#and then having to get used to a completely different lifestyle when you barely had an idea of the outside world before

[foxstens]

genuinely can't imagine how kevin even got through his first few months at psu

[kitten4sannie]

ɪɴᴅᴜꜱᴛʀʏ ʙᴀʙʏ

ᴄᴜᴄᴋᴏʟᴅ/ᴄᴜᴍ ᴘʟᴀʏ ➠ ᴍɪɴɢɪ/ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ

pairing: singer/rapper bf! mingi x fem! reader x guitarist! hongjoong

genre: band au, smut

summary: your bf’s band has such a good set, that he doesn’t mind sharing you with the handsy guitarist. anything for his baby. he just wants to assess the damage afterwards.

w.c: 3.2k

warnings: open relationship, mentioned alcohol/drugs use, dom! mingi/hongjoong, joongie’s got a tongue piercing ^^, sub! reader, so muchhh cucky behavior, mxm if you squint, teasing, perversion, dirty talk, degradation, pet names, fingering, oral (receiving), voyeurism/exhibitionism, unprotected rough sex, actual phone sex, creampie, two seconds of cockwarming, cum eating, more oral and fingering, some clit nibbling, squirting

a/n: urgghh im obsessed with tunnel and mingi and hongjoong’s guitar solo and just minjoong in general hhhhhnn also idkw happened but hongjoong is giving me more and more brainworms these days and i just i’m uhhhhh 🧎🏻‍♀️so yeah please enjoy whatever this is <33

Now Playing:

ᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀʟ ʙᴀᴛʜ ʙʏ ᴅᴇꜰᴛᴏɴᴇꜱ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

You were always full of nerves before your boyfriend’s band went on, especially when the previous band was finishing up their encore. Hanging out backstage was always hectic too, the venue’s employees running around like headless chickens in pursuit of completing the latest task their manager gave them, members of other bands and their entourages engaging in boisterous conversations, drinking, and doing drugs amongst themselves, their actions up to par with the touring lifestyle. It wasn’t until you ran into the guitarist of your boyfriend’s band, Hongjoong, that your nerves doubled, but for a different reason. 

“Y/N, there you are. Where have you been, huh?” Hongjoong greeted you with a hug, resting his solo cup against your lower back, his free hand moving down to your ass, squeezing it a few times through your skirt. He sighed heavily against your skin, his body relaxing against yours. “I missed my stress toy…” 

“Joong,” you whined, pushing gently at his leather bound chest, your hand almost getting tangled in one of his silver chained necklaces. “You always get so grabby before a show. What if Mingi sees?” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, leaning his face into your neck, alcohol on his breath. “You know he wants to see it. And it’s not my fault I can't keep my hands off you. Just look at you…” The buzzed guitarist gazed down at your body with hooded eyes, his jaw tightening up more and more the longer he pictured what you looked like folded up for him and taking everything he had to give. “You’d look so good underneath me, baby. Spread open all nice and wide…fuck….” 

“Joongie, please…” you whispered, squeezing your thighs together, pressing your back into the concrete wall behind you, feeling him press further into you as a result. 

“You can beg for me after the show, sweetheart. Just let me get a peek, okay?” Knowing he had you right where he wanted you, Hongjoong slowly ran a calloused finger along your jaw, down your neck to your rising chest, pleased with the way your breath hitched, his dark eyes flitting between your gaze and the slope of your bare tits through your thin white tank top, unable to resist pulling down the neckline of your top until he had a good view of your pebbled nipples. “Look at that. You’re just aching to be touched, aren’t you?” 

You were so wet, you could’ve sworn that you were about to drip all over the backstage floor, barely able to form any coherent words besides a small ‘yeah’, letting the perverted guitarist grab at your hips, his fingers pressing into your hip bones, a low groan leaving his lips. 

“Wanna fuck you, baby, wanna make you mine,” Hongjoong sighed into your ear, about to describe his needs in detail and put his hands all over you when Mingi came around the corner, a lollipop poking through his cheek, his ringed fingers rubbing at the mascara near his lash line. 

Mingi stopped in his tracks, towering over the both of you due to the studded boots he always wore during his shows. He studied you, noticing how flushed you were and how hard you were already breathing. He couldn’t help but to pull his sweet lollipop out to bite at his plump lip, his cock ready to come to life. “Oh? What’s this about, sugar?” 

“Babyy, there you are,” you greeted, bouncing on your heels, making grabby hands at your boyfriend. 

In return, Mingi lifted you up and spun you around in a tight hug, making sure to press a kiss to your cheek before putting you back down in front of his favorite bandmate. 

“Joongie’s being all needy again,” you giggled, leaning back against Hongjoong’s chest. 

“Can’t help it.” Hongjoong casually handed his drink to Mingi who took it and knocked it back, wrapping his arms around you from behind, leaning his head on your shoulder, a sickening smirk gracing his feline-like lips. “Hey, Minnie. Wanna make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?” Mingi licked at the corner of his salivating mouth, pulling at the crotch of his heavy, chained pants, his cock pressed against one of his thighs, growing harder just from seeing the way you fit perfectly inside his bandmate’s arms.

“If I nail my guitar solo tonight, will you let me have Y/N for a night?” Hongjoong requested, nuzzling his face against your heated cheek, making a small pouty face at his dear bandmate. 

Mingi knew he shouldn’t be getting this worked up before a show, but it might make him perform better if he was thinking about how bad he wanted you, and how he couldn’t have you until Hongjoong did. He knew the odds of Hongjoong hitting every single note perfectly was a 50/50 chance. His chances were even lower if he had access to a bottle of jack that night, though Mingi was aware that his bandmate was quite skilled with his calloused fingers, only knowing because you wouldn’t shut up about it a few nights ago. 

The lead singer decided he would push all his chips onto the table, knowing he would have his darling to himself either way. You belonged to him, whether you were filled with another man’s load or not. “Sure, as long as you make sure my baby cums.” He sent a charming smile your way, bringing his hand up to caress your cheek, chuckling softly when you pressed a kiss to the side of his thumb, your lips making contact with the cold metal of his large skull ring. 

“Hear that, princess? Min wants me to have you,” Hongjoong purred into your ear from the other side. “And so do you, huh? Is that cunt of yours dripping already? I think we should all take a look just to be certain...” Knowing the three of you would enjoy it, the guitarist snaked his hands around your waist from behind, lifting your skirt up for only Mingi to see, rubbing his rough fingers along your bare cunt.

“I-i heard,” you gasped, grasping at Mingi’s oversized sweater, your fingers going into one of the torn holes it had, leaning your head back against Hongjoong’s shoulder, trying not to make any noise when Mingi joined in, slipping two of his fingers into your pulsing cunt, the feeling of his rings stretching you out further making you jolt. 

“You know what I hear? How fucking wet you already are for us.” Hongjoong said into your ear, his digits rubbing roughly into your clit, his eyes on Mingi’s hooded ones, licking at his lips. “Your girlfriend is such a slut, Min. God, I love it.” 

“She loves it too,” Mingi replied in a gravelly voice,  stepping a little closer to cage you against Hongjoong, pushing the lollipop into your mouth to watch you suck on it. “But you still belong to me…Don’t you, baby?”

“Of course, Minnie.” You nodded obediently up at him, crunching some of the lollipop in between your teeth when Mingi added another digit inside your tight hole. Neither the staff or the other band members seemed to care about the fact you were getting finger-fucked in broad daylight, except for the ones that liked to observe, and that made your thighs clench even harder together. “Even with all these people around, I’m only yours…”

“That’s my girl.” Your boyfriend gave you a pretty smile, pressing his hand against the wall near your head to further display his dominance over you, his eyes fixed on your submissive gaze, and the way you just let him fill you up with his thick fingers, his bandmate’s fingers still working you clit like he would would a six string. “Fuck…you’re so sexy like this, baby…” 

“Try not to blow your load before the show,” Hongjoong mused, his smirk growing more and more reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat’s. He was about to tease Mingi more when the previous band sang their last angsty lyric and shredded their remaining guitar notes, silence filling up the air for only a moment, before there was an immediate uproar of rowdy cheers and shouts from the pumped up crowd. 

Your boyfriend’s band was up next and you couldn’t wait to watch them from the sidelines, ready to catch their occasional hungry glances, knowing they were ready to tear you apart once they finished their heavy, energy filled set. 

Mingi delivered as usual, showing off his impressive duality, going from spitting quick, head-turning bars with a devilish smirk on his sweaty face, to expressing emotional, thought provoking lyrics with a soft, expressive voice that would have anyone shedding a tear, his face contorted in melancholic concentration, his hands wrapped tightly around his mic, his dominating stage presence alone having the entire venue in a chokehold throughout the entire set. 

Hongjoong arguably delivered just as well, consistently shredding notes on his sleek guitar with a borderline psychotic look in his eyes and a heinous grin that would make the Devil himself blush, working his rough, agile fingers song after heavy song, never failing to provide Mingi with his own unique back-up vocals. And just like clockwork, despite being a bit tipsy and high on some kind of illegal drug, Hongjoong captivated the large audience with his infamous guitar solo, making everybody in the crowd cream themselves with his nasty riffs. All Hongjoong could do after was push back his sweaty hair and send Mingi a shit-eating smirk that was returned with a soft chuckle and head shake. He made sure to give you a look too, though this time he had his fingers held up in a V, his pierced tongue sticking out in between them. 

You were in for a busy night. 

࿏࿏࿏

“Hey, eyes on me, baby…” Hongjoong commanded in a low whisper from below you, sitting comfortably on his knees, using his thumbs to keep your cunt spread open for him, watching you writhe around against the wall of the spacious hotel shower, beads of water dripping through his damp bangs and past his smudged eyeliner, pooling in the crevices of his collar bone, the rest trickling down along his dangling necklaces. 

He had easily coaxed you inside his hotel room, not having to do much to get you in his shower, claiming he needed to cool down after giving it his all during the show — though he still made sure to give you his all during your own private show, using his calloused, dexterous fingers to play with your body, delighted with the pretty, wanton sounds he created, wanting nothing more than to write a song about how delicious you looked in that moment — flushed, transfixed on his pierced tongue lapping at your throbbing clit, and moaning out the little pet name you gave him. 

“That’s it….” The side of his lips quirked up a bit at the pout you gave him, before he pursed them and sent a wad of spit directly into you, pushing two fingers back inside you to rub it around your tight, pulsing walls. “I love when you look at me like that.”

“Like what, Joong?” you breathed out, running your fingers through his wet hair, gripping the sides of his head, your thighs beginning to feel like jelly from the way Hongjoong was finger-fucking you into ecstasy. 

“Like you want my cock,” he sighed, unable to keep himself from diving back into your cunt, lapping at your clit and slit like a pussydrunk maniac, easily slipping a third finger inside you. 

“I do…! I need your cock, Joongie, please,” you moaned out, so close to your high that you began to push his face into your cunt, rubbing it against his moving tongue, his piercing repeatedly catching on your clit, driving more pleasured moans out of you, neither of you aware in that moment that your dear perverted boyfriend sat on the other side of the wall, standing fully clothed in his own shower and jerking himself off with fervid desperation, his jeans hanging loosely around his jolting hips. 

“You’ll have it, baby, I promise. Cum on my tongue first,” he said with his lips against your soaked cunt, curling his fingers and rubbing at the gummy spot inside you, sending you over the edge, sticking his tongue out to catch your arousal on it, his cock throbbing at the sound of his name mixed with swears being cried out by his bandmate’s pretty girlfriend. 

Soon, you grew docile and dazed, wrapping your limbs around him as soon as he stood up and carried you over to his bed, not wasting any time sending a few drops of spit down onto your hot cunt and plugging it up with his thick cock. 

Mingi felt like he was going to melt, his brain and body going into overdrive over the fact that his beloved bandmate was busy putting a baby in his baby, making her feel so good she was starting to cry, his cock throbbing inside his closed fist, listening closely to the pants and moans that made their way into his pierced, attentive ears, along with the incessant creaking of the mattress springs — though the disruptive banging sounds of the wooden bedframe hitting the thin wall contended for Mingi’s attention as well. 

“Joong..! It’s so good, you’re so good,” he heard you whine out in a broken voice, not hearing the rest of your cries due to Hongjoong stuffing two fingers into your willing mouth. Mingi couldn’t help but want to drown in his sin, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. 

You looked to your phone with half-closed eyes, watching the way it buzzed against the moving mattress, your legs suddenly getting closer to your body, Hongjoong lifting your lower half up to fuck into you even deeper than before, rendering you speechless from the pressure of his heated body on yours. 

“Answer it, baby,” Hongjoong huffed from above you, his necklaces dragging along your flushed skin with each sloppy thrust, blowing a bit of wet hair out of his half-lidded eyes. 

“Mingi,” you sighed into the receiver, trying to catch your breath, knowing you were on the edge of ecstasy with the way your body was starting to feel heavy, despite the feeling like you were ready to float away. “I’m gonna cum, baby, it– aaah, oh my god…!”

“Cum for me, princess. Let me hear how pretty you sound cumming on his cock,” Mingi moaned back, squeezing his hand around his length, his eyes ready to roll underneath his eyelids. 

Hongjoong put his entire body weight onto you, his lips sliding across your neck to leave a few marks, his cock throbbing against your tight inner walls, pounding into you a few more times before he painted them white. “M’ cumming inside your girl, Minnie, it’s feel so fucking good…”

It was when Hongjoong bit down onto your neck that you catapulted over the edge, grabbing at the guitarist’s bare back, digging your nails into his skin. “Mingiii, he’s filling me up…it won’t stop…”

“Oh god, baby, oh my god.” Mingi huffed and huffed, his entire body tensing up as he drove himself over the edge right after you, splashes of cum landing on his rapidly rising chest and abdomen. 

You simply laid there making small squeaks from the aftershocks of your orgasm, while Hongjoong stayed put inside you, his soft, deflated cock suddenly twitching with newfound interest, a light bulb appearing inside his hazy brain. “Min, I want you to come over here. You need to see the mess I made inside your girlfriend…”

And just like that, Mingi made his way over to the next door hotel room, fumbling with his loose pants and the doorknob, wiggling till it unlocked. He kicked his jeans off once inside the half-lit room, climbing onto the bed to join the both of you, having the same intensely horny, almost deranged look in his eye that he usually had before a show. 

“Baby, look,” you sighed out, spreading your thighs open, while Hongjoong pulled out inch by inch, until a flood of creamy white liquid bubbled out of your pulsing hole, dripping down your thighs and onto the already damp mattress below. 

Before Mingi could properly access the arousing situation, drool falling from his moaning mouth, Hongjoong suddenly grabbed him by the hair, pushing his head down in between your legs. “You wanna clean it up, don’t you, Minnie? Come on, be a good boy and lick up the mess I left inside her.” 

Blushing, Mingi lapped at the mess of cum and slick, using his fingers to scoop the rest out into his eager mouth, Hongjoong’s hand still pressing his face further into your used cunt, eventually letting go when he started to go at it, watching his bandmate’s tongue swipe at your clit and slit. Mingi didn’t even seem to notice, too busy drowning in his baby’s sweet cunt to have any awareness, his hands clutching your trembling thighs. 

“Gonna cum again,” you whined out, unable to speak when your boyfriend suddenly lifted his fingers up to your mouth to suck on them, his lips sucking around your sensitive clit, his dark, glazed over eyes focused solely on the way you seemed to completely fall apart in front of his and his best friend. 

“Think you can get her to squirt?” Hongjoong asked from beside him, resting one of his hands on your moving thighs, holding it down so that you couldn’t close them. 

Mingi glanced over at Hongjoong, rolling his mascara-smudged eyes, knowing exactly what to do to make his baby feel so good she sobbed. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, instead pushing three of them inside you, curling them up until you cried out. With his other hand, he forcefully pushed Hongjoong’s head down onto your cunt next. “Lick,” he commanded gruffly, concentrating solely on fucking you into ecstasy with his thick fingers. 

Moaning against your cunt, Hongjoong lapped and nibbled on your throbbing clit, his cold piercing dragging over your sensitive flesh, feeling his bandmate’s fingers tugging at his hair, eliciting another muffled moan from him. 

