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alientater · 8 months ago

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I have so much to say about s3 of bridgerton so I’m dumping it all into one post. Take my dumbass opinions as a writer for what you will 😂

- first foremost thank you my QUEEN Nicola for your confidence and courage (I am no better than a man 👀). I feel like this whole season was a reminder for me, through both Pen and Colin that bodies that look like my own (Pens) deserve love. I can’t even begin to tell yall how much watching people swoon over her body specifically has made me 🥹 blush because my own looks so much like hers.

- I absolutely adored how devoted Colin was to Pen. Watching him realize his love for her in all her forms, with all her flaws was absolutely adorable and wonderful and beautiful, and it, in its own way, comforted me that the more masculine side of my self can be the romantic, the devoted, the loving person that I am as well. Both his little speech in the carriage and his love confession at the end are now living rent free in my brain.

- I know many people think they should have cut some of Benedict’s scenes but I’m against that opinion. I ADORED his character development this season, and I think it served well as a break in the tension of the plot. you will NEVER catch me unhappy to see a bisexual king living his best and horniest life.

- I’m so glad Pen got to keep her Column. The books end with Colin revealing her identity and I’m so glad they changed that. So much from the book was changed to give her more agency and I’m so so so happy about that.

- Genuinely, I’m so excited to see what happens in Scotland with Francesca and Eloise and Michaela and John!! I have a suspicion they’re going to make it another spinoff show like Queen Charlotte, and then we’ll get Benedict’s season (which 👀💕 I have no clue what they’ll do with it but WHATEVER it is I will be parked in front of that TV the SECOND it drops). Whatever it is they have planned I have a sneaking suspicion we’re finally going to get some sapphic romance 👀 so.

- I absolutely cannot stand the hate this season is getting online. I really think it was well done, and I enjoyed every second of it.

- I do wish they’d shown a *few* more spicy Polin scenes (or maybe made the end one a bit longer bc HOOOO boy 👀 I needed about another full 5-10 minutes of her riding him lord GOD almighty I need a glass of WATER). BUT they really didn’t get any more spice than Kate and Anthony did last season (in fact they had quite a bit more I’d say), and I know we’ll see more of it next season hehe 😈 so 😏.

- John dying is literally actually physically going to break my heart when we get to Francesca’s storyline. ALSO I think I really…. I want her to fall in love with him wholly and completely too. I think she has in some ways. I hope in her story, they explore the very real love between them, mostly because I adore his beautiful lil autistic ass.

- I really wish they’d brought back Daphne and the duke a bit more to help violet and Fran a bit. I think Daphne specifically would have really helped soothe that relationship.

- can we get an Eloise Benedict swing scene every season?? Plz? For me? I adore their queer sibling bond so so so much.

- I’m so glad Pen and Eloise are on good terms again. Their friendship breaking just really…

- also, on Eloise, I adore the character growth I saw her go through this season. I think she’s really learning how to see and love the people around her for who they are and it’s so beautiful. I think people were right about her self absorption to a certain degree but… every character has flaws. No one is really infallible. And I think I went through a similar growth, learning how to check and weild my priveledge, and it’s comforting to know I’m not alone in some of the mistakes I made

- I have so many feelings about Cressida Cowper. I know she’s a bully, and I disliked her originally, but something about this season made me…. Sort of like her. First of all, she’s so cunty and I absolutely LOVE that for her. Her outfits are 😮‍💨 every single time. The SLEEVES on those dresses. Like. I really hope she has character growth of her own. Also. You can’t convince me that woman isn’t a femme lesbian. I want to see her set up a nice little estate and live happily ever after with a woman she loves, honestly. I feel like it was really realistic and fascinating to see her schism with her family. I hope she doesn’t take her mother’s advice to heart. That she breaks the generational curse and learns to be both kind AND cunty 😂. I hope Eloise and her make up somewhat too. I just. I don’t want her to be the villain. The pressures of society are their own villain.

- Bring back Edwina Sharma and her Prince can we start a FUCKING petition bro.

- two people in on that show that no matter what they are being paid, are not being paid enough 1) the COSTUME designer and 2) the intimacy coordinator. Every five seconds I found myself saying “god that dress” or “oh man, I need that waistcoat”

- I love that the writers chose to make the featherington sisters more than just… jokes? Philippa especially. She really had some of the best breakout lines of the season “insert himself where” GIRL “Farley, now! the bugs!!” SHES SO CUTE and Mr Finch baby boy so are you and your love for her 🥹 it’s just so wholesome. I love that Shonda really has showed through this show that even with our eccentricities, we all deserve to be loved, appreciated, cherished.

- we stand by Portia featherington. She really made the best of some SHITTY as situations, and we love her for that. It’s so important to me that she’s not the villain either. That she and pen worked things through, learned how to support each other, and that Portia apologized. I think she’s definitely…. Let’s say morally gray but how morally grey really is robbing the aristocracy? 🤫. I honestly? Kind of hope she finds a love match, or finds happiness in her singleness without having to rely on a man. That she learns to live in her power.

- Did I mention how devoted Colin is to Pen? Can we return to that? My FAVORITE moments of this season were the ones where he is so absolutely down bad for her that he can barely speak bc ME TOO baby boy. ME TOO. and that it’s pen. This season was for the girlies who never get noticed, who never had boys crush on them. Who have to make do living vicariously through others, who have to learn to love themselves, because the world does not seem to.

- can we bring back lord debbling? Lowkey…. I kinda liked him. I need him to be Cressida’s beard for real 🤫

- the mirror scene THE MIRROR SCENE 🫠😮‍💨😰🤤 I…. I have so many feelings. I keep hearing people being like “it was so cringe” but? I think I loved it because it felt so…. Realistic? I found myself loving it because it was so… slow and sweet and intentional and it was in every way an extension of Colin’s feelings for pen. He loves her enough that he treats her with only the most kind, most slow and soft touches. He considers her pleasure before his own (which, god is that dreamy I wanna be this man SO BAD). He talks her through. he appreciates in every way she SHOULD be appreciated. I’m just. I’m never going to be over how fantastically luke played him. How fantastic Luke and Nicola’s chemistry was. Can we appreciate the shots angles looking down on Penelope too bc oh man. Oh boy. Jesus Christ she would be walking ME like a dog to if she looked at me like that Holy Fuck. Also the THIGHS the TITTIES (👀 respectfully 👀 RESPECTFULLY). The little sneaky views of Colin’s butt hehe, the way Pen GULPS when she sees Colin (girl SAME). It reminded me so vividly of my own first time. it made me miss being that young and… idk. I feel like sex scenes often feel fake or unrealistic and the ones in this just felt SO real.

- on that topic can we all just appreciate how much Kate sharma is getting her cookie ate bc 😂 lord only knows she deserves it. ALSO. Petition for next season: I ABSOLUTELY need to see Colin on his knees doing the same for Pen 🤤👀 bc you KNow that man is a service top, and she deserves it.

- genuinely genuinely. I’m so afraid of the show now getting canceled because it has openly queer characters 🥺. I’ve fallen in love with it and it’s like there’s this dread, in the pit of my stomach, that it’s all going to end prematurely because people are already acting so shitty.

- I need violet to have her own spinoff with Marcus 👀 and CONTROVERSIAL OPINION (not controversial) I need their sex scenes bc 😳 LORD . I am not. ahem. I am sinning looking at lady bridgerton like this 😂

- I loved lady Danbury and pens exchange at the end of the season and they’re great friends in the books! I hope it develops more!

- how does Jonathan Bailey so convincingly play a man utterly in love/ lust with his wife as a gay man 😂. Also. Anthony’s little “LILACS”? Still thinking about that lol.

- I’m so glad Eloise didn’t tell Colin about pen being whistledown.

- really wish we’d had a wedding night sex scene 😅

- pen wearing a full set of acrylics and riding that man’s dick is….. god. I have been given a gift.

- Need Need NEED more of the Mondriches, just being happy and finding their place. Their ball this season was fucking fantastic.

- the end camera shot of Colin and pen kissing in front of the window she always watched him from 🫠🥹💕 I’m actually sick it’s SO PERFECT

- I knew Penelope was going to have the only boy 👀😏 called it hehe

- I think one of the things I love most about the show is just… seeing women support and uplift each other and work through things. Talk about the hard things. That’s how we grow as people.

In conclusion, I know many people disliked a lot of things about s3 but I, personally, adored it. And I also know why the writers cut what they did, and did what they did. I honestly think if they’d just added a few small things it would have been perfect. There was so much happening this season it felt overwhelming almost, and I think if I were to say if there’s anything to learn from this, it’s that they need to slow down. Focus on and give each plot its share. I wish I could give Bridgerton an infinite budget for infinite episodes to do whatever they wanted bc I know it would be good. ALSO if I have to endure a month wait like that again I’m actually fucking rioting. I liked the anticipation but it felt too long and just…. Idk. I think an episode a week would be a better way to stretch it if they wanted to keep that ploy. Anyways. If anyone’s actually read this far, I’m so sorry 😂. And to all the people griping… get a grip. It’s a beautiful show and the writing was honestly fantastic. just enjoy the media for what it is im actually begging you. If this show gets canceled because of something as trivial as not enough Polin sex scenes and having actual queer representation in fucking coming for ALL OF YOU.

