you shook your head, the tears flowing freely as he turned on his heel and left. he didn’t even take the dagger, just left you standing in the fading flame. you picked it up, ran your finger down the silver blade, knowing already you’d keep it like a memento, like it was a piece of him to keep.

avy jorrāelan, aemond. i love you, aemond.

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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Reprimand

Double Bind Masterpost

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Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Follow on to Endeavour. Anthony suspects you may have been seduced by another and reprimands you.

Warnings: 18+smut, minors DNI, dom/sub relationships, mean dom, jealousy, consenting-non-consent (CNC) play, deepthroat breathplay, rope bondage, whipping with a riding crop, rough vaginal sex, orgasm control, emotions, confessions.

Word Count: 5.8k

Authors Note: Here is part 4 of the Double Bind series requested by @eleanor-bradstreet where our reader finds herself back with her original dom, Anthony. Please note, everything here is very consenting; they are just playing as if it's not. If that is at all triggering for you, please do not read this. Thank you to @colettebronte for the beta read, particularly around the CNC play. Enjoy! <3

The following night you see Anthony at a gathering—a very dull musical recital just a few doors down from Bridgerton House. He accompanies you as the respectable courting partner, your gloved wrist gently resting in the crook of his arm as you circuit the room before the show.

Once the decidedly mediocre entertainment begins, he leans close to your ear.

“You have about five more minutes, then we are leaving,” he drawls quietly.

“Where are we going, my lord?” you whisper back.

“Anywhere I can fuck you,” he states plainly as you struggle not to spit out the champagne you just sipped, a dribble still escaping down your chin that you attempt to dab away discreetly. He intentionally did that—waited to drop that line when you were taking a swig.

A warm finger catches the drip and pushes it back to your mouth, his pupils dilating. “Can’t quite swallow it all; that looks familiar,” he murmurs, intentionally being utterly filthy.

“Anthony!” you admonish quietly but fiercely.

“We both know being on your knees is your favourite place after being face down over my desk,” he mutters, knowing this sort of talk always gets you breathless.

And indeed, it does. “Are those five minutes up?” you ask archly.

Wordlessly, with a bemused huff, he grabs your hand and pulls you out into the aisle, briskly walking towards the rear of the room and out of the door. He keeps marching, out of the building, into the street, making a beeline for his home less than a hundred yards away.

“Your family…?” you check as you realise where he is headed.

“All at that dreaded recital. The house shall be empty except for staff. Not that it is consequential, for we are not going into the house,” he smirks back at you.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you realise he has veered into the mews running behind his property.

“Stables,” he answers as if that explains everything.

“Why?”

“You are asking an awful lot of questions tonight,” he comments, then pauses and crowds you into a cold brick wall in the narrow dark lane. “How about you trust me and just do as you are told, you wilful little thing?” his warm breath gusts over your cheek.

Oh. It's already playtime.

“Yes, sir,” you respond instantly, and he nods and beams at you.

“Good girl,” he compliments, grabbing your chin. “Now, you will do whatever I tell you from here on out. Do you understand me?

“Yes sir,” your breath speeding up, excitement flaring low in your belly.

“I do so love you obedient,” he sighs and kisses you bruisingly, trapping you forcefully between his body and the wall. “Take off your underwear,” he commands.

“I'm not wearing any,” you stumble honestly.

He growls, “I love when you do that, behaving like a wanton whore.” He knows how aroused you get when he calls you that in play. “Show me right now; pull up your dress.”

You scramble to obey, but he quickly stills your movement. “I see people in the window of our neighbour's house. We should move on,” he offers sagely, stepping out of character and retaking your hand.

Anthony has never been one to attempt play in public; his image as Viscount so very important to maintain. And so contrasting to his younger, bohemian brother, memories of Benedict’s sinful voice talking of you crawling naked to him in front of strangers suddenly haunt you. How can they be both so very alike and so very different simultaneously? They are an addictive cocktail.

You continue down the mews until a gate leads you into a rear courtyard—this must be the back of Bridgerton House.

“Wait here,” he says curtly, disappearing into a side building. “Alright, you may come in; the coast is clear,” he calls a few moments later, and you follow.

It's the tack room for the stables. It smells of leather and brass. It’s warm and dry; the mahogany wood-panelled walls give it a cosy air.

“What are we doing in here?”

“There is all sorts of equipment in here I want to use on you,” he crows, closing the heavy door shut and bolting it. The only light in the room is a faint glow from the oil lanterns flickering on the courtyard walls outside and a shaft of moonlight splicing across the room from a high window.

Something in your heart rate spikes as your eyes adjust and look around to see saddles, bridals, whips and ropes. And in the middle of the room, a padded leather bench likely used to change into riding boots.

“Now, do as you were told before we were rudely interrupted,” he prompts, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms casually, an expectant eyebrow raised.

You grab your dress and gather the layers over your forearms until you feel the air swirling around your intimate area. He growls at the sight and is on you a millisecond later, kissing bruisingly, just the way you like. There is nothing more arousing for you than Anthony, this powerful, titled man, so very desperate and out of control just for you. He spins you around, and you are pushed into the wood panels, his hands wrenching open your dress buttons as you breathe hard.

“Open your legs wider,” he gruffs, nudging your ankles with his shoe. You do so, widening your stance to shoulder width as your dress and chemise are yanked off your shoulders. “Wider,” he instructs as your clothing drops to a pool at your feet.

You obey, kicking away your dress, standing there now in stays and silk shoes only.

“Good girl,” he compliments, pulling your hips backwards roughly, your hands reaching out to grab the wall in front on instinct. “That's it, bend over, and hold on tight,” he orders.

Your insides dance with anticipation as he drops to his knees behind you. He is usually savage with his tongue when he eats you from behind like this—pushing his whole face into your slit, into the cleft of your cheeks, very thorough in his attentions. So you are somewhat surprised when he doesn't do that. In fact, he is silent behind you for so long you almost ask what is wrong.

“What… the… fuck….is that?” he spits angrily. But it's not his play angry; it sounds worryingly close to genuine.

‘What is what?” you ask, suddenly nervous, twisting to look over your shoulder.

He jumps up to his feet and yanks you roughly back upright against him by your hair, and you squeak in shock.

“Care to explain why there are teeth marks on your inner thigh, my girl?” his voice cutting and right at your ear.

Your stomach plummets as if you have fallen from a high branch of a tree or gone over a waterfall in a barrel. Everything inside you tumbles, and your vision swims slightly.

Benedict.

It could ONLY be him—last night. You vaguely recall feeling him bite your inner thigh as he teased you. But you were so deliriously aroused you barely felt anything. Washing this morning, you did not think to look there; you just quickly bathed and went about your day.

“It cannot be, sir,” you instantly obfuscate. “It must be a mark, from I do not know what…. from my saddle, perhaps?” you offer, taking inspiration from what is right around you.

His grip on your hair slackens. You are uncertain he believes you. Something feels tender at this moment. Precarious. Like he is vulnerable to what the marks could signify but cannot handle his response in any other way but brusquely—needing the upper hand.

“I have been foolish, perhaps, in not being clear with my boundaries. So here they are. If you are with a Bridgerton, you should only be laying with a Bridgerton, do you hear me?” he lectures, unwittingly giving you a very convenient loophole.

“Yes, sir,” you answer instantly. “I shall only lay with a Bridgerton,” you reply, almost gleeful.

“Why does that appear so entertaining?” he asks cuttingly.

“It is not, sir,” you attempt to school your expression and tone, “more that your order is very… arousing for me, sir,” your response coquettish, knowing the diversionary flattery will work on him.

“You want to be owned by me?” he gusts hot in your ear, a warm hand snaking around your belly, pulling you back forcefully into his muscular frame.

“Yes, of course, sir”, you answer. “I want to wear your name with pride,” you pant gently, slipping into your submissive role with practised ease.

“I will brand your bottom with the family crest,” he snarls, the possessive rhetoric notching up significantly.

You goad him with a challenging look over your shoulder and roll your hips, catching your bottom on the growing hardness in the front of his trousers, knowing it will spur some kind of response.

“You wanton little whore, rubbing yourself on me like some animal in heat just because I offer to brand you with my name,” he rumbles, enjoying your tactics, grabbing your chin and making you look at him as he leans forward over your shoulder. “I should tie you up and whip you to make you obey me,” he declares, staring into your eyes.

You suddenly know why he has brought you here, to this room—to try some more advanced punishment. The fact there is now the added dimension of his suspicion makes it feel even more charged, like the static before a storm. You can't seem to look away from his turbulent mien, knowing tonight will be something new and exciting. You can feel butterflies against your ribs as he speaks again.

“You would just hate that, wouldn't you?” he smirks, and you intuit what he wants.

This is a power play to make you remember who is in charge, a way to brand you as his symbolically, not physically. By making you pretend you don’t want this as much as you do. Achingly so.

“You want to play that game?” you check quietly, ensuring what you think is happening is true.

“You are so very observant, my smart girl,” he whispers flatteringly, and you know exactly what to do next.

“Sir, please don’t,” you play up, voice getting louder, twisting to catch his eye and winking, letting him know your reticence is all for the scene.

“Who said you have any say in what happens?” he chuckles darkly, his hold tightening as he roughly strips your stays from your body so you are completely naked.

This. You perhaps shouldn’t want this, but by god, you do—a little twisted role play. Elation ripples through your body. Somehow you know you both need this today. Anthony to process his suspicions about the bitemark. You, cathartic release of the guilt you carry about your tryst with Benedict. Perhaps it's a dangerous path to walk; you know you are likely playing with fire, but with Anthony, by god, it's nothing but excitement. Mutually assured destruction can seem so appealing behind glowing brown eyes and sharp cheekbones.

“Please, sir, no!” you ratchet up your theatrics, struggling slightly in his hold as he spins you around to face him.

“Shut up!” he grouses and pushes you down to your knees with a firm grip on your hair. “Now, if you don't keep quiet, I will find a way to silence you,” he warns, yanking your head back so you look up at him.

