#particularly the saved outfits feature

[chestersbraincell]

Ready for the Winter Quest?

[smokesandsonatas]

Broke mc and the rich night raven college bois! Would they spoil the mc or would they let mc struggle, delighted in doing so 👀

+++ After a long time, I'm finally starting to answer requests. I tend to combine similar asks, I hope people don't mind.

OnlyCams (Twst version of OnlyFans) Reader x All NRC students and Rollo. Reader is implied to be female. Mentions of cleavage, lingerie, and implied sugar daddy stuff. Slightly NSFW. +++

Update: Part II

Your current financial situation, compounded by the need to eat proper meals, pushed you to find a side job. Crowley had cut your budget by more than half, citing Grim's damages—an accusation your companion vehemently denies—as the reason you're struggling to eat properly. It has reached the point where you only eat once a day to quickly pay off Grim's fees to the school. Your pride is too great to ask for help, and besides, you don’t consider them ‘close friends’—acquaintances from another world might be a more accurate term. You’re not particularly close to any of the boys, or rather, your schoolmates. They are just that: schoolmates.

You tried applying at Mostro Lounge but left quickly after your gut told you to. In a foreign world where monsters, beasts, mermen, and magic are the norm, your instincts are your only trusted guide.

The rules of this world shouldn’t and wouldn’t apply to you the same way, right? Whatever society imposes on them is not applicable to you. In your world, this type of job is common, though frowned upon, but it pays well.

You refuse to eat cobwebs from the dusty ceiling of the ramshackle dorm.

In your mind, you plead for privacy as you smile at the ghosts, asking them not to bother you while you rest—just as Grim has been doing for the past two hours. Fortunately, the ghosts heed your request.

You let out a soft hum as you change into a flimsy outfit: a cute two-piece lingerie with bows in the middle, and bat earrings from one of your highest-tier subscribers. While you only show skin rather than specific body parts, your effort in producing high-quality content led to you being featured as one of the emerging models more than two weeks ago. Now, you are close to paying off Grim's full debt, and you have saved enough to afford full meals twice a day with snacks in between. As a result, Grim is much more obedient, promising to be careful as long as you continue to feed him, of course.

You have a keen eye for beauty, after all.

You count silently as you pose for the camera—an alluring sight, sensual in your pose, a work of art in every sense.

3...2...1

Snap!

+++++

He first heard the rumors from the members of the Heartslabyul dorm. As the dorm leader, Riddle is keen to know what currently preoccupies the thoughts of his card soldiers. That’s how Riddle found you—by threatening to cut off the head of one of the freshmen, who nearly pissed himself as Riddle stood seething. That incident occurred a week ago. Riddle is never one to indulge in such perverse photos, despite what his highest-tier subscription might suggest. No, he is a gentleman after all. His favorite photo is the one where you’re wearing a red silk robe that clings to your figure, with a book pressed between your two mounds. He may or may not have specifically requested that photo, and he paid you generously for your work.

Of course, he knows you have one! Cater is the self-proclaimed king of Magicam and social media, after all. The OnlyCams platform is an emerging phenomenon that has taken Magicam by storm. You just happened to get on it at the right time, and Cater couldn’t help but respect the hustle. You’re now an emerging content creator, and his favorite photos of you are saved on his phone—essentially everything. Oh, what’s that? He can’t do it because it’s prohibited? Of course, Cater can! He has been your faithful subscriber from day one.

Oh sevens, when Trey saw your sweet bakery-themed photos he will not deny that he relieved himself more than once. You keep on releasing new mouth-salivating content every other day but that still stands as his favourite. He especially loved the one where you put whipped cream to cover your nipples. What? Trey is a man and therefore susceptible to temptation.

He will never tell you that he knows, but he has been there since your first post. Ace had been a loyal supporter even from the start, he even took it upon himself to try a few gigs to support you, you know? That's what friends do right? Just don't blame Ace when he uses your pictures to masturbate as he takes his baths.

Deuce cannot believe it, but he cannot take his eyes off it either. Deuce also knows but respects you enough to not bring it up. Why didn't you told him you have perfect thighs? He is pouty but as he works his hands below his pants he cannot help but bite his lower lip. This is the third time he masturbated on your picture. His favorite? A picture of you laying down as you wink cheekily in a 'Japanese' uniform, the short skirt hiked over your thighs. The caption says it reminds you of your place back home, Deuce briefly wonders if you would let him visit to see that uniform personally on you.

....

Leona doesn't give a fuck, his thick cock out as he works his hands up and down his shaft lazily in his bedroom. You've been a very cheeky herbivore. Ha! Leona didn't realize how much of an ass beastman he is not until he raised an eyebrow as he smirked when he realized all his favorites are the ones where it focuses on your ass. He likes it when you squeeze them. Leona wonders if he should send you a message for a special offer, the price won't matter to him. What? Breeding season will come soon for the beastman, he will have no other partner than you.

He admires your skills to hustle, Ruggie could not help but sneakily have his account opened through Leona's bank, it's not like the rich prince will notice it billing him anyway. Once he opens your highest-tier content, Ruggie now understands why. You're a complete pro at this! He is not sure if this is your previous job in your world or if this is your first time doing it at all, but those thoughts have escaped him when he fucks himself into his hand in the picture of you spreading your ass cheeks.