“Bite it. Bite her clit and make her cum,” Mingi demanded through gritted teeth, working your cunt like he always did, enjoying the sight of you writhing around, unable to speak or think, knowing his pretty baby was experiencing some of the best pleasure of her life thanks to him and his friend. 

It was when Hongjoong bit down and moved your clit in between his teeth, Mingi’s fingers still moving relentlessly inside your clenching cunt, that you screamed, your boyfriend’s slick-covered fingers going back into your mouth to keep you from waking up everyone else in the hotel. Both bandmates watched as a small fountain of liquid squirted from your pulsing cunt, seeping into the mattress and turning it dark. 

A few moments of silence went by, before Hongjoong gave Mingi a sickening smile. “Bet you can’t get her to do that with your cock.” 

Mingi shook his head, blowing his wet bangs out of his eyes. “Of course I can. She’s my baby. I know her body like the back of my hand. I’ll make her drench the both of us.”

Hongjoong giggled softly, tilting his head to the side, his eyes flitting from you to Mingi. “Wanna make a bet?” 

You were definitely in for a long night. 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[captainlakes]

masterlist

it's nice to have friend ♡

finnick odair x fem!capitol!reader!

summary: being own by the capitol it isn't that good until finnick gets a hopeful surprise and a heartwarming offer.

words: 1.4K

tags: hurt/comfort. strangers to friends.

warnings: 6 years after finnink's win, forced prostitution, vague allusion to unwanted sex, anxiety and infidelity. mention of coriolanus snow, english is not my first language! (i'm sorry for any mistake)

note: omg this is my first one shot ever, please please be nice with me<3

The capitol never felt like a safe place for Finnick.

President Snow made sure of that.

He was a victor, yes but it didn't felt like it. His fate was written the minute they allowed a fourteen year old to volunteer for the hunger games, won it and then two years after, let that same teenager, who now had faced death and provoked it to some of his fellow tributes, save his loved ones by becoming some sort of sexual symbol.

Mostly a sexual slave.

Not that he would call himself like that in public.

Still, he didn't enjoyed it. He pretended he did, damn it, he lived the last four years pretending to like a life he secretly found completely and utterly disgusting.

Going from room to room, bed to bed, being touched by depraved strangers that didn't give a shit about him, it was exhausting, an awful way to live even when he was praised by his performances, by his looks every single time.

It wasn't enough.

It didn't make him feel better but more dirty, more used.

And then he met you.

The president called him to his office one morning, saying someone was interested in him and would meet him at the end of the day in the address written on a small piece of paper.

Finnick agreed, being the only acceptable answer for a snake like the one ruling the country.

But he was surprised when he meet you later that day.

You weren't a old woman with weird likings or a man waiting for him to get on his knees. No, you were a girl, probably his age or a year older, sitting on a couch relax and unbothered reading some book as the world outside wasn't crazy, as you weren't waiting for him.

But you were. You offered him a warm smile a nice greeting and asked him to sit across you, not beside you but in a single couch in front of you, leaving the book for another time on the coffee table and standing up to bring him a glass of water, not wine, nor a beer just water along with some biscuits you made a few hours ago.

And then you asked how he was doing, if the whole Capitol’s lifestyle hasn't annoyed him yet as you knew he came from District 4 and things worked differently there.

It was a simple question however it took him by surprise, probably it was the first time someone in this city asked for his feelings, his well being.

He answered with a bit of confusion lingering on his body, gazing at you curious, even more when you said something about always wanting to visit his district and then asking him how it was it back there.

This wasn't normal, if it were he would be over you by now instead of talking.

But that was exactly what was happening, you were having a conversation. It wasn't deep or life changing but it was fresh. For once in his life he didn't have to do what he hated the most, what he was forced to do all weeks, all months, all years.

A part of him though, was still in denial as you explained the grades method of The University and how it related with the positive or negative outcome of their given tributes, he still thought you were just polite waiting for the right moment to ask him to sleep with you.

But you didn't. It was all a long chat with him as you knew him, as if you were friends until you looked at the clock and told him that it was late, that he should go home.

It wasn't late, it was barely past seven and you were asking him to leave already, without having any kind of physical contact so he had to ask “Look, I'm not trying to be ungrateful but…I thought this night was going to be different.”

The comment made you stop, you were walking from the luxurious living room to the kitchen to clean the evidence of his presence in your house when you heard him, a little smile tugged in the corner of your mouth as you realized he need the explanation “The other day at the party,” you answered, referring to a few days ago when one of those big and reckless Capitol’s parties took place at one of your friend's parents house and where he assisted too “You seemed quite stressed” you said, softly.

You usually didn't focus on the victors, the party itself was distracting enough for you to be eyes glued with the winner of the games but when you saw him that night something struck with you. He was alone, a drink in hand and the other passing through his hair, frustrated, you followed him with your eyes for a minute, saw him curse and asked for another drink as he took his jacket off and breath deep, his eyes traveling to the woman that was with him just a second ago, some government man’s wife.

Whatever she told him, it unsettled him.

“I wasn't—” A big smile appeared on his face, a charming smile that screamed denial, pretending, hiding. You were fast enough to cut him off, whatever he was trying to make you believe, you needed to reassure him that it wasn't necessary, not here, not with you.

“When I'm stressed, I…I try to hang out with friends, talk a little” you explained, leaving the glass you have on your hand on the counter of the kitchen and turning back to see him. “It's usually better if you have someone”

He seemed off, shocked by all of this situation. He tried to say something but the words died on his throat, his mouth opened but he didn't say a thing and had to close it again. For a minute, he studied you as if he had to find the catch, the hidden message to decode you, to understand where this unexpected kindness to his person came from.

It was so rare nowadays for him, almost nonexistent that he didn't believe a nice person still existed in the capital of Panem.

“You don't know me” His voice cracked and his look reflected surprise, confusion, curiosity all at the same time, unsure to how he should be addressing this, how he should be managing this situation.

“I do know you” you took a step closer. “We just have a two hour conversation Finnick, I bet I know more of you than the president himself” you joked, trying to break the sudden tension in the room.

It worked for a second.

“You know what I mean” he replied quickly.

“I just thought it would be nice for you to have a friend” she shrugged, looked away then back at him. “You’re twenty and you barely talk with someone of your age”

He scoffed, shook his head, giving you a bitter smile “It's not that simple” he assured “I'm not here to make friends, I'm here to…” He trailed off and then you knew he wasn't having a great time, he was holding something back, something painful.

“You don't have to come back, if you don't want to” she said, stopping the visual contact they were holding, her gaze returning to the tray of food on the coffee table and reaching for it to take it back to the kitchen.

He strangely found himself not liking that idea. He didn't remember the last time someone didn't called him handsome, hot or sexy in an amount of two hours straight; the last time he felt really comfortable, really at ease with anyone at the Capitol.

He didn't think too much when he rushed to grab your hand, in a soft, delicate, gentle touch. A warm feeling invading you at the contact.

“I want to come back” His gaze was softer, more genuine than it had been all evening “I want…I want to be your friend”

You smiled in answer, you nodded and squeezed his hand, lightly with just enough pressure for him to feel it “Good” your voice was almost a whisper “I want to be your friend too, Finnick”

He smiled, dimples showing on his cheeks and he thought, with his hand still on yours, with your gaze holding his, maybe you were right.

Maybe it would be nice to have a friend.

Maybe it was good you were offering to become that person for him.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

A race for love p.1

Hii guys! I've had this idea on my mind for a while, and with today's exciting announcement of Franco joining F1, I couldn't think of a better moment to finally put it into words. On the flip side, my heart goes out to Logan. It's heartbreaking to see how he's been treated, and I truly wish him all the best moving forward.

Barcelona June of 2023

When people find out you're Zak Brown's daughter, they automatically assume your life is filled with glitz and glamour. They think you're friends with all the drivers, jet-setting to every race, and living a perfect life surrounded by the thrill of Formula 1. From the outside, it seems like you've got it all — but the reality is a lot different.

You can't really complain, but your life is far from perfect. Most of the time, you don’t even see your dad because he’s constantly travelling with the team. The rare moments you do get to see him are usually fleeting, sandwiched between his hectic schedule. You’d love to go to more races, but this year you had to focus on finishing high school with the best grades possible. Getting into aerospace engineering was your dream, and it demanded every ounce of your attention and effort.

And then there are the misconceptions about your social life. People assume you have a wide circle of friends, thanks to your dad’s connections, but the truth is quite the opposite. You have a small group of close friends, and that’s more than enough for you. You're naturally shy and have learned to be cautious about who you let into your life. Trust doesn’t come easily when you constantly worry that people might want to get close to you just to get a taste of the paddock lifestyle. It's a burden you've had to carry, learning to guard your heart and keep your circle tight.

Now that you’ve graduated from high school, a weight lifts off your shoulders. Your hard work has paid off, and you finally have the chance to reconnect with your dad and spend some time in the world that has always been on the periphery of your life. As you arrive at the paddock to visit him and the McLaren team, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbles up inside you. The hum of engines and the bustling energy are both familiar and foreign, and you find yourself wondering what this day will bring. With each step, you try to steady your breath, eager for what’s to come.

You’re so wrapped up in your own world that you don’t notice the boy on the scooter coming straight toward you.

Before you can react, there’s a sudden jolt as he bumps into you, knocking you off balance. You stumble slightly, but neither of you falls, just barely managing to steady yourself as you blink in surprise.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” the boy says quickly, hopping off his scooter and reaching out a hand. “Are you okay?”

You’re too stunned to reply immediately. Your heart races, more from shock than from the slight impact. As you regain your bearings, you finally look at him. He’s about your age, with tousled brown hair that falls slightly over his forehead and warm brown eyes that are looking at you with genuine concern. He’s wearing a bright red uniform that you recognize as belonging to either Prema Racing or Ferrari’s junior program, but you don’t recognize him as a Formula 1 driver.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” you manage to say awkwardly, your voice a little shaky. “I was just… distracted.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, a smile breaking through his worried expression. “Good, I was worried I’d completely knocked you over. You were kind of in a world of your own there.”

You feel your cheeks heat up a bit. “Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I’m just… overwhelmed by everything here.”

He chuckles softly, his eyes still studying you with curiosity. “I get it. It can be a lot, especially if you’re not used to it. Are you here for the race?”

You nod, trying to find your words as his gaze makes you feel even more flustered. “Sort of. I’m visiting my dad, actually. He works with McLaren.”

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, and a look of realization crosses his face. “Ah, that’s cool! McLaren’s got a great setup here.”

You nod again, feeling a bit more self-conscious under his friendly but inquisitive gaze. “Yeah, they do. I’m just here to see him and, you know, check out the paddock.”

“Well, welcome to the chaos!” he says, flashing you a quick grin. “I’m really sorry again about almost running you over. I’ve got to get going, but maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, maybe,” you say, still feeling a bit flustered but starting to relax as his easygoing nature puts you at ease.

With a quick wave, he jumps back on his scooter and speeds off, disappearing into the crowd. You watch him go, a small smile tugging at your lips as you shake your head, still a bit dazed by the encounter. The day is already turning out to be more interesting than you expected.

As the weekend goes by, you have an amazing time with your dad, the engineers, and the drivers, Lando and Oscar. It’s everything you could have wished for: laughter, excitement, and a glimpse into the world you’ve always been curious about. The hours fly by as you get to see behind the scenes, experience the high energy of the pit lane, and even share some inside jokes with the team. Yet, in the back of your mind, you can’t help but think about the boy you met on the first day — the one with the warm smile and the kind eyes.

By the last day of the race weekend, you realize you’re still thinking about him. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you decide to sneak out of the F1 paddock and venture into the F2 and F3 paddocks in search of the boy. It proves to be more challenging than you anticipated; the paddocks are bustling with activity, and you have no idea who he is or even which team he’s with.

As you wander around, you stop here and there to watch the cars and people working. The atmosphere is different from the F1 paddock — more relaxed, but still full of intensity and focus. One car, in particular, catches your eye. It’s a sleek F3 car with bold graphics, and you find yourself drawn to it. You step a little closer, noticing the intricate details on the bodywork and the way the team is adjusting the front wing. You’ve always been interested in engineering, and seeing the mechanics in action up close fascinates you.

You’re so engrossed that you don’t notice when someone approaches from behind.

“Hey there,” a voice says, startling you. You jump slightly and spin around, your heart racing as you come face-to-face with another boy, about your age. He has dark hair and bright eyes, and he’s grinning at you with a playful expression.

“Oh! I—uh, I’m sorry,” you stammer, suddenly feeling nervous. “I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t doing anything, I promise!”

He laughs, holding up his hands as if to calm you down. “Whoa, it’s okay! You’re not in trouble. Just surprised to see someone so interested in my car.”

You blink, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Oh, this is your car?”

“Yep, my pride and joy,” he says with a wink. “Franco Colapinto, at your service. I drive for MP Motorsport in F3.” He leans against the car casually, still smiling at you.

You can’t help but smile back, his easygoing nature putting you at ease. “I’m sorry, I just— I didn’t mean to stare or anything. I’m just really interested in how these cars work. They’re amazing.”

“Don’t apologize,” Franco says, his tone light and teasing. “I think it’s great. Most people just walk by and don’t even notice the cars unless they’re on track. It’s nice to see someone appreciate them up close.”

You nod, feeling a little more confident now. “Yeah, I guess I just got caught up in it all. I’m visiting with my dad, and I thought I’d take a look around.”

“Glad you did,” he replies, giving you a playful nudge. “So, what brings you over to the F3 side? Looking for anyone in particular?”

You hesitate, not wanting to seem too eager, but his friendly demeanor encourages you to open up a bit. “Actually, I met someone on the first day. A boy on a scooter. I don’t know his name or what team he’s with, but I thought maybe I’d see him again.”

Franco raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “A boy on a scooter, huh? I’m not sure who you’re looking for, but I hope you find him.”

“Thanks,” you say softly, feeling a bit shy under his teasing gaze. “It’s probably silly, I know.”

“Not at all,” he says, his tone warm. “It’s not every day you meet someone who leaves an impression. Besides, I think it’s kind of cute.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again, but you manage a smile. “Well, thanks. And thanks for not kicking me out for looking at your car.”

Franco laughs. “Hey, any time. It’s not every day someone appreciates my car as much as I do. Tell you what, if you ever want a tour, just let me know.”

“That sounds fun,” you say, genuinely intrigued. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

“I hope you do,” he says, and there’s something genuine in his voice that makes you feel a little flutter in your chest. “Hey, before you go, can I get your number? You know, just in case you need a guide around here or want to talk more about cars.”

You smile, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. “Sure, why not?” You take out your phone and exchange numbers, his fingers brushing yours slightly as he hands your phone back, making your heart skip a beat.

“Great,” he says with a grin. “I’ll text you later. Maybe I can help you find that mystery boy.”

“Maybe,” you reply with a laugh. “But I should get back to my dad before he starts wondering where I am.”

“Alright, but don’t be a stranger,” Franco says, giving you a friendly wave as you start to walk away.

“See you around, Franco,” you say, feeling lighter and happier than you have all weekend. As you make your way back to the F1 paddock, you can’t help but smile, your thoughts filled with the unexpected new friend you’ve just made.

[aleapple1216]

Can you write some Merula Snyde headcanons?? 👀👀

(Smut or non smut, you decide)

Heyyy, yes I can ^^

‎‧₊˚✧ Merula Snyde Headcanons ✧˚₊‧

By me (?. This time only sfw headcanons. TRIGGER WARNING: THERE ARE SMALL MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL, CIGS AND TATTOOS. Let's goooo

Merula is the complete opposite of the clean-girl aesthetic and lifestyle: she stays up all night, falls asleep on any couch in the Slytherin common room with her makeup on, often skips meals, does her makeup with dirty brushes or just her fingers, loves black coffee without any sugar on it, (in her adulthood) may have only Jack Daniels for breakfast, a couple of cigs or just two sweets, etc. Don't worry, the older she gets, the more aware she becomes of what is wrong, and little by little, she starts to take better care of her health.

Merula hates spicy food. She avoids tasting it at all costs because immediately after tasting it, her eyes water and her face and ears get red and hot.

Without the enchantment she put on herself to make them look violet, her eyes are a rather pretty hazel colour.