And you know what is coming, your thighs rubbing together almost gleefully at the prospect. Your insides roil excitedly at the idea of him using you, rough and rugged, as you pretend it is against your will. Trust Anthony to take you to the edge of your needs, push your envelope and make you crave him. This is why you can’t resist him. He knows how to give you things you never knew you needed but want so much your blood sings—makes you ache for him, addicted to him like no one else.

You stay on your knees, panting lightly with anticipation as he walks away briefly, his boots seeming to clatter much louder as he returns. He yanks your hands behind your back, and you feel a thin rope wrapping around your wrists.

“You know your safety word and action,” he leans over and mutters in your ear, and you nod, twisting to meet his eye. Confirming that today no won't mean stop; only that word or gesture will.

“No sir, please, no god, I’m sorry; please don't tie me up,” you act up.

He laughs menacingly and keeps looping the rope, tying it off with what feels like a bow. Then a hand grabs your jaw.

“Too late for that; open your mouth,” he commands gruffly.

You instantly obey as two fingers slide thickly over your tongue. They taste of ink, smokey cigars and the tang of money, all Anthony.

“Now I know a certain way to stop this little mouth from being so insolent,” he states, casually pinching your tongue before pulling out his fingers.

“No sir, please, please don’t,” you volley back, a flash in your eyes as you lick your lips, your gaze falling to the tented shape in his trousers as he roughly unbuttons them.

His cock springs free, and you feel a frisson over your skin as you drink in the sight of it, already rigid and leaking. Without preamble, he grabs the back of your head; you can barely take a steadying breath before he pushes into you, hot over your tongue, not gentle in using you, nudging towards the back of your mouth. His cock is always so surprising in size, especially when he does this, showing you no mercy. Gripping your hair and starting a rhythm that pushes deeper on every stroke until he holds your nose pressed up to his body, filling your throat. You want to cough, speak, do anything, but he holds steady, his scent so potent.

With your hands tied as they are, you have no control over how he uses you, but you are determined not to give you safety action, to take the punishment he wants to meter out. Your clit throbs as your lungs burn for air—heady and intoxicating. Still, he does not allow you reprieve.

“Look up at me.” You tilt your eyes up as water gathers at the corner of your lashes. His thumb swipes through them. “Finally, she is silent and obedient,” he chuckles richly, his cock vibrating in your throat, “and looking so pretty on her knees, taking all of me.”

He pulls halfway out, and you inhale sharply before he pushes back in with a groan, and you are again unable to breathe. You want this so much your thighs dampen, and you look back up at him with wide, pleading eyes, playing the part of the victim you most definitely are not.

“Take it,” he stutters gruffly as you feel your throat convulse slightly, wanting to gag. “Stay down,” he orders, crushing your face into his body, his balls against your chin. You feel a pulse in his cock and then a sour tang, that little salty bead of pre-cum sliding down your gullet.

Just as you begin to struggle for air and feel woozy light-headedness, he pulls out entirely, ropes of saliva webbing from your mouth to his glistening tip as you gasp deeply, your throat burning.

“Get on your hands and knees and crawl to that bench,” he grits out, and you do as told, taking a few crawled paces to the padded leather bench in the middle of the room as he loosely refastens his trousers. Your deep wracking breathing sounds so loud, even in the wood-panelled room, as he tells you to climb up and straddle it face down.

“If you move an inch or make a noise, this will be much worse for you,” he threatens.“You will be whipped, and then you will take my cock. Maybe then you will finally remember who you belong to.”

“Please, sir, no,” your protesting murmur is weak and raspy as your throat recovers, but you turn slightly to meet his gaze challengingly, eyes blazing. You had better fuck me so hard, you mouth silently at him.

He twists his face into a bemused pout. I will, you wilful little one, he mouths back.

“Now, do I need to tie you to the bench, too?” he warns, but you get no chance to challenge it as, almost instantly, more rope loops around your back and under the bench you lay on.

Fire flares in your belly; he has never tied you down so wholly. You cannot wiggle free of this; you are entirely at his mercy. The leather sticks slightly to your heated cheek as a hand spanks a glancing blow onto your left bottom cheek, and you groan and push your hips down into the padded leather. Everywhere between your legs tingles, aches even, and feels hot, getting off on the thrill of submitting to his will, the utter commanding way he handles you. You need him to put his mark on you. To make it bigger, better than his brother’s.

“Make it hurt,” you sigh, barely a breath. But you know he hears it from the sharp inhale he makes.

You look back at him pleadingly. It could be the look of a captive pleading for mercy from their captor; it could be the look of a willing participant in a provocative game, conveying just how much they want this. Indeed, it’s both, so many layers swirling in this erotically charged moment.

“My girl, you will feel it and remember tonight,” his voice a low forewarning.

You twist to watch Anthony walk away and snag a riding crop from the selection hanging on nearby hooks, heart speeding up as he walks near your head, brandishing the implement. The cool leather tongue brushes the nape of your neck. He traces it slowly, achingly so, down the length of your spine to where your bound hands lay. Your body shivers in response, and he chuckles, seemingly delighted at how he can elicit such reactions from you.

He leans low over your back, the crop raising from your skin. “Now you can't run and get help; no one is coming to rescue you from me,” he growls. Something in the tone suggests bitter experience.

There is a faint, almost whistling sound in the air then you feel a sting lashing across your left buttock. The strength of this first blow is sharp, taking you by surprise, and you yelp in response.

“Be quiet!” he orders roughly, grabbing your hair. “Or do I need to gag you as well?”

“Please, sir, don't,” your lips plead while your mind hopes he might. You enjoy it when he gags you, especially with his cravat, as he did just a few days ago during your last encounter at Aubrey Hall. That fateful night you physically bumped into his younger brother.

Anthony releases your hair as Benedict's voice and face fill your mind. A similar blow to your right bottom cheek brings you back into the room, and you groan loudly, grinding against the bench, feeling the rope around your waist resisting your movements. He is pacing around you in a circle, his footsteps echoing up the walls; you pant in anticipation, trying to crane your head to track his movements.

The crop tickles your open, bound hand, then traces up the inside of your arm, so ticklish you try to tamp down a giggle. Then you gasp as he flicks the crop on your upper arm across the flesh of your muscle there. The leather tongue drags back down to your hands, then swaps to the other, tracing up your arm in that prickly way until, again, there is a flick to the other bicep. You sense it's coming but still whimper slightly at the lick.

It's a guessing game about what he will do next. These flicks on your arms have been light, not like the force he used on your bottom, but enough to sting and keep you on your toes.

“I do so enjoy the slight of you bound,” he hums, almost absent-minded, as the crop trails back down your arm over your hands, your fingertips and onto your lower spine.

“Please, sir, don’t hurt me,” you play up, panting with anticipation about where he might strike next.

“What part of ‘be quiet’ are you not understanding?” he utters through clenched teeth; it’s all the warning you get before the crop reigns a sharp blow onto the back of your thigh, right below where it meets your bottom.

You hiss and writhe as the crop insinuates between your legs, encouraging them further apart.

“If you keep talking, I will crop you right here,” he cautions, running the smooth leather tab over your labia. You fold your lower lip into your mouth to censor any response you might have. “Good girl,” he intones, and the crop is gone.

You are almost relaxing into the soft bench when he strikes a lick onto your ribs, it's not hard, but it takes you by surprise; your yelp is instinctual. Then with an almost predatory gleam in his normally beguiling eyes, he rains little blows across your back. Short, sharp lashes that sting, not hurting but not pleasant. You flinch at every blow but feel a paradoxical sense of relief with each one, the discomfort as cleansing as it is arousing.

It's when the crop disappears between your thighs that you tense slightly. But he does not flick it against your pussy; he holds it over the spot you assume are the teeth marks, his breathing uneven. Then with a determined glint, he lashes the area hard, and you feel redness instantly bloom there as you cry out. He has done exactly what you wanted; he has covered up Benedict's mark on you with one of his own, bigger, better, bolder—so very Anthony. It almost feels akin to a twisted game of one-upmanship you will wear on your skin for a few days.

Then he flicks little marks on the back of your thighs and buttocks. Again each one feels like absolution and a step higher towards a blissful state where you float outside your body, utterly pliant to his demands and treatment.

“Stay with me,” he dictates.

He senses you slipping into a subspace but wants you alert and responsive to every move he makes.

“Who do you belong to?” his question is a bark.

“You.” It's a reflex.

“And only me, do you understand me? I will not share,” he grits out.

“Yes sir,” you slur as the crop makes one last resounding blow on your cheek, so forceful you scream.

There is a clatter as the crop falls to the ground, and he is tearing off his clothing as you watch covetously and panting with anticipation, your skin burning hot in the places he has cropped you.

“No sir, please don’t take me,” you fib with a small smile, catching sight of his delicious, engorged cock as he strips.

“Oh, but you are mine to take,” he laughs menacingly as he rounds behind you, kneeling on the floor where he lines up to enter you.

With a grunt from him and a cry from you, he plunges into your body; the stretching invasion always steals your breath. The artifice of the game you have been playing falls away as you sigh his name and murmur for him to please take you hard, wanting him to fuck all the guilt out of you.

And he does what you need. He shows no mercy as he grasps the rope around your back in his fist so it digs into the sensitive flesh of your sides and begins a punishing rhythm. Thrusting with such force, your whole body rolls, the bench squeaking in protest. You struggle to form thoughts and just quieten your mind, lean into the intensity of it—allowing your body to be used, taken, finding pleasure in your passivity.

His hand spanks a glancing blow over your left cheek that he has left flecked with crop marks, and you squeal at the layering of this sharp pang over the dull throb from his earlier discipline.

“Keep quiet,” he hisses, leaning over your back and biting the nape of your neck. His incisors grabbing flesh and pulling, a pinching searing pang you know will mean teeth marks and wearing scarves to cover up until they fade.

You are shocked at how fast your body is hurtling towards a climax, your clit squashed into the rounded end of the bench as he fucks into you. You start to pant little noises and writhe in your bindings, your wrists still in the small of your back, starting to feel pins and needles as your movement causes the rope to dig in harder.

“You are so very close,” he observes, suddenly holding still, buried deep inside you. “That will not do,” his tone almost disappointed, “do not come yet”.