Peace and light

Annika

#bridgerton #love #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton s3 spoilers #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton #polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin x penelope #penelope bridgerton #lady whistledown

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jayextee · 10 months ago

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Shining the Holy Ark

Unfinished business, now finished. I didn't beat this back in the day, you see.

Okay, so, in a pre-Final Fantasy VII 1990's I used to love RPGs; what little of them we saw here in the UK anyway. Most of the fare for the SEGA consoles either began with 'Shining' or 'Phantasy' and, well, that's what RPGs were to me. It took a while to eventually respect Square's seventh not-entirely-'final' opus on my own terms, but hoooo boy did the hype put me off the genre. For a bit.

Going back to a game like Shining the Holy Ark though, makes it incredibly easy to see why FFVII broke apart the very continents and reshaped the landscape of the role-playing genre forever. Because what we had beforehand was, well, this.

It's not bad, really it isn't. It's just, well, very traditional. Very very. If you'd played Shining in the Darkness recently and someone told you there was a sequel for SEGA Saturn in much the same vein, your most-conservative guess as to what it would look and feel like would be this game. So, well, if you like SitD it's all well and good. If not? Nothing here to change your mind, I'm afraid -- it's all grid-based (kinda, some places deviate a tiny bit from that) dungeon (kinda, there are forests and caves and outdoor areas and even a mansion) crawler (kinda, you can double-tap forward to run) fare from beginning to end. Bit O' grind, too. Like parent, like child. I guess.

I'm doing it a little disservice there though, because I think the game actually is kinda charming. The plot is interesting enough even if delivered a little awkwardly. The visuals do as best they can given the gridlike constraints, with the Saturn even throwing around a whole ton of those forbidden translucencies it apparently couldn't do.

And it sounds lovely, too. In fact everything about this game is relatively solid, nothing doesn't work; but there's nothing too spicy about it all either. Turn-based combat's pretty standard with no elemental play or much in the way of high strategy beyond making sure all your characters are healthy enough to take the hits whilst delivering their own most-powerful attacks in return.

I feel like I should mention at some point the occasional puzzle; some of these are devious in a great way! Midway through the game there are two deity statues between whom seven gems with different values should be shared equally; and you're not directly told what those values are, only their relation to the other gems. Not wanting to guide dangit the solution, I had the paper and pens out to solve it myself. And I did! And it was great! I feel like more of that and less grindy combat in labyrinths, could've elevated this game from 'good' to 'great'.

In all, Shining in the Darkness is a nice experience. The kind of thing that we were all happy with until Cloud and Tifa and company went and pissed all over the place, but also the kind of thing that doesn't quite hit the same since all of that happened.

A traditional, if grindy, ride with few highs. Worth playing, barely. 3.5/5

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eleanor-bradstreet · 2 years ago

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Alright, I’ve mopped myself up off the floor, re-hinged my jaw and cracked my knuckles to try and explain how this fic rode me roughshod to near ruin (geettttttt it) 🤪. Hoooo girl. I say ‘jealous Anthony’ and you give me ropes, riding crops, growling commands and ultimate dom control. Your girl needs to make it to the end of this series, and you are dangerously close to laying me out in a coma 🙃 Particularly threatening to my constitution were the following moments:

‘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,”’ OH MY GOD WE ARE SIX LINES IN FAYE!!! SIX 👏 LINES 👏 FORGET THE FOREPLAY WE’RE JUST PLOUGHING ON IN This is one of the filthiest things he says in the entire fic 😵 Holy fucking hellll…..I wasn’t sure I was going to survive this one. I was already electrified…

“We both know being on your knees is your favourite place after being face down over my desk,” JESUS FUCK STOP OH MY GOD THEY’RE NOT EVEN ALONE YET!!!! Benace? Move over. This is Annihilanthony. 🥵🤯

“They are an addictive cocktail.” Cocktail…manbread…this is my kind of happy hour 🍸

“There is all sorts of equipment in here I want to use on you,” Oh god, oh lord, my eyes are crossing already…. 😵😵😵

And then the discovery. I knew it was coming of course, but ooooooo how I stopped breathing! 😱 I can just hear him growling. Incredulous. Furious. It’s terrifying but also so damn enticing. The hair pulling, oooooofff. But then the cracks start to reveal themselves. He is hurt, genuinely. Kind of no one’s fault if they didn’t have exclusivity established. It still wounds me a bit to hurt Anthony’s heart though, my sweet damaged boy 😢 says the woman who thought up this whole damn scenario

Standing ovation for your allstar cleverness with the loophole 🤪 [insert loophole gif here] You should be an attorney because that is some crafty phrasing 😉

“Mutually assured destruction can seem so appealing behind glowing brown eyes and sharp cheekbones…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.” This is poetry. If folks were wondering what it was that draws Reader to Anthony, you’ve explained it right here. It’s the danger, the challenge, the excitement. The explosive release after being pushed to limits she didn’t know existed. He is a safe partner to explore the wildest kinks with. A place where she can completely let loose, be pleasured and work out her frustrations and guilt. Maybe it’s twisted, but it’s undeniably appealing, and so rare.

“ink, smokey cigars and the tang of money, all Anthony.” Shivers down my spine at this. 🫠

Thank you for including the deepthroating in this. 💙 (Sentences I didn’t think I’d ever write.) I know it may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but lordt does it flip my wig 🥵 It was perfect - he wipes away her tears, gloating. And then “Take it” !!!!!!! I see what you did there, you sly thing!! 😉Annihilanthony’s catchphrase muahahahahaaa!!

“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.” WOOOOOOOOO AAAGGGGGHHHHHHH The imagery of this - the sinful, twisted beauty of it all, fuccckkkkkkk. This is why I trust you with anything - take my lil baby one sentence prompt and go nuts, because you always deliver something compelling, gorgeous, and dare I say…profound 🫶

You’ve woven this into a few fics, but I ADORE how Anthony is so attentive that he can sense when Reader is floating off into sub lala land and he always commands her to stay present. It is both domming and endearing at the same time. It’s command and concern all rolled into three words. I fucking love it.

Okay, bondage is fun but has never been that high on my kink list. But SOMETHING about this precise image - this close up of Anthony’s hand: strong and veined, knuckles turning white as he grabs the rope around her back and twists it in his fist to hold her down tighter and give himself leverage, like he is mounting a rodeo bronco (seriously have you seen the way those guys grip?) There’s something so tantalizing about the contrast for me. These aristocratic hands with his sapphire ring, twisted into this rough rope to hold a lady down and drill into her it’s like…..*shiver* idk, it fucking DOES IT for me. Surprise, surprise, I guess….hand stuff is my favorite 😅 Seriously, this image in my brain is a whole story unto itself so THANK YOU for painting it!!

The orgasm control…..ummmmm…..an amazing surprise and so SO perfect for the dynamics that are going on……and also 💦

Then you weave all these similarities in between the brothers. The way Anthony so quickly untied her and rubbed her wrists, EXACTLY like Benedict did. The way they both curl up with her to recover. The way they both talk about challenging her (as she points out). You are setting her up for an impossible choice. They are both sensitive at heart, caring despite how different their demeanors (in and out of the bedroom) may be. As the saying goes: same, same, but different, but still same. How is a girl to choose???

Then oh shit. Loose lips sink ships. They sink relationships, girlie. WATCH OUT. OOOP, TOO LATE. Again, I’m upset with myself for upsetting Anthony. 😅 I remember you saying you were surprised how emotional this was getting and I understand, and LOVE it. You’re giving us raw Anthony. Realistic Anthony. Anthony the dom with a heart. It’s impossible to separate him from it. 🥺

Wow. Simply wow. Add tack rooms to the list of things I can no longer engage with without having lascivious thoughts inspired by your fics. Thankfully, I am not an equestrian nor an aristocrat with an expensive hobby so they should be easy to avoid. This was balanced so well. You had a lot of balls in the air (no, not THOSE ones) with the CNC, the emotions and the secrecy, and you juggled them perfectly. This was an explosive installment that satisfies all on its own but still leaves us wired for the crescendo 🔥 Masterful.

Reprimand

Double Bind Masterpost

PREV | NEXT

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

#fic rec #go read it!#Queen Faye came to slay #talented author #I dont deserve such a talented pal #tie me up tie me down #but ouch my heart sweet Anthony #Annihilanthony #new hand kink discovered apparently #aristocratic hands doing plebian things

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laguera25 · 3 years ago

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I've toyed off and on for years with the idea of writing a story in which Richard's lady love used a wheelchair, but I've never done it because you wouldn't believe how nasty and cruel people can get about fictional characters enthusiastically tapping crippled ass; I can only how many orders of magnitude worse it might be in RPF, and I don't need the headache and the nasty messages reminding me that physically-disabled people are as sexually desirable as crotch rot.