Although Merula knows how to do magic without a wand, she prefers doing it with a wand because she feels it looks more elegant and impressive.

Merula has an average height of 1.60 - 1.65 m.

Her makeup bag is one of the most disorganised, dirty and broken in existence. She carries that everlasting makeup that belonged to her mother or aunt many years ago, and for some reason, it still won't run out. Her brushes had never been washed, and some blush broke inside the bag, making it all dirty and messy. But somehow, she manages to always get spectacular makeup done.

Merula can't whistle, and she is kinda resentful of Barnaby because he can do it without any effort.

Merula actually has a really good singing voice and a pretty decent musical ear, although (ironically) she doesn't brag about it much. In her early adulthood, while she was figuring out what career to pursue, she became part of a local grunge band for some time.

As an adult, Merula filled almost every inch of her body with tattoos. The first tattoos she got were in her last year at Hogwarts to cover her knees, and she was extremely proud of them. I personally think she got something like this:

When Merula sleeps, she does so with a frown on her face and her mouth slightly open.

Merula hates the feeling of having long hair. She can only stand to let it grow until it barely covers her neck from behind.

Her hair is quite damaged due to a lot of hot showers, a lot of teasing, lots of bleaching and dying some parts of it, and cutting it with any kind of scissors, razors or spells.

L E S B I A N.

She is the type of person who has extremely long relationships, at least they last 4 years. And although she has a hard time formalising at first, she is the most loyal person in the world once they are exclusive.

In her early days at Hogwarts, she used to hang out a lot only with Ismelda. As the years passed, her personality and her social circle changed. So she started hanging out with more people, like Chiara, Jae, Talbott, MC, Viktor, Liz, and other students in different years.

She doesn't like Ben since his personality changed. She prefers to avoid being around him or alone with him.

And that's all for today. I hope you liked them ^^

[houseofanticipation]

You're sitting with your friend Sam at a coffee shop, catching up. She's telling you about an instagram ad she keeps getting for some audiobook streaming service. "It's just crazy," she says, "because I was just telling Lucille I wanted to start reading more books but I never have the time, and then it's like instantly I'm getting these ads all the time."

"So what," you say over your steaming mug, "you think they're listening to you?"

Sam shakes her head. "Honestly I think it's almost scarier than that. They have so much information about us, they don't even need to listen to our conversations. They just know, based on everything they've gathered about me, that I'm probably someone who wants to listen to audiobooks."

"Well they can't be that smart," you say. "Because the only ads I've been getting lately are for something called Slut Cream."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You must know I'm going to need more details."

You take out your phone and find an ad to show her. It's not difficult; literally all of the ads you see on instagram are like this. They're even showing up in other places now, on webpages you visit or apps you use. This one is one you've seen before: a beautiful woman in a crop top that just barely covers her nipples is proudly displaying a squeeze tube of the kind you'd buy sunscreen or toothpaste in. The caption says, "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle! Step up your slut game with Slut Cream! Shop Now"

"I don't even know what slut cream is," you say. "All you get when you look it up is a bunch of porn."

"Well, obviously it's a way to step up your slut game," says Sam sagely. "What does it say on the website?"

"Oh, I'm not clicking the link," you say. "I don't want to encourage them! What I want to know is why suddenly this ad is all I can seem to see!"

Sam shoots you a wink. "Maybe you're just a slut. These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."'

What neither of you know is that it's actually quite easy to buy online ad space, and they let you get pretty specific with your intended audience.

I live in the next apartment over from you. I've been watching you for a long time, studying you, listening to you through our shared wall. We've talked a few times, some terse conversation at the mailboxes or in the hall, which is how I knew enough about you to place those ads, with audience parameters so specific that probably only you and about five other people would see them. I had fun making them; hiring the model to do the photoshoot, dusting off the skills I picked up in that college graphic design course, creating a website for this fake business (though I'm disappointed you still haven't clicked through to see it). If you actually tried to buy slut cream, the website would tell you we're currently closed due to high traffic, and to check back later. Nowhere on the website does it explain what slut cream is.

A number of strange things happen to you over the course of the following day. On your lunch break you walk down the block to the deli by your office. You're in here every weekday, but today the energy here is different. People are staring you, side-eyeing you, having whispered conversations that stop abruptly when you get too close. As you're walking back to work, an old woman spits on the ground as you pass, you'd swear you heard the word "whore!" hissed under her breath. You wonder if you should say something, stand up for yourself, but she's elderly, probably confused, and you decide to be the bigger person.

In the hours after lunch, you're propositioned by no less than seven of your male coworkers. You've had to refuse a few invitations to dinner in your time, but seven in a day is completely out of the ordinary, and the things these men are offering to do to you go way outside the bounds of first date stuff. One guy tells you the conference room is empty, if you want to go for a quick fuck; another guy tells you he hasn't cum in a month, and if you sucked his cock he'd pump so much cum down your throat that you wouldn't need to eat dinner. Your boss even tells you he and his wife are looking for a third and he thought of you first, like he's offering you a big promotion. The strangest thing is that all of these men seem genuinely surprised when you turn them down. Like this sort of thing usually works with girls. One guy even says, "sorry, I was just trying to help."

It was pretty easy to hire actors for the deli and the street. You go to the same place every day, so I knew where they'd have to go and roughly when they'd need to be there. The harder part was getting your coworkers to play along, especially because I was picky about getting people who could sell the act. For a few of them all it took was money. A few of them I had to blackmail. For your boss I had to call in a favor, get his boss to threaten his job. He protested, but I think it made his cock hard, thinking about fucking you alongside his wife.

I keep this up for a few weeks. Anywhere you go I have people watching you, talking about you behind your back. I have people approaching you on the train, at the park, in restaurants, offering to fuck you like they're doing you a favor. You stay firm in your refusal—I wouldn't have expected any less from you—but I can tell it's beginning to eat at you. I watch you try to figure out what you're doing that seems to give all these people the wrong idea about you; you start to dress more modestly, talk less, even walk a little less confidently. But none of this will change anything. All it will do is make you feel more repressed.

After a month, I decide it's time to make my move. I could probably wait longer, but the anticipation is getting too much for me, and besides, you're beginning to get a little wild around the eyes. I'd hate to break you before I've had my fun. One evening, when I know you're home, I unlock your apartment with the duplicate key I had made two months ago. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes with headphones on; you didn't hear me come in. I leave the door open as I approach you, admiring the way you shake your ass to whatever it is you're listening to. I get right up behind you and stay there for a moment, lavishing in your innocence, feeling my cock strain at my belt as I imagine taking it away from you. Then I reach around front of you with both arms and plunge my hand into your panties

You shout in shock, fight back, try to push me off as the headphones fall off your head. But I've got you pinned against the counter, my full body weight against you, one hand down your pants, the other groping your breasts. Once you realize that fighting won't help, you stop struggling and ask me what I want. "Please," you say. Just hearing that quiver in your voice almost makes me delirious with lust. "Please, let me go. I don't want this, please."

I bury my face in your neck, kissing and breathing you in. You smell incredible, like fear and sweat and sex. I bring my lips up to your ear, let them brush against you as I speak. "Of course you want this, baby. You've been trying so hard to hide it, but you don't have to hide with me. Look, you left the door open for me." I let you turn your head enough to see the door hanging open just as my fingers find your clit. I'm rubbing you gently, tenderly, just the way I've watched you touch yourself through the webcam I have in your room. My other hand is under your shirt now and I'm squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers, feeling it slowly grow full and erect. You try to stifle a soft moan and I kiss your neck again. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want to feel good. Let me make you feel good."

You clutch your face in your hands and let out a cry of frustration and humiliation and agony and pleasure. You barely know me; I'm the guy next door who sometimes looks at you a little too long. The guy you speed up to avoid in the hall. But that feeling radiating from you clit... You think how exhausting it's been, doing everything you could think of to change people's perception of you, get them to stop looking at you as a slut, how none of it has done you any good anyway. You wonder if you'd have had more fun fucking Jim in the conference room, or swallowing Dylan's cum, or having a threesome with your boss and his wife. And that throbbing in your clit, the agonizing pleasure...You remember that beautiful woman in the ad: "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle!" You think about how happy she looked, how fulfilled. You remember Sam's words: "These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."

It does feel good, doesn't it? To let me touch you, pleasure you, to let go of this act you've been holding on to. Isn't it okay to want to feel good? Why did you ever let anyone make you ashamed of that? You try out another moan, letting the pleasure well up through your chest and out your mouth. It feels good, so you try another, and another, and then you're leaning back into me, grinding up against me, delighting in the feeling of my hard cock against your ass.

"Good," I say. "You're letting go of those silly hang-ups. Now we can have our real fun." My hands still around you, controlling you, I half lead-half carry your trembling body to the bedroom. I throw you on the bed, face up so I can get a good look at your eyes, see what I've done to your mind. Those same eyes that have avoided me in the hall so many times now gaze hungrily up at me, wanting me, needing me.

Who am I do decline?

I pull off your pants and panties as a single unit, letting you take care of your shirt for yourself. I kick of my own bottoms, letting my throbbing cock slap against your leg as it springs from its confinement. Don't think I don't notice the way your whole body shivers when it touches you. I lift your legs and push your knees up towards your ears; you're remarkably flexible. It must be all that yoga I've watched you do at the place downtown. I've greatly enjoyed your visits to that place, so it's nice to see they weren't in vain.

You're afraid of me, all of a sudden. Maybe some part of you is seeing sense, realizing you'd have to be crazy to let a guy like me come into your home and fuck you like this. But what was the alternative? Have me rape you? Let me tell you, darling: I would have raped you. You feel the head of my cock gliding over your skin, exploring your inner thighs and pubic area, and tremble at my touch. I want this, you tell yourself. This is what a slut like me needs.

All the same, you cry a little bit when I penetrate you. It's not because it hurts—it does hurt a bit, but you're wet enough, and it's not entirely a bad pain. It's not because you're afraid—well, maybe in part, but that's not the core of it. You cry because you're finally letting go. Letting go of the person you used to be, or thought you were. It's the relief of knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, wrapped up with the mourning you feel when you lose a potential version of yourself. I lean across you as my cock fills you up, and tenderly, I kiss away your tears. "Hush, my darling. I'm here. I will always be here. I will love you despite what you are, when everyone else turns away in disgust."

My weight on you feels good, comforting. The way I press down on your legs, stretching you out, driving my cock so deep inside you that it brushes your cervix. It hurts a little, but is that any better than you deserve? Could a slut like you really expect to find better than this? Better than unconditional love and a desire to give you the pleasure you need?

I'm speeding up now, my face something like an animal, furious and insistent as I gaze down at you. There's darkness behind my eyes, you think, something cold and cruel. You thank God I'm on your side. My hips are like a hammer on your pelvis now, and with each thrust you feel my cock bulging inside you, throbbing and pulsating with anticipation. When I finally plant my seed in you, groaning and growling and pressing you further into the bed, you find there's something comforting about the warmth of my cum inside you. Maybe my seed will take root, make you swell up with me, make you mine. As I roll off you, huffing and panting, the tears begin to stream down your face again, this time from joy.

What did a slut like you ever do to deserve someone who loves you like I do?

[themaleservant]

This post is an experiment and took me quite some time to write. It's very long, has a slow build-up and has story mixed up with images. I'm really proud of it, I was able to mix in a lot of my fantasies and I think the story and images work great together.

Since it's AI, the characters and locations look a little different in each image. Please try to ignore this :)

Let me know your thoughts! I had a great time writing it and generating the images. Hope you'll enjoy it too.

------------ I have always been interested in the lives of the social elite. Those drowning in wealth, living the luxury lifestyle. Seemingly being able to get whatever they want, whenever they want.

Luckily for me, I grew up in one of the wealthiest cities in the country. On the wrong side of the tracks, but still close enough.

When I graduated high school, I wasn’t able to apply for any colleges. No money to pay for tuition fees, and my parents needed my help to make ends meet.

I started as a bag boy in the local supermarket. It wasn’t great, but certainly not bad either. But the pay wasn’t great.

One man would show up daily. Dressed in a full tuxedo with tails, he was always very polite. I figured he was some rich guy enjoying doing his own groceries. Until one day.

“Hello boy.” He said. “I have been seeing you here for a while now, and you have triggered my attention. You are so obedient and polite, always humble to help others bag their groceries. Not to mention your amazing physique, you must work out twice a day!”

I blushed. “Thank you, sir. That is very kind. I am just doing my job the best I can.”

He laughed softly. “I work in one of the mansions. It’s a good job. My master is kind. Strict, but just. His son has just turned 18, so he is looking for a personal servant. Those are usually appointments for life, and it pays well. You should think about it, you seem like the exact type they are looking for. Here, this is the phone number.”

He handed me a business card, picked up his bags and left. I didn’t think much of it. Surely, I wasn’t going to be the servant to someone spoiled brat.

As the day proceeded, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I really wanted to help my parents pay off their debts, but with my current salary I could barely contribute enough to cover my monthly needs. My parents worked 60+ hours a week and had been living paycheck to paycheck for decades. Clearly not the life I envisioned for myself.

After my shift, while walking home, I decided to give the number a call. Couldn’t hurt.

“You are speaking with the domestic office of the Blackmoor family.” The person on the other end stated, quite formally.

“Hi, I called about a job opening for the personal valet to the family’s son? I was approached at my job at the grocery store today, by one of your staff.” I was quite nervous, and stumbled a bit.

“Ah yes, Mr Ashford told me about it. He is our supervisor. We are indeed looking for a young man to serve young master Blackmoor. As we prefer appointing for life, we need someone his age. Me Ashford estimated you are 20 years old, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Please speak with 2 words young man. Like, Yes, sir.”

“Yes sir, I’m sorry sir.”

“Good. We are looking for an obedient and humble young man. Willing to be trained for the role of personal servant. You will be trained to be submissive, obey any order and do so in the most efficient manner. Your life will revolve around that of young master Blackmoor. He will have full control over you, and will most likely be using you sexually as well. You must not be hesitant to appear naked before him or his friends. His father uses all servants as well, and will most definitely teach his son to do so as well.”

What the…? I wasn’t expecting this.

“Your physique matches our criteria. Mr Ashford approached you because of your appearance, and your humble attitude. He sees a born servant in you. Are you prepared to uproot your life, and submit to the service of young master Blackmoor?”

I was completely overwhelmed. What was I going to say?

“Yes, sir. I mean, I don’t know. It sounds pretty intense.

“It will be, boy. It is not a decision to take lightly. But you will be taken care of exceptionally. You will have a private studio apartment in the main house, receive meals from the kitchen and your clothing will be provided. Both your work uniform, and leisure outfits. You will receive a salary starting at $7500 per month, excluding bonuses. You will receive a monthly allowance to spend as you please. You will be brought along on trips. You will receive the greatest healthcare and may enjoy the estate facilities, such as the extensive gym, olympic size pool, cinema room and sports courts such as tennis and basketball.”

Wow. This sounds too good to be true.

“How many days or hours would I be required to work, sir?”

“Good question, boy! We will hire 2 servants to serve young master Blackmoor. At least one of you must be at attention at all times, except when he sleeps. Most of the time he will require only 1 of you. The other may have time off, or do other work. Cleaning, cooking, laundry et cetera will be done by other staff members. It is up to you and your colleague to decide who works when, taking into account young master Blackmoor’s wishes of course. But you will have at least a few hours off each day, with most often at least 1 full day a week. But that cannot be guaranteed for each week. Holidays are possible, but we prefer them to be minimal. Again, your life revolves around that of young master Blackmoor, so your schedule must fit his.”

I don’t like going on holidays anyway, I prefer working and having a purpose. So that doesn’t sound too bad to me. Quite refreshing, actually.

“I would like to invite you to the estate. You can meet master Blackmoor and young master Blackmoor. They will assess you, you will be required to jump through some proverbial hoops. Based on your performance and the general impression they have, we may continue discussing any opportunities. How does this Saturday sound? You will be required to show at 9 am and keep your day free until at least 8pm. I advise keeping your schedule clear completely.”

I quickly checked my phone calendar. “Yes sir, that works for me.”