You fight the urge, your pussy squeezed tight around him, fighting the little convulsions you feel, every inch of his cock engraving on your walls like he is leaving his imprint inside you.

“I mean it,” he warns, “you will not come until I permit it.”

“Yes sir,” you croak, gusting hot breaths into the bench and trying to calm your body. To stave off your orgasm until he allows it.

Then there are fingers resting on your clit, and you inhale sharply, twisting in your binding to look at him over your shoulder, something wild in his manner, his eyes glittering.

“No,” he says firmly as he teases your bud with expertise, edging you but refusing permission to let you break.

“This is not fair,” you groan, puffing hard as he begins to fuck you again, this time with an unhurried rhythm, withdrawing then surging in as his fingertips expertly hook under your hood to massage your engorged little nub.

“Fair is not my concern,” he dismisses, “what is my concern is demanding your utter obedience.”

Every ounce of your body is aflame, the tension of holding to a precipice as each welt on your body throbs in sympatico with your clit.

“Please,” you mumble, unsure you can stem the tide building; obey his rules.

His grip on your bum tightens as he spears into you roughly, making you grunt as your whole body rocks with the force. Boring into you now, unforgiving in his mounting of you, he once again wraps the rope that lashes you down around his knuckles, ensuring you gasp at the harsh binding, the rough fibres repeatedly rubbing until small welts appear.

He is setting an almost punishing pace, ploughing into your body repeatedly as you listen to his panting breaths, desperate for his consent to release all the tension, almost an unbearable weight.

He spanks your right cheek for good measure. You moan, and the pleasure-pain that blossoms makes your break impossible to fight anymore. Your eyes screw shut as his fingers slide over your sensitive bud, the grip of his spanking hand now banded around the crest of your hipbone, strong enough to leave more marks on your delicate flesh.

“You may,” he pants, perhaps sensing the inevitable.

You call his name and bury your nose into the bench, your teeth snarling and biting against the leather as your body, denied over and over, finally relents, your pussy palpitating around him so harshly you almost propel him from your body. Each synapse firing so hard your mind blanks out, a snapping of something inside that is your tether to reality. Then you are floating, somewhere far away, on a cloud of throbbing skin and pumping heartbeats, the pain transmogrifying into something beautiful, like amnesty, appeasement, peace.

You are barely cognisant as he rapidly withdraws from your body with a shout, spilling his seed onto your aching cheeks, the splash of it somehow both stinging and soothing the ache, bringing you back into the room as he slumps over your back, head between your shoulder blades.

For a few moments, there is nothing but the joint sound of your laboured breathing and the creek of the rope as you shift lightly under his weight.

“That was… truly something else,” he pants, drawing upright to untie your body and wrists delicately.

“It really was,” you agree, as he rubs the sore spots on your wrists from the chafe of the rope.

“Thank you. For giving me your trust like that,” Anthony says quietly, sincerely. “It is a rare thing to play like this…. Very rare indeed.”

He looks so thoughtful you don't know what to say in response. “Any time, Anthony. It was a very cathartic experience for me,” you admit honestly. “Something so freeing about playing that role for you,” you clarify before he asks what you mean, Benedict’s face flashing in your mind, guilt flooding your heart.

He jumps up, gathers a padded blanket from a hook, and lays it on the ground, pulling you into an embrace atop it. You settle into his arms, allowing your body to feel soothed by his idle, gentle strokes as he speaks again.

“I have come to realise that you are chasing challenging experiences. And my darling girl, I always want to be the one, the only one, worthy and able to do that, to challenge you in all the ways you may need,” he offers as he nuzzles your temple, dropping a light kiss there.

“That's so funny; Benedict was just saying the same last night,” you giggle lightly, your idle tongue running away from you in your post-orgasmic haze.

“You talk to my brother about such matters?” He freezes and sounds strange as he says it, and instantly you wince inside but try not to let it show.

“Sometimes he and I talk. Of you and I, our compatibility, our courtship,” you attempt breezy nonchalance, gesturing into the air. “We bumped into each other at the Trowbridge Ball, and perhaps I had too much champagne,” you offer, relieved that partial truths and alcohol may explain how you came to talk of such matters with his brother.

“But you said this was last night?” Anthony argues, slowly twisting and sitting up away from you. “And the Trowbridge Ball was two nights ago. I should know; I was not well that day.”

Bile rises in your throat. You try not to let your panic show on your face, but you suspect your acting skills may be somewhat lacking. “Oh, of course, I… I am mixing up my days. The season is such a whirl, is it not?” You overshoot, mugging a smile too large and too brittle, clutching at proverbial straws.

You sit up and instinctively grab your chemise to cover yourself up, feeling the need for a physical layer of protection, your skin registering a cold draft that breezes along the floor, making you shiver. There is a few moments of silence where you curl your lip under your teeth. Scared, you will slip up more, knowing Anthony is too smart not to see it.

“I thought I warned you to stay away from him,” he intones, his voice going low.

“Come on, Anthony. He is your family; why would I not talk to your family? To the outside world, at least, we are courting.” You try to appeal to his logical side.

“Do you converse with Colin? Do you talk such intimate things with him?” He bristles, and you stay silent. Knowing what he points out is true. You have barely spoken more than five words to Colin, all mundane. “Yes. As I thought,” he adds, more than a little bitter. “And I find it strange that I went to call on you yesterday afternoon to apologise for being unable to accompany you to the ball, only to be told you were not home. That you were, in fact, receiving art lessons from my brother. Indeed, your family valet seemed most perplexed that I was not aware, seeing as I had apparently arranged the whole thing.”

Oh god.

He knows.

He knows something is happening between you and Benedict. And he has kept it in until now. Again you are tumbling over that waterfall. Suddenly, so much of tonight takes on more nuance than you could possibly have imagined: the desperation, the possessiveness, the want to tie you down and punish you hard, the now-weighted phrase that no one is coming to rescue you. Part of you wants to run away, be sick to your stomach, but part of you wants to stay and fight.

“Anthony…” you appeal, not knowing what else to say.

“Don't,” he chides, and you feel him building up his walls, brick by brick, cutting you off. “But thank you for confirming what I didn't want to know. You may leave,” he adds bitterly, and you can see untold hurt in his eyes.

You can see that trying to reason with him is a lost cause at this moment. So silently, you pull your stays on loosely over your chemise and then your dress, the initial panic giving way to a melancholy sinking into your bones about how he is closing himself off. You slip out of the stable door and don't allow yourself the luxury of a glance back, or even a tear, as you walk the few hundred yards back to the recital venue and your awaiting carriage.

You suspect that were it any other man, Anthony would not be so very agitated—his younger brother very much his Achilles heel, right from that first warning at Aubrey Hall. Perhaps he sees something in you that is a kindred spirit to Benedict more than to himself and fears the choice you may make. Little does he know, you crave them equally and more than ever, even as you feel uncertain about where you stand with either brother now. Both knowing of your dalliance with the other, and neither happy about it—precisely what you didn't want. In hindsight, it was never going to be easy playing off both brothers. But you never expected Anthony’s reaction to be so emotional, the hidden depths he keeps so well concealed under the mask of responsibility.

And things are about to get even more complicated when Benedict sees what Anthony has done….

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld@eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog

#anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton

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popatochisssp · 6 months

Note

Would it be too much to ask what kind of jobs the new skeles might have since you already shared bram would be a groundskeeper at a cemetery?

Looks like I never officially did this one for Wave 2, just Wave 1 over here.

So, while we’re at it, let's do 2 and 3!

Ash (Undergloom Sans): He’s semi-unemployed, or self-employed depending on how you look at it. He busks, playing his trombone out on the street and accepting donations from anyone who feels so inclined. He likes playing music and the idea of brightening peoples’ days in the middle of their commute, so the money doesn’t really matter to him. Sometimes he picks up small gigs at local venues, mostly by word of mouth, and eventually he breaks into the tutoring scene—teaching his favorite instrument to young aspiring musicians who find the same joy in it that he does.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): He works as a professor at the local community college, teaching anthropology. He’s passionate about the subject and can’t think of anything he’d rather do than share it with a classroom of humans who probably have no idea how interesting they really are. If only one student walked away from his class with a new appreciation for what humanity’s all about then he’s fulfilled—but he tends to send a lot more away with that than just one, since he’s a very popular, friendly, and accessible teacher.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): He’s self-employed, knitting blankets at home and selling them online. He doesn’t need a job at all, between the Queen and his brother, money’s not an issue, but he’d go crazy if he didn’t have something to do all day, and nobody wants to see what he looks like when he goes crazy. He takes commissions often, but other times he just makes things according to whatever he’s feeling and what color yarn he has handy and sells to whoever feels like buying it.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): He works as a physical therapist. He more or less taught himself to walk again after losing his leg, and a second time after getting a replacement, so he very personally understands the need that exists for people who are injured and want to get back to their normal life—but maybe lack the discipline, the knowledge, or the tools to take that journey solo. He’s hard on his patients and sadistically merciless, but his success rate in terms of mobility recovered is very high and any complaints after the fact are begrudging at worst.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): He’s a home baker, making cakes and small pastries for a small but growing client base. He likes the freedom of getting to pursue his passions seriously and to be his own boss, set his own hours, screen his own clients, et cetera. He puts a lot of time and care into what he makes, both in terms of flavor and decoration, and finds nothing quite so satisfying as a repeat customer or a glowing review and recommendation to someone new.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Freelance programming is what he does for cash. It was something he could both learn how to do and actually do remotely, without the need for more than the bare minimum of in-person contact. He likes problem-solving, and complaining about the problem-solving, and the field is pretty much always in demand so if he’s bored of certain kinds of jobs, or sick of the person giving him the jobs, he can jump ship at any time and be a contractor someplace else.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): He’s a boxer, more amateur than pro so he doesn’t make a ton doing it, at least not consistently, but he likes fighting and draws in a decent crowd by being a bit of a spectacle (a blind skeleton in the ring) so the entertainment value is worth something. Aside from that, eventually, he fills in for his brother as a combination business partner/agent/accountant, helping him get jobs and keep clients and manage the money he makes doing so.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): He’s unemployed for a long while, but ultimately breaks into professional photography, with a specialty in travel photographs. He likes taking pictures and getting to see the world in the process, and it helps that it’s a family business so he and his brother have pretty much full control over what jobs he takes and for how much. He doesn’t really concern himself with the money numbers, though, he just likes filling out his portfolio with gorgeous locales all around the world.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): He does a lot of odd jobs, all over the place, generally (things that are considered) unskilled labor—bussing tables, janitorial work, desk clerking, that kind of thing. He doesn’t like the thought of getting too stuck into any one thing and being unable to try something else out later if it doesn’t work out, and there’s something to be said for the satisfaction of being closely connected to the results of your labor. Sometime down the line he will end up sticking in one career, as a dealer for a casino, because it combines his social, charming nature with his sharp eye and quick hands, but until then he’s happy to bounce around.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): He’s a bookkeeper at a nondescript company. He’s organized and thorough with record-keeping and double-checking data, and he likes putting those skills to use to make sure his employer’s finances and transactions all balance out at the end of the day. Some might find it boring work and he could almost certainly qualify for a much more ‘prestigious’ job doing something else, but he’s satisfied having a job that doesn’t require all of his effort and brainpower, so he can save some of that for his personal life and private interests.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): He’s a nomad, a wanderer, he has no job. He’s a robot in the shape of a monster—ostensibly still a monster, even so—in a world full of humans that as yet believe monsters don’t exist, so even if he wanted a job, getting one would be logistically difficult. Luckily, he feels no special need to be gainfully employed and just spends his time wandering around and taking in the world. If he needs something, he’ll either just take it or use one of his brother’s accounts to pay for it.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): He’s a performer, a disc jockey who mixes, makes, and plays music to crowds at clubs, raves, and discos, anywhere he’s welcome. He takes advantage of the perception of his holographic form as an artist’s gimmick, like Daft Punk, Hatsune Miku, dead musicians projected onto stages to play posthumously… In his defense, that last one is sort of exactly what he is, except he didn’t really start making music until after he died. Still, he has fun doing it and adores the fame he’s steadily gaining as a popular, cutting-edge technology music act.