But! But just think of the possibilities! Yeah, sex and love and all that, and Richard could happily have his multiple partner jamboree because there is just some sex Lady Love cannot have or isn't down with and she sees no reason for him not to get it elsewhere as long as he's ride or die for her and doesn't let their discarded clothing block her route to where she needs to go. So, yeah, romance, whooo! But also:

-If Richard went for a wheelchair Venus, you just know that boy would make himself an expert on the subject like he did with the stock market after it nearly wiped him out. He'd read books and talk to experts and scrutinize every building he went into to be sure his lady could get into it and move around with dignity.

And if she couldn't? Hoooo, you just know he wouldn't let that fly without kicking up dirt. He'd be tearing managers up one side and down the other in that pissy, nasally voice he gets when he's mad, and he would happily make a scene. Loudly and demonstratively. He'd be on the news nearly every week dragging some restaurant or venue for filth and complaining about accessibility issues.

He'd drive the rest of the band bugshit insisting that the venues they played needed to be maximally-accessible, and when somebody inevitably asked why it mattered because Lady wasn't coming to most shows, Richard would snap that it's the fucking principle of the thing, goddammit, and stalk off like a Persian cat that just got sprayed in the face with water.

Most of the band isn't that fussed about it, frankly, but Till figures if it matters to Richard, then he's all-in, so why not? Paul, the chaos gremlin, is only too happy to help Richard with some 3am hotel-room reno when his lady can't fight through the bathroom door. Hell, yeah! Till would rather be fucking a lady of his own, but fine, he'll act as lookout. And Flake, who sees the principle more than most, will use his devious mind to cook up a diversion. Christoph can be prevailed upon to crash his cymbals to cover the noise.

Olli just wants to sleep.

When the hotel discovers the "damage" the next day and tries to bill the band, Richard digs in his fucking heels and says they shouldn't pay because he wouldn't have had to tear up the room if it had been accessible in the first place. And that's the argument he makes in court. Loudly.

All his fussing attracts attention, and soon the band is getting sacks of mail from disabled folks thanking them for bringing attention to the problem. More disabled fans come to the shows to show support, and the disabled seating sections have to get bigger and bigger. Richard is unbearably smug.

They lose the court case because "You should've asked for an accessible room," or "The minimal accommodations were reasonable, never mind that your lady couldn't pee."

Richard goes right on tearing up hotel rooms because fuck that. He's going to die on this hill. Eventually, the band just factors impromptu hotel demo and associated court fees into touring costs.

After this happens about twenty times, the scope of the problem becomes clear. Hotels, anxious to avoid impromptu renos of their own, begin to make changes. They offer more accessible rooms and fuller accommodations. Disabled tourism increases, and local governments, sensing money to be had, pass ordinances to increase accessibility. It's not long before national governments take up the issue.

All because one very opinionated German with a very large platform fell in love.

And when Richard ties the knot to fucking spite the goblins who sneer at his beloved(and for love) and spends much of the wedding prep complaining about the accessibility issues there, Till just sighs and takes a very long gulp of wine because here we go again.

#richard z. kruspe #rzk #rammstein #fic ideas

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solesurvivorpaigeargot · 4 years ago

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I absolutely LOVE Sketchy Saturdays and I always look forward to them!! As for my question(s)? What made you decide to start doing it(I'm glad you do but I was just curious!)?

Hoooo boi the Sketchy Saturday Origin Story: I suppose there's two versions.

The short version reads " Moving stress, deployment depression, and isolation VS. my utter determination to DO SOMETHING whilst trapped in my home " -- Sketchy Saturday was the result of that title fight, so I guess the fandom won in the end? XD

The long version, however... Well, buckle up, cause this is gonna be a ride.

It may surprise y'all to know that two years I was eyeballs-deep in the South Park fandom. The blog still exists; my mainblog, JustCallMeButtlord, built to interact with the audience of my fanfictions-- the New Kid Stories, called NKS for short [gonna be porting those to Ao3 soon, just gotta figure out what robo-reader I'm gonna use to make a quick n dirty podfic out of the series as well as help me hunt down typos my eyes galze over]. The first 'season' of stories had ended, 8 completed fics, and I was puttering about with a bonus holiday story that was several months out of season. Not that I CARED because I was on GUAM where seasons don't exist and my time blindness gets even worse becasue without seasons changing it feels like time never progrsses even after being on the island for three cocksucking years.

I don't hate Guam, I am just not built for constant heat. I am a snow creature; I like below-freezing temperatures so I can layer up in fuzzy, fluffy things and drink hot drinks and cuddle loved ones and/or furry animals. It's a lovely island, I adored my first week there... I just wasn't made to live there.

HIlariously, NKS started out of the stress of moving to Guam. Two years and 8 fics later, the place we were renting was no longer within our price range and my hubby and I were forced to move onto base. Under the leader whom I refuse to name, military pay was given a precentage raise... but it was ripped out of bonuses and OCONUS pay. OCONUS is what a military member is paid when they're stationed Outisde the CONtinental United States. This usually means overseas bases like Japan, but it also means Hawaii, aaaaaand... GUAM. So that percentage pay increase for the military at large meant belt-tightening for every service member abroad, and we were forced to move onto base.

In case y'all haven't noticed by now, I'm a raging socialist with some issued with authority. I DO NOT LIKE EXISTING ON BASE. I do not like existing in a place where the national anthem plays twice a day, every day, at 6 AM and then again whenever the hell sundown is that day. And there's an unspoken rule no one tells you that when it plays you're supposed to stop what you're doing, face the nearest set of speakers playing the song, and stare in that direction with your hand over your heart until its over. That, if you're driving, you have to put on your emergency flashers and pull over. No one tells you this. NO ONE TELLS YOU THIS.

And then, before we had secured a place on base but we had set a move out date for the rental house, the Pandemic happened. While we were between homes. The base is talking full lockdown, Guam authorities want to shut down the island but businesses are terrified of not getting the tourist season business, we don't even know if we'll be allowed to move on to base.

Surprise, I stopped writing for a while... but I picked Fallout 4 back up again. I had been forced into the series years earlier by a toxic relationship, but the game itself hadn't been bad-- just the way I'd been forced to play it by someone who was firmly not in my life anymore. When confronted with character creation, I wasn't sure whom I wanted to make... but decided to go back to an old character. A VERY old character, whom I hadn't thought of since I'd finished ME3 at least 4 years prior, and a character I first conceived of when I was 14-ish... which is now about 15 years ago.

Paige.

I've talked before about how well Paige's story maps onto Fo4, but this was before I knew that. I knew the opening, her losing her kid, and that fit with her-- but something clicked while I was playing and the part of my brain that likes to create started wandering off. Soon enough I've got a couple chapters of a ficlet that I'm TOTALLY just writing as a personal one-shot to de-stress, no way I'm publishing this, I don't wanna get distracted from NKS, I got a whole 'nother season to write! Who cares if no one is reading it anymore because South Park Fandom doesn't like continuous plots.... right?

I was burnt out as hell, the move was looming, the Pandemic was getting worse and everything was getting scarier.

Then the news came through that hubby would be deploying again.

He wasn't supposed to, but the Navy decided the safest place for their sailors was the middle of the ocean, so if you WERENT in quarantine you were going on the boat and you were living there. Didn't matter if your spouse would be alone, unpacking a whole home by themselves.

I had a friend on base. We hung out. I met with my DND group on weekends; we all lived on base now, so we could meet up in like five minutes... and then restrictions tightened. You could be fined up to 5 grand for gathering in groups greater than 5, even outdoors, and detained if suspected of going to a home that wasn't yours. I still met 2 of my friends once a week for walks; get outside, be active, talk to other humans, but besides that? I was locked up alone in a new house in a place that I did NOT like existing in.... with a fresh new hyperfixation developing.

I think it was about a week into the new house that I made the new blog. At first I tried to run it side by side with the South Park stuff, but it wasn't long before all my attention was here... aaaand it also wasn't long before I was confronted with a lot of my own despair; of lockdown, of isolation, of watching a broken system crumble and not being able to DO anything about it, and I started to kinda lose my shit. I fuss-- I can't leave things alone, and I couldn't leave this feeling alone; of being fully and entirely helpless and hopeless.

And then I sketched a thing for a friend, and it made them happy. They were having a rough time, too, and I put something together because I couldn't think of anything else. And it helped. It lifted them up, and it lifted me up, too. Someone else had recently reblogged one of those pallet challenges that floats around Tumblr, and I decided FUCK IT LET'S DO THIS THING AND CALL IT SKETCHY SATURDAY!

Little secret, the very first Sketchy Saturday request? Was me. I was so scared no one would noticed the event, I sent myself the very first request, back when the event still took anons. Soon as that first picture was up:

BANG, suddenly four more; some people off anon. I met people that day, talked to them after the very first Sketchy weekend was over, chatted about the games and characters and art and writing and just... felt human for the first time in a really long while.