Jack had heard about the site from the other track team members, out of curiosity, he opened an account and was surprised when he got your account in his recommendation. He will support you of course! That's what friends do! He will try to contain himself when he unlocks your content of you wearing skimpy track shorts but it's impossible as he felt himself tightening through his pajamas.

...

Azul had never heard of this website before, but dear sevens! The possibilities are endless. Pleasure work is not unheard of in the Coral Sea, but he now knows they do it differently on land. It's called porn, as far as he remembers when he picked up the word from one of the guidebooks in the Sage Island. When he realizes at first glance that you will be one of its top creators—the money will come pouring right in! Azul chuckles to himself, restraining his excitement as he bites his lower lip while staring at your latest update. The thought of being your manager crosses his mind as he gazes at your picture of spreading your legs open, the flimsy thong left so little to the imagination. Will you let him manage you? Will you allow him to experience what he sees? Perhaps you’ll seek out a partner for a collaboration, and Azul will be eager to present himself. Of course, he will refrain from showing his face—he still has a reputation to uphold—but he cannot deny that you are his guilty pleasure in this realm.

Floyd is addicted to your content! How dare Shrimpy make him so excited every day? For almost two weeks now, Floyd has been happily completing tasks assigned to him at the Mostro Lounge. Sure, he pockets some tips for himself, but fear not! Floyd thinks he deserves it. Besides, they ought to reward him for his extra hard work. Floyd giggles when he sees a notification that you've posted a new update. One of these days, he will come to see you personally—only if Jade isn’t holding him back. After all, if left unchecked, Floyd just might take you deep into the coral sea.

Jade, on the other hand, is constantly watching you—or so you thought. At lunch, in the hallway, even in the library when you’re trying to study with Grim. You can feel his eyes piercing through your soul, but for some reason, you can never quite meet his gaze. Or maybe, you’re trying to catch him staring at you just to justify your suspicions, but when you look, he’s not. Unbeknownst to you, Jade is just as giddy as his twin brother. Don’t blame him! He adores the picture where you’re actually wearing the seashell necklace he sent through your fanmail. Oh, but wait—one moment it dawns on him that others, who pay to see your pictures, will also see that picture. Hmm… that doesn’t sit right with the eel. Jade wonders if he can offer you something more. Of course, he can! The only problem is... will you accept Jade Leech's offer? Hmm…

...

Jamil heard from Kalim that you have a business they need to support, Jamil didn't even complain when all Kalim sent was a link. He was hooked since then. He is a silent supporter but will be one of the first to view and like your posts. You wore red lingerie once, and Jamil can't even stop himself from coming from that. A good stress reliever after a tiring day's work. The veins in his hands practically popping, as he grip his cock, imagining you in front of him instead.

Kalim will support you of course! Although he is quite confused why you won't accept the money he's sending you. It's just a half a million madol. It's not a dowry!... At least not close to the actual amount he will give you anyway. He will support you! He even told Jamil about you! Doesn't he get jealous? A little.. but the feeling of an overwhelming bragging right that other people thirst over you makes Kalim so proud. He chose a good future wife after all!

...

To Vil, your content is vile... but undeniably a work of art. Hmph, no wonder you're one of its top creators. You don't merely post for lust; you post for aesthetics as well. You have a keen eye for taking good photos, that much he will admit. His subscription to you he considers a form of appreciation for beauty. He notes the way you do your makeup, the arch of your back, the way your lipstick complements your complexion... Fine, Vil will hate to admit it, but your content is something he looks forward to seeing as he relaxes after a hectic day—just him alone in a fancy room with a spa-like scent filling the air. Hmmm, he wonders if he should invite you someday to a hotel soirée with him. Vil appreciates the attention to detail in your work, and he finds himself compelled to support you further. Occasionally, he sends additional tips usually a thousand madol—small tokens of his admiration for your craftsmanship. He justifies it as an investment in art, a reward for the way you meticulously craft each image and video. After all, beauty like yours deserves to be recognized, encouraged even.

He will always blush when he's near you! Epel can't help it. He may or may not have teenage fantasies about you with him carrying you bridal style as his muscles bulge from his shirt. Although Epel came from a... Traditional family perse, he does appreciate how... sexy you look! His favorite is when you're wearing silk nightwear that delves low on your cleavage.

Ah, Rook. Forever the hunter of beauty. When he heard of your content, he immediately subscribed to the highest tier! He is now only waiting for you to accept personal requests because Rook definitely has a lot of ideas in his mind. It involves you and him, in a forest, being one with yourselves and with nature! Oui! He chuckles as he palms his crotch through his pants. Rook knows that you will post something new in a few minutes, and he is right! Oh, mi amor, Rook swooned as he saw your bat earrings from the new update and the matching pink bows lingerie. The lingerie he ordered is yet to be sent to you! But they're on their way. Will you be mad at Rook if he sends an arrow with a declaration of admiration through your window right after he pleasures himself? Rook hopes you will know how much the hunter loves and appreciates your beauty!

....