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): He does aura readings for people. For those interested to know, he shares his perception of their colors and the flow of energy in and around them, and just generally describes the sense he gets about a person. What he does is really more of a soul read than an aura read, so a lot of the color meanings and terminology he uses contrast with the kind of readings his clients may get from humans who practice something a little bit different. Still, he’s earnest in his desire to help people understand themselves and their energies and emotions, so he gets a lot of recommendations and repeat clientele who trust he’s the real deal.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): He works as an event planner, organizing gatherings, arranging vendors, booking venues, the whole nine. He has a great reputation for making things go smoothly and always seems to be able to talk out bumps and snags before they ever become a major problem. He also maintains great relationships with people in the industry and delights in having connections just about everywhere in case he needs to call on a favor to make something happen for a client. He's got the magic touch and the silver (gold) tongue that makes everything fall into place just so.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): He works as a clerk at a pawn shop. He gets to handle a lot of interesting items and assess roughly how much they’d be worth, and he’s pretty good at haggling and negotiating with people who might not agree with said assessments. Sometimes people will come in with broken stuff they wouldn’t be able to get too much for, but maybe he can cut ‘em a deal, fix it up on his own dime and if they come back for it, great—and if they don’t, his boss’ll be happy to have something that works to sell to somebody else at a markup, how ‘bout it? He does a brisk business and both sides of the counter love him.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): He’s in construction. He’s huge, strong, takes direction well, and diligently follows rules and protocols—he’s an ideal fit for it. He likes to work hard and be able to see a job come together, knowing he had a part in it and being satisfied with the quality of his contribution. He especially likes to take every safety training and equipment certification course he can attend because he likes knowing what the rules are and being specifically told how certain procedures are run, machines operated, et cetera. He’s very likely to be apprenticed in as a foreman if not the inheritor someday of the construction business by its current owner for his work ethic and dedication, but that’ll be a long ways from now.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): He works as an independent auditor and combs through companies’ records, internal and external documentation, processes, and accounting and ensures everything is being done in accordance with industry standards. In short, he shows up, demands to see everything they have, and looks through it to see if they’ve lied, did something wrong, or lost information they weren’t supposed to. Sometimes he can do this remotely but other times he has to travel out to a physical office somewhere and sit down with a bunch of stuffed file cabinets, and he really doesn’t mind either way. He likes the work and he’s good at it—maybe because he’s good at it—and he finds it satisfying to catch the tiniest little misses and errors to demand an accounting of them.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus): He’s a trail maintenance worker for Ebott National Park. He walks the paths and hiking trails and makes sure they’re safe and unobstructed for visitors, as well as whatever odd jobs in the area that happen to come up—looking out for invasive species, helping with a bench install, directing lost tourists, that kinda thing. It’s not especially glamorous work but it’s pretty much exactly where he wants to be and he’s happy to do it, probably wouldn’t pick any other job in the world…except maybe to volunteer for a seasonal fire-watch position and do pretty much the exact same thing, but more isolated and with a big cool tower to sit in.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): He works as a mortician at a local funeral home. He generally isn’t expected (read: allowed) to deal with grieving families, that’s more the funeral director’s purview, but he works behind the scenes embalming, processing, and otherwise preparing the dead for their final party and last ride home. He has a strong stomach—or rather, no stomach at all—and doesn’t get squeamish or emotional about the dead, so that works out. They also let him work nights so he has several long, quiet hours of methodically going through the routine with no (living) humans around to irritate him or vice-versa. Sounds like a good gig to him.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): Yes, still a groundskeeper for the cemetery and loving it. It was something he kind of fell into through his brother, when he didn’t really know what he wanted to do on the Surface, but his brother sends dead humans off to their final resting place and said final resting place was looking for someone to dig holes, mind the grass, keep everything looking neat and nice—and that’s certainly something he can do! He also works nights, being that monsters are almost entirely nocturnal these days, so he’s also an unintentional scarecrow deterrent to teenagers sneaking in late for partying or spooky dares when they see a slim, bony silhouette materialize out of the shadows with a shovel in hand, asking if they’re just visiting or thinking about moving in.…

#anonymous #headcanons #undergloom #horrorfell #horrorswap #horrorswapfell #gastertale #transcendtale #ascendswap #underfell fruition #swapfell fruition #descendtale

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minty-drop · 2 months

Note

Hello! Is it okay if you write Shadow Milk Cookie x Faerie Reader (romantically)? Thank you for reading my request and hope you have a good day! <3

Sure thing! This one was a little rushed but I hope that’s alright?

͙͘͡★ Shadow milk cookie x faerie reader

Tw: very slight angst, forbidden romance, mentions of corruption

Type: general romance head-canons, romantically themes, non established relationship

Delicate wings, but a mighty soul is what a faerie was. A soldier of the land of beast yeast, in there quiet and cozy little kingdom.

Though this kingdom held a secret. Where 5 beast were sealed in the large trunk of the silver tree. Every faerie knew of the tale of the 5 beast, the once saviours of beast yeast. knowledge, volition, happiness, change and solitary, turned to sour dough, vile and sinister cookies who crumbled the weak beneath there power for the entertainment of selfishness.

This should have scarred you away from the silver tree. Struck fear in you. It did for a long time. But when the tree split, allowing the darkness of this world to spew out again, you could only feel curious after the encounter. Your questions never answer by the guardian about the event. Questions that you had he could not answer. Questions that banged in your mind like a brick being dropped onto your dough. The knowledge you craved, the guardian could not give your satisfactory. Each time he failed to give you an answer, the more you pondered everything around you to the smallest of details.

And in desperation, you against all of faeries kinda rules and nature, ventured to the tree, in the time when the sun was not longer out, the sky swallowed with a inky black, stars shining bright and the moon high. The illuminating celestial objects bright hues caste down apon the thick tree tops, leaking down onto the soil of the land.

The path was bright into your sight by the light, which was covered in vines until you made it to a large open space, a king, silver path above you. Spreading your silky clear wings, you guided yourself up onto its cold surface.

The tree was absolutely beautiful up close. The trunks stood strong and perched, roots stretching far beneath the soil. Branches twisting and turning in all distractions, branching into even more complex structures. The glow of it was dim but noticeable, how could anyone not want to stare at its beautiful light.

In hesitation, finding it hard to move from your spot in fear of being caught out at this hour. you hurriedly scudded a-crossed the large platform to its wide base.

Feeling the bark under breath your hand, it was cold, much like you expected. The texture was almost as if it was coated in a film of silver like it’s name. Leaning against it, you began to ponder if this really was a good idea to ask of knowledge from one of the most sinister beings to Rome earth bread. Everyone knows the story, how all the beast had turned into there opposites. In which once in particular help the knowledge of 1000.

It took courage to utter any words, but you managed to muster out a shaking and quiet hello to anything, anyone who could be able to answer your questions…silence was the only thing the responded, accompanied by the quiet chips and clicks of bird in the tree tops.

This was pointless, what a stupid idea. Asking a god like cookie for there knowledge, and this being was one of the beasts. We’re they even still alive? Maybe they perished during there time in the tree. Knowledge now turned to deceit, everyone knew that. But..maybe if you offered something. Something valuable, maybe just maybe they would give you something true.

A sly, cocky voice, just barely able to hear admitted from the dense bark.

“Hello dearyyyy” the y drawn out with sickening laughter.

Jumping out of your skin is what you could call the reaction, bolting away from the tree a good 6 seat in fear. Something really responded. One of them really responded to your feeble attempts at communication.

You leaned against the tree again,trying to listen for a sound, anything. But there was nothing. And as childish as it sounded, you knocked a small pattern on the bark….silence yet again….before the same pattern was repeated back to you.

This is how you met the cocky, sly and funny cookie, one who terrorized the old era was now melting at your ‘touch’. The trees bark kept you away from him, but that didn’t stop him from speaking to you.