I figured I'd hold on to Sketchy Saturday until the deployment was over-- once hubby was back, I'd decide whether I was keeping it or not... but he came back, and I was still super into it, and he was supportive, sooooo I kept going! And then we did Sketchy Secret Santa, and people loved it, and my volunteers are excited about being Sketchy Elves and Secret Helpers and just OH MY GOD I DID A THING GUYS. I DID A THING-- that was just me all December and January long lmafo.

AND JANUARY! Because AH HECK, WE MOVING AGAIN! Because hubby finally got orders, and OH MY GOD we're going back to WA... but it's still a move half-way around the globe, and I was SURE I'd have to shut down the event for a month while we got our shit in order and NOPE, because here come the volunteers from Sketchy Secret Santa, and they wanna fill in all month long! Like... I didn't even ask for that shit, guys. They offered it so the event wouldn't have to take a gap.

Jesus I'm getting teary just remembering it.

So yeah. Sketchy Saturday is here because I got really lonely and stressed out while Fallout 4 provided me with some... catharsis for my situation, and then a pandemic happened.

And then y'all happened, and I'm still here. :D

#Sketchy Saturday #feels

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queenofallimagines · 5 years ago

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cute and innocent-looking s/o who doms Deku OR Dabi or Mirio

Sigh yet another lost request and this one was f u n

Song ref:EDEN-xo

Mirio:

- hoooo boy he was NOT expecting this at all

- You were his precious pure s/o

- So w h y were his hands tied to the bed with your uniform tie and you grinding on him like no tomorrow

- “If you’re a good boy I might even let you come.”

- HUH???

- Like when you two started making out

- It got heated pretty fast

- He was ready to take full responsibility

- Then he saw this dangerous glint in your eye

- And poof

- You had managed to pin him and bind his hands

- He couldn’t tell if he was more confused or turned on

- The way you smirk down at him made him shiver

- “H-hey sunshine-“

- You ground down on him hard

- The sound that left his throat

- Ooooooooo biiiitch he might as well be a pornstar

- “You speak when spoken to.”

- Shit that was hot

- When you started to go down on him he couldn’t keep his mouth shut

- Playfully rolling your eyes you straddle his face

- “Maybe I should shut you up.”

- Heart eyes bitch

- Face sitting was his kink how did you know???

- He has never been more turned on before this moment

- Thinks about this for days

- Can’t look at you in the eyes without getting flustered

- When you go right back to being innocent and precious he gets a whiplash

- Waiting for you to slip up

- Nah you just are that way

- He’s shook and in love

Deku:

- okay this closet pervert is not even gunna suspect this

- He’s too busy jerking it to Dominating you

- Like would you turn red and hide your face??

- Make cute noises??

- He was too hyped

- One study session in his down while the other are fuck all anywhere

- He tries to make his move

- Like a predator after it’s prey

- But he had clearly bitten off more than he could chew

- When he had you pinned to the floor and hands under your shirt he didn’t even see it coming

- You go in for the kill

- Do the anime slam you against the bed move

- As you look down at his cute surprised face he’s like

- ?????? This isn’t what I pictured

- “Now listen to me. You’re gunna be a good boy and keep your hands to yourself or I won’t even think about letting you come.”

- W o a h

- He’s hard after that

- He struggles to try and keep his hands to himself

- Keeps babbling

- “Please-oh fuck- please just let me touch you please.”

- He has switched to a sub real quick

- When you finally let him touch you he’s singing praises

- He’s gunna make you come exactly how you want to

- Will follow orders with no hesitation

Dabi:

- dabi stans come get y’all juice!!

- Okay so he’s just aggressively annoying by nature lmao

- Will see you and want to corrupt you

- When you shyly tell him you’ll jump into a bed with him he’s estatic

- He’s a switch but a dom leaning one so this would be difficult for most

- But you ain’t most

- Making out and bam

- You use you quirk to keep him in place while you undress

- He’s literally to shocked to speak

- Shit boy

- When you give him the dirtiest glance and whisper

- “I’ll make you choke so hard you only know my name. I’m going to ruin you.”

- In his ear you’ve won

- He will watch as you edge him for almost an hour

- “Fuck- c’mon doll face don’t be cruel. Finish me please??”

- It’s cute how fast he tune s over in the face of power

- It’s his kink to be manhandled

- Grabbing his face and forcing your tongue in his mouth

- Making him eat you out until he can’t breathe

- Grazing your teeth on his dick

- Fuck you’ve got em

- Might propose lmao

- When he finally gets to fuck you

- Scratch that you ride him as fast as you can while he squirms and moans under you

- He is in heaven

- When he cums he does hard

- Like it leaks afterwards for a good 35 seconds

- “You did so good for me.”

- Ooo praise kink activated

- We’ll cuddle you and sleep like a baby afterwards

- Definitely a keeper in his book

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monkeebratz · 5 years ago

Text

Dad Eddie Brock Miraculous Ladybug AU - Initial Idea

OKAY SO THAT WAS A WILD FUCKING RIDE HOOOO BOY SO LETS GET INTO THIS EVEN WILDER RIDE OF DAD EDDIE BROCK

SO. At the very start of the Eddie Brock Report. Show? Whatever its called. Eddie goes to Paris to report on a corrupt SOMEONE. I’m going to say somebody in the medical industry since that seems to be a theme here. And, of course, Eddie manages to fuck up and ends up loosing his tickets, papers, phone, and what have you. And is left stranded on the streets of Paris.

Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng, newly married bakery owners, find this American stumbling around, clearly struggling, and invite him in. Because, honestly, its the good thing to do. And Tom’s a fucking GIANT of a man, even if Eddie DID try something, he wouldn’t get very far. Now, Sabine doesn’t speak English, but Tom speaks it a little, on behalf on Gina. So there’s a lot of miming and broken English and the handful of words Eddie picked up wondering around Paris.

... I’m not entirely sure how, but, they strike up a friendship while Eddie is there. And when he goes back to San Francisco, he and the Dupain-Cheng’s stay in touch. Eddie works on his French and Tom and Sabine work on their English. This friendship grows into a long distance relationship. Which, once the Brock Show picks up, grows into an actual relationship! Now, I’m going to keep this purposely vague as to who is actually Marinette’s father bc honestly? It doesn’t REALLY matter. And by that I mean, it matters less if Eddie or Tom is Marinette’s biological dad, both are her fathers. So, feel free to pick and choose who is biologically her dad, but for this au, it doesn’t really matter!

Anyway. When the Dupain-Cheng’s hear that they’re expecting, they tell Eddie, who is ecstatic! They’re having a baby! Yes!! Eddie, of course, knows that this kid is probably not his, but they will be in spirit. Annie, of course, knows about Tom and Sabine, and vice versa. Everyone’s very happy with the current situation.

A few years pass, with frequent visits to Tom, Sabine, and baby Mari. Tom is Mari’s Papa, and Eddie is her Daddy. Later upgraded to ‘dad.’

And, when Mari’s about 8? Lets say 8. The events of Venom happen. And since this all obviously happens over the course of, lets say, a year, a lot goes down. Tom and Sabine hear about what happens with Eddie losing his job bc of that interview, and then they have trouble getting into contact with Eddie. He’s depressed and struggling and he doesn’t want his partners to see him like this. Doesn’t want his daughter to see him like this.

But then VENOM happens and shit all goes. Like it does.

Venom obviously has access to Eddie’s memories and he gets a call from Tom and Sabine and starts thinking about them and its its just. Eddie? Eddie you have offspring? Why are they not here? Eddie let us to go them and your mates. Eddie lets go.

And Eddie, of course, is like IF, and that’s a BIG FUCKING IF, we go to Paris, there’s none of. THIS. none of that. (There is of course, lots of THAT)

They go to Paris, and Mari is about 9-10 now and she’s so excited to see her Daddy! Tom and Sabine were just so worried its just big bear hugs. Also Tom is about the size of fully out Venom. Its hilarious.

Venom, also, loves the idea of such a tiny child. So little. Very delicate. Much love. Pokes his head out and Mari is just. Screams. But not the bad scream, the excited child scream that comes with seeing something they love but nobody can tell the difference. So there’s panic. But then Mari has her hands full of squishy Sybiote face shouting “SLIPPERY PUPPY!” ANd all the adults are screaming.

There is, of course, and explanation of what happened and who Venom is and what’s been going on. So Mari gains ANOTHER dad, who is very eager to sit with her and have fake tea parties and have deep, kinda concerning children conversations about right and wrong and which is the best flavor of chocolate. (Venom likes dark chocolate and Mari loves milk chocolate and they will forever argue over which is better. Eddie stays out of it.)

Now, when asked, Mari says she has three dads and one mom. That two of her dads are married and live in San Francisco and she lives her her Papa and Mama here in Paris. Nobody is ever really sure how to take that, but just kinda accept it? Mari’s whole class is weird. Though, considering how shy and isolated it seemed Mari was during her school years BEFORE the events of Miraculous Ladybug, I assume only a handful of people actually know this.