Idia may or may not be one of the software developers behind OnlyCams. He was absolutely stunned when he saw that you joined the site! His hair burned a hot red with pink tips as he scrolled through your draft photos. It gives him a twisted sense of satisfaction to know about posts that others haven’t seen yet. Is it illegal to pry... or, erm, stalk the OnlyCams models? Of course, he knows that. But Idia has convinced himself that he should act as your moderator anyway—even without you knowing. Unfortunately, there are a lot of comments and private messages that are downright disgusting to read, so Idia takes it upon himself to remove them for you! The maid outfit and cat ears he sent through your fanmail should arrive in just a few days. Idia can’t wait to see you in them! He imagines how perfect you’ll look, and his mind races with ideas for what else he could send your way. Maybe a little something extra, just to make sure you know how much he’s been thinking about you.

...

At first, Malleus does not know what to feel. Initially, there is confusion—are you whoring yourself out? But Lilia explains that people can only look at you, not physically touch you. However, when it dawns on Malleus that others can see your intimate, seductive photos, flames flicker along his fangs. He carries the pride of a king, and it does not sit well with him that others can see what he considers his. Still, Malleus can't help but growl. Your pictures should have been for his eyes only. He frowns, deciding that even Lilia should not see them. You don’t know this, but you’re already his. In his mind, you belong to him. Annoyance courses through his veins—this is the second time he’s broken a phone today. As night falls, Malleus finds himself brooding in the solitude of his tower. The thought of you, your image laid bare for others, festers in his mind. He clenches his fist, struggling with a mix of possessiveness and anger. Lilia suggested he could unsubscribe from you, but Malleus ignores him. Instead, he contemplates offering you wealth and power—if you choose to be by his side, of course. As if you have a choice anyway.

Sebek is embarrassed, yet hypocritical, as he can't help but masturbate to your seductive content. Part of him hates it, but the other part loves it. How dare you, human! He huffs as he angrily shuts off his phone, only to turn it back on moments later, unable to resist the allure of your pictures. On one hand, he feels disgusted with himself for succumbing to such base desires—he is a proud servant of Malleus, and he should not be indulging in such... human weakness. It's an insult to his Fae heritage! But on the other hand, he is irresistibly drawn to you, his body betraying his thoughts every time he sees your updates. The internal battle rages on, but he knows deep down that he’s hooked.

Lilia hums to himself, elated as he chuckles upon seeing your new update. Lilia has had his fair share of intimacy throughout the hundreds of years he's been alive. The concept of seduction as a barter is nothing new to him. But! Lilia can’t help but admire the way the new generation goes about it nowadays! Back in his time, Lilia had to travel to a brothel for such experiences. Now, he can just use his phone from anywhere. Yet, a small part of him is disappointed that you’re not physically present. He grins, his fangs poking out as he sees you wearing the bat earrings he sent you. Ah, they suit you so well!

Silver is ever the gentleman, probably the only one in Diasomnia—the whole NRC, who can separate the ordinary You and the OnlyCam's You. You never told him but you appreciate his approach a lot. He is subscribed to your highest tier and he always gives you tips that he got from his allowance and payment as Malleus' guard. Silver’s support goes beyond mere admiration. He views your content with a sense of quiet respect, understanding that there’s more to it than just the seduction part you're selling. For him, it's about the effort, the confidence, and the creativity you put into your work. Despite the nature of your content, Silver’s feelings remain pure. He never asks for anything in return for his support, never expects special treatment. When he leaves a tip, it’s with the hope that it might make your day a little brighter, that it might help you feel appreciated in a world you're alienated to. He is a knight, well suited to protect you should you ask him to.

....

Rollo feels as though he's sinning every time he opens your OnlyCams account—blasphemous content! His heart pounds with guilt and shame as he scrolls through your seductive photos, each one a temptation pulling him deeper into the abyss. He knows this is wrong—so wrong—yet he cannot tear himself away. The purity and righteousness he prides himself on crumble under the weight of his desire for you. He mentally recites prayers, trying to cleanse himself of the impure thoughts that flood his mind, but it’s futile. The more he resists, the stronger the urge becomes. Despite the shame that burns his conscience, Rollo keeps coming back for more, drawn to the very thing he despises. Trapped in a cycle of sin and repentance, he battles with his inner demons, torn between his devotion to his beliefs and his growing obsession with you.

[failbettergames]

Fallen London Player Survey Results 2024/25

We put out a player survey in December that was taken by just under 8,700 of you.

To the half a dozen people who suggested that we open a communications channel via onlyfans, may god bless and save you. Our apologies to the individual who asked that we ‘do less;’ unfortunately we are bound only ever to do More, and Worse. One person asked for more ways to not be an awful person, but sadly we’ve spent fifteen years writing Awful Person Simulator and we’d find it hard to stop now.

The word 'love' was used in the responses 16,687 times. An order of magnitude more than all of the expletives combined! So we must at least in part be on the right track.

We hope you found it valuable to take part. We’ve already picked off some of the notes we received, where these were tiny things that took moments to fix. As to the rest, here’s a non-comprehensive breakdown of what we heard and what we’re planning to do with it.

There are two main things we want to look at in the coming six months or so:

Recaps and Journal Changes

The overwhelmingly thickest thread of feedback was about remembering what you’re doing in the game when you come back to it. This came from a breadth of players: from people returning after a break of years, to people coming back a few days or weeks after an intensive play period only to wonder why they were collecting so many Counterfeit Heads of John the Baptist.