“Perfect. I will arrange for a car to pick you up at 8:30 am. I will arrange for a uniform to be dropped off at your house at least a day before. Be sure to wear it. Do not wear anything that is not included withe the uniform. No accessories, jewelry or perfumes. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good” he said, and hung up the phone.

Wow. This was crazy. I continued walking home, my head buzzing with all the strange information.

After dinner I went to the gym and watched some boring show on Netflix. I was actually getting quite excited. Today is Wednesday, so there was some time left before my interview.”

Thursday and Friday went slow. Nothing exciting happened. I was hoping the man in the tuxedo, apparently Mr Ashford, would show up again. But he didn’t.

When I came home Friday night, my mom handed me a big box. “This came for you Jack.” She said. I thanked her and went up to my room. I opened the box, my heart pounding in my chest.

In the box was a black suit with a white shirt. I put it on, it fit just right. The quality was something I had never felt before, definitely not something I could afford. There were also white gloves, a bow tie and black leather shoes. Again, the quality was out of this world.

I went to sleep early on Friday night. At least, I tried. Thoughts kept racing through my head. Who are the Blackmoor family, what will tomorrow be like and what do they expect of me?

My alarm woke me up at 7am. Plenty of time to shower, shave (spur of the moment, it felt appropriate) and clean myself head to toe. I had breakfast and then changed into my uniform. It felt good to wear that uniform, I felt a sense of belonging.

Exactly at 8:30 a black limousine stopped in front of the house. I was already waiting at the door, and quickly walked up to the car. The driver opened the window, and told me to get in in the front. “Hello boy, let’s get you to the Blackmoor estate. You do indeed look exactly like what we’ve been looking for.”

He was dressed in an impeccable driver’s uniform, including hat. Around his wrist he wore something that seemed pretty much like a smartwatch, but not a brand I knew. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He seemed very focused on driving, and quite proud of the car he drove. He was clearly pleased with his situation. We sat in silence during the 20 minute drive.

We arrived by passing through a big gate. This was clearly one of the bigger estates in the area. Hidden from sight behind a thick layer of trees.

I was in awe when the estate came in view. It was truly enormous. The main building was huge, and the numerous other buildings were small mansions on their own. These people clearly had a lot of money to spend.

The driver drove around the mansion and stopped in front of a backdoor. Walk in there and ask for Mr Ashford, he’ll be guiding you today.” With that he waited for me to leave and drove away.

I went through the door, my heart pounding in my chest. Why was I so nervous for this? I tried slowing down my breathing and continued. The door led to a small hallway. I continued walking and came into a small sitting room, it seemed like a staff room. Some men in similar uniforms were sat on chairs, eating breakfast. They looked up, nodded and continued eating.

“Excuse me, sirs.” I started. Not sure why I called them sirs, but it felt logical. “I was told to ask for Mr Ashford.” They looked at me questioning. “Don’t call us sirs, you may address us as boys. Sit on that chair there, Mr Ashford will be down soon.”

I thanked them and sat down. Looking at them more closely, I noticed they were all wearing a similar smartwatch.

As they cleared up their breakfast plates, they bowed their head to a painting of a powerful looking man. I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like “Thank you for breakfast, master Blackmoor. I am grateful to be in your service today.” These people seemed really absorbed in their role.

After some time Mr Ashford came down, wearing his tailed tuxedo I knew from the grocery store. “Young Jack! So good to see you. Welcome to the Blackmoor Estate.”

How did he know my name? I don’t remember ever telling him.

“You made a smart choice showing up today. I did my research, and it seems like you and your family are in deep financial trouble. Being a bag boy is certainly not going to do much to solve that. Master Blackmoor has a proposal to help your parents more quickly, but more on that later. For now, let me show you to the family room. Master and young master Blackmoor are having breakfast there, and are waiting for us.”

“Yes, sir.” I obediently replied. Mr Ashford started walking in a brisk pace, and I followed him. We took what seemed like servant passageways. Narrow corridors, very sober and hardly decorated. This must be so the servants can move around invisibly.

“Now stop here. I will go and make sure they are ready to receive you. You will solely address them with master Blackmoor and young master Blackmoor. You only speak when spoken to, and immediately obey any order they give you. Do not question them, do not hesitate to obey.”

With that, he disappeared through the door. After a few minutes, that felt like ages, the door opened again. “Come in, boy.”

I walked into the room as confidently as I could. The room was enormous, decorated with oil paintings in gold lists, chandeliers and all the traditional interior features a classic English mansion should have. They were clearly inspired by our oversees neighbors’ aristocrats.

At a big oak table, 2 men were sat. One, most likely master Blackmoor, was about 45 years old, fit and wearing a suit. Besides him sat his son, young master Blackmoor. He was dressed in a beige linen suit. Classy, but comfortable. He looked like a younger copy of his dad, and radiated the same confidence and privilege.

“Master, young master. This is the boy I told you about, sirs. He pushed me forward. In some sort of reflex, I stood upright with my hands behind my back and head upright.”

I could hear the man and his son talking. “He definitely looks like the pictures Ashford showed us, for sure the type of guy I was looking for. Look at his chest and arm muscles clearly defined in that suit. So gorgeous. And his pose, like he was born to serve me.”

It felt weird to be discussed like that, but I also felt proud.

“Come here boy.” the older man ordered. His voice was deep and resolute.

I shuffled forward, approaching the table.

“Closer, come right next to me.”

“Yes sir. I said, and came closer.”

He looked me up and down. “So, what makes you a good servant to my son. What do you have that nobody else has to offer?”

I thought for a bit. “I am willing to go the extra mile, sir. Mr Ashford made clear you are looking for a longterm appointee, I am willing to sign to that. I am yet untrained in the ways of a good servant, but eager to learn. Being here, obeying you, dressed like this, it all feels very natural. I feel like I was born for this. Sir.”

“Good boy.” He said. “I am going to touch you now. I assume I have your consent, as Mr Ashford will have told you what my son and I require of our servants. If you do not consent, turn around and leave now, but know you can never return.”

I nodded. “Yes sir, go ahead sir.”

He stood up and rubbed my shoulders, ran his hands through my hair and groped my face. This was a clear power move, emphasizing his power over me.

“You have shaved yourself this morning very well, good boy. Go over and kneel before my son so he can inspect you. You will be his, after all.”

I walked over, knelt and directed my gaze at the floor out of respect to the young master. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like the right thing to do. He looked at me questioningly.

“Look dad, he already lowers his gaze like the other boys do. He really is a natural!” The young master said excitedly. His questioning look changed into one of excitement.

He grabbed my face with both hands and forced my mouth open. “His teeth look healthy! Just as you showed me they should be with the other boys. He sure has soft skin on his face. So cute.”

His hands moved around over my body, gripping my shoulders, squeezing my chest and cupping my ass. I just sat there, obediently awaiting my next order. What was happening to me? I’d never do this.

“Daddy I really like this one. He’s the best one we’ve seen so far. I know he’s untrained, but that just means I can shape him exactly as I please. And he seems a natural. He hasn’t given an inch when I just groped him from top to toe.”

Master Blackmoor laughed faintly. “I get your enthusiasm son, but we need to put him to the test first. You want to make sure you find yourself the best personal servant, as he should be with you for the rest of your life. But I agree, he seems promising.”

The young master nodded. “You are right daddy. Let’s move on to the next step!”

“Ashford, prepare the boy for phase 2. The young master will return to his wing and will require the candidate boy’s attention.

Mr Ashford nodded. “Yes sir, thank you sir.” Then he grabbed my hand and dragged me back into the servant’s corridor. “I am proud of you boy. You really showed your potential there. Exactly as I had guessed when I saw you bagging groceries.

He dropped me in a small room. There was another uniform ready, this one a bit more alternative. A beautiful red tuxedo jacket and a… white tennis skirt? I was a bit confused, but without hesitation put it on. There was a mirror. I surely looked… interesting?

Mr Ashford came in, without knocking. “Very handsome looking, boy. Young master is a bit more experimental than his father. His staff will be wearing these uniforms, he designed them himself.”

“Sir, you ordered me again to change into exactly what was prepared for me. As no underwear was prepared, I assumed you wanted me to keep on my current ones?”

Mr Ashford nodded. “Are you stupid boy? Never assume anything and always obey orders exactly as they were given to you. With that he kneeled besides me and pulled down my boxers.

“Now you are ready for your first service to young master Blackmoor.” Mr Ashford guided me through the service corridors. The young master is behind this door. Walk through it, go to the corner of the room and wait for an order.”

I went through the door, extremely nervous. The young master was doing some work on his desk.

“Boy, I want you to kneel besides me as I work. You sit in silence, your gaze at the floor. You only move if I give you an order. The rest of the time, you don’t exist. Now, kneel here and shut up.”

“Yes sir.” I replied.

“Did I tell you to speak? Are you stupid? I said shut up, didn’t I? Shut up and kneel. And if you get to respond to an order, you thank me for the order. Try.”

He was very strict. Growing up around servants he definitely learned how to handle and control them. “Yes sir. I am sorry sir. Thank you, sir.” I kneeled and directed my eyes at the floor.

“Good boy. I am quite excited to train you and make you mine. I will break your and rebuild you as I like. I have seen daddy do it. Can you believe that our driver, who picked you up, used to hate us elites? Now he worships us, just like all our other servants. I request a bit more from my personal servant than from our other servants though. I will treat you as my property. I will humiliate you privately and publicly. I will use and abuse you, and will let my friends do so too. My ancestors used to have slaves, I deserve them too. You will be mine. I will punish you for not obeying, for obeying too slow or getting a detail wrong. Your life will revolve around me, you sacrifice your freedom if you sign up for this life. You will have your studio apartment, but I’ll be having a small cage installed here which will be your home. They may have told you that you will have plenty of free time, but I expect you to be ready 24/7. You are my slave.”

He fell silent for a while. “And I will dress you as I please. This is one of my designs, it looks very good on you. Like a little bitch. But my favorite uniform will be your birthday suit.”

He continued working after that monologue, giving my mind time to process all he said. It was absurd, surely he could not be real? But it also seemed interesting somehow, my cock was getting hard. I tried to kneel in a way to hide it, but he already noticed.

“Oh you stupid. Is your useless boycock getting hard. You must like what I told you. I don’t enjoy my servants having a boner, just know you will be punished for this and you will be in chastity if you sign up.” He continued working again.

I was about to say “Yes sir, thank you sir.” but could stop myself in time.

He worked for an hour or so and then looked at me. “Get into the corridor, someone is bringing my coffee. Fetch it.”

I stood up and silently walked to the corridor. Soon, another servant came holding a silver tray with a small silver coffeepot and a posh cup. “He has it black. After you pour it, thank him and return to your position. Cute uniform by the way, you look like a real bitch. Exactly what he likes.”

And he disappeared again. I carefully carried the tray into the room, poured a coffee and kneeled down again. He continued working for an hour or two, ignoring me. I didn’t exist. That time felt like forever, but I was at peace.

“It’s lunchtime, I am heading back to the family room. Get there as well, take your own little corridors.” And he left.

When the door closed behind him, I stood up and found my way through the corridors. Back to the family room. He and master Blackmoor were sat down, lunch being served.

“He’s great dad. I told him my expectations and he just got hard. Mr Ashford told me he didn’t hesitate putting on that stupid looking uniform. He can’t stop thanking me for orders, I have to punish him for speaking without permission. He needs training, but he’s a natural. I want to own him.”

I felt proud. He really liked me. I also enjoyed the day so far. It was weird, he was actually a spoiled brat and narcissistic prick. But I was drawn to him, excited to be in his power.

“Well it’s time to take it one step further son. He will be your slave bitch. Your fuckhole. Time to see some more of him. Don’t you think?”

With that Mr Ashford appeared. He took of my jacket, shirt, shoes and socks. I was only wearing the short skirt now. Mr Ashford disappeared again.

“Very handsome.” Young master Blackmoor uttered. “What a beautiful body, exactly what I need.” His dad nodded. “He seems just right for you, a proper servant. If you keep him active daily in the gym with a good diet, he’ll stay like this for a long time.”

“Boy, do you still feel like submitting yourself to jy son?” Master Blackmoor asked?

“Yes sir! I excitedly said. “I’m nervous about it, but this day so far has only enlightened me on my role in society. My place is in young master Blackmoor’s control, sir.”

“Good to hear boy. I have a proposal for you. You have received our initial job offer, but I have something more. We see a lot of potential in you, and wish to transform you into our servant. To go one step further and enslave you. Have you in our control 24/7. The young master will make you an extension of his life. You will no longer be an individual person, but instead an object owned by your master. Your only purpose to serve, no matter the necessary sacrifices.”

I wasn’t sure what was happening. What are they asking of me?

“Back in the old days, immigrants coming into America would indenture themselves to afford the immigrations process. For a fixed amount of time, they would be property of their master. Do use as required. I am offering you a ten year indenture. You will cut off all contact with the outside world. Dedicate your life to this family. Let us train and use you as we see fit. Sacrifice your life as you know it, your spirit as it has always been and your body to our desires.”

I stumbled.

“In exchange, we will take care of your family’s debt and set them up with proper jobs. The salary and bonuses you were promised will be paid into an investment account in your name, setting you up for life. You will not need to spend a single dollar the next 10 years.”

This was all very overwhelming. Say goodbye to my friends and family for 10 years? Completely surrendering myself to these people? It felt scary, like it was too much. “I don’t know, master. It’s all a bit much. I would definitely enjoy working for you, submitting myself into your service. But what you just described is slightly overwhelming. Can I think about it, master?”

Master Blackmoor nodded. “No. Take a couple of days and come back with an answer before next weekend. In the meantime, we’ll proceed your intake today. You got yourself a job!”

“Thank you masters!” I exclaimed. I dropped to my knees and kissed their feet. “I am very grateful for this opportunity, masters. I will do everything within my power to serve and please you.”

“Good boy. Good instincts he has.” Master Blackmoor said laughingly.

"Actually master, if you allow me to speak, I think I have changed my mind. I am very eager to serve. I belong in your household. I can feel it in every fiber in my body. Please, accept me as your indentured servant. Your slave."

Master Blackmoor laughed contently. “Son, I think it’s time for you to claim him. Where do you want to go, the dungeon or your room?”

Young master laughed. "I'll take him to my room daddy, the dungeon is for another time."

With that, master and young master stood up and left the room. The door to the servant corridor opened again, Mr Ashford appeared and grabbed my arm. "It is time for young master Blackmoor to claim you. Which means he will use you sexually. You are an anal virgin, right? He's keen on taking your masculinity and claiming dominance over you. You must be brave and accept your fate. As your master, young master Blackmoor has the right to claim you. Don't resist, it will only hurt more. Trust me. You will learn to enjoy it, the male g-spot is in there for a reason."

In the meantime we arrived at a door. "This is young master's bedroom. Go in there. He will be on his bed. Walk towards the end of the bed, stand up straight with your hands behind your back and present yourself. 'I am ready master, please claim me as your underling.' Then just obey his orders and do what you can to please him. Now go, I wish you good luck."

This was the first time Mr Ashford had been so kind and personal with me. Being claimed must be a big moment. I was nervous. I had never had sex before, let alone being taken anally by a man as dominant as young master Blackmoor. I took a deep breath, opened the door and did as Mr Ashford told me to.

As I stood at the end of the bed, I stood up straight. "I am ready master, please claim me as your underling."

"Take off your shoes, boy. You don't need them."

I leaned forward.

"Turn around. I want to see your ass as you bow forward and your skirt reveals those cheeks."

I blushed, turned around and leaned forward. I could feel the skirt slowly uncover the bottom half of my ass cheeks. To please master Blackmoor, I slowly untied my shoelaces to give him a good view of my ass. Again, I don't know why, but it felt correct.

"Gorgeous cheeks boy. Can't wait to make them mine. Turn back around and get upright. I want to take another look at you."

I did as he ordered. I could feel my dick getting hard. What was going on? Being bossed around certainly seemed to excite me. The thin fabric of the skirt did a terrible job at hiding my boner, so I moved my hands in front of my groin in an attempt to hide it.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Boys never hide anything from their master. Let me make that very clear. Remove your hands now and show me what is mine."

I hesitantly removed my hands.