(Also Gina gets along swimmingly with Eddie and they occasionally do reports together. And ride their motorcycles together. And drink and talk about how disappointing it was to miss so many moments of Marinette growing up.)

Anyways, Marinette becomes Ladybug, yada yada. Except this time, there’s no secret identities. Not in the family, at least. Eddie and Venom are hero’s (or at the very least anti-heros or whatever you want to call it) and now all four of her parents are aware that she’s a superhero.

Actually, scratch that. Marinette doesn’t become Ladybug. She becomes Lady Noire. Bc seriously this girl was clumsy as all fuck and being incredibly unlucky is like. Her THING. And also you have Venom and Plagg shenanigans. Father and daughter can bond over having these dumbass’ constantly all in their space.

Eddie and Venom may or may not threaten Plagg that there will be NO dating. Mari is a baby and specifically THEIR baby. None of that. Plagg screeches bc SHE’S PRACTICALLY AN INFANT. A FETUS. ALSO ROMANCE IS GROSS AND HE IS MARRIED TO HIS LOVELY SUGAR CUBE NOT THIS TINY KITTEN. HE’S LIKE, THE YODA TO HER SKYWALKER. GROSS. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. CHEESE AND HIS SUGAR CUBE ARE BETTER THAN ROMANCE.

Tom and Sabine ask that Eddie and Venom stay with them, now that Mari’s a superhero and obviously needs their help.

So then you have Venom and Eddie (as its full on Venom training the fledgling hero’s) kicking Lady Noire and Mister Bug into shape. And shutting down this flirting bc Mari is clearly not having it. There shall be respect in this relationship!

(Venom; Can we eat Hawkmoth?

Eddie: ... Maybe.)

And this is. Honesty all I got so far. Here you go.

OH NO, wait, there’s also Mari have Eddie’s sense of humor and they’re both incredibly kind so take THAT.

And the ring/bracelets Eddie wears during the movie are from the Dupain-Cheng’s. The ring was Tom’s, the beaded bracelet is from Sabine, and the braided(?) bracelet is one that Mari made him.

and now i’m done.

I have no idea if i’ll continue this BUT here’s the tag list. If you’d like to be added, send me an ask for next time. IF there’s a next time. Or if you have questions, drop those too, I’ll see if I’ve got anything.

@zalladane @sassydepression @virgil-is-a-cutie

#miraculous ladybug #venom #venom au #miraculous ladybug au #eddie brock #marinette dupain cheng #sabine cheng #tom dupain #eddie brock and venom are dads two and three au

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alphawave-writes · 5 years ago

Note

Harold ties Siebren up and teases him.

OHHHHH ho ho HOOOO! Hell yeah. Guys, I’m still open for prompts, SFW and NSFW, so send them over if you want a short drabble by me.

For obvious reasons, this one will be NSFW. Anything spicy will be under a read more.

Siebren normally doesn’t like losing control. He is always faintly aware of the entropy that dictates the universe, of the sheer insignificance of his birth and actions, but he has always tried to avoid that fate. He wants to make something of himself, he wants to make a difference in the world. Surrendering control is akin to admitting defeat. Admitting that the world wouldn’t change if he isn’t around.

He wants to say he doesn’t like being tied up, but the bonds on his wrists and legs are snug, and Harold is licking his lips, a predator that has caught his prey. And Siebren knows Harold is the kind who plays with his food.

“You’re so cute,” Harold croons. “Who knew you could be such a good boy?”

Siebren huffs, turning his head away as Harold splays his hands over his naked chest. Lips natch onto his nipple, sucking delicately, making his head spin. He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, except he does, but it’s a reason he doesn’t want to admit out loud. For Harold, he will gladly yield if it means these touches continue, if it means Harold will give him what they both desperately crave.

The hand that wraps around Siebren’s cock is fiery hot, and Siebren mewls quietly, tugging at his restraints. He could break free from these flimsy restraints, pull his wrists and ankles free in a flash, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to.

“You are a good boy,” Harold laughs. “Maybe I should put some animal ears on you, and you could be my little pet.”

“D-don’t tease me.”

But Harold ignores his request, smiling indulgently as he sat on Siebren’s lap, grinding his ass slowly. “What would everybody think, seeing Dr. Siebren de Kuiper tied up like this, desperate to have little old me?”

“You’re not old,” Siebren hisses as he feels Harold lower his hips, pressing his entrance against his dick. “A-and you’re not little.”

“You don’t care what people think? Not even if I did this?”

Harold lowers himself slowly, shuddering violently as he breathes up to the ceiling. Indescribable pleasure surrounds Siebren’s cock before traveling up his spine. He doesn’t get a chance to bask in this glorious heat. Harold rolls his hips above him, his pace brutal and gentle all at the same time. Sweet nothings drip from his lips like they’re honey, and Siebren wants to drink it all up.

A thought creeps up in his mind about what everyone will think, what people will say if they knew he was such a filthy degenerate, but he doesn’t care. Not now, not when Harold is riding him like this, blushing and beautiful. If it meant he can have Harold like this, let the whole world know. Let him be ruined, just as long as Harold is there to pick up the pieces.

“You like it when I take control,” Harold breathes.

Siebren’s breathing catches in his throat, and he knows Harold noticed. An indulgent smile grew on Harold’s face as he lowered himself as far as he could go, engulfing all of Siebren’s dick in warmth.

“You do, don’t you? You like it when I tell you what to do.”

Siebren tries to thrust up, to get Harold to move again, for the pleasure to consume his body and soul. “I-I do.”

Harold shivers. “A-and why is that?”

“B-because I know you’ll...I know you will take care of me,” Siebren admits in a whisper.

Harold chuckles through his groan, resuming his furious pace. “Cum for me, bǎobèi.”

And Siebren does, spilling warmly inside Harold. Harold follows suit soon after, staining both of their chests. Harold takes a minute to recover before undoing the restraints. He squirts lotion onto his hands before rubbing them at Siebren’s ankles and wrists. Siebren doesn’t say a word throughout the process. His mind is still reeling from the confession that spilled from his lips moments ago.

Harold stares into Siebren’s eyes as if to say did you mean what you said? and Siebren nods. I meant every word.

He doesn’t normally like losing control, but as Harold snuggles close and kisses him through the postcoital bliss, he doesn’t think he minds if Harold is the one to take control. Harold will take good care of him, and when the time comes for Harold to give up control to Siebren, he will do the same.

#overwatch #Sigma #Siebren de kuiper #Harold Winston #Sigrold #Harold Winston is a kinky man #But Siebren's gotta be as well if he agrees to all this stuff #I only write HAPPY CONSENSUAL smut thank you very much

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purplepersnicketywrites · 6 years ago

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Prompt: "If he's crazy, good-looking, and an asshole, I've probably dated him" -Kirishima Eijirou Au (I was thinking maybe college au?) where Kirishima only dates bad boys and always ends up getting his heart broken in the end, whether it's because they always just want sex or they're just assholes. His bro kaminari is tired of seeing him like this so he sets him up with nice guy tetsutetsu and things are going well... but the Kirishima sees bakugo and well...he has a type

Hoooo yes good

i didn’t want to write an actual drabble ‘cause it would’ve been Too Long but here’s this outline!!

I’m not sure Kiri and Tetsu would click in that way at all if they were introduced on a date. They’re very BRO at each other so they probably end up as friends, but there’s no romantic spark there.

They figure that out pretty quickly into the date - and both of them are relieved to hear that the other thinks the same.

So they continue on with the ‘date’ but as a friends hanging out thing, and call Kaminari up to tell him what’s what so they get the rest of the Squad out for some partying instead.

Kiri and Tetsu go to the bar to wait for everyone to organise and show up, and settle into some good-natured chatting. Tetsu asks about Kirishima’s history of Disasters, and Kiri tells him about his unfortunate Type.

Tetsu: man,,, that’s roughKiri: yeah… so that’s why Denki thought he’d try to set me up with youTetsu: ah yeah he knows i’m into redheads, usuallyKiri: see now that’s a type that’s manageable

Tetsu gets up to go to use the bathroom, and Kiri is left sitting at the bar, moping a little at his bad luck.

Enter: one of Kiri’s exes. Kiri sees the guy before he sees Kiri.

Now, if Tetsu were there, he might ask the guy to pretend to be his boyfriend to get the ex off his back, but Tetsu isn’t. So Kirishima does the impulsive thing and jumps over the bar to hide. It’s not manly at all but he really can’t deal with this guy at the moment.

Hey, you might be saying. Hey Purb? Where’s Bakugou? Where is he?

WELL, Bakugou is one of the bartenders. He sees this dude leap the bar and prepares for the worst. He’s storming over, ready to throw down in case this guy’s trying to steal shit, but he just sits and looks panicked.

Bakugou changes tack - the guy’s probably drunk instead.

Baku: OI, get out of here!Kiri: Ah shit, hi, sorry! Can I just hide down here for a few? Just until my friend gets back? Or we’ve got, uh, more friends coming so if any of them-Baku: What the hell, man?Kiri: it’s just that I’ve seen my ex and he’s a real piece of work and if I talk to him I’ll die and have panic attacks for the rest of the week?