We’ll be working on improvements to help you return to the flow of gameplay without difficulty after a period away. This will probably include (but not be limited to) more recaps in serial stories, and a rework of the Journal. (We undertake that it will not mess with your existing Journal entries. That would be madness.)

This is our first priority from the survey feedback; thank you very much if you gave details about your experience.

Click-finger Saviour

Chief among the reports from the most committed players is that there are places in the game where their clicking fingers particularly suffer. We can appreciate this, given the depths and lengths that the game has grown to! We have a few things in mind to offer respite, among them being: a version of the Perhaps Not button at the top of the page as well as at the bottom, some streamlining of content, and additional outfit slots, which will reduce some of the click burden of outfit switching.

From today, there will be a maximum of four additional outfit slots available in total: one more unlocked during game progression, one more for Exceptional Friends, and two more for Enhanced Exceptional Friends. This is an increase from 13 to 17 potential slots.

All that and more

Looking further ahead, we also have our thinking caps on regarding:

Additional cameos!

Making Lodgings prettier

A review of Port Carnelian

A way to make a sample Exceptional Story available to non-subscribers, so you can get a better idea of what to expect from one

A persistent place to find news and patch notes within the site

New, different social features

A way to be married to the zee, aka non-romantic spousal options

Finally, some feedback questioned whether we have been using generative AI in our games: we don’t. We wrote an AI transparency statement to make this clear; it’s at the bottom of the credits page for your reference.

Thank you again for completing the survey, if you were able to. We may well do another one. It was lovely to read what you think, especially those of you who aren’t commonly found in our community spaces. Until next time!

[hoosbandewan]

My blog will no longer feature content from Ewan's stylist, Davey Sutton.

Davey has shown in his Instagram stories, for a while now, that he has what he probably thinks is an "edgy" or "dark" sense of humor. I've overlooked it for long enough because of the Ewan content, but two of his stories from the past day were the last straw for me.

Davey's "edgy" posting is not funny. These are far from the first 9/11 posts I've seen him share and he may have the "edgy" sense of humor of a twelve year old, but this isn't funny. I think I missed it, but apparently he shared some other, even worse "jokes" about 9/11 on the anniversary of the attacks. Here's another story that @legitalicat saved from around that time:

And, you know what? I don't fucking find this funny. For Americans, the 9/11 attacks were deeply traumatic and they remain as such to this day. This isn't fun or cool to post about. And it's really, really inappropriate to make jokes about it.

I have also seen Davey post other disturbing content such as pictures of dead animals he spots on the sidewalk, including a few particularly shocking ones I remember of a half-eaten bird and half of a dead fox.

He also seems to be a fan of calling people slurs, including the R slur. Again - immensely inappropriate and not at all funny.

Davey seems to forget the size of the following he has, especially since he's started styling Ewan and gained more followers. You can't be sharing embarrassing, inappropriate content like this when you style two stars of an HBO show. (He also styles Emily Carey, who played young Alicent.)

What if people in the business get wind that Ewan's stylist is posting shit like this? What if it costs him work because Davey can't be professional for five minutes?

So, as of today, my blog will no longer feature any of Davey's work. Not Ewan crumbs and not any of the outfits he puts Ewan in. This means that, very likely, I won't be posting about any public events that Ewan goes to for the foreseeable future.

But that has to be okay because I am not supporting Davey Sutton any longer.

[ateezlibrary]

im going thru a major seonghwa brainrot and i just want a fic of him teasing her gf throughout a party and he takes her home mid function and edges her manhandles her leading to overstimulation ( he has a sir kink )

This is like my 2nd or 3rd time ever requesting an author so plz dont judge me i dont know how this works😭

coming undone. (seonghwa x reader)

summary: a silly little bet goes a little too far, causing a certain someone to go back on his bargain.

genre: pure smut (nsfw, mdni)

word count: 2.7k words

the way that i just laughed at this request for the chaotic panicking lol as long as you don’t judge me for being a little rusty in my smut writing!

“Another round, my love?” you call over your shoulder as you stroll into the kitchen, peering into the fridge for the tonic water. Like clockwork, you reach for the handle of gin on the counter and mix yourself another drink. Yeosang rounds the corner to meet you, outstretching his hand with his solo cup prepared.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you laugh, measuring his mixture haphazardly before clinking your own cup against his. The familiar taste of ripe juniper berries meets your tongue, the alcohol warming your throat with its familiar burning sensation. From the living room, Hongjoong is fiddling with the playlist, save for when he circles the room to rearrange a pillow or put aside someone’s shoes.

“Is there a reason you’ve been staring at Hongjoong that I’m unaware of?” Yeosang teases, leaning against the wall beside the kitchen as he glances at you in amusement.

“I am not!” you retort, knocking back the rest of your drink before setting the cup down to mix another—only this time, it wasn’t for you. “He just looks like he needs a drink, is all.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Yeosang chuckles, rolling his eyes. He glances at the crowd exchanging lighters on the balcony with a nod in your direction. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

The playlist changes to its next track and the mood of the room shifts near instantly, settling into the smooth R&B beat that thrums against the walls. You sway as you walk, mouthing the lyrics as you snake through the crowd to the far end of the room where Hongjoong was perched beside the speakers.