"Weren't you told not to hesitate when giving orders. You so need to be trained. Fortunately, my dad and Mr Ashford are experts at breaking boys like you. You will be exactly as we please within a matter of weeks. Now get in the bed with me, I want to get my hand under that sexy skirt of yours."

I crawled onto the bed. He tapped between his legs, signaling me to crawl to him.

"Get on your knees, turn around and bow forward. Expose those cheeks again."

I quickly obeyed, planting my face into the sheets of the bed. I could feel his hands groping my ass. Pinching my cheeks below the skirt. Without a warning, he inserted a finger in my asshole.

"Such a tight pussy, you are clearly a virgin. Just as I like them. Me taking your virginity is a great way of showing you who is boss. I thought I wanted you to take off the skirt as I claim you."

He got up, got on his knees, grabbed my hips and slapped my ass a few times. He reached under my skirt, grabbed my cock and jerked it a few times, edging me. "A shame your cock is so big, a total waste on a bitch like you. Nothing a tight chastity cage won't fix."

He let go of my dick, shoved down his pyjama pants and grabbed my hips again, real tight this time. He slapped my ass with his dick and then penetrated me. It hurt quite a lot. He didn't take the time to slowly stretch my hole, but went full steam ahead. For minutes he continuously pounded away. I started bleeding a little and was in quite some pain but I didn't show. Instead, I started moaning. Not out of my own pleasure, but I figured he would enjoy it.

"Yes master, take me harder master." I moaned.

He briefly stopped pounding and slapped me in the face, hard. "Shut up bitch. Don't disrespect me with your voice. Be silent and take my cock like the bitch you are."

He continued pounding until I felt a warm fluid flow into my hole. Master moaned and fell back onto the bed. "Fuck, what a great pussy."

I didn't know what to do, so I just stayed in the same position I had been. After a while, master sat upright again. "Okay boy, now it's time for you to taste your master."

He rung a bell and another servant came in. He walked up to the bed, stood in position and awaited his order. "Get me a glass." The servant turned around. He didn't seem to react to the scene before him, as if this was nothing new to him.

The servant returned with a glass. "Bitch, turn around and release my cum into the glass that Smith is holding. Don't spill!"

I turned around, positioning my ass above the glass. Smith (apparently that was the servant's name) moved the glass closer up to my hole and softly tapped my ass. My cue to release. I slowly relaxed my sphincter and felt the cum drip out of me. Smith did a good job of catching young master's cum.

When I was done, Smith wiped my hole with a tissue. "Give the glass to the bitch and stay here, at the side of the bed." Young master ordered him. Smith handed me the glass and set a few steps back.

"I think you can guess what I want you to do, don't you, bitch?"

"Yes master, you are giving me the honour of drinking your sperm. Thank you, master."

He laughed. "Good boy, it is indeed an honour to drink my filthy cum. It's good for a bitch like you. My cum is your nectar. Go ahead, slowly take a first sip. Don't drink it all at once."

I lifted up the glass and took a first sip. It was sticky, somewhat salty but surprisingly not that disgusting. Did I enjoy it? No, it was quite humiliating. But it felt right, and obeying master was the right thing to do.

"Don't drink it all at once I said. We'll save some for later. I am going to take a shower. I'll teach you later on how to clean me. For now, you disobeyed me and my father a couple of times. Hesitating or speaking without being asked. We do not accept that.

Therefore, we always punish our servants appropriately. Smith will take you to the punishment room. He will tell Mr Ashford to go easy on you, since it's your first time and it is just your trial day. But let it serve as a warning that the Blackmoor men are NEVER disobeyed. Smith, take him away."

Smith grabbed my shoulder and pushed me towards to servants' door, into the corridors. We took some stairs down, and ended up in what had to be a basement. There was a pillory, a bunch of wips on the wall and a big wooden x-cross. Mr Ashford was waiting there.

"It seems like young master Blackmoor was satisfied with your services in the bedroom. However, throughout the day you have disobeyed your masters too many times. You are in training, therefore this disobedience wasn't malicious. However, it is unacceptable. I will administer your punishment as ordered by young master Blackmoor. You will receive 25 swats on the ass with the paddle." He grabbed some chains and chained up my arms and ankles. "Just precautions, I want you to stay still as a I punish you." He grabbed a wooden paddle from the wall and rubbed it on my ass.

"Oh, I almost forgot. You ought to be naked for this. Don't want to risk damaging that uniform of yours.". He came up to me and took off the skirt. I was now completely naked. Again, my cock grew hard in excitement. Was I really getting horny from the prospects of getting spanked? Without warning, Mr Ashford struck the paddle, hitting my ass with a lot of force. I winced from the pain. "One. Thank you Mr Ashford." I said.

"Good boy, thanking your supervisor for the punishment you deserve. Master Blackmoor will be delighted to hear that. He continued swatting the paddle, I continued counting and thanking him. After the first few, it felt like my ass was on fire. Each swat increased the pain. When Mr Ashford was done, I felt very relieved.

"You took your punishment very well boy. I'm glad to see so. Very proud, even. You will be a worthy student to me. In that cupboard there, is a new uniform for you. Go put it on."

In the cupboard was a uniform. Well, you could hardly call it that. There was a small loincloth.

"Put it on, boy." Mr Ashford said. "It'll look great on you."

I walked towards the cupboard and put on the loincloth, finally covering my genitals again.

"As I said boy, it looks great on you. I have a collar here, you will hold it and present it to young master Blackmoor. He will collar you, once again claiming you as his property." Mr Ashford walked up to me and handed me a stainless steel collar, complete with a ring to attach restraints. I held it in both hands, making sure not to drop it.

We walked back through the corridors, holding the collar tightly. Mr Ashford stopped at a new door this time. "The ballroom." He shortly explained. He opened the door, walked in and gestured me to follow him. The room was the biggest I'd seen so far. Richly decorated. What I noticed first though, was the group of servants lined up. They must've been at least 10. All dressed in the same, formal uniform. Standing proudly, yet obediently.

"Young master Blackmoor has organised a last-minute collaring party. To celebrate him claiming ownership over you. Some of his closest friends will be there, celebrating your submission. It's a rite of passage for men in his peer group to claim their personal servant. By claiming your masculinity, he will gain his. All of us staff have been called in to serve at the party, also those usually not serving inside, like the gardeners and the driver. Some are still cleaning themselves up, or are getting installed in the punishment dungeon and the sex rooms."

I didn't know what I heard. This was all so new to me, I couldn't fathom having the money to easily afford all of these people.

Then the doors opened and a group of young men, young master Blackmoor's age, walked in. They were dressed in luxury tuxedo's and holding champagne glasses. They must've been young master's wealthy friends. They quickly formed a half circle around me. "Oh he's a great one." "Fuck, what a body." The men clearly liked my appearance.

The room quickly darkened, with a spotlight being turned on. 2 servants rolled in a small stage with a golden throne on it. Sitting on the throne was young master Blackmoor. He wore a golden crown on his head, and a big red velvet cloak. One a king wears. Below the cloak was just his underwear. He summoned me with a hand gesture, and positioned me besides him on the stage. I felt very exposed, but also felt my cock grow harder as I stood besides my powerful master.

"Dear sirs!" Mr Ashford announced. "Welcome to the collaring ceremony of young master Blackmoor's first personal servant. This afternoon, he has graciously blessed the young servant by taking his cherry and allowing him to drink a first sip of his sperm. Now, it's time for young master Blackmoor to officially claim what is his birthright. After this ceremony, young master Blackmoor will be Master Blackmoor II, as he will no longer be considered a youngster. Young master Blackmoor, the honour is upon you."

Mr Ashford disappeared again. Young master Blackmoor was not holding the stainless steel collar Mr Ashford had given me.

"Boy, you have agreed to an indenture of at least 10 years this morning. This means that you will no longer enjoy freedom. You will suffer submission. You surrender control over your body and mind to me. You will no longer have a free will, but will mindlessly obey my orders and only do what I order you to. I was born into a life of privilege, which gives me the right to take ownership to you. My birthright is to own you, to train you and to do with you as I please. You are not like any of my family's servants, you were put on this earth to completely sacrifice yourself in my favour. Your existence will be wiped out, you will be nothing more than any piece of furniture in this house. You are incredibly lucky to be allowed to enter my service, which is only reserved for the best of the best. The most beautiful. Serving me is not a duty, it is your privilege. Your birthright. In order to celebrate that, I will collar you now. Accepting my collar symbolises accepting my rule. You will proudly wear this token of submission. Kneel before me."

I was shivering. Wow, I felt incredibly lucky to be here. I knelt down before young master Blackmoor, bowing my head into his lap. I felt a cold sensation as the stainless steel collar was fastened around my head. I heard a click as the mechanism closed and young master closed the lock with a key.

The crowd cheered and applauded. Young master Blackmoor patted me on the back and ordered me to turn around, still on my knees.

"Thank you, my friends!" Young master Blackmoor exclaimed. "I have taken what is rightfully mine, blessed this here servant with the joy of submission and servitude. Now it's time to celebrate! Celebrate my becoming a man. Celebrate taking my servant's freedom. I, master Blackmoor II, hereby declare this party to be started!"

Music came from the sound system, the young audience kept cheering and master Blackmoor II petted my hair. Some of the servants started walking to the room, carrying silver trays with glasses and bottles of champagne. A photographer came and took some pictures of master Blackmoor II on the throne, petting my head.

"For the painter to make a painting of." Master whispered. When the photographer was done, master got of the throne and walked into the crowd.

Since I didn't receive any orders, I remained knelt besides the throne. I sure wasn't going to make the mistake of assuming any orders again.

Mr Ashford came up to me, connected a short metal chain to the collar and pulled me after him. He took me to a corner of the room, where a group of servants were lined up in v-shape. He put me in the middle in front of them and ordered me to stay there. The photographer came and took a few pictures. It must've been a beautiful sights, the formally dressed servants with a collared boy in front of them.

When the photographer was once again ready, Mr Ashford ordered me to walk into the crowd. Just like before, the young men circled around me. They admired my body and congratulated their friend, master Blackmoor II, on his becoming a man and claiming his servant. I felt extremely proud. Not of myself, but of my master.

Soon enough, the first men starting touching me. Pinching my cheeks, slapping my butt and grabbing my cock through the loincloth. Master let them, but told them nobody could use me yet. "First I need to properly break him in. Then you guys can take turn on him."

I felt relieved. Sure, if master wanted me to present myself to his friends I would gladly obey. But it was all going a bit quicker than I could've expected this morning. This morning, I was not aware of how my life was going to change today. I was expecting a job interview, some formalities for sure. But I could never have even dreamt of what happened today.

Today was only the start. I just committed to an indenture period of at least 10 years. 10 years of submission, obedience and lack of freedom. I could not be more excited.

[roses-without-raindrops]

Happy birthday!

Young!Silco and Young!Vander x gn!Reader

Word count: 1.2k

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This is a tiny birthday gift I've written on a whim for my friend and inspiration @beskars who is such a kind and sweet cutie pie!! Happy birthday you absolute royalty! I hope you're having nothing but joys and good vibes all year round🫶🏻 You are so sweet, so kind, so creative and so inspiring! I'll be forever glad I've gotten to make your acquaintance🩷

A huge thank you also goes to @avarkriss for not only beta-reading for me, but also for providing lots of fun little tidbits about our favourite Silco and Vander author that I could sprinkle in the story!

Without further ado, you'll find the drabble right below the cut! Happy reading🫶🏻

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The door to your small apartment shuts close with a resounding click as you drag yourself in, legs barely able to sustain your weight any longer, and you promptly slump on your beaten up couch.

Gods, what a day. So much so for it being "special".

You woke up way earlier than the sun, worked your ass off in the mines, barely had time to eat anything nutricious enough to get you through the day, and now, way past sunset, you're finally home.

It's not that different from all your other days –well, aside for you turning older today– but stacked on top of the repeating fatigue this lifestyle entails it has built up into quite the burden to carry.

You're actually kind of surprised you made it this far, despite all the trials and tribulations just existing in a place like Zaun entails, let alone survive. But you made it, and you keep going. You're kinda proud of yourself for that. Another year sticking it to those Piltie pricks, proving that the tenacity of Zaunites is not to be underestimated.

You're startled out of your reverie by a knock on the door.

"Coming!" you call out, huffing as you grumpily get up from the couch, the springs groaning with you as your joints protest. Your grumpiness, however, gives way to a bright grin when you open the door and reveal Vander and Silco, each with a glint in their blue eyes and an equally delighted smile on their faces.

"What are you two doing here?" you ask with a chirp in your voice, quickly moving from the doorframe to give them space to come in.

"Happy birthday, lad" Vander comes to hug you, his massive arms enveloping you completely, like a cozy warm blanket being draped all over you. Your arms can't even reach behind him despite your efforts, but you're happy with just this, breathing in his distinct scent: leather, whiskey, and a hint of his musky deodorant.

Behind you, Silco affectionately ruffles your hair, before letting his hand slide down to your lower back with underlying protectiveness. "Didn't think we'd miss your big day, did you?"

You free an arm from the embrace and extend it out to the lanky man in an invite to join, which he takes eagerly. Silco's own distinguished scent –of coal, cigarettes, and something uniquely him– mingles with Vander's in a comforting mix, further easing your stress away, paired with their warm bodies basically sandwiching you. But as much as you'd like to stay in this moment forever, you need to breathe. You lightly tap on Silco's arm and Vander's back, and the hug loosens until you can catch some air again. As you do, the young men place a couple of things on your small kitchen table: a covered tray, like the one Vander uses in the Last Drop, and a small cardboard box with what appears to be newspaper wrapping and tied off with a shoestring.

"We got you a little surprise, lad" Vander smiles, a warm yet sharp glint in his pale blue eyes. He rests his large hand on the tray cover, and slowly, gaze fixated on your face, he lifts it up.

You're stunned beyond words.

On the tray, there stands a cake, seemingly made by the two young men if the wonkiness is anything to go by. It looks to be something similar to a cheesecake, the creamy white layer spackled with dark brown dots throughout, with a golden brown crust at the bottom, and candied orange rinds sprinkled all over it.

"Is that..." you stutter.

Vander's grin widens as he nods in confirmation. "Vegan cheesecake, with vanilla silken tofu and chocolate chips. Our personal attempt at recreating those fancy pastries you wanted to try. What were they called? Collani, or something?"

You blink, lips pulling into an amused smile. "Cannoli?"

"Yeah yeah, those ones!"

You let out a less than elegant snort, and Silco comes behind you to wrap his arms around you and pull you close, your back pressed against his chest, as he rests his chin on the top of your head. "Finding the tofu and the vanilla was a bit of a hustle," he chuckles "but they were quite easy to steal. Seems like fancy Topside shops have quite the pickable locks."

"Fucking morons" the bigger man scoffs. He picks up the box from the table and hands it to you. "Oh, and while we were at it, we stumbled upon this–"

Behind you, it's Silco's turn to scoff. "I stumbled upon that"

Vander rolls his eyes. "And I made sure Enforcers didn't kick your ass, so I'd say I've got half of the merit, you chicken bone".

You're too focused on undoing the wrapping on the box to pay attention to their bickering.

Your mouth falls open.

In the small box, resting on some crumpled paper, is a small dark grey bowtie. One of its leaves is cut in half across, sewn and pinned to appear like a wide set of jaws, from which two rows of sharp white teeth emerge, made out of felt. Above that, a small black bead serves as an eye, and on the top border a triangular piece of fabric represents the fin of the tiny bowtie shark.

The young men stop their bickering as they notice your reaction, and you can feel their pleased expressions as they look at you, your own eyes fixed on your gifts as if you can't believe them.

Silco nudges the tip of his nose against your temple in an affectionate caress. "We take it that you like it?" he murmurs in that gravelly voice of his, tone tinged with satisfaction.

A huff of incredulous laughter escapes you, trembling fingers pulling the bowtie out of the box. "How in the world did you two even find something like this?".

"Well..." Vander cocks his head on the side with a knowing grin "...it used to be a normal bowtie"

"It looked so lonely and pathetic, put on display in the shop's window all by its own" Silco continues behind you.

"And obviously we couldn't leave it there, could we?"