Now, Bakugou is not a monster, so he rolls his eyes but otherwise accepts this as a good reason to hide.

Baku: alright, whatever. what do your friends look like?Kiri: uhhhh, well the guy who’s here is a little like me but his hair is silver, and my other friends, uhhh, girl with pink hair, girl with short dark purple hair, blond guy with a black lightning bolt in his hair, and then Sero’s hair is black and pretty normal but he’s quite tall?Baku: so it’s the shitty hair squad i’ve gotta look out for? ugh, fine, but I better get a tip for thisKiri internally, realising this bartender guy is A) hot and B) kind of a jerk: oh no

Tetsu comes back to the bar, and is told by the bartender that Kiri is hiding. Tetsu’s a little confused but sure, why not?

The bartender gripes a little and asks if Kiri’s gonna leave yet. Kiri says no - he’d rather wait for everyone else first. The bartender continues to gripe as he serves his customers.

The Squad arrives, and Kiri hops back over the bar with a mix of thanks and apologies. Bakugou says to tell all that to the tip jar. Kiri does, and generously, and his friends drag him out to the dancefloor because he’s getting a Look on his face about the bartender and this was exactly what the date with Tetsu was trying to avoid.

The party goes on. Kiri dances with his friends and has fun. He goes back to the bar for another drink - nothing alcoholic this time, he’s just overheating a little.

Now,,, Kirishima is one whole dumbass,,, because why exactly did he jump over the bar? Why did he wait ‘til his friends were there to get back out? To avoid his ex.

The ex who pounces as soon as Kiri is alone at the bar.

Bakugou noticed the redheaded idiot come back over to the bar - he just hadn’t gotten over there to serve him yet. So when he sees him sort of being backed up to the bar, looking uncomfortable to the point of panic, he realised what had happened at once and got over there sharpish.

Baku: hey, what’s going on here?Ex: none of your business :) right Ei?Kiri: uh…Baku: you have five seconds to get the fuck out of hereEx: excuse me? you use that kind of language on a customer?Baku: three… two…Ex: look-Baku: one… zero! cool. you’re banned, numbnuts.Ex: wHAT?Baku: fuck off! I don’t want to see your greasy ass here ever againEx: i demand to see the managerBaku: bitch, i’m the fucking owner and i’m three seconds from calling security. you want me to start counting down again?Ex: ugh, FINE. come on, EijirouKiri: umBaku: nah, he’s stayingEx: but-Baku: it’s club policy not to let drunk partygoers go home with banned people or some shitEx: he’s not drunkBaku: dunno, looks pretty fucking drunk to meKiri: yeah, uh, i’ve had sooo much alcoholEx: UGH WHATEVEREx: *leaves*Baku: what a fucking asshole. you okay?Kiri: *hyperventilating*Baku: ah shit

Bakugou lets the other bartender - Camie? let’s go with Camie - he lets her know that he’s dealing with a distraught partygoer and takes Kiri into one of the back rooms to ride out the panic attack in private.

Once Kiri’s a little more lucid, Bakugou asks for his phone and uses it to contact his friends, who quickly pile up at the bar.

Bakugou returns Kiri to his friends, tells them that they’re all stupid for letting Kirishima go off by himself when they knew that his piece-of-shit ex was there, and goes back to work.

Kiri is taken home and has a Not So Great Time for a few days, but his friends are there and he gets through the downswing. Kiri comes out of the ordeal with a resolution to punch Ex in the face if he ever turns up again, and just a teensy little bit of a crush on the bartender who helped him out.

the Squad: no! he helped you, sure, but he was rude! you know what you’re like!Kiri: yeah,,, the Squad: you’re probably just hyped up on gratitudeKiri: maybe so….the Squad: you don’t even know his nameKiri: that’s why i’m gonna ASK him!!!

So Kiri goes back to the bar and zeroes in on the bartender (owner?). Only this time he’s got his megawatt grin on his face, and determination.

Bakugou recognises him - well, he did make a bit of an impact - and goes over to talk to him. Kiri introduces himself properly, Baku gives his own name back, and Kiri thanks him for helping him out.

Baku’s like ‘yeah whatever it’s just my job’ as if he hasn’t been wondering about Kiri and if he was okay after that altercation. Kiri knows how to be Very Charming when he wants to be, and the two of them keep chatting until Camie waves Bakugou down because Help There Are Customers, Just Give The Guy Your Number And Flirt Later

Bakugou is Outraged. Kiri gets his number.

Strictly for letting Bakugou know if there are any other assholes that Kirishima might want him to yell at. That’s it, of course. He might say it with a little bit of a smirk.

When Kiri gets home and sends off the first text to say Hey and gets one back almost immediately saying you sure took your time, huh?, he has a serious Uh Oh I’m Catching Feelings moment. Because Bakugou is like, 100% Kirishima’s type. He’s all brash and bold. He curses a lot. He’s loud. He’s aggressive and arrogant and a little bit of a jerk. He’s blond.

But… he let Kiri hide under the bar, got Kiri’s ex away from him and helped him through his panic attack until his friends arrived. A real jerk would’ve just let Kiri’s ex harrass him. Bakugou was obviously waiting for the text, too. Kirishima doesn’t even think Denki or Mina texted him back so quickly when they all exchanged numbers. Does that mean he likes him back? (Yes.)

Bakugou, for his part, is assuming that most of Kirishima’s apparent interest in him is because of the help. Like a weird gratitude thing. So he’s sort of expecting Kirishima to just be hitting on him from the word go, only the guy just. Texts. Like a friend. Asking him all these questions, chattering about his day, anything, everything. It’s... cute.

He comes back to the bar every few days to chat in person, until Camie tells Bakugou to just take him out on a date already so he doesn’t get distracted while working. Bakugou grumbles about being her boss. Bakugou does what she says.

Aaand basically they smorch and fall in love and live happily ever after.

#kiribaku #bakushima #reply #anon #find later

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the--blackdahlia · 6 years ago

Text

Armageddon Chapter 13 (Dean x Reader)

Title: Armageddon Chapter 13

Summary: Space. The Final Frontier. But for Dean Winchester, space was the last place he thought he would ever go. His family life isn’t perfect, his job isn’t ideal, but he has (Y/n), the woman he loves. Sam Winchester never thought his life would turn out the way it did. He is divorced, alone, and his brother most likely hates him. Working for NASA was not going to be easy. But, when a threat to the earth has him calling on his family for help, what can he do? can Sam and Dean push past his family issues to keep the Earth spinning another day? Based on the movie of the same name.

Pairings: Dean x Reader; Sam x Jessica

Warnings For this Chapter: Mainly language I believe

Song for this Chapter is Enter Sandman by Metallica

Check out my Patreon for more!!

Dean was pacing back and forth in the holding pen. They had a crew in the launch bay prepping the rockets that would launch them into space. He hadn’t spoken to (Y/n) in a while and he was now itching to hear her voice. He was told his walkman wouldn’t be allowed on the ride with him. Know all he was left with was a ball of nerves and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“You ok brother?” Benny leaned on one of the walls and crossed his arms. “You keep walking like that, you are going to bore a hole on that concrete floor,” Benny chuckled. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll strike oil!”

“Or hit a gas pocket and launch us to the moon.” Dean rolled his eyes. Sam wrapped his arms around their necks.

“Guys, do you know where we’re going?” Sam asked with a smile.

“No, Sam… I mean where could we possibly go?” Dean sighed sarcastically. “Oh no… I just set him up didn’t I?”

“Guys, we are literally going where no man has gone before!” Sam chuckled. “So, who wants to be Kirk?” He smiled and walked away.

“If anyone’s Kirk, it’s me.” Benny told Dean.

“I can be Bones!” Dean gave Benny a pat on his shoulder as they followed Sam.

They made their way to a small area were they were helped into their space suits. Dean glanced over at Sam. He looked like he was born to wear the suit. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Ready?” Sam asked everyone. There were murmurs and nods. “Let’s go guys.”

Dean closed his eyes as they made their way to the lift that would help them get on the rocket. He tried to focus on what (Y/n) sounded like. He always felt her voice calmed him whenever he was nervous. Soon, they were up in the lift and making their way into the shuttles, where they were strapped in.

As they were getting ready for lift off, Dean heard Sam say something. Something a little familiar.

“Say your prayers, little one. Don’t forget my son to include everyone.” Sam sang. Benny smiled and joined in.

“I tuck you in, warm within. Keep you free from sin, 'Til the sandman he comes” Benny smiled to Ketch.

“Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight!” Ketch joined in.

Dean smiled as he joined everyone for the next part, “Exit light. Enter night. Take my hand. We're off to never-never land.”

As the rocket lifted off the force pushed them all back. Sam began yelling loudly. “Woooo! Hoooo!” he began.

Followed by Ketch, “Yippee Ki Yay Mother Fuckers!”