“One gin and tonic,” you lilt, offering him the drink in your hands. He takes it with a soft chuckle under his breath, tilting his head back as the alcohol slid down his throat. You observe his neck hungrily, lips parted as you lean against the wall beside him.

“Think I’m doing the party justice?” he asks, his lips brushing against your ear so you could hear him above the music. He gestures to the speakers, though you barely register anything beyond the shudder down your spine.

“Absolutely,” you reply, reaching for his drink and taking a swig yourself. You’re about to continue bantering with him when, out of the corner of your eye, you notice something particularly interesting.

You watch as Seonghwa, clad in his all-black outfit you’d helped him pick out, stood beside a notably attractive guest of the night. Her long raven hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, her outfit a near twin to his. Her makeup compliments her features incredibly, smudges of dark eyeliner and a glossed lip. Seonghwa whispers something to her that causes her to throw her head back in a fit of laughter.

She rests a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head at whatever he could have possibly said. He gestures to her drink, seeming to offer her a refill before heading to the kitchen himself. You scoff at the sight, turning back to Hongjoong with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“You look fine as hell tonight,” Hongjoong comments, a lazy grin etched across his face as he takes another sip of his drink. You couldn’t tell if it was the jealousy nipping at your stomach, the warmth of the alcohol, or just sheer attraction to Hongjoong in the moment that was warming your face in response. “Trying to impress someone?”

“Hoping that it’s you?” you tease, your eyes trailing down his figure as you laugh.

“So what if I am?” He inches closer, turning his body so he’s hovering just above yours where you lean against the wall. Over Hongjoong’s shoulder, you meet Seonghwa’s eyes as he’s returning to the living room with drinks in hand for him and his plaything.

His gaze darkened as he pressed his tongue against his cheek, shaking his head as he returned to the girl waiting on her drink. Seonghwa drapes an arm around her waist, pulling her closer against his side as they resume their conversation. 

“Do I get something in return for looking ‘fine as hell tonight’?” you poke at Hongjoong, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His breath hitches, fingertips ghosting down your sides and coming to rest at your waist in a tight grip. You hum under your breath at his touch, shifting your gaze to Seonghwa’s eyes that were now deadlocked on every move Hongjoong made.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“What do you want, princess?” Hongjoong asks in a low voice, one that would have had you melting in his arms before Seonghwa sifts through the crowd and pulls you away from him by your arm. You gasp in surprise, not looking back as he drags you with him towards the bathroom.

Finding a seat on top of the counter, you watch as Seonghwa hurriedly locks the door before turning to you. He settles between your legs, shoving them apart forcefully and pulling you close so that you were flush against his chest.

“I don’t want to play that game anymore,” he growls, one of his hands snaking up to your hair and pulling it back roughly so that you were forced to look at him. A laugh slips past your lips, though it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the heat that crept towards your core at the way he was behaving.

“We haven’t even gotten into it yet,” you retort breathlessly with a greedy smile on your face. “And, this was your suggestion.”

A silly little wager. Seonghwa swore up and down before you’d left for the party tonight that he was not, nor would he ever be, the jealous type. You agreed, doubling down on your own belief that you weren’t the jealous type, either. Given how new your relationship was, you hadn’t had time to share the news with your friends—making tonight’s party the perfect scenario to test one another.

Though, it seems as though Seonghwa failed miserably.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he chuckles, his grip tightening on your hair as you let out an involuntary moan. “Playing with Hongjoong in front of me like that.”

“Oh, so we are the jealous type now?”

Seonghwa laughs again darkly, releasing his grip on your hair and sliding his hand down to wrap his fingers around your neck. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours as he whispers against them.

“So, you’d let Hongjoong fuck you tonight if I hadn’t stopped you?”

“No,” you answer, shuddering at the way he bites your bottom lip. You move to close your legs for some sort of friction to ease the nerves pricking at your core. Seonghwa notices what you’re doing, pressing your legs further apart with his in response.

“No, what?” he snarls, and you know what he’s expecting.

“No, sir.”

Seonghwa groans against your mouth before yanking you off of the counter and turning you to face the mirror in one swift motion. Neither of you had bothered to turn on the lights, your eyes adjusting to the dim moonlight filtered through the bathroom window. He held a hand to the nape of your neck, the other pressed into your waist so that you could feel every inch of him against your back.

“And you want me to fuck you tonight?” he asks, his voice a strained whisper against your ear. You say nothing in response, earning fingers pressed deeper into your waist. “Unravel you like the pretty little slut you are?”

“I—I,” you stutter between deep breaths, meeting his hungry gaze in the mirror with a moan.

“Use your words, babygirl.” He hikes up the satin fabric of your skirt, dancing a hand across your thigh dangerously close to your core.

“I need you to fuck me tonight,” you practically beg, feeling the way his length hardens against you at the way you whined for him. “Please.”

Without warning, he lets you go and moves to unlock the door.

“Let’s get going, then.”

* * *

The two of you left the party in a flurry of hasty goodbyes, messy kisses in the elevator, and a car ride home with Seonghwa’s hand rested firmly on the inside of your thigh. You took not more than two steps into your shared apartment before he kicked the door shut behind him, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head against the entryway wall.