"We knew just the right person for it"

"So we snatched it"

"More like carefully relocated it" Silco hums sarcastically.

"But it was too boring for such a special person like you, so we gave it a personal touch" Vander adds.

"The idea was mine" Silco says proudly.

Vander puffs his chest out. "And I did the execution".

You carefully tuck the bowtie back in the box with a sheepish smile. "I...I don't know what to say".

"Something like 'thank you' would be a great start" Vander chuckles.

"Followed by 'You two are the best friends someone could ever ask for in the entirety of Runeterra'. What do you think?" Silco adds.

You give him a playful shove with your shoulder, but you're quick to wrap one arm around his waist and give him an affectionate squeeze, then you walk towards Vander to do the same, although you're not quite able to wrap your limb entirely around him.

You three spend the evening filling your bellies with vegan cheesecake and your hearts with joy. And as you laugh at the men's bickering antics, the sound of your voices bringing the small space to life, you reach a realization.

Whatever the date, every day becomes a special day when you've got your loved ones close. And that's enough.

[televisionlassie]

I feel like people don’t realize how jarring it probably for all of Bruce’s kids to be adopted.

There’s this strange idea the adoption is “saving” a kid, and I get how in some ways this can be true for people but imagine being the kid. You’re taken away from everything you’ve ever known and sent with some person, you barely know. That can be traumatizing. Adopted children (even if they are adopted by a good family) are at a much higher risk of mental health issues and developing learning disabilities.

Now imagine this for each of Bruce’s children.

Dick grew up in a traveling circus, he was used to never staying in one place for long. He was surrounded by many different families and cultures. He went from living like that to juvie. And even after he moved in with Bruce it’s still completely different from living in the circus.

Cass was treated like she was a weapon. She wasn’t a human to people. When she was adopted her whole perspective on her life and being human was changed, and she just had to adjust because no one could understand that.

Jason was literally a street kid. I think he’s the easiest to say Bruce “saved” but it is still a HUGE. difference in lifestyle. He went from fending for himself, never relying on anyone and having to steal just to feed himself, to living in a place that is quite literally the complete opposite of that.

The thing about Tim is there is a weird misconception that he was like horribly neglected, and he was sort of, but his parents loved him. He definitely had a good childhood. I hate to say one of them would have it easier because I don’t think any of their situations were easy, but Tim definitely had it easier to adjust. Doesn’t mean it’s still not shocking to have to get used to a completely new family dynamic.

Duke had a loving family. He might not have been rich but he had a family that he loves and grew up with. The worst part about his situation is that his parents are still alive but they can’t take care of him anymore. He has to live with a new family and treat them like that while knowing his real family is still alive and there’s nothing he can do to go back to the way it was.

Damian literally grew up in the fucking league of assassins, he was treated like a prince but also a weapon. He had to go from everyone treating him like a prince and that he’s above them or like a pet to be trained by his grandfather to being treated like any other person. He wasn’t given special treatment and favoritism by his new family and had to get used to that.

This isn’t even mentioning the culture shock Dick, Cass, Duke, and Damian would’ve experienced. I like to believe Bruce would’ve been a good enough parent to learn about their cultures but it’s different coming from a man who had no personal connections to your culture.

Anyway I just felt like ranting about this.

[rinaxtaros]

[07] | RED.

Summary: You settle into your new role within the Phantomhive Manor.

— deal with the devil (saying/phrase) The term "a pact with the devil" is also used metaphorically to condemn a person or persons perceived as having collaborated with an evil person or regime.

chapter 07

"Demons can make deals with other demons?" Ciel asks as he looks up from his pile of paperwork. Sebastian nods stiffly, eyeing his curious master.

"How does that work? Aren't you under contract to me?" He asks, setting his palms on the desk as he looks up at the two demons before him.

"Yes, I am, but a demon contract is different to a human contract.” Sebastian explains languidly.

You interrupt, "If I may speak, although it is a little confusing it is beneficial for demons as we basically live for the 'tit-for-tat' lifestyle.”

Ciel hums, swirling his cup of cold tea. He had barely touched the thing, swearing that Sebastian had made the tea wrong. You recalled laughing at the vein popping in Sebastian’s neck.

Sebastians hums "It's still a little taboo for.. us but us demons will do anything for our own benefits.”

Ciel understands that demons are selfish and possessive creatures but the thought of demons doing deeds for others is foreign to him. He assumed that they wanted nothing to do with each other if every demon had Sebastian’s attitude.

"We'll spare you the long and frankly boring details of a demon contract, but [Y/n] is now to listen to my commands as I have accepted a deal she had inquired about," Sebastian explains quickly. He could go on forever about contracts. Ciel nods and sees it as good enough.

Thankfully.

"I'm guessing you'll be staying here then" Ciel sends you a pointed look. You nod, seeing as Sebastian had practically explained you were now apart of the Manor team. It doesn’t seem to bother Ciel as he now has an extra person to do his dirty work. It’s not like you’re getting paid.

"You may go off and do your own duties.” Ciel sends you away with a flick of his hand. You watch as Sebastian obediently bows. The sight makes a laugh rumble in your throat, but you hold it back for the sake of not starting another argument.

As much as Sebastian is like a dog to Ciel, you’ve now become one for Sebastian as per the details of your contract. You can’t help but frown as you aimlessly follow the dark-haired demon who waves you along.

The door closes with a gentle click, accompanied by a quiet groan of the ages hinges. Sebastian already stands with a candle stick in hand, lighting the dim hallway. It’s amusing, as he doesn’t need the extra light to see within the dark halls. It seems Sebastian loves to keep up the façade, even when no one is watching.

"[Y/n], be a dear and remind me of who this demon is?" Sebastian purrs, leaning the flame towards your face. The radiated warmth across your face is quite conforming, but the shadow from the flame contorts his face into quite a lustfully sinister sight.

"I think he goes by Claude now.. although I'm not sure" You surmise, plucking your mind for any past interactions you’ve had with the prowling entity. From your knowledge, he’s used the same human name with his past few masters. He’s been hellbent on catching you as his mate ever since one mistaken moment together.

It’s a curse to be the sin of Lust sometimes.

"Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"When my end of the deal is met…” You trail, eyes flickering towards the ground again. Sebastian simpers, sauntering silently ahead “We’ll see, my Dear.”

You dip, seeing as either situation would’ve had you stuck between a rock and a hard place. However, having Sebastian by your side would aid in your avail against Claude’s courting.

A demon courting is messy and bloody at times. Once a male has his eyes set, the woman can either give in or die trying to escape. On the off chance, the woman emerges victorious if the man is weaker. However, it is rare. Claude is strong and you’re certain he’s only gained more strength by completing odd jobs for whatever demented soul he’s serving.

Sebastian though, he has an unwavering strength that has gave you a boost in confidence. As long as you hold up your end of the deal, he has agreed to fight Claude off. Even if that means to kill him.

You hope it works anyway. The mark above your tainted heart hopes so.

The next day your new found trio had travelled into London to speak to a man named Abberline about the missing children. The interaction with Abberline left a sour taste in your mouth. Nothing particularly stood out about the man — he was an average investigator, though you knew he would most likely stand in the way of Ciel’s own investigation.

It’s making time with the two longer. Ugh.

As your group approaches the wooden carriage, Sebastian and Ciel started talking about the cases and the information they had somehow pulled from the nervous detective. You don’t pay much attention, barely looking at Sebastian even as he held the door open for you. He slides in a few moments later, slotting into the small seat next to you.

"I suppose we'll be paying him a call?"The rather distasteful emphasis on him peaks your interest. You scan Sebastian with a curious tinge swirling within your orbs.

"I don't like it any more than you do, but when needs must and all." Ciel answers loathfully. He taps the roof of the carriage with his cane to alert the driver to start moving.

It’s a rather short journey, though you spend most of your time watching the world go by. It would certainly be faster if you could travel at your own speed, but actually taking in your surroundings is nice. The bump of the wheels against the cobble stone street isn’t too pleasant, though.

"This is him?" You query as the carriage comes to a halt in front of a familiar building.

“Why, do you know him?” Sebastian questions, studying your face for any type of reaction as he exists the vehicle. He extends a hand, which you take so graciously. Though, you titter, “You could say that.”

Sebastian clicks his tongue to display his annoyance as you come to a stand. He drops his hand, signalling to the driver to wait. Sebastian steps back, allowing you step forward.

You try not to laugh as you allow your new (appropriate) dress to swipe along his legs flirtatiously.

Ciel, seemingly ignoring your interaction, walks to the cracked door. His hand leaves a feather-like touch against the skid, yet it screeches open. The ear-grating sound was sure to alert the shop owner of his presence "Undertaker? Are you about?"

There's no answer at first but Ciel takes the initiative to walk cautiously into the dark shop. Candles were littered across the shop’s floor and walls to provide an eerie - but on theme atmosphere.

Both of you follow behind, ignoring how your footsteps bounce off of the cobbled floors and concrete walls and back into their ears. The clicking of your heels surpasses the sound of the dull steps produced by Sebastian and Ciel’s flat shoes.

The shop door clicks closed behind the three, allowing the shop to now bask in the light from the candles. Only a few seconds pass before a creepy voice echoes through the shop, causing a shiver to ripple up the young Lord’s spine.

"Hello my Lord, it's so lovely to see you~" The Undertaker’s voice purrs out, kicking a disregarded skull. It rolls crudely towards the young masters legs, similar to a bowling ball to two pins. Ciel hisses, barely missing the barrelling object.

"What will it be then? Will I have the pleasure to fit you for one of my coffins?" The Undertaker goads blatantly. Though, his voice had travelled to behind the young master, causing Ciel to puff unexpectedly as the entrance to the shop is suddenly closed. The Undertaker lears as his hand presses firmly against the wood.

"Look you-" Ciel starts, only to be cut off by the Undertaker "Have a seat, I have a batch of biscuits still fresh from the oven!”

Though the behaviour would have you feeling unnerved a few years ago, the Undertaker has yet to shock you within this interaction. You’re quite astonished with Ciel’s ability to hide the fear that is absolutely spilling from his being.

You suppose you should end this odd stand-off.

"Stop teasing the poor boy.” You defend, placing a hand on Ciel’s shoulder. He tenses beneath the touch but quickly melts as he realises you’re defending him. Perhaps he’s too relieved to notice how casually you’re speaking to the creepy shop-keeper.

"You're acquainted with the brat, my Dear?" A frown settles on the Undertakers face. Sebastian shuffles from beside you, perhaps to gauge the interaction better. He’s been very openly scanning the surroundings of the shop.

“More than acquainted, actually.” Ciel’s head whips to meet your gaze. You glance down at the poor boy who looks as if he’s seen a ghost.

Whilst the Undertaker groans and says some off-handed comment about a literal child, Ciel is in complete guffaw “You know this creep?!”

It’s hard to hold back your laugh, so you chuckle and throw in a quick apology to the Undertaker. He seems more distracted by the fact you’re so close with the young boy who has caused him quite the stir over his years as the Queen’s Guard Dog.

“Yes. That is for another day, Ciel.”

Ciel nods - albeit still shocked - and tells the Undertaker the reason for their being (after trying to get through to the man for another 10 minutes.)

"Missing children, you say?" The Undertaker rubs his chin quizzically. You perch yourself against a staggered coffin, awaiting the long-winded story he’s bound to tell. The whole interaction has been quite boring, despite the comical expression Ciel had worn a few minutes ago.

"The authorities still consider them missing persons,” Sebastian informs "and no corpses turned up, do you know of any?"

"Well as tragic as it may be" The Undertaker lifts a bone shaped cookie and examines it under the candle light. Ever the dramatic.

“I don’t recall anything of the sorts.”

“I have their information here, look through these and tell me if you've taken care of any of these children.” Ciel ignores the Undertakers blatant lies. Sebastian thrusts the papers towards the mortician, ignoring how he complains that Sebastian is being too forceful.

"Hmm, have I seen this face before… I don't know...” He trails, “My memory would be right but sharper if I had myself a good laugh…”He acts coy.

Another pregnant ouse fills the air, “I think a good laugh would jog my memory!”

The two groan in agony as the conversation meets a stalemate. You’re certain this isn’t the first time he’s stuck them for a laugh in order to get the tiniest but of information on a case they could get elsewhere. You don’t want to stay much longer, though.

“Aren’t you being too stingray, Undertaker?” You hum, pushing yourself from the coffin, “I’m sure you don’t want to be here with the young master for much longer.”

“Young master…” He mocks, presumably rolling his eyes “Don’t tell me he has you calling him that pretentious title.”

You ignore his mocking and turn to Ciel “Let me do this. His humour is crude.” You warn.

Ciel quietly debates within his head.

"All you've got to do is give it to me! Just give me the gift of true laughter!" Like a bulb, the Undertakers behaviours switches as he slides himself across the coffin just a metre before Ciel’s body. He twists like a cat, extending his hands in front of him as if they were claws as he twists upside down "One laugh and all of my information is at your disposal!" He giggles.

Ciel looks to Sebastian, "See to it, will you?" He asks

The Undertaker takes the chance to jab at the boy "Having him do your dirty work then?" He asks, twisting upright.

“That's the trouble with you upper class blokes…Can't do anything without your butlers, ay?" Ciel fumes, clenching his fists. The better half of you wants to step in, but deep down you want to see if Ciel will crack.

“It’s all the same to me, I just want a laugh" The Undertaker shrugs.

Ciel thwacks his staff against the cobble floor, "I'll take care of this.”

"His humour is quite crude, my Lord" You warn once more. Ciel’s frame shakes with unbrittled anger, visibly wound up from the Undertakers relentless teasing. You’re sure it’s a build up of past interactions, but the sight is even unruly for you.

“I can do it for you—“

"Both of you, go outside!" Sebastian glances at you, then motions to the door. You look between the Undertaker and Ciel who glare at each other unwaveringly. You twist on your heel, accepting the pre-teens stubbornness. It’s one thing he must get from Sebastian.

As you step outside and adjust to the blinding light, Sebastian lets you know of the time. You stretch your arms, groaning as a loud pop follows.

“He’ll take forever.”

"Young Master, are you sure that a circus is a place for a noble like you?"You’re curious. Ciel had decided that both he and Sebastian would join the circus to learn of the disappearance of several children. The Undertaker had said that the missing children were coinciding with the location of the travelling circus and that a child had been snatched not long ago.

Ciel peers at you over the rim of his cup of tea. The light shines from his silver rings, causing you to wince for a slight second. He sets his cup down, smacking his lips to rid of any excess droplets.

"The Queen has asked me to look into the missing children cases and it seems everywhere this circus goes, children go missing along with it:” He explains shortly. You can’t do much but nod. It’s all you’ve done for the past few weeks, so you quietly smooth down the pinafore straps of your skirt to fill the silence of the room. Sebastian stands idle nearby.

It’s quite awkward, even for yourself. You find yourself having to occupy your hands more often. Perhaps it’s because you have another demon watching your every move — one that’s strong enough to easily take you down. You find yourself thinking about it at night and how you hadn’t felt such emotions while serving Anne before the last few weeks of her short life.

You despise the feelings. It’s too human. Too familiar.

"Young Master! Your carriage has arrived!" Mey-Rin bursts through the oak doors, hands slamming both of them open clumsily. Ciel, who had only swallowed another mouth full of tea, splutters.

“T-Thank you, Mey-Rin.”

Ciel orders you to file into the carriage alongside them. Though curious, you follow through seeing as Sebastian told you to listen to Ciel. You’re were wandering how you’re meant to follow Sebastian’s orders when he’s not around to give you any, so the ride to the circus should hopefully fill you in.

"I'm sending Sebastian to look through the circus, I'm sure you know that by now:” Ciel recaps. He had send Sebastian solo to scope out the circus before their arrival and subsequently left you in charge to pander to Ciel’s needs. He’s quite demanding and you understood why Sebastian seems to have a stick up his ass permanently when he’s not flirting.

"He gathered that there may be too many people around to carry out our investigation as a duo, so I need you to come as a decoy.” Ciel continues, “You’ll distract and keep people away from where we need to be. Do whatever you want as long as you don’t attract too much attention.”

This is certainly not what you expected, but one glance at disinterested Sebastian tells you that the two had thoroughly discussed the plan beforehand.