You knew it was wrong, a faerie and a god. Nothing less a god that had killed thousands, thousands of innocent souls. But you couldn’t stop yourself from fall for him, sneaking away from you home to visit this locked away soul.

He loved you, as close as he could get to loving someone even if he never had show it well. he wanted you. He wanted to corrupt your being so you could truly see how much he cared for you.

#crk x reader #crk #cr kingdom #crk beast yeast #crk spoilers #crk shadow milk cookie #x reader

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chryblossomjjk · 1 year

Text

glimpse of us (old concept) | jjk

→pairing: drummer!jk x reader

→rating/genre: m/18+ | was gonna be ex2l, smut, angst, fluff

→word count: 1k

→warnings: cursing, implied infidelity, jk smokes ciggys </3

→summary: You shouldn't have gone to the bar tonight, but you couldn't resist the urge to see Jungkook one last time.

→notes: ok so lmao !!! this is an early early concept of this fic. i wrote this before i even started my blog. i've turned glimpse of us into something COMPLETELY different, so this portion would've never seen the light of day. i sort of broke my ideas for this fic into other fics and wips (which u can probs tell if u've read my masterlist lol). but i found it in my drafts and thought it would be fun to share! and who knows... if u guys really like the concept kiki might consider making this into it's own thing (with a new name obvi). sorry if there’s typos !! tis was just a draft 💗

The static sound of muffled conversations was deafening. The low rumble of the blaring bass felt sharp against your spine as you leaned against the brick wall of the club. The cool night provided no relief to your burning skin. You inhale deeply, trying to calm the pounding in your chest.

What the fuck are you doing?

Shaky hands tug on the zipper of your shoulder bag, rummaging through the clutter until you find your phone.

11:45 p.m.

SAN still can’t believe u ditched me for shots w ur evil coworkers

SAN kidding lol have fun tonight babe

SAN call me when you get home so I know you’re safe

The sick feeling of guilt began bubbling in your stomach again. Especially when you unlocked your phone and were slapped in the face by your home screen. A picture of you and San at his cousin’s wedding last month.

The circumstances that led you to the bar tonight were questionable, to say the least. Sure, it was a decent place. The modern vibes lured in college students every weekend with the promise of live entertainment and a possible bathroom quicky afterward. You weren’t here for the ladder.

Friday nights were usually spent in the tub; soaking your sore body after a long week of catering to bridezillas and their overbearing mothers. Your boyfriend of three months, San, was currently at the campus library studying for finals. You should be too, however, you couldn’t resist the magnetic force that brought you here tonight. The pull personified as a post you stumbled upon while scrolling through your Instagram feed:

BTS LIVE. FRIDAY @9PM.

This was for closure. After tonight, you would purge your mind of the thing that held it captive for the past two years. You just needed to see the band one last time before you finally severed your connection to them, or more so, your connection with one specific member…

You shook your head, trying to erase your mind and focus on the task at hand; getting the fuck home. Your apartment wasn’t too far from your current location. Only about a ten-minute walk. But the heels you had been wearing all day fucking killed. Maybe that was your punishment.

You open the Uber app, but before you order yourself a ride, your screen stalls and fades to black.

“Fuck!” You whisper yell and stomp your black stiletto on the concrete. Very dramatic of you. In your defense, it had been a long, emotionally taxing, day. You wanted nothing more than to cry on your shower floor and send all your pent-up emotions down the drain. You pressed your palms into your eyes, head slumping down. The tears were already threatening to pour. This was a mistake.

You take another breath, trying to collect yourself. The oxygen gets caught in your throat when your momentary breakdown is interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice.

“Are you okay?”

As if the night couldn’t get any worse.

You turned your head to follow the sound, hoping the voice was a figment of your imagination. A cruel joke your mind was playing on you for coming here tonight.

It wasn’t.

Lifting your head and looking to the side, your eyes follow the sound.

Jungkook.

He’s sitting on the ground, back against the wall behind him. No regard for the gorgeous red fabric of his pants and matching jacket that his newfound success allowed him to afford. His head was tilted downward. The clicks of his lighter cut through the silent night air as he struggled to light the cigarette between his pink lips.

Although you’d never admit it, you had been keeping up with his social media accounts since the breakup. An entire two years ago. But nothing could’ve prepared you for when he took his seat behind the maroon drum set on the right side of the stage.

His once choppy bangs were now long and wavy, parted in the middle. You hadn’t noticed the undercut from your spot in the back of the crowd, watching him drum his heart out on stage. It was clear now, the downward angle of his head giving you a glimpse as his hair splayed over his eyes.

His chest was peeking out of the animal print blouse he was wearing. The old Jungkook would have never worn something so flashy.

Your Jungkook…

He had grown since the last time you saw him. That much was apparent. The gym selfies he frequently posted let you know he had taken on a new hobby. It was paying off too. His arms had filled out, bulging against the material of his coat. Nothing like the noodles you used to tease him for when you would watch him practice combos in his parents’ basement.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook spoke louder this time. The end of his sentence was cut off by a cough as he exhaled a puff of smoke. He had never been one to mind his own business. Always had something to say. A blessing and a curse. Currently, that quality of him you found endearing felt like a hex as he flipped the black strands out of his face, lifting his head in search of a reaction from the person ignoring him.

You didn’t miss the way his defined brows scrunched up in the middle when his eyes met yours.

Big and round. Still warm and innocent despite his progression from a boy to a man. The passage of time did nothing to diminish their light. All that passion. All that fire. They were the same eyes that haunted your mind, making your own well up with tears at the memory of them. The same eyes that you pretended you saw when you looked into San’s, hoping to get a glimpse of what was.

“__?”

You had no time to run. No time to craft an explanation as to why the fuck you were here. Frozen in place. You parted your glossed lips to speak, but nothing came out.

“__, what the fuck?” He didn’t sound angry. Didn’t look it either. Why would he be? Your break up was civil, a mutual decision. Your lives have become parallel. His band was taking off. You were busy with college. Your paths couldn’t intersect anymore.

He seemed more confused than anything.

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unexpectedbrickattack · 1 year

Note

Now hold on a gosh-diddly-darn minute, I noticed the entire time talking about a tipsy Peppino no one thought to ask this but what about tipsy GUS? I mean we saw him a li'l tipsy in the fastfood saloon escape, can I hear your thoughts about that/him please? Have they ever gotten tipsy together?

(I just like the mental image of the two alone, just being real giggly with each other (Gus just says "hey" and Peppi starts giggling which sets Gus off giggling) and being sappy goofs with each other <3)

HEEHEE u are so right and i am so sorry for withholding this information from the masses 😭

My homebrew for gnomes is that they are simultaneously hardy folk (able to eat virtually anything and immune to most poisonous creatures) AND extremely intolerant of alcohol. Theres no reason for that, i just like it alot :)

So Gus would be an extreme lightweight 😭 its SO bad; he cant speak clearly at all, he cant walk straight, he has the Worst hangovers and he wont remember anything from the previous night. The line between ‘pleasantly buzzed’ and ‘blackout drunk’ is so thin that Gus doesnt even try social drinking. If he MUST drink, it will be in the comfort of his own barebones apartment 😭 at least, until Peppino started hanging out with vigilante and his crew.

Gustavo LIKES drinking! Its just hard to find a good balance, and THATS bc he simply doesnt know how alcohol works. Peppino is like:

“Look ‘ere. All of these have a number somewhere on the bottle. Or a percentage. Lower the number, the better it is for you.”

Gustavo is like !!! Oh!!! That is very helpful! What would you recommend for me then?

“Probably…2-5%. 5-10 proof. Small 'a numbers.”

Gustavo nods, interested. He points at a bottle he recognizes from the last time he came here and got shitfaced. “That one up there; do you know how ‘a strong that one is? Or should i ask the bartender?”

Peppino squints at the company label. “45%.”

“Oh!” That makes sense. “Well what do you usually drink?”

“70%.”

“Oh!”

Peppino recommends some of the LIGHT light wines, the ones that barely have a hint of anything. Theyre sweet (which Gustavo loves so very very much) and for the first time in a very long time, he Stays buzzed instead of immediately faceplanting into being blackout drunk.

Hes very. Playful. Is what Peppino would describe a tipsy Gustavo. He hesitates to use the term ‘flirty’ because that is not whats happening. But hes like. Clearly entertaining some gruff looking men like five times his size as they ramble drunkenly about random shit like ‘waow….thasso cool…and then what happened???’

Its funny at first bc Gustavo is so fucking TINY that all you can see of him, in the group of men as they yapyapyap about some inane shit that Gustavo wont even remember, is his tiny little tail 😭 It is less funny, however, when Peppino catches himself rambling about work and Gustavo is like (ears perked; tail swaying) ‘mmhmm. wrow…thats ‘a kinda nice…what else did you do??’ Peppino is like *buffering* (‘something is happening right now that will need to be addressed at a later time. Do not forget DO NOT FORGET. URGENT!!!!’)

Otherwise Gustavo is just a silly guy. Vigilante will make a joke and he laughs so low and deep that he sounds downright villainous 😭 Peppino will point out something stupid on the TV and like hours later Gus is like ‘…heeeuehuuueee…..do u remember [insert stupid reference] and Peppino will giggle. Peppinos affinity for throwing around ilus are met with Gustavo going ‘😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊’ with absolutely no way to even pretend to mask it.