His lips meet yours hungrily, the two of you a tangled, moaning mess. You fight against his grip, desperate to run your hands through his raven hair. He only grabs your wrists tighter, trailing kisses down your neck before biting down on your collarbone. You moan wantonly, arching your back to beg for more of his touch when he pulls away with a haughty laugh.

“Fuck, you sound so delicious,” he groans, almost immediately slipping his hand up your skirt and pressing his fingers against the soaked fabric of your underwear. “And you already feel even better.”

“Please,” you whisper, and he begins to brush over your clit in slow, tantalizing circles.

“Will you be a good girl and get my fingers wet for me?” Seonghwa asks, his own voice low as he begins to tug at the edge of your underwear expectantly. His eyes are hooded with lust, hair disheveled, and yet, you’ve never found him more attractive.

“Yes, sir,” you manage to get out before he plunges a finger into you. He falls into a steady rhythm, trailing his tongue back along your neck and biting down on your earlobe with another groan beneath his breath. Your stomach is in knots as you rock your hips against his hand, gripping on his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs grow weak.

“Please, don’t stop,” you beg breathlessly, dropping your head back against the wall with another series of moans. Seonghwa quickens his pace, slipping another finger into you and curling them against your walls. You whine at the sensitive touch, bucking your hips in approval. Your chest heaves as your breath is caught in the back of your throat, your core tightening as you feel your orgasm creeping beneath your skin.

“I-I’m going to—”

And out are Seonghwa’s fingers.

“What the fuck?” you snap, eyes wide as you stare at him angrily. He scoffs, licking the taste of you off of his fingers with a sly grin. You were seeing red, and for no good reason. You were close. So, so close.

Without an answer, he lifts you from behind your thighs so that your legs wrapped around his waist and carried you to the dining table. Pulling your skirt and underwear off, he pries your legs apart and stares down at you with a newfound lust in his eyes.

“Touch yourself.”

The command is so simple and so intense all at once. Your cheeks flush as you meet his eyes, the way he devoured every inch of your body on that table without so much as touching you. On one hand, you were tempted to push his buttons and tease him enough that he’d take you then and there.

On the other, you really wanted to come as soon as possible.

Biting at your bottom lip, you slip a hand between your legs and begin to rub against your clit in the same slow circles he was doing not long before. You notice the way his jeans tighten at his bulge, his cock twitching at the sight of you. He settles into one of the dining chairs, a front-row seat to the show you put on for him.

“Such a little slut for attention,” he purrs, pupils dilated as you slip a finger between your folds. You moan at his comment, pumping your finger quicker than before. He pulls you by your thighs so that his mouth is right at your entrance, suddenly moving your hands so that he can slip his tongue into you instead. The sudden shift urges you to arch your back, a drawn-out sigh escaping you.

The wave begins to rise more quickly this time, a response to not being able to come just moments earlier. You feel your breath hitch in your throat, the pressure building in your stomach as you’re about to warn Seonghwa.

And, like clockwork, he pulls away again.

“Seriously?” you bark as you sit up in disbelief. He grabs your chin, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip as he arches a brow.

“I’m still not convinced you want me to fuck you,” he remarks coolly, though the shakiness in his voice proves to you that he’s not far from coming undone himself. You pant desperately, beyond frustrated that two chances to find release slipped right past you.

“Please? Please make me come, I’ll beg as much as you want.” You inch towards the edge of the table again, grabbing desperately at the fabric of his shirt. On a good day, begging this much to be fucked felt beneath you—but after coming so close only to have it ripped away, you felt willing to do anything. “I’ll be as loud as you want, just don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” Seonghwa growls again, unfastening his pants and hooking his arms behind your legs as he positions himself at your entrance. He shoves himself into you, falling into a steady rhythm as he rocks his hips against yours. Your toes curl at the pleasure gnawing at your core, the way he hits the right spot with every move.

Pulling your legs over his shoulders, he angles himself to thrust even deeper into you. The sensation causes you to moan even louder, throwing your head back as you writhed against his touch. You could hear the way he was struggling to contain himself, his breathing fast and shallow.

“Look at me when you come,” he commands breathlessly, fisting your hair in his hand and forcing you to crane your neck to meet his eyes. You could barely keep focus as you felt your orgasm rising at the pit of your stomach, gnawing at your walls and at every thrust he made into you. With one final gasp, you shudder as the orgasm rocked your body and forced you to come undone all over his cock.

Your chest heaved as you fought to catch your breath when you realized—Seonghwa wasn’t slowing down.

“I still haven’t come.” An intoxicated smirk dances across his lips as you watch the way he puts himself into every thrust into you. You clench around him tightly, panting at the added sensation that came from your nerves falling apart.

“Ah, fuck—!” You nearly scream at the sensation, the way he continued to bury himself deep within you even though you were far beyond your breaking point. “S-Seonghwa, I can’t—I—”

“You can take more, babygirl,” he pants, pushing you over the edge just as he did before. The second orgasm shatters every last nerve inside of you, your legs weak and your core nearly numb from the overdose of pleasure.

“Please—fuck!” You finally let out a guttural scream, shuddering as Seonghwa rubs tight circles against your clit. Swollen and throbbing from the release, yet still somehow so responsive. You jerk your hips erratically against his touch, feeling his pace grow unsteady as he finally succumbed to his release.