“Refrain from using formalities with me as we are pretending to be common folk.” Sounds about right.

You stay silent, processing the whole ordeal. You find it quite odd that you’re only being told this now, as if Sebastian and Ciel weren’t really decided in your addition. But then again, what is hiding within the circus to make them think they’ll need a permanent decoy?

[oopsallgoalies]

False Confidence: Chapter 3

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This is a repost from my series, False Confidence. It was originally posted in March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You feel the butterflies that have finally settled in your stomach flutter to life again, a jumbled mess as your breath catches. You know it makes sense. His simple request. You’re the one who said you were out of practice. And he’s right, the media caught you with his tongue down your throat. Their not going to be fooled by chaste kisses on the cheek and pecks on the lips. You need to get comfortable around Javy, and while you hadn’t come here with the intention of kissing him tonight, the sooner you rip off the bandaid, the better. “Okay,” you say and you hate how small your voice sounds. Javy gives you a mysterious smile as he leans in. Your heart beats quicker the closer he gets, and your eyes flick down to those full lips of his and you’re so fixated on them that you don’t realize that he’s stopped. When you realize that his lips haven’t moved in quite a while your eyes flick up to his deep brown ones and your cheeks heat at the intensity of his gaze. “What?” You sputter as you do your best not to pull away from his closeness. Your hands are trembling and you can feel discomfort settling in your bones. He leans in closer suddenly, lips barely a breath from yours and his nose brushes yours and you let out an indignant squeak, jumping slightly.

“Relax, Meep.” His voice takes on a lower timbre and you feel a shiver run down your back.

“Meep?” You squeak and he chuckles. You feel the vibration of the air on your lips. He reaches a hand up then, making sure to hold it in front of your gaze for a solid five seconds so you process it before he runs a knuckle across your cheek.

“My overexcited little roadrunner,” he muses. “Always squeaking.” Your brow furrows as you realize what he’s referring to.

“You’d be squeaking if you were surprised too.” You stutter out, irritation seeping into your tone even as anxiety continues to claw at your heart from his closeness.

“Oh, would I?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow playfully and then just as you’re choosing your next words carefully, he closes the gap and presses his lips to yours.

The first time you’d ever been kissed you were in the bed of Andrew St. James’s truck. You’d felt completely alone even with dozens of cars and trucks parked around you. The movie playing up on the giant screen was background noise as Andrew’s lips pressed against yours. Your lips were slightly parted in surprised pleasure. It had all felt so surreal, being curled against him as you experienced a first that you’d awaited giddily your entire life. Even in your wildest dreams you’d never imagined that it could be like that. Even when Andrew had invited you to the movie, butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the idea. Even when you’d nervously picked out the soft yellow sundress that you knew you’d get chilly in with the cool spring evening air, dancing through your bedroom full of whimsy and hope.

Javy tastes like blueberries. The tartness of the berries scattered through the loaf that the two of you had just indulged in making your lips tingle as he eases you into the kiss. This kiss was different from yesterday. While yesterday’s kiss had been hungry and desperate, this one was soft, delicate, and simple. A press of lips against lips and you can almost smell the rust and grass from your first kiss. It’s sweet, and you almost convince yourself that it’s real but the tart taste keeps you grounded in bittersweet reality. When he pulls away, he studies your face curiously and you struggle not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. He leans in before you can react and kisses you again. You start, surprised and he’s pulling away before you can adjust to the feeling. You scowl at him and he chuckles.

“What was that for?”

“You need to not tense up so much when I kiss you. Right now you’re practically jumping out of your skin, Meep.” You feel your lips pout even as you know that he’s right but you can’t focus on that when he dips his head to kiss the pout on your lips. You’re expecting it this time and you barely tense under the quick touch. “Good girl,” Javy praises you as he pulls away again, pressing a quick peck to your cheek and you jolt, surprised by the change in direction. He gives you a look of faux disappointment. “Come on Roadie, loosen up for me.” You feel your cheeks heating rapidly under his constant attention and the anticipation of the next kiss. You’re not expecting when he reaches a hand up and cups your cheek and then your cheeks are heating even more in embarrassment at the realization that he can probably feel their heat. He stokes the apple of your cheek with a calloused thumb and you shiver involuntarily. “I told you Roadie, I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“Prove it.” You’re as surprised as he is by the bite in your words, but the proximity and flurry of kisses have your brain in a tizzy. You’re overstimulated and exhausted and you don’t have the energy for Javy’s antics right now. His eyes widen before he sits back, his hand falling away from your face and you take a shaky breath as your heart rate tries its best to settle. His expression is unreadable as he nods.

“You’re right.” His gaze is steely as it meets yours. “I will.” Like it’s that simple. You’re too tired to push him so you just nod back.

“We need rules,” you hate how tired your voice sounds and you reach for your glass of water, sipping and hoping the cool liquid will give you the energy that you need. “If this is going to work, we need to be on the same page about what’s okay and what’s not.” Javy nods again, eyes calm and earnest.

“That’s good with me, what did you have in mind?” He asks and you fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you think.

“No sex.” You say after a moment, words firm so he knows you’re serious.

“No sex, got it, Roadie.” You nod absently as you think harder.

“I need at least a week’s notice if you need me to come to an event, whether that’s a game or something else. My job will always come first. I’m not missing school for this, I’m not leaving my kids out to dry.” He nods again.

“That’s only fair. I’ll talk to Zam and work out a schedule of some kind and get that to you as soon as possible.

“Next, if I’m going to be coming to your events, I need you to come to some of mine.” You’re nervous about asking this but Josie’s voice in your head reminds you that this is supposed to be mutually beneficial.

“It’s only fair,” he says casually. “As long as I’m in town, I’ll be there. You can get me a schedule too, but just give me a basic idea now if you can.”

You think for a long moment before you answer. “You need to make a few appearances at the school to really sell it to the administration. There’s a faculty banquet in April. If you’re here, you’d probably be expected to attend.”

“Consider it done.” He says easily. Something else is itching at the back of your mind so you steel yourself and ask before you lose your nerve.

“Career day,” you sputter and Javy arches an eyebrow at you and you clear your throat. “It’s not a requirement per se but I think the kids would really enjoy meeting a real hockey player.” His eyes soften and you give him a shy smile.

“Yeah, Roadie, I’d love to come to Career Day.” He smiles back as you relax in relief. He waits for you to continue but you’re drawing a blank as to what comes next so he speaks up. “You need to figure out how to relax around me. If there’s something I can do to help, I will, but it’s going to come down to you.” You nod, embarrassment sending heat to your cheeks.

“I know it’s not always going to be possible, but if you could ask or give me a heads up when you’re going to kiss me, that might help?” You say after a long moment. He considers your words thoughtfully.

“What if we had a signal?” He asks and your brow furrows.

“What kind of signal?” You ask warily. He reaches out a hand for yours and you tentatively surrender one. He takes it in his absurdly warm palm, and then he brushes two fingers over the inside of your wrist before tapping three times.

“How’s that?” He asks. You glance down at your linked hands. It’s subtle enough. It could work. You nod, slowly and Javy smiles.

“Yeah, that could work.” You whisper and he releases your hand. You study your hand when it comes back to your lap like you’ll see some kind of mark of his touch. Like a piece of him will linger.

“One last thing,” he says and you look up from your lap and he waggles his eyebrows playfully. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.” You barely suppress a derisive snort as you scowl at him. It just makes him laugh and the sound takes your breath away. If his smile is the sun, his laugh is its rays. You feel your nerves melt away as the sound fills your ears and spreads warmth throughout your body from head to toe. He pauses his laughing to fix you with a firm look even as his eyes dance with mirth. “I mean it, Roadie, no falling in love with me.” You roll your eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” You won’t be the fool twice. You know better this time.

***

The next morning as you’re walking into school when your phone buzzes and you open it to see a message from Big Sexy ;), “I know you’ll probably be teaching so you can’t watch, but just so you know, the press conference is at 8 this morning. Speak now or forever hold your peace.” He’s giving you an out. While you appreciate it, you didn’t let him kiss you in his kitchen to lose your nerve now and you type back a quick negative response before steeling yourself and making a beeline for your classroom. You don’t feel like fielding Jeremy’s questions before the press conference. You’ll let someone else control the narrative. You’ve settled in and you’re going over your lesson plan when Josie knocks on the edge of your doorway and you look up, waving her in. She perches on the edge of her desk, studying your expression carefully.

“Reuben said they're holding the press conference this morning. How are you feeling?” You shrug.

“He’s not my real boyfriend. I don’t really feel anything.” Josie gives you a skeptical look.

“You know Jeremy and the others are going to start hounding you the second they find out, don’t you?” You sigh, then, taking a moment to take a long sip from your coffee mug.

“If they hound me that means they buy the story and that’s what we want, right? Sure, I’m not exactly looking forward to it, but there’s not much you can do to disprove an official statement from one of the parties, especially the one with everything to lose.” Josie regards you skeptically and you know she doesn’t buy your cool as she leaves the classroom and while you’re more nervous than ever you can’t focus on that right now. Any minute your students will be arriving and you need to be ready for them. They need you right now.

***

By the time lunch rolls around you’ve forgotten all about the press conference so when you step into the teacher’s lounge and Jeremy automatically calls out to you, you’re taken by surprise.

“Damn Roadie, you’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” You turn to see a smirk pulling at his lips as he regards you. “How on earth did you manage to land yourself a big bad NHL player boyfriend?” You ignore the subtle dig in his words as you struggle to clear your mind. You’d gone over your cover story with Javy last night until you were almost convinced it was true yourself. You take a breath to center yourself before you answer Jeremy.

“We met at Thanksgiving, I went with Josie to the Dogfighters’ Thanksgiving dinner.”

“That right, Josie?” You turn to see Josie standing just inside the doorway, a cool look on her face.

“Yeah, friends and family were invited so I invited Roadie since she didn’t have anywhere else to go.” You wince at her words. That part of the story is true. Josie HAD invited you except you’d turned her down and had spent the holiday curled up on your couch watching old movies and eating spaghetti and turkey meatballs followed by ice cream straight from the carton. In hindsight, you’re glad you hadn’t gone since Josie had arrived back at school on Monday recounting the chaos that had ensued at the event. None of your colleagues knew that, however. “Oh hey, this is a pleasant surprise.” You’re jerked out of your thoughts and you turn back to Josie as Javy appears in the doorway, carrying a bouquet of flowers and a takeout bag. You do your best to school your expression of surprise at the unexpected visit. You’re sure some of it seems believable enough, though as you unglue your feet from the floor and cross over to where Josie’s ushering Javy into the teacher’s lounge as the other teachers gape. You shuffle over to him, a nervous smile plastered on your face. You will your voice not to shake as you greet him.

“Javy! I didn’t know you were coming by today?” You hide your wince at the light accusation in your tone and try to compensate by carefully pushing up slightly on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. The gesture feels strange and his skin is warm under your lips. The skin pulls under your touch as Javy smiles and when you pull away you see the mirth dancing in his eyes as leans down to reciprocate the action, smooth lips pressing to your heated cheeks.

“Hey beautiful, thought I’d come by and surprise you.” You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters at the term of endearment as it falls easily from his tongue. “I thought we could have lunch together?” He holds up the paper bag in his hand and you nod, trying to make your earnestness to escape the prying eyes of your colleagues seem lovestruck in nature.

“Sure, baby.” The word feels strange and foreign in your tongue and you have to hold back from grimacing in discomfort. “We can eat in my classroom,” you nod towards the hallway and Javy takes your lead. Once you’re in the empty hallway, the kids all herded into the lunchroom for the next hour, you glance at him to see him grinning at you. You roll your eyes and lead him to your classroom. You hold the door for him as he enters before leading him to your desk. You realize quickly that yours is the only adult-sized chair in the room but Javy seems unfazed as he sets the flowers and bag on your desk and snags one of the tiny chairs from the nearest cluster of desks. You don’t manage to stifle your giggle as he folds his giant body into the tiny chair and his eyebrows raise, the corners of his mouth crinkling at your reaction. You feel your cheeks heat as you take your seat across the desk from him. He’s tall enough that he manages to reach the height of your desk well enough and he starts to unpack the paper bag, the smell of Thai food hitting your nostrils.

“So…” he says as he passes you a foil-wrapped packet that smells simply heavenly, “how’s your morning been, BABY.” He smirks and your cheeks heat even more as you duck your head to escape the humor dancing in his eyes.

“I panicked, okay.” You sputter as you focus on keeping the noodles in the foil from spilling across your desk as you break the chopsticks that Javy passes to you. He chuckles.

“Well practice makes perfect, I guess.” He digs into his food and the two of you eat in silence for a moment before you can’t hold your question in, anymore.

“What are you doing here?” You ask and hate how blunt it sounds.

Javy raises an eyebrow at you as he finishes chewing. “I figured after this morning’s announcement, there would be damage control to do, so I figured I’d get ahead of it. What better way to sell a fake relationship than to bring my girlfriend lunch?” He shrugs. “Plus I figured you could use the backup. People are bound to have questions and actions speak louder than words.” You nod, taking another bite of your food.

“Well, thanks,” you say, trying to fight off the awkwardness as he waves you off.

“This is much better than eating in the conference room with dozens of sweaty guys, believe me.” He looks around your room, taking in the bright decorations and your students’ art hung on the wall. “So, do you teach art too?” He asks.

You shrug. “It’s kindergarten, I teach everything.”

“Damn, Roadie,” Javy looks genuinely impressed. “Even math?”

“I mean, math for Kindergartners usually just consists of counting, shapes, and basic addition and subtraction but yeah,” you giggle a little as he laughs.

“Right, I almost forgot. But that’s still important, though, they need that to be able to do the rest.” He says, giving you a pointed look and you smile shyly.

“That’s why I love it so much,” you admit. “You get to make such a big impact on these kids’ lives.”

“It’s a big responsibility,” he points out.

“It’s a privilege.” You say, a soft smile on your lips and he gives you a look that you can almost convince yourself is pride.

The two of you fall back into silence as you eat until Javy speaks up again. “Do you still make octopus stew in kindergarten?” You can’t help the laugh that jumps out of your throat. Javy regards you curiously as you nod through your laughter.

“Yeah… yeah we still make octopus stew. We’re actually doing that next week.” His eyes brighten and you hesitate before you offer. “You could come if you wanted to? I mean just for the octopus stew part? We usually ask a couple of parents to come help out since there’s cooking involved, we could use the extra hands.” You can’t help the nerves that blossom in your stomach but Javy’s wide grin makes them worth it.

“I’d love to,” he beams before his brow furrows. “What day is it? We’re leaving on a road trip next Wednesday.” His face falls slightly and you can’t help the pang of sympathy that laces through you. You’ve seen it on Reuben’s face before. The realization that his job is stealing yet another special moment from him. He’s missed class plays, dance recitals, and more and it doesn’t get easier.

“Octopus Stew is on Tuesday,” you say with a soft smile, mentally running through the emails you’re going to need to send to the parents volunteering to successfully move around your lesson plans. The grin on Javy’s face is like the sun and you can’t help but feel relief, knowing that your slightly selfish plan is going to be worth it.

“Perfect, I’ll be there!” He announces and you can’t help the smile that his excitement brings to your lips. “By the way, are you doing anything after work today? The rest of the guys really want to meet you, and I thought maybe you could swing by the arena?” You hesitate and his gaze softens. “They’re not all assholes, I promise, you just got stuck with me.” You feel your cheeks heat at that.

“S-sure I can be there,” you murmur and he reaches a hand over, brushing your fingers with his. Somehow you don’t flinch away from his touch. “I’ll be there.” You say with more conviction and he squeezes your fingers gently.

You hear the bell go off in the hallway and glance at the clock, surprised. The moment is broken and you hurry to clear up your lunch trash. Javy stands, taking your lead, and carefully returns his chair to its desk. He holds out a hand to take the lunch trash and you pass it to him, appreciatively. Your eyes fall on the flowers, they’re a simple but bright bouquet of seasonals. “Thanks for the flowers, by the way,” you say and Javy turns to look at them from where he’s almost at the doorway.

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me. You’re my girlfriend, after all, flowers are a given. Do you have a vase?” He glances around the room, looking for one. You shake your head.