Dean closed his eyes, “Son of a BITCH!”

“Oh man brother this is just like a carnival ride!” Benny laughed.

“My carnival rides weren’t like this!” Dean screamed. Sam was laughing. For the first time in awhile, he felt so carefree. He didn’t want it to be over.

*************

Mission Control

Houston, Texas

Bobby looked around mission control. They had arrived just before the crew was launched into space. John sat with (Y/n) and Jessica as Ashton sat on Jessica’s lap. They were watching the video feed from Cape Canaveral.

“I want audio and visual up! No excuses I want all eyes and ears on what is happening!” Bobby shouted out, “Move ya Idjits! We don’t have all day!” he said as the rocket launched. “We have five minutes before we take control!”

“Look at it go.” Jessica whispered. “I’ve been to launches before, but this is different…”

“What the hell is that noise?” John asked. “Is that...Metallica?”

“Dean!” (Y/n) laughed, “It calms him down when we fly.”

“Of course it does.” Jessica laughed. “That sounds like Dean.”

A few moments later, they hear the whooping and calls as they headed out of the atmosphere. They were all smiling as they heard Dean scream. Jessica covered Ashton’s ears.

(Y/n) placed her head in her hands, “Oh Dean, really?” she moaned as she laughed.

“I have the audio but where is my visual people! What are you Idjits doing? Picking your noses? MOVE IT!” Bobby bellowed as he began to try and fix the problem. “Freedom this is mission control, we have audio but no visual do you copy?”

Jo’s voice came over the communications system, “Mission control we copy loud and clear.”

“Freedom, you are going to head straight for the asteroid,” Bobby leaned on the com. “Just take it nice and easy, no side tricks Jo, copy?”

“Roger that! Mission control,” Jo gave the short reply.

Dean looked out through the front window, it was surreal. Space was vast. He was seeing more stars up where he was than he could down on the planet. He closed his eyes and looked to Sam.

“Man I wish (Y/n) could see this, It’s amazing.” He breathed.

“Yeah, I should have done it sooner.” Sam gave a soft chuckle. “I never thought I’d have the chance to actually do this.”

“You should give yourself more credit.” Dean told him. Sam shrugged.

“They told me I was more valuable on terra ferma.” He unbuckled himself to float around. “This is amazing.”

“Woah, woah! Sam what are you doing?” Dean freaked out.

“Floating.” Sam said. “You don’t have to stay buckled in the whole time.” He smiled as Benny joined him. “See. It’s fun.” The guys and Jo started floating around the cabin, except for Dean, who refused to get out of his seat. “Dean, come on.”

Dean looked to Sam, with a shaky hand he undid the seat belt. “I die, you promise to take care of (Y/n)? Right?” He gave his brother a serious look. Dean let go and allowed his body to float.

“You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you.” Sam smiled at him. “What do you think?”

“It’s weird… But I like it,” Dean gave him a soft smile, “I feel all floaty.”

“Welcome to space.” Jo laughed. “This is my third time.”

***********

Back in mission control, Bobby had everyone scrambling to try and get a video feed. He rubbed his forehead at his situation.

“Can anyone tell me why we can’t get god damn visual on them?” He shouted.

“What’s going on?” Jess asked, a little nervous. “I don’t remember this ever taking this long.”

“John, I’m getting worried here,” (Y/n) shook her head as she nibbled on the nail of her thumb. “I… I have a bad feeling about the boys… I can’t…” (Y/n)’s breathing became panicked. “I want to talk to Dean… I… I should have told him….”

“Okay, Bobby, let us know if anything happens.” John said. “Jess, (Y/n), come with me.”

John led (Y/n) and Jess to a small room next to mission control. He let the girls in first and closed the door behind him.

“Ok, everything is going to be fine,” John looked at (Y/n). “This stress is not good for the baby, (Y/n). just take cool calming breaths.” John began to take deep breaths hoping (Y/n) would follow.

And she did, soon calming down. Jessica rubbed her back, even though she was just as upset. She had really hurt Sam, thinking he was using her. She should’ve known better. Sam was too sweet of a guy.

“How are you feeling?” Jessica asked (Y/n).

(Y/n) shook her head as a strangles sob came out, “What if I never see him again?” she looked to John, “you were right, I should have told him.”

“He’s coming back. Everyone is.” John told her. “Because I will kick his ass if he doesn’t.” He hugged her. Jessica sat off to the side, feeling out of place.

“Come over here Jess,” John called her over. She went over to them, getting swept up in their hug. Ashton wiggled his way into the middle of it, laughing.

John let the girls go momentarily to pick up his grandson, “Hey little man, last time I saw you, you were just a tiny little thing.” John tickled him, “I’m your grandpa John, I’m your dad’s daddy.”

“Daddy has a daddy?” Ashton asked. “That’s cool!” He looked around. “Where is daddy?”

“Well Right now, he is with your Uncle Dean up in outer space,” John explained. “They are going to break apart a big rock that’s coming our way.”

“Is daddy Superman?” Ashton asked seriously, but it brought a smile to everyone’s faces.

“Oh yeah, and Uncle Dean is Batman,” (Y/n) chuckled with a smile to Ashton.

“Batman’s so cool!” Ashton said. He wiggled out of John’s arms to run around the room, pretending he could fly.

(Y/n) gave John a sad smile, “I don’t know what I would do if Dean didn’t come back.” she shook her head, “I’m sorry, my hormones are all over the place.”

“You’re allowed to be emotional.” John said. (Y/n) looked over then as she heard Jessica start crying.

“I’m sorry guys.” She said, wiping her eyes. “Ignore me.”

“Hey,” John said gently, “Whatever happened between you and Sam, It’s ok.” John pulled her in for another hug. “You married a Winchester, that boy over there who looks like my son.” He motioned his head to Ashton who was playing with cars. “He is a Winchester, you are a Winchester Jessica.” he held on to both women as they cried. “(Y/n) even before Dean gave you that ring… you are a Winchester. You two hear me?”

“Yes,” they both echoed as they allowed John to pull them in tighter. (Y/n) noticed that Jessica was wearing her wedding ring.

“Uh, hello?” Charlie said awkwardly from the doorway. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at her. “I just wanted to let you guys know that we got video of the shuttle. It’s not great though. But Bobby said you guys wanted to know…”

(Y/n) and Jessica ran back to the control room. John picked up Ashton and carried him. They could see inside the shuttle, watching as everyone floated around. Sam was picking on Dean by spinning him and Benny wasn’t doing anything to help him.

“Ok, boy’s time to buckle back up we need to land this thing,” Jo chuckled as Dean could be heard in the background.

“Sam when we get back to gravity I’m going to pummel you to the ground!” Dean groaned. “I hope (Y/n) punches you in the nads when we get back for that!”

“That’s if she can see us!” Sam teased.

The audio began cutting in and out. Much of the conversation began to get cut. Jessica covered Ashton’s ears as Dean began to curse loudly at the turbulence while they were landing. John rubbed (Y/n)’s and Jessica’s backs as they watch the shuttle shake and bounce. It wasn’t long before the shuttle landed perfectly. Everyone in Mission Control cheered, but Bobby held up his hands.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” He sighed. “We still have a long way to go.”

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tags: @queenslandlover-93 @screechingartisancashbailiff @strab0 @maaryisafangirl @deathofmissjackson @hellabrothers @fandom-princess-forevermore @x-waywardaf-x @webcraft4eveh @deansgirl-1968 @2dead2function @jjjjjjjoshdun @stella20131991@luciathewinchestergirl @sheris532 @bobasheebaby @bella-ca @akshi8278

Supernatural Tags: @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @cloudyskylines @flamencodiva @sams-serialkiller-fetish @theas-bedtime-stories @huntingfreewill @ocholove @princessofthefandomrealm

Armageddon Tags: @thefaithfulwriter

#Armageddon #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #jensen ackles #Jared Padalecki #fanfiction

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poppin-cinn · 5 years ago

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Hello angel. I don't know if this is good or bad for you, but I am on Tumblr a lot so you will be getting lots of cheery messages. I have been keeping up with all your posts and tags and you are so funny and cute. I really value seeing all your thoughts. I see you have fallen for Mr. Sunshine. How did you fall for Youngjae? Anyway I hope you have a sunny happy day as cheery as Mr. Sunshine. You deserve it! ☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️ 💜- secret 🎅santa

okay !!! Thank you for the cheery messages!!! I definitely don’t mind them ! And aaaa thank you for liking my tags and my content !!!!

and hoooo boy is me loving youngjae a Ride,,, i’m going to go off in a full retelling here so if you aren’t in the mood for me pretty much Ranting about my Love For Youngjae just know that his personality and his values are super duper awe-inspiring points of him for me !!! and thank you for the kind words i hope you’re doing well too !!!

okay so I found out about them through their Just Right MV (as one does) and at first ofc i was very confused who was who. But I always had biased vocals at that point - not really sure if it’s because of their vocals or it’s coincidence - but nonetheless Jaebeom and Youngjae got my attention right off the bat though i couldn’t tell who was who. After watching some more of their stuff, I realized that it was Youngjae’s voice I really liked and I sort of told myself that he’s probably my bias and then he,,, became my bias??