He slides your legs off of his shoulders, chest heaving as he helps you to sit up and steady yourself. You’re shaking and completely undone, yet somehow more satisfied than ever.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, scanning you for any signs of regret or that he’d done too much. You pull him in for a gentle kiss, the gentlest act either of you had engaged in all night.

Finally able to catch your breath, you pull away with a lopsided grin of your own and ask, “So, you are the jealous type, huh?”

[akutasoda]

Hello! I just saw one of your posts and was wondering if you could write some headcannons or small fic, anything, about Aglaea with her partner s/o? (⁠^⁠^⁠) Some cute fluff? I had few ideas for inspiration, like, since she's blind she adores playing with our hair? Our face? Or when she's working one of her summons starts to dance with us or pulls out some prank on us and when we kiss the summon on their head thing Aglaea can feel it? I just love this woman already >⁠.⁠< (have over 120 wishes saved for her-)

the dressmaster's muse

synopsis - what being with aglaea is like

includes - aglaea

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, maybe ooc as this is before her release, wc - 391

a/n: hello!! wishing you luck on your pulls :)

↪to aglaea, you were her muse. the dressmaster could base all of her crafts to imitate your charm and yet she still claimed they could never match the real thing.

↪despite the fact that she was blind, aglaea knew what you looked like as if it was second nature to her - namely due to the fact that she always insisted you told her and that she loved idly tracing your features after a long day, subconsciously mapping them in her brain.

↪she always found a way to convince you to let her use you as her inspiration and as a thank you, she always rewarded you with a kiss and a stunning new outfit crafted by herself.

↪although, when she's particularly busy, aglaea sends her summons to keep you company with their only command being to do what you want to. and perhaps she can feel whatever you do to her summons, so when you give them a kiss, she feels it and knows that's what you intended.

↪as mentioned before, aglaea adores being able to trace your features. whether it's simply her drawing idle circles on your hand and fidgeting with your hands in general, or cupping your face between her hands as she tries to memorise the shape of your face and features, she loves to do it frequently.

↪aglaea also tends to have you help her out a lot of the time. while she does have her summons and she can manage on her own, she prefers having you around as not only an excuse for you to keep her company while she works, but also to show you what she does and how she does.

↪however she does only have you help out with small tasks as you aren't exactly that well versed in her work and it's her work that needs doing.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[odiesdayoff]

Kinktober: Matthew Joy

Pair: Matthew Joy x fem!reader

Summary: The Essex has taken your ship and its crew. The captain finds out your secret.

Warnings: Dub-con (Virginity loss/Rough/Creampie)

im a little high and horny so happy third post of kinktober <3

The wind was unforgiving, as always. If it weren’t for the leather gloves covering your hands, your skin would’ve been broken by the sheer pull of the ropes that held the sails taut. Your hat nearly flew away. The rest of the crew scrambled around the ship to assess the damage.

From what you could see, the bow had caught fire from the blast and what was a small hole now threatened to sink the entire ship. The attackers, another whaling ship that flew the flag of Great Britain in the front and a black flag in the rear, already had their hooks in the hull of your ship.

Water was already seeping into the lower regions of the ship and it was only a matter of time before you all were submerged underwater. Your captain blew the whistle. The instrument was a precaution just in case of a situation like this one. It only meant one thing: All crew were to meet on the deck and prepare for the inevitable.

Cautiously, you let go of the rope and watched as the sail blew away into the sea. They had warned you of an event like this and dying at sea was only a crazy, yet rational fear until now. You climbed down the pole and stood on the deck with the rest of your crew. 

You couldn’t thank these men enough. They treated you like you were no different than them. Dying next to them would be an honor.

The attacking ship’s crew began to climb onto your ship with large guns in their hands. More advanced than you had ever seen in your lifetime. The man held up his gun, pointed at your captain, and shot. Bits of blood and gore splattered along the deck and on your uniforms. Your crew stayed still.

The other man pointed the gun at the rest of you and pointed to their own ship. Carefully, you followed the man’s instructions and gathered on the deck of the other ship, watching your ship sink along with the remains of your poor captain. 

You knelt in a line, the other ship’s captain standing in front of you all with his arms folded behind his back. “Welcome aboard the Essex. My name is Captain Matthew Joy and you will address me as such. Now, our ship cannot accommodate all of you, prisoner or not.”

He stands in front of the man at the end of the lineup. “Stand.” This was the cook. Even if you never particularly anticipated his meals, he was still a good man and a fine addition to the crew. He saved the end pieces of the loaves of bread for you on the occasion that you had fresh bread.

Captain Joy eyed the cook down. “Strip.” The guns were still aimed at him as he began to unbutton his uniform and drop the clothing until he stood bare in front of the Captain. “What are your skills?”

“Kitchen, sir.”

One by one, you watch your crewmates get undressed and assessed, then thrown off of the ship. You notice his shoes stop in front of you and you slowly rise to your feet. He raised a brow, noticing your features. “Skills?”

“I work the sails.” You interlock your hands together behind your back, trying to be as proper as possible. 

He narrowed his eyes. “Tell the truth.”

You shed your jacket, maintaining eye contact with him. “That is the truth.”

His eyes surveyed you. There was no way something your size would be able to handle the brutal job of maintaining the sails of a ship that size. That position was reserved for men twice your size...not a young boy, in his opinion. "Off with your clothes, then."