“Not here, no. I have some at home but I’ll probably get something plastic for the classroom in case of accidents.” Javy nods, his eyes thoughtful.

“Noted, I’ll bring a vase next time. I’ll see you this evening, Roadie.” He’s gone before you can comprehend his words and a soft smile graces your lips as you gather your lesson plans for the afternoon before heading down the empty hallway to pick up your students from the lunchroom, Javy long gone.

[dailydemonspotlight]

Daisoujou - Day 125

Race: Fiend

Arcana: Heirophant

Alignment: Neutral

October 11th, 2024

I'm surprised it took this long to cover my personal favorite of the fiends, but what else is spookier than a skeleton? However, Daisoujou's portrayal as one is, ironically, rather inaccurate, and in order to get into that, we need to explore what Daisoujou is based on- not a myth, nor a cryptid, but something entirely different: Sokushinbutsu, a form of ritual suicide in ancient Buddhism, and one of the most extreme and unique practices in certain Buddhist sects- one to ensure perfect preservation in death.

The practice of sokushinbutsu is a very rare and obscure one, connected to only certain sects in Buddhism and only done by the most extreme practitioners of the lifestyle of asceticism, which is a lifestyle defined by refusing to partake in the pleasures of the world and instead living a solitary lifestyle. However, first, I want to explore what Daisoujou actually means, as it's relatively hard to parse without prior knowledge or, in my case, not knowing the language. Once again, Monolingualism dooms me.

Daisoujou as a name seems to be an anglicized version of a term used to refer to head monks in some Buddhist areas, as a 僧正, anglicized as Soujou, is a high-ranking, government-appointed monk put out to maintain and manage Buddhist areas under government supervision. Following this, 大僧正, anglicized as Daisoujou, is the head of these head monks, being the leader of Chinese Buddhism under government supervision overall, at least from what I can tell- I might be getting some things messed up, as, again, I can't speak or read Chinese. However, what's important here is that Daisoujou overall essentially means a monk that has attained great peace, even being a title applied to monks who have attained Buddhahood in their lifetime. Allegedly, the title was given to Kūkai, the founder of Shingon Buddhism, after his death. お大師様 is the title given to Kūkai by people who refer to him and follow his philosophy, so make of that what you will.

Moving from Chinese Buddhism to Japanese Buddhism, what this ties back into is that Kōbō Daishi, the now-dead Kūkai, was entombed after months of not eating as he saw his end was near, and when his body was uncovered years later, he had barely rotted a day, tying this occurrence to Sokushinbutsu, as that is exactly what the process is carried out for- preserving a monk as-is. As its name literally translates to "Buddha in this very body", this practice was the most extreme form of asceticism attainable, with a monk burying themselves and then intentionally eating the very bare minimum, each day, ringing a bell every day they were alive to tell the people above ground that, yes, they were alive. Surviving off of an incredibly strict diet of tree roots, nuts, and berries, these monks would intentionally break away all of their body fat until they were, almost literally, just skin and bones.

Curiously, the diet had more of a purpose than depriving those who took part in it of commonalities- not only was it spiritually important to show a hardened and dedicated shell, but it was also a perfect diet for ensuring a lack of decomposition due to how it would deprive any bacteria of nutrients and remove the fat and muscle from the frame. After around 1000 days of this diet, the monk would prepare further for the process, moving from this strict diet to eating nothing and drinking only salinized water before being lowered in a pine-tar box into the ground to meditate during their final days. As time would go on, the monk's ringing of the bell would quiet, and eventually, when it'd stop ringing, the process was complete- they would be dead, yet perfectly preserved, much like a mummy- in a way, it's a self-mummification process undertaken while the monk is still alive.

If carried out properly, the monk would be taken from their burial and placed down in a spot of worship, where people would pray to it. If it showed signs of decay, the cadaver would be given a proper burial, and it was assumed they didn't attain Sokushinbutsu. One can assume that, perhaps, Daisoujou didn't attain it, as the design in SMT is rather obviously skeletal, though with a gnarly detail that I love- the yellower skeleton color, especially compared to other fiends, calls back to the mummification and also looks like dried skin wrapped around the bones. The monk holds prayer beads and wears attire akin to somewhat contemporary Japanese Buddhist robes, specifically being a kesa. Honestly, I love this design for a multitude of reasons, but primarily for being such a unique idea given a fantastic interpretation in the series. Kaneko never ran out of creativity, and Daisoujou's design is a perfect reflection of that.

[whereintheworldisauniqueusername]

Being a videogame protagonist must suck balls. 'Cause like, you spend your life as a completely normal citizen, learning about the Prophesied Hero, going on adventures from time to time, but never too dangerous, never too eventful. Maybe you even get used to this quaint lifestyle, making friends, having little get-togethers, celebrating birthdays. Then, on a day just like any other, you... don't wake up. Something else does. Something else grabs the sword that you've been keeping for self-defense in the off chance anyone'd ever attack your little village, and something else goes off to attack the monsters near the village. It speaks in words that aren't yours, in a voice that can't be yours.

Nobody else notices. Not your neighbours, not your old friends, nobody. It makes friends that come to adore and respect It, that'd sacrifice themselves for whatever cause It chases. They call It the Prophesied Hero, and you try and try to scream at them that you aren't the one doing this, that all you want is to do this yourself, but you can't. It smiles and gets embarrassed over such praise in your place, and you can't do anything about it.

You grow stronger, learn spells, defeat powerful enemies, but you aren't doing any of this, It is. It's just handing you this ever-growing power as it leads up to the final act. It and Its accomplices go into the Dark Sorcerer's fortress, the Sorcerer attacks, your "friends" give It a motivational pep talk during battle, It deals the final blow, and the whole matter's done for. Congratulations! You are now the strongest warrior in all the land, the greatest hero in recorded history! But it isn't earned. You didn't have to lift a finger. You didn't get to make those bonds with your "teammates", to defeat those enemies, to go on an adventure. All you had to do was watch that "Something else" do it all for you.

You can't go back to the old life you loved. Everyone at your little village gives you different looks, different smiles than before. You aren't "you" to them anymore, you're "The Prophesied Hero". The royal court is worse. People you've never spoken to before treat you better than the King, the man a nobody like you couldn't possibly comprehend acting as if they were an old friend, but here you are, breaking bread with him and the rest of the court, laughing and listening to the bards recite tales of your glory. You can barely stand it.

So you pretend. You play the part of the "grand hero" the best you can, helping out people in need, defeating powerful monsters still left in the world. You say what everyone wants you to say, be they royalty, your teammates, or some peasant from who-knows-where, and you're always careful to never let the mask slip. And when you're old and grey, a living legend of times past, you settle into a small, unassuming town, mutterings of being a hero be damned. And one day, on a morning just like any other, someone from the town walks in a way they don't and talks in a voice that isn't theirs, and all you can do is watch as it takes up its sword and goes off to attack the monsters near the village.

And I gotta say, that seems like it'd suck bad

[plasmamembranes]

I have never had acne in my life and for the most part have had skin that doesn't break out much despite putting barely any effort in to maintain it, but starting several months ago I got what I consider for myself to be severe acne on my face and since I have compulsive skin picking problems it was literal hell for me. I tried a couple different products to get rid of it and then also changed several different things about my lifestyle, trying to pinpoint what changes occurred around the time I started getting acne and just backtracking and changing things one by one. Well it ended up being the fact that my girlfriend and I would shower then put on smelly Bath and Body Works lotions for each other before our dates, then go to bed with them still on and cuddle and fuck or whatever so I'd be marinating in that all night and rubbing it all over my face. I seem to be ultra sensitive to that stuff. Since we stopped putting the lotion on, my acne completely stopped

But it makes us really sad. The lotions were a cheap way to smell really good for each other and we spent a lot of time picking out specific scents for one another. We are trying to pivot to colognes but we have some issues. The only places that sell colognes around here have them locked away and don't let you sample them to my knowledge, and it's a small town so there aren't many places that sell them to begin with. Is there anyone who buys a lot of perfumes or colognes like online or something that can either recommend good ones or tell me how to sus out good ones from bad ones? Like when ordering online how are we supposed to tell if the scents will be good for us or not -_-

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Furina, and Genshin Stans' Inability to Handle Criticism

*SPOILERS*

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The introduction of Focalors as a character in 4.0, did what it should. She was a very polarizing character and had people forming very specific opinions that would be damn near impossible to change.

Most everyone enjoyed the fact that she wasn't kissing the Traveler's ass, wasn't flirting with the Traveler from the jump, and was dramatic. However, that did not mean that many of them came away liking her as a character. It wasn't translated as 'simply bratty' or 'adorable tantrums' to many of us.

People are capable of liking the fact that she was written differently even if we didn't like her personality.

Personally, I still don't like Keqing even after everything that's happened so far. I find her attitude to be very annoying, and her stances on many things piss me off, but it's also nice for her to not be up the Traveler's ass when they come around. It gives every scene a nice air to experience.

Furina's story ending up incredibly tragic does not mean people have to suddenly pander to her.

At most, she was disliked by many for appearing to be lazy and not actually doing anything useful for her people the whole time. And Arlecchino had a right as a citizen of Fontaine, to call her out for her inaction and chosen lifestyle. Just because it was revealed that Furina was playing her part in order to fool Fate and the Heavenly Principles, does not mean Arlecchino is in the wrong for what she said(attempting assassination is another matter entirely).

Furina still called Paimon an object and tried to ignore her living, breathing sentience just so she could try to get the Traveler on trial for a fake accusation. Even if that law actually exists(per Neuvillette's voice lines) Paimon is not an object. Those of us with common sense recognized how fucked up that was, and how bullshit it was to try something like that just to... prevent the Traveler from wandering around and getting involved in stuff.

Y'all realize the Traveler would have ended up in the Fortress of Meropide for a crime they did not commit, right?

No one held a gun to Furina's head to make her do that. She could have completely avoided the Traveler entirely, but instead SHE CHOSE to make that their first meeting. The Traveler and Paimon base their impressions on her off of that meeting. And even after months in Fontaine, she did not prove to be much better at anything else.

In the end, Focalors' plan proved Furina wasn't being useless. She was actually doing her part as faithfully as possible, but that's all it really did. The accusations of her not caring and being lazy were wrong. She cared a lot and she worked very hard to exhaustion(both mental and physical).

But Furina spent 500 years treating people a certain way, and that has results. Those not from Fontaine are not as blinded by the glamor of her behavior and don't see it as acceptable. And guess what? Her introduction to the Traveler involved racism and dehumanizing the Traveler's companion(even if Paimon isn't human, she's sentient and living and humanoid) for the sake of a farcical court trial.

Then, she made false accusations against Lyney not long after. And the investigation by anyone but the Traveler was truly lackluster with barely any effort put in. To make things worse, she couldn't find any proof for her claims, so she just threw a group of orphans under the bus because... for some reason the Fatui has to be the ones to take in Fontainian children so they're not living on the streets.

It's not a good look.

Furina has suffered and has done her part to save her people, but she's also done some fucked up things and hasn't apologized for them.

You can't clamor for Arlecchino to apologize for what she said, or for Paimon to apologize for pestering her over and over to help out that theater troupe, and then sit there quiet over her behavior that had NOTHING to do with her cover as a 'god'. She could have easily kept up that cover while demanding for the case to be investigated better(NO ONE thought to look into the possessions of the troupe members before the Traveler asked? NO ONE thoughts to look in ALL the boxes while down int he basement?).

Many people got to learn that Furina is not a shitty Archon. She protected the people in the only way she knew was possible. She held that secret and was willing to take it to the grave.

She's also made some mistakes and never apologized.

The Traveler and Paimon not really knowing who the real Furina is or what her personal values are, doesn't mean they're being callous to her. Paimon saying she had no idea Furina would feel a certain way over something that happened, isn't her being mean. It's her literally not knowing and saying it in surprise.

The Traveler and Paimon thinking of Furina first after hearing that someone needs an expert in drama and theater, isn't them being mean. She's literally a celebrity known for performing on stage and is the only actress they were aware of in Fontaine. Common sense, people, learn to use it.

At most, the constant pushing was the actual bad part, and even then, this is Paimon... who needs things said 2 or 3 times in different ways before she(and by extension the playerbase) understands what's going on. That's just her character to repeat things just to get the clear picture. She's been doing it since the start of the game, and we all hate it. This isn't new.

Adding on... Neuvillette literally also did the same shit when he heard Furina was involved in a theater troupe's last performance. He tried to urge her to take to the stage once again and was quite insistent over it as well. He even used his own emotional ties to her to try and get her to change her mind. Yeah, he's hot and cool, but if Neuvillette doing the pestering is perfectly okay, then it was never the pestering and 'guilt-tripping' y'all had a problem with. It was just the people it was coming from.

Apparently, if it comes from a stranger that you aren't friends with, it's evil and horrible and despicable, but if someone you've known for 500 years keeps bringing up how they wish you'd change your mind on doing the thing you said you won't do anymore, all because they enjoyed watching you do it, then it's alright and just friends looking out for friends.

Furina is complex and more compelling as a character now, but she's still got a long way to go and all the time in the world to get there.

[freezerbnuuy]

Act 3:3 - Life's Too Short (Page 6)

LORE | CHARACTERS | ABOUT / CHAPTERS / WARNINGS

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a few days later

Reynold

In the darkest point of the night, I didn't expect to get any visitors- that was, until the only person who'd still be awake strolled in. He doesn't acknowledge my presence straight away. My eyes don't move from him as I watch him light a candle, and another candle, and another candle…and he keeps going and going, seemingly ceaseless until he stubs out the match with his fingers.

"For the forty-six innocent people I killed in my vampiric infancy. A few for friends passed. And one for Ilse."

He sits down in the chair beside me. With the monastery now illuminated by the fifty-odd candles he'd lit, I noticed something different about him.

His hair looked slightly darker, maybe even slightly pigmented as opposed to its usual monochrome. when he momentarily looks to the side, I notice his light irises seemed to have a ring of colour around his pupils. He doesn't look his usual smug self either.

"I have something I wish to ask of you, Father Morgan."

"You can just call me Reynold, Oskar. I don't stop being your friend because we're under the church roof."

He just grunts. "It must stay entirely confidential, however. Áine must not hear of it."

"Everything you tell me here is in complete confidence, Oskar. Ask away."

He leans over and stares into the floor. This isn't like him- at all. He looks very weak, barely able to hold his head up.

"Last week, I saw my own reflection in the mirror. I notice that I'm changing, slowly. I think I'm...regaining my humanity. I don't know how this happened, but it's been looming over my head- if I am to become human again, then I'll probably only have about twenty to thirty years left to live. That's nothing to a vampire- well, ex-vampire."

He stops talking for a second, and I can just about hear what sounds like hoarse breathing. He puts his hand to his chest in horror, then stops again.

"Are you okay, Oskar?"

I know Oskar's tendencies. He's gotten used to his life and his routine for over one hundred and sixty years. To have to change it all around to suit a human lifestyle- that's got to be rough for someone like him. Not only that, but how exactly does a vampire just stop being a vampire? It seems impossible, not without some kind of 'cure'. 

There's only one man in Henford who'd seek to cure vampirism, who may have had the knowledge to do so. I don't know if that's a conclusion Oskar has come to, so I say nothing.

"We don't know what the future holds, Oskar. I know you like knowing everything in detail as much as you can, but life is always going to have plenty of surprises. Some people can live surprisingly long lives. The Jacoban High Shepherd is nearly eighty. Even if you are becoming human again, you might have plenty of time."

"The Jacoban High Shepherd can eat dog shit. The man is more than responsible for his share of the deaths of witches."

Well, that's that on that. I don't think Oskar will listen if I explain that he's turned himself around.

"The thing is, Reynold, what would you do if you found this out? I'm already dreading having to sleep every day, and learn to breathe again, and eat again, and- I don't want to think of it! Do you know how much time humans waste on the chamberpot, Reynold? Experts say you spend most of your life there! I don't want to go back to that!"

"One way to look at this, Oskar- if you are becoming human again, you can do all of the things you couldn't do as a vampire. You can taste food properly again for one, go out in the sunlight...What you lose from not being a vampire, you'll gain something from being human again."