Gustavo has fun being out in the saloon but he really enjoys drinking in Peppinos house. Its not nearly as loud as the saloon and theres usually homecooked foods like breads and soups (Because Peppino stress-cooks ALL the time). Brick gets to stay indoors instead of waiting outside the saloon, so Gustavo gets to mess with his soft fur contentedly. He just gets to be cozy; its quite nice 😊

#answered #chattin #///#////#/////#gustavo #peppino #pepstavo #alcohol #drinking #i still have to answer that anon asking about pepstavo hcs so i hope this helps a little fhjdbdjdndkd #additional context is that; gnomes stay mostly in the forest. so theres not alot of outsider influence #gustavos a bit of a traveller; he likes exploring and seeing whats outside the forest. and he usually comes back with goodies #alcohol is just one of those things he tried during a trip or two and it always fucked him up #never looked into it; some shit is best left alone lmao #unrelated to that #but the alt though that peppino had; i was going to say (something el gee bee tee is happening…)#which made me laugh but i cant make him say stuff like that fhdjbdjdjdjd #also note that Gustavo does not drink often at all; he will accompany peppino to the saloon and let him get tipsy w his friends #he will entertain their silly shenanigans and bring Peppino home when theyre done #and if hes hanging out at peppinos house he will lounge around listening to peppino blabber about nothing #and drink some ciders :)#he only drinks like. 10% of the time. hes a social drinker but ONLY when he feels like it #and ONLY if peppino is with him #ALSO ALSO #IMPORTANT #you must know that Gustavo is NEVER sitting while in the saloon #he is standing on his barstool w his hands on the countertop

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deltaengineering · 27 days

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Winter Anime 2024: Payday

Metallic Rouge

Metallic Rouge hasn't ended yet, but I am quite certain that at this point it's unsalvageable. I can give it one thing: it's going for a specific ~vibe~, and nails it. Why anyone would want to evoke the ~vibe~ of "deservedly forgotten 2000s sci-fi seasonal" is beyond me (I won't provide an example, because if I could remember it it wasn't forgettable enough), but there you go. Truly, Bones have outdone themselves with this celebration of their 25 year legacy.

It's hard to even start, but the one thing everyone is certain about is as good as any: The plotting and structure of this show is a complete mess. Some consider this "ambitious", but I don't think an ambition of "let's throw in every half baked thing we can think of and try to glue it together with proper nouns" is worth celebrating. We've got insipid and illogical worldbuilding that ultimately goes nowhere, brave political statements on the level of "slavery sure is bad but don't be rude about it", metaphor bombshells like a character who schemes behind the scenes and styles themselves the "puppetmaster" and constant plot twists that explain things long after I've given up on even trying to make sense of anything. That's where the ~vibe~ comes from: everything that has ever vaguely annoyed you in a mid anime is somehow in this one all at once.

This wouldn't be so bad if it had characters that are entertaining on their own, but here we meet the most bizarre creative decision: the one thing it has going for it is the Diet Dirty Pair banter between Rouge and Naomi, which elevates a few episodes to "decent", but of course they spend half the show seperated. And by themselves, Rouge likes chocolate and is as dumb as a brick with charisma to match, while Naomi is sassy and mysterious and that's it. The rest of the characters (and naturally, there are far too many of them) are either irritating or at best just bland.

So if this is Bones pulling out all the stops, at least you should expect the production values to be high, but even that is a mixed bag. Metallic Rouge looks quite mediocre for the most part until it's time for a dedicated Sakuga Cut™, which might be a fight or alternatively just a random one of the dozens of boring hallway conversations (that Crunchyroll of all things is treating this as a joke really says it all). And even the fights aren't all that great, because this show somehow manages to have bad sound mixing and music beds that I'd call interesting in theory but don't work well as a score. At least it has a stellar OP, but even that seemed a lot better before the show actually came out.

I might bump up the score a point if it ends exceptionally well (which it won't), but even in that case... it's still bad. Please go back to sourcing your deep plots from Weekly Shounen Jump, Bones. ~3/10

Bucchigiri...

Bucchigiri..., on the other hand, has the exact opposite problem: While Metallic Rouge is a convoluted tangle of inconsequential plot, this show is just happy to phone it in. It almost feels like a rerun of fall 2021, where Metallic Rouge is the new Fena and Bucchigiri... is the new Takt:Op. It leaves an agreeable first impression, with a bold, colorful look, unusual setting, expressive direction and kinetic animation – but everything not entirely superficial is an excuse, and a "dog ate my homework" level of excuse at that. If all you want is bromantic burly brettyboys going through the motions, get your fanfic pen ready, but don't expect the show itself to provide significantly more than character designs. It doesn't help that the main character is particularly bad, with his gimmick being "annoying disinterested horndog". These non-characters keep going in circles slapping each other's asses and being not very funny for two thirds of the show, until a very generic "sensitive best friend is tempted by evil" drama plot appears because even yaoi shippers realize that eventually something has to happen, which boils down to Matakara going around slapping everyone's asses again, but now it's supposed to be sad. And then that doesn't work at all, because for character drama you need characters. Who knew.

Of course the funny bit is that this is pretty much what I asked for. I gave SKOO shit for only being good at the wacky parts while the heartfelt drama and more fleshed out characters fell flat. Well, now the director's followup work is just the wacky bits and feels completely hollow for it, and then the exaggerated drama lacks anything to back it up. Maybe just do better, I suppose. Oh yeah, and this also hasn't ended yet but with how completely predictable it is I feel like I've already seen the final episode. ~4/10

Undead Unluck

You can take the Shounen out of the Jump but you can't take the Jump out of the Shounen. I don't usually touch the Weekly Shounen Jump brand for good reasons, but Undead Unluck definitely had one of the strongest first impressions for one in a long time, if only because it has leads that aren't Goku and Vegeta again. But it also had a flashy, devil-may-care attitude with absurd nonsense happening left and right, a bonkers setting that is actually interesting in its own right and production value to back it up. In short, it was Fire Force with arguably better characters. When it's firing on all cylinders, Undead Unluck is a very fun time.

The problem is that Undead Unluck is firing on all cylinders about as often as a Cadillac V8-6-4 with a flaky ignition distributor. Primarily it has a massive padding problem: The amount of recapping and flashbacks to things that just happened is patently ridiculous and I say that as someone who has watched two seasons of My Hero Academia. If you include things like OP and ED, I feel like calling roughly a third of this show's runtime literally repeated content is not a wild exaggeration. And that's only literally repeated content – since this is Weekly Shounen Jump, there is also a lot of restating of facts and tedious explanations. I can't even blame this just on Jump Editorial, because a lot of the time it seems to be in service of hitting the right cliffhangers – but if both source and adaptation have severe pacing issues, it all compounds to the worst pacing in any show I've seen a considerable amount of.

And then, even in the coinflip of time when it's actually doing anything, it's obviously not always at its best either. This is honestly acceptable from a show that goes wild – with these you have to take the bad with the good. I didn't care much for the lazily metafictional final arc for example, but it would be perfectly fine if it didn't (quite expectedly at this point) do its core statement twice in as many episodes in a row, only with more screaming the second time. It's good when it's good, sure, but it would have to be outstandingly brilliant to make the whole thing worth it – which it isn't, so it's not. 5/10

Mahou Shoujo ni Akogarete (Gushing over Magical Girls)

My standard line regarding any extra spicy fanservice anime show has always been "you know you can find real porn on the internet easily, right". Gushing over Magical Girls (which is, aint gonna lie, a genius title translation) is a pretty good example why: Even though it is pretty damn explicit, it still isn't on the level of actual porn, and then the extended moaning and wriggling sequences just take up so much of the time that it gets tedious pretty fast. And a lot of the "other" content of the show is just blatantly an excuse to make the porn happen. There's some edgy comedy too, but I think characters like Kiwi are more annoying than anything, so that didn't do much for me either. Then the middle section of the show is an excursion where our protagonist villains go sex up a couple of more villainous villains, which feels like it's missing the point even by its own standards. Also, be aware that with hentai content come hentai production values, and this one is definitely below average. None of this is particularly unusual.

However, I kept watching this one, and the reason is pretty simple: I don't actually object to spiciness in principle, and in the beginning the show did a pretty good job of portraying Utena's awakening to a bunch of fetishes. That she then started an awkward on-and-off anonymous BDSM relationship with an actual magical girl was even better. I honestly have to say that this is a brilliant concept, even if it wasn't executed to a level where I was certain it was intentional. Also, while it's arguably the "main plot", it's a fairly small part of the show and when it didn't show up much in the middle I was sure the show had lost me. I do have to admit though that against all odds, Gushing does stick the landing, with a final episode that really pays off that plotline in the best way you could reasonably (see above) expect. It's a bit of a rough ride, but this show delivers.

So I'm two minds about Gushing over Magical Girls. If you just consider it a hentai OVA that somehow escaped to television (which is not an unreasonable standpoint), it feels surprisingly ambitious and well thought out. But as a regular TV show, it just has too many weaknesses to ignore. Still, even though I can't call it good, I still think it's a more interesting curio than the score might make it sound. 5/10

Hime-sama "Goumon" no Jikan desu ('Tis Time For "Torture", Princess)

Oh no, this has "torture" in the title, what could it mean? Yeah, I think at this point everyone knows that it's a joke (one might even say... The Joke) and let's leave it at that. It feels like every season there's some fluffy and cute comedy that I quite enjoy for no profound reason. The Alleged Torture here simply doesn't do anything wrong, manages to find just about enough angles to its one joke to not get boring, and features nice designs and enough production value to deliver a smooth ride all the way to the end. It occasionally does something beyond its one joke, and that tends to turn out cute and chill as well, like Tortura's modest OL home life. Really the only thing I don't like about this is the manzai reaction antics of the sword – explaining the joke is always questionable, but it's especially so when there is exactly one punchline that never changes. In any case, this one is hardly essential and there are many others like it, but sometimes you just want something sweet and inoffensive that still puts the effort in. And this is definitely one of those. 6/10

Kusuriya no Hitorigoto (Apothecary Diaries)

I feel like I should like this show a lot more than I actually do. This is because it is made of great ingredients: Very nice looks, a setting with tons of potential, mostly interesting characters and in particular an amazing main character. Maomao is just great, she has tons of personality and a funny oddball charm that is tempered by a smart and stoic attitude. The beginning of the show, where Maomao plays the streetwise intruder into the stilted world of court intrigue and manages to cut through the bullshit like nobody else could, is pretty excellent.

However, as the show went on, it became clear that I just don't agree with the direction the plot takes. Of course it turns out that Maomao is actually deeply involved into the court drama in half a dozen ways (without ever telling the audience about it, which smells of retcon). Of course the focus shifts to other characters like Jinshi or later on Lakan, who are far less interesting. Of course there is a romance with Jinshi on the horizon. I don't want to be that guy that is mad that a show doesn't turn out to be what they had wished it to be, but it's still a letdown.