But on a more emotional note, I sort of really fell for him because of his talents and his personality. I’m someone that really loves music, so hearing his songs like Trauma gave me such a deep respect for him. And I just love how cheery he always is, being unabashedly happy. He’s considerate and thoughtful but also fun and teasing. He speaks out against things that are hurting him, and he doesn’t take any bull from people that try to belittle him. But he still loves us openly and the way that you can see the adoring look he has for the fans when he sees us makes me appreciate him so so much.

okay wow that was long,,, well,,, if you wanna wax poetry about yj know that there’s this lady right here that’s ready for it omg im such a sap hhhh

SORRY IF THIS WAS UNEXPECTED SECRET SANTA IM A MESS AND I LOVE HIM

but anyway,,, thank you so, so much !!! seriously, i’m looking forward to your messages. and thank you again for being so nice !!! I hope your day goes splendidly !!!

#ahgasecretsanta #im a mess #i really am #this is such a long post #personal poppin cinn #.asks

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mirthless-misanthrope · 6 years ago

Text

When Snow Turned To Rain Part III (Jotaro Kujo Imagine) (Shenmue AU)

A/N: hoooo boy. this was my absolute favorite part of shenmue! i had to stop myself from writing more than this because trust me, I would’ve gone on for a lot longer. anyway this is part 3 of this mini series of mine! i decided to make it not as cliffhanger-y since i don’t know how long it’ll be before I can write for this again ;v; my brother is gonna be visiting this weekend and our guest room is... also the computer room so yknow.

For those who don’t know what Shenmue is: it’s a game series kind of similar to Yakuza. It’s about an 18 year old boy named Ryo that watches his father get killed by the antagonist (Lan Di). I tried to make this enjoyable for everyone, but just know it’s based on Shenmue!

in this AU, Jotaro witnessed his father get killed by DIO and his lackeys (i.e. Hol Horse, Vanilla Ice, etc.) and is pretty mad about it. I mean, who wouldn’t be? The story takes place in a town called Sakuragaoka (and later, other places by there). He only lives with Holly now. Reader or S/O is his childhood best friend, and he always protects her from bullies and… pretty much everything. I wrote this to be like SDC Jotaro since he’s 18 in this.

Trigger Warnings: harassment, swearing, hints of depression, kidnapping, implied violence bc jotaro beats people up

Link to Part I: https://asexual-agony.tumblr.com/post/185972738198/when-snow-turned-to-rain-part-i-jotaro-kujo

Link to Part II: https://asexual-agony.tumblr.com/post/186019336393/when-snow-turned-to-rain-part-ii-jotaro-kujo

please enjoy!! i had a little too much fun here whoops

It’s been a rough couple of days for me. Ever since Jotaro dismissed me like it was nothing to him, I haven’t left my home, too wrapped up in my own emotions to even try. My few friends come over sometimes and try to cheer me up, but I still refuse to leave the house. It hurts a bit too much this time, I always tell them, and yet they continue trying. Today is another one of those days. Two friends let themselves into the house and make their way to the nest of blankets and pillows I’ve made in my room.

“We told Jotaro how miserable you’ve been,” one friend starts. “We just… We want you to feel better about this… and maybe he’ll apologize when he realizes just how much he hurt you, y-y’know?” Feet shuffle closer to me. “It’s been six days since you told him, and you haven’t left your literal nest you’ve made, not even to eat! The only reason you’ve eaten anything is because your grandma doesn’t want you to starve, so she brings food up to you, and that’s a sign that you’re letting this affect you too much-”

“Get out of my house.”

Rising from the pile of blankets and pillows, I shoot both friends a piercing glare. They would later tell Jotaro that I was becoming more like him due to the intimidation emanating from me. “I said, get out. I-I’m sorry you guys, but I didn’t ask for visitors today. Just… Leave me be, okay? I’ll… I’ll go outside tomorrow. I promise you, I’ll try to get outside and walk around, so please, just leave me alone for now, okay?” They look at each other in shock before mumbling apologies and leaving almost as quickly as they showed up.

Sighing, I settle back into the center of my blankets and pillows. God, why would I promise that? Tomorrow’s gonna be awful.

…

Call me a fortune teller, because that statement was correct.

I don’t even make it two feet away from my house before I’m grabbed by some thugs. They’re sneering and laughing as they drag me away, and while I would usually panic in this kind of situation, I feel so utterly numb that I don’t even put up a fight. They yank me into a car and take me away, but I don’t care anymore. They can do whatever they want.

It’s when I overhear their plan that I snap out of the numbness in my heart and get confused. “Yeah, we got the bait for that nuisance Kujo kid,” someone mutters into a phone, “she didn’t even put up a fight like ya said she would. Ha, now we’ll get him for sure, boss.” They’re using me as bait to attract Jotaro? I let out a forced laugh, shaking my head at the men around me.

“Y’know… You might as well just kill me now, because he doesn’t care about me. He made that very clear a few days ago,” I murmur to them all, “sorry to disappoint.” The snickers I get in response puzzle me, however. Each one of the men around me starts laughing at my words. “Why are you laughing? I’m telling the truth. He doesn’t have time for pathetic people like me.” A hand on my shoulder normally would’ve startled me, but this time, I just look at whoever put their hand on me, eyebrows raised.

“You’re pretty blind, kid.”

“... Huh?”

“He just wanted you to be safe. He’s head-over-heels for you.”

And that set off an hour of questions raging in my mind.

...

Being as obedient as I am doesn’t do me any favors since the men tie me up anyway, chuckling at my lost expression. “Someone call Kujo,” a man behind me demands, and I turn to get a look at him. His blue eyes are piercing, though he isn’t glaring at me. The outfit he’s wearing reminds me of a cowboy, especially since he’s wearing a cowboy hat, and the gun in his holster sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t think I like this guy.

“So you’re the little lady that has Kujo wrapped around your finger, huh? Name’s Hol Horse.” He notices the fact that my eyes don’t move from his gun and he laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not here to kill you, or even hurt you. We just want Kujo. He’s been causing us Mad Angels a lotta trouble,” he scowls to himself, seeming irritated. “And all because he wants to find Lord Dio… god, I almost feel bad for the kid. But I can’t let him find Lord Dio, not yet.”

The sound of a dial tone makes me snap my gaze away from the man and over to where a few punks are calling someone, snickering to themselves.

I suppose I don’t prepare myself to hear Jotaro’s voice enough, because I gasp to myself.

“Kujo residence. Do you even know what time it is?”

“Yeah, we know. We also know you care dearly for this girl.”

The silence after is painstaking and hurts my heart more and more by the second.

Before I can help myself, I cry out to Jotaro, hoping he gets it. “Jotaro! I-It’s a trap, don’t listen to them-”

“Where is she,” Jotaro growls, cutting me off. “Let her go, she has nothing to do with this.” There’s shuffling on his end. He’s not… actually coming to help me, is he?

“Heh. Warehouse 15. Why don’t ya come get her before we get bored and have some fun, ah?” Hol Horse cuts in, smirking at the grunt Jotaro gives in response before the line goes dead. “And now, boys. We wait. Heh, what a sucker.

Jotaro is actually coming to help me? What kind of universe is this?

...

It feels like no time at all has passed before we hear the revving of a motorcycle. Each thug perks up at the sound, grinning at each other. He’s here, I realize, and he’s probably pissed.

What happens next is a blur: Jotaro barges in, relaxing only a little bit when he sees that I’m okay, and he starts to fight every thug in the warehouse, even Hol Horse. And to my surprise, he actually wins against all of them. “You,” his voice growls at Hol Horse, “where is Dio? Tell me now, or you’ll regret it.” Wait, Jotaro’s looking for the man that killed his father? “I would’ve let you off easy, but you went way too far, dragging her into this. Now tell me.”

I’m surprised when Hol Horse spits out the information. Sure, Jotaro is intimidating, but I didn’t realize a man as strong and determined as Hol Horse would submit so easily. And as soon as the location leaves the man’s mouth, Jotaro knocks him out, having no mercy… that is, until he turns to me.

“Yare yare… They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

My eyes widen. This is the softest I’ve ever heard him speak.

“I… n-no, they didn’t. But… Jotaro, why did you help me?”

… Silence.

Instead of speaking, Jotaro holds my hand in his and leads me to the motorcycle he rode here. My blushing face is obvious, I’m sure, but he doesn’t say a word about it. He hands me the one helmet he has, a light shade of pink on his cheeks as he mumbles, “Here, get on. I’ll get you home.”

And so, while riding on that motorcycle with my shaky arms wrapped around Jotaro’s waist, I realize that he didn’t really mean to hurt me. In fact, he most likely didn’t even realize how I would take a statement like that. Now, being so close to Jotaro as we head back to Sakuragaoka, I realize that maybe, just maybe…

Maybe he likes me too.

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