And that's not mentioning that the daily business of the show, various levels of detective work, is hardly solid gold either. It's just bad at mystery writing – most "cases" turn out to be massively contrived and then Maomao walks in and just guesses the solution out of nowhere. The large-scale mystery (who is Jinshi, really?) is not much of a mystery at all but Maomao can't figure it out because apparently she has to solve these complicated and tiny problems before she can realize the simple and obvious large one. And then there's the drama, which is effective enough in the moment but seems to be mostly built on a foundation of allegedly smart people acting much more stupid than they should.

So overall, I think this is still a good show simply because Maomao is fun to watch no matter what, but I just don't think the writing can quite hold up its part of the bargain, and that is kind of a bummer. 7/10

Yuuki Bakuhatsu Bang Bravern

Bang Bravern arrived with a simple, but quite amusing thesis statement: What if you had a tacticool, Armored Core-like mecha setting but then everything changed when a super robot show invaded. That's pretty funny. It also just so happens that Masami Oobari knows that the likes of Top Gun tend to have a certain undertone, and also made Bang Bravern explicitly homoerotic. That's even funnier. Add to this the fact that the epic super robot action genre is inherently hilariously over the top, and you have the makings of a very amusing show. Now, I could just leave it at that, because that's what Bravern is. An over the top and self-aware love letter to the super robot shows of old, with a couple of additional comedic angles.

In other words, it's like all super robot shows that have been made in the last two decades. Yeah, Bravern is undeniably quite entertaining, but I also don't think it's anywhere as unique as people seem to think it is. The "super in a world of reals" joke in particular doesn't really come into play that often, apart from when that side of the show keeps introducing dozens of characters that then proceed to not do anything apart from standing on the sidelines. The gay love affair does matter more often, but seems to run into diminishing returns because once you've done "come inside me" (which it does in like episode 3), you really have nowhere to go. And besides those two, well... it's charmingly exuberant and features all the goofy tropes, but it lacks the absurd hugeness of a TTGL or the meaningful subtext of a Gridman – and that's only shows that I have actually seen as a non-fan of the genre. I suppose fans will gladly take it anyway, because the genre is somewhat rare nowadays, but Bravern doesn't exactly blow me away. Still, you can't deny the fun. 7/10

Sousou no Frieren (Frieren: Beyond Journey's End)

So here we come to the big dog. The show that's pulling Doraemon numbers on Japanese TV, has been riding a comfortable #1 spot on MAL for months, and has inspired an unfathomable amount of porn. And the real surprising thing is that it's the first show in a very long time that I think comes even close to deserving that level of hype, especially early in its run when it absolutely isn't the kind of show you'd expect to do this – apart from the production values being about as good as TV anime gets, naturally.

Frieren starts out as an uniquely focused narrative that explores as many angles as it can out of a complicated mess of legacy, memory and regret through the lens of a pretty simple and generic RPG trope. It achieves this almost entirely through one of the best casts I've seen in a long time – Frieren may not be quite as charming a protagonist as Maomao, but she has much more depth and more importantly, every character that matters in her show is almost as good, and their relationships are even better. In its first-cours adventure mode, when we're just wandering around having more or less episodic encounters and plot points that drift in and out of focus with a wistful tone but splashes of goofy comedy, Frieren is quite excellent and would have been my show of last year if I had considered it eligible.

But then it slams in a new gear with the elegance of a tractor driver who thinks clutches are for pussies. Suddenly we're doing a proper Shounen Exam Arc and we're getting a lot less of this and a lot more of this. Now to be fair, this is a long running manga and it probably could not have kept doing flashbacks to Frieren being too dense to realize that Himmel was hitting on her 80 years ago forever. But still, the mage examination arc just really isn't Frieren at its best. It's not even that the content is particularly bad (maybe apart from the really quite rough beginning), and I do understand the long-term benefits of introducing a bigger cast of characters for future use, especially when they turn out to be quite good eventually... but it all just takes way too long. There's still great moments here, but that's usually a small segment of the established good stuff or, failing that, Frieren dropping a sick ass spell. Yeah, I won't even blame this on the action, because said action is incredibly well done and still quite brief, but you really didn't need a full season of theorycrafting and skill discussions to get those explosions. In short. Frieren temporarily turns into Full Metal Alchemist with better leads, and while this would be high praise for almost any shounen manga, it isn't for the one that has demonstrated it can do far better.

There is one real upside to this distraction arc though: Unlike, say, the plot problems of Apothecary Diaries that are here to stay, none of this irreversible, which Frieren immediately makes clear by snapping back to its best behaviour the second they leave the designated raid zones. The ending is as good as any part of the show, with the skillful writing and great tone we have come to wish for. Frieren may not be as consistently excellent as it first appeared, but it is still pretty damn good – and not on a purely superficial level either, because it obviously can have outstanding writing when it wants to and the fundamentals are rock solid too. 8/10

Yubisaki to Renren (A Sign of Affection)

And the top spot of the season goes to... a show that may not be the most ambitious, but does absolutely nothing wrong. Yubisaki to Renren is a fluffy romance where a very cute girl meets a very nice boy, and then no drama happens because not everyone in the world is a fucking idiot. I think my delight with this says more about the absolute state of romance anime than it does about the show itself, but I also have to say that while the plot of this show might be simplistic, it takes great care to set everything up in such a way to get away with said simplistic plot.

Obviously the core of the setup is that Yuki is deaf. But, quite smartly, the author doesn't make the story about Yuki's problems with not being able to hear, but rather about how her world is just... limited. And Itsuomi is a dude with an uncommonly wide worldview and experience. Opposites attract, and there you go. The show basically gets all the grounding it needs from that simple setup for free, then throws in a bit of complicated history among the larger cast. Then just make Yuki incredbly cute and Itsuomi an uncommonly levelheaded adult who will take measures to prevent any pointless drama before it gets out of hand, and you have a show that's just 100% a good time all the way through. So the leads (i.e., the thing that matters way above all else in a romance) are great, and the rest of the cast is more than fine too, even those who would instigate such drama – it can't get annoying, because they never succeed.

Really if I had to say something negative about this show it would be that it's still superficial compared to a show at its skill level that does go hard. I mean, it's about two nice people falling in love and nothing goes wrong, which isn't exactly a lot. There is maybe also the idea that Itsuomi may be a bit too perfect, but I'm just more than happy to see a male lead in a shoujo romance that is neither an abusive jerk nor a bland cardboard cutout. In a perfect world, something like Yubisaki to Renren should feel a bit bland and generic, but in the real one, there just isn't much like it. 9/10

#anime #review #winter2024 #metallic rouge #bucchigiri?!#gushing over magical girls #undead unluck #hime sama goumon no jikan desu #kusuriya no hitorigoto #yuuki bakuhatsu bang bravern #sousou no frieren #yubisaki to renren

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 month

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I was not prepared for the interior of this 1949 home, b/c it seemed too early for the mid-century look (unless it was updated in the 70s). It's in El Cajon, California, has 3bds, 2ba, & is listed for $899K. Especially enjoy the kitchen.

I don't like this at all- it's the front entrance. Who wants to enter into the laundry room? Imagine opening the door of your new house for guests and there's the dryer sitting there?

Then you enter the kitchen. I wonder who came up with this floor plan.

It's kind of a large galley style, but it really needs brightening. Between the lights, dark wood, the brick and the blue, it seems cold.

There's a wine holder and what looks like it could be a mini bar.

A small pantry.

Seriously, this home had to have been updated in the 70s. What a big built-in display unit. The living room is very large and is also meant to be part dining room.

This first bedroom is off the laundry room. It's kind of long and narrow.

Bedroom #2 is about the same size.

Bath #1 is a shower room that's shared by both bedrooms.

This room that leads into the primary bedroom has an outdoor entrance- that smaller building in front of the house, but you can also access it from inside the main house. So, the primary has it's own little sitting room.

See the entrance on the left? That's the primary bedroom. I guess it could be useful to have a separate entrance.

It's large, and has a big stone corner fireplace.

There's the entrance to the en-suite.

The bath isn't bad, it has a jetted tub and a shower.

Plus there's also a walk-in closet.

The outdoor grounds are pretty nice. It has a covered patio and an inground pool.

Also on the property is this nice screened in pavillion. It would be great for entertaining.

There's plenty of room. The property measures 1,523 sq. ft. and there's also a 3 car garage.

You can see that the pool is separate from the house and is located behind the garage.

The drive up to house- I wonder who owns the animals. Looks like a mixture of several kinds of farm animals - what delightful neighbors.

https://www.rockethomes.com/homes/1731-heartland-ln-el-cajon-ca-92019

#mid century modern homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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manicplank · 3 months

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What do they do all day? (More headcanons) I am very bored.

Peppino: Delivers pizzas, but business is shit sooo... He and Gustavo probably play cards while waiting for orders. At home, he watches T.V. or learns new dances. Unbelievably flexible for his age and weight. Goes to Noisette's movie nights every now and again.

Gustavo: Outside of the restaurant, he still loves to cook. He takes his time cooking himself a good dinner (and sometimes will invite Peppino over for a meal. He worries about him.) He likes to teach Brick new tricks or simply pets him. They like to watch shows together. Goes to Noisette's every Monday for movie night.

BONUS Brick: Naps! Big on naps! Likes to snuggle up to Gustavo or lays his head on Gustavo's lap. Has some toys around that he likes to play with. His favorite toy is Gus's shoes.

Mr. Stick: Works in finances, probably works full time. Outside of work, he gambles or stays home and watches whatever show is trending. He either loves it or hates it. Very critical. Enjoys a good nap quite often. Might have a drink or two after 5. Sometimes goes to movie night at Noisette's.

Pepperman: PAINTS, DUH. Outside of painting, he probably does models, like cars or rockets or whatever. He's always trying some new form of art. Tried origami, but his fingers were too big. Definitely cried over it. Not invited to Movie Night Mondays.

The Vigilante: Works on the farm. Feeding the cows, cleaning the pastures, bailing hay, etc. He cries happily every time a calf is born. Loves the farm life, it brings him peace and joy. He prefers it over being the sheriff. However, he usually only works when there's a bounty involved since the western district is pretty quiet crime wise. Goes to Noisette's every other Monday for movie night.

The Noise: Works A LOT. Whether it be on set or in office, he works anywhere from 8-12 hours depending on the day. Typically takes a nap when he gets home unless it's close to dinnertime. After that, he might watch an episode or two of something (and criticizes it, much like Mr. Stick. He thinks his shows are almost always better.) Sometimes he might play a bit of video games. On his days off, he practices skate tricks, naps, or gets into trouble. Might "accidentally" get a little too drunk in The Pig City and have to call Noisette for a ride home. Doesn't usually participate in Movie Night Mondays, because he doesn't like the people. Calls his mom every Tuesday.

Noisette: The cafe is only open 3-4 days a week from 5 a.m. to 12 p.m., with her getting home around 1 or 1:30. She has a group of friends, her girls, who she goes to brunch with occasionally. They definitely gossip. I imagine them like a younger, less boring version of Sex and The City. While Noise is gone, she watches his shows. For some reason, he gets all bashful when she watches them while he's around. She's his #1 fan, after all. She also watches a lot of cheesy shows and movies. Loves romcoms and chick flicks. Hosts Movie Night Mondays with just about everyone she knows. Except Pepperman. She despairs him.

Fake Peppino: Depending on the day, he will sit and stare at the wall ALL DAY. He doesn't always need entertainment. He might help out Gerome and clean up whatever Gerome simply can't stomach (guts, bones, etc.) Some days, he's silly. He'll zoom around the slum. He might want to play. (Stated in a previous post) He likes to play fetch and tug if war, typically using something important... Like a gun or a knife. Something he isn't supposed to have, he will pick up and run away from whoever is trying to take it from him. Only allowed to explore the rest of the tower when SUPERVISED, typically being kept on some sort of leash. Pizzahead refers to this activity as "walking the frog." Goes to Noisette's every Monday for movie night.

Pizzaface: Surprisingly, he's typically on autopilot unless it's SHOWTIME. He floats around the tower keeping everything and everyone in check. Basically a security guard. Plays cards in the saloon with Noisette every now and then. Might knock over one of Pepperman's statues for a laugh. Might go to Vigi's and pet a cow. Might argue with The Noise just for the sake of pissing Noise off. Sometimes has long talks with John or Gerome, feels bad that they got caught up in the tower mess.

Pizzahead: Works in the lab a lot. Always trying to create the perfect clone. Sometimes will tinker with Pizzaface's mechanics. Goes to the cafe every now n then to grab a coffee and chat with Noisette. Dresses up like a cowboy and has a drink at the saloon. Stalks Peppino. Might take the frog for a walk. Not allowed at The Fun Farm after he tried to steal a baby cow. "It was just so cute!" Will talk to John on the fifth floor, much to John's dismay. He also chats with the toppin monsters and tinkers with their gears. Always goes to Movie Night Mondays, he and Noisette are besties despite her not realizing that he's the "Pizzaboy Guy."

Pillar John: Stares at the wall. He can't do much else since he's stuck in the fifth floor bound by cheese. Might chat with Pizzahead out of boredom, even if he doesn't like him. Talks with Gerome at any chance they get. Made good friends with Gustavo while Peppino was running through the levels. Wishes he could go to Movie Night Mondays. Also wishes he could go to the cafe and order some food (crazy, I know, but based off the treasures used to resurrect him in the end, I think it's safe to assume he'd eat LITERALLY anything.)

Gerome: He doesn't get to do much of anything but his job. Might sneak away for lunch, a nap, or to chat with John. Goes to the cafe for a coffee. Might have a chat with Peppino or Gustavo. Mostly avoids everyone else. Wishes he could go to Movie Night Mondays, Noisette still invites him every single week.

#pizza tower #the noise #noise #headcanon #pizzahead #noisette #peppino #peppino spaghetti #pillar john #pizza tower gerome #gerome #pizza tower gustavo #brick the rat #fake peppino #pepperman #the vigilante #mr. stick

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leastdatablebracket · 8 months

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ROUND 1, MATCH 64

Propaganda under the cut!

Lucio Morgasson

He's the villain in everyone else's route, and even in his own he's STILL kind of a dick. Like, everything bad he did before the game begins happens exactly the same, and it's only when he begins that he gets better (as in he regrets his actions and tries to fix it (it being a plague. He caused a plague because he wanted more power. (Spoilers: the plague killed the MC))). All the other romanceable characters still hate him tho so that's good. The one thing he's got going for him is that in one ending, he stepped down from being the count (idk about the other)

He literally caused a plague that kills thousands of people including THE PLAYER 😭 LIKE HE LITERALLY KILLS YOU DAWG

He is simply the worst. I'm pretty sure he purposefully infected his kingdom with the plague. He made a deal with the devil maybe. Gonna be real with you I haven't finished his storyline.

imagine a guy who is both incredibly pathetic and willing to screw over absolutely everyone for fun. lots of fun as a character, absolute dogwater as a partner

He has directly tortured or somehow harmed all the other romancable characters and every other route tries to kill the mc to take over their body, is also responsible for a plague that killed a large portion of his kingdom and *spoiler* killed the MC

I'll admit I haven't played his route but that's cause he's such a pathetic icky man that I don't think I actually can. And I pride myself in completing every route. I know people like their pathetic meow meows but I want to hit him with a brick

He acts as a manchild who needs someone to guide him through life and show him the difference between right and wrong when I'm pretty sure he's in his forties or fifties. He also abuses his power to do horrible things to people he's not in a romantic relationship with, which should tell you a lot about him.

He’s a selfish asshole who is the villain in every other route and he’s a punk ass bitch I wanna kick his ass so hard his skeleton disintegrates as he fucking deserves

Dude, he SUCKS. He's the villain in every other route. He's a horrible husband, he forced Muriel to fight for his entertainment, he makes deals that he can't pay for. He threatens and pouts and is obsessed with people loving him. I've been with the Arcana since the very beginning and he wasn't meant to be a romance option, but the writers basically went with it because there was such a demand. So embarrassing to see Lucio fans being like Lucio did nothing wrong ever. Falling all over themselves to blame his mom or Nadia or Asra or anyone else for Lucio's selfishness and shitty behavior. It was peak uwu he's A BABY fan dementia that excuses all his shitty actions because nothing was his fault. The only sane Lucio fans are the ones that are like "he sucks so much <3 I can make him worse."

He's literally described by the devs as flaming trash. He is literally only nice in his route and the main antagonist (or at the very least a jerk) in every other route. he was a very bad husband to ex-wife. he is literally - and with 0 exaggeration- a plague upon the country he ruled. he's also a grown man who calls his fuck ups "oopsies" and honestly, i love him but that gives me the ick.

Cullen Rutherford

stupid racist cop creep whose fans cry about how hes "changed" and "you can't judge him he was addicted to magic drugs" nah he still chose to be a racist cop and abuse his power over innocent people and i hate him. the writers making him romanceable in da:i after how blatantly horrible he was in da:o and da:2 is baffling but i guess they had to appeal to the part of their audience who watch those "mafia boyfriend" videos on tiktok or whatever

He's creepy in origins, though still 100% willing to kill the female mage pc he's crushing on, as well as all the other mages trapped in the circle with him. He's the second-in-command in an even worse circle in 2, listening to and defending the increasingly obviously insane meredith until literally the end. He's one of the people still pushing for the circle system by inquisition, and yes he's going through withdrawals and working through the traumas of previous games. And to be brutally honest his was the first romance i took and while i don't remember much from it, its not worth all the girls going absolutely nuts over knockoff terrible alistair.

He's basically a cop who thinks being born a certain way can revoke personhood and by Inquisition still thinks mages are monsters to be controlled, not people. He gets a fairy tale cutesy romance that focuses on his personal struggles with addiction while showing absolutely no regard to the atrocities he committed and still thinks were justified. He can be romanced BY A MAGE and his actions and beliefs are just glossed over. He believes mages are 'not people like you (Hawke) and me', but if the Warden was a female mage he canonically had a crush on her and would deliberately hang around her despite the fact that he was her *jailer*. If that Warden romanced Leliana, there is war table dialogue in which he pesters Leliana for news of his 'former' crush despite her repeated statement that she doesn't want to talk to him about her. All this shitty behavior and lack of introspection gets swept under the rug by the game, not even giving the PC the chance to really challenge his beliefs. Like damn even Fenris could apologize when he lashed out due to past trauma with mages, and if anyone has a reason to hate mages it's Fenris. If you want an ex Templar hottie Alistair is RIGHT THERE. Tbh I know Cullen is a popular romance and I'm not here to tell anyone what they can or can't do or like in a video game, I'm just saying I think he is deeply undateable

Spends the first two games as an antagonist, fervently devoted to the cause of subjugating mages, then a bunch of "character development" happens off screen and the games treat him like he's completely reformed. However he's actions make it clear he still sees mages as dangerous and lesser. Not to mention if you romance him with an elf he doesn't pay your culture more than lip service respect like most of the devout characters

He was a total villain in the first two games who was violently prejudiced against mages and uses one single bad experience as an excuse for it (a bad experience that is pretty much exactly what he in his job subjected graduating apprentices to, mind you, but this is never brought up). Now he says he's changed, but his words and actions say otherwise. He still distrusts mages, sympathises with the rebel Templars trying to kill them, and he never owns up to the terrible stuff he did and helped others do in the past two games. He totally knew what Meredith was doing and says he doesn't, and he still tries to defend her intentions. And you have no option to call him out on it. If you romance him as a mage, he angsts about how he might have seen you as subhuman in the past but NOW you're one of the good ones, and when you ask him if he'll kill you if you get possessed, he dodges the question. And the PC is written as being almost sad that she's a mage? Like 'can you love me despite what I am??' Also if Leliana romanced a female mage PC in the first game who is still alive, he asks her creepy questions about their relationship. Fitting considering his original purpose was to be creepy to the female mage Warden.

I hate him and want to cause chaos. Plus his VA is an asshole.

cop

#round 1

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