The act could only last a few seconds more as you stripped yourself of your outerwear, then shirt and pants, leaving you exposed. Under the outfit, there was reasonable doubt that you were a man. Without it, your breasts perked from the touch of the frigid sea air, and your womanhood couldn't be mistaken for anything else. You kept a cold stare on the captain, waiting to see how fast he would order you off the ship.

"Colour me surprised, love. Quite the beauty was hiding under all of those rags." He smirks, shamelessly checking out your body and reaching out to touch your collarbone. "A sweet thing like you really worked the sails? Or were you keen on more...indoor activities?"

He laughed, along with the crewmates of his ship. Your crew felt less fear for themselves and more for your safety. You knew all too well the dangers of being a woman all alone with men on a ship in the middle of the ocean. They did their best to protect you and treat you just the same.

"Get rid of the rest however you'd like." He took your arm and pulled you down the stairs to the quarters. His was the largest, as he was the captain. Secluded from all of the other men.

He shut the door behind the both of you and led you to sit on the edge of the bed. "They're good men. Good sailors. It would be a waste to kill them."

He pushed some of your hair behind your ear and cooed teasingly. "Don't worry about them, sweet thing. All that matters is that you're alive and you're job won't be with the sails any longer."

"What's my job, then?" A part of you knew already, but it needed to come from his mouth, in his words.

His soft smile had a sinister edge to it. "Serve the crew meals in the galley...and service them when they desire."

There it was. Exactly what you feared when you signed up to join the ship in the first place. Your luck had run out exponentially.

You kept your gaze on the floorboards, seemingly rotting within the ship as he stood on it. "I won't be able to do that as well as you hope."

"Why's that? Any whore can do the job just fine." He reached for the trousers of his uniform. You could already see the way his erection strained against the fabric. Men at sea typically only had their hands to work with unless they fancied other men.

You shook your head. "I'm not a whore. I'm a sailor. And I've...never done anything like that."

He quirked a brow, grinning now. It didn't stop him from freeing his cock. How was that going to fit? "Not only do I get to fuck a pretty girl, but I get to claim her as my own. I can't promise I'll be gentle when I deflower you."

You could barely react to his words before he pushed you back to lay on the bed, already straddling your hips and positioning his leaking tip in front of your entrance. He was far from unattractive and in any other circumstance, you might consider marrying a man that had his looks and confidence.

Now, you braced yourself as your walls stretched to accommodate his length. His hot breath burned against your neck as he pushed further inside and groaned in pure bliss. "Been months since I had pussy. Never had it this tight."

It wasn't supposed to hurt like this, right? If it felt so good for the man, then why did it feel like he was splitting you open just by being inside of you? Maybe the pleasure would come later, though it didn't feel like that later was anywhere close. You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock dragging against your walls, antagonizingly slow to make sure your pain was prolonged. Or, that's how it seemed.

"Fuck. Consider your cherry popped. Now, it's my turn." He pushed his entire weight on top of you and started to thrust faster as if he had a time limit. His tip repeatedly tapped so deeply into you, that what you think might've been an orgasm was coiling within your stomach.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you weren't sure if they were of pain or pleasure. He didn't bother to check if you were enjoying it, only focusing on getting as deep as he possibly could.

When the thrusts became more...quick, that's when you felt it. A warm sensation deep inside of you. He sucked on your neck and moaned, softly thrusting again to push his seed back into you. "Forget what I said about being the ship's whore. You're only mine now."

[redvexillum]

Thirteenth Kiss: Captivate I

A/N: Okay. So for my Lucifer x Reader fans, I know I promised Luci Angst Week like back in January and... well you know, burn out happened 😭. Please take this mini-series as penance or something to gnaw on as I work on my very belated Luci Angst Week story ✨️ Also tagging @heart-of-the-morningstar, the biggest Lucifer fan I know. I hope this is good enough, Queen of all Sexy Luci fic 😫💦

Summary: In a city of sinners and second chances, you were hired to play Lucifer’s fake girlfriend and found yourself entangled in something far more real than you have ever expected. Amid fireworks, confessions, and unexpected tenderness, two broken souls dare to hope for something true.

Tags/Warning: f!reader, eventual smut, fake relationship, Lucifer is touch-starved

Lucifer stared down at his phone, the screen glowing in the dim light of his lounge. A garish new app pulsed with red and pink hearts—“RENT-A-GIRLFRIEND”—and the absurdity of it made him scoff under his breath. Humans… ever the creative, desperate little things. He flicked his thumb with slow disdain, swiping left through profile after profile of sinners draped in seductive outfits, each more ridiculous than the last. 

His smirk twisted into a grimace when a particularly bold profile appeared—a sinner with deer-like features, wearing nothing but a g-string, her chest clumsily censored in a pixelated blur. “Oh, for Hell’s sake…” he muttered, recoiling like he’d just bitten into something sour. With a groan, he smacked his face and dragged his palm down it, dismayed. 

This is what I’ve been reduced to? Swiping through Vinder just to save face? 

He imagined Charlie's disapproving eyes, her warm smile dimming with disappointment. The thought alone was enough to sink a rock into his gut. 

He hated the thought of showing up alone to Charlie’s New Year’s party. Not after everything. Not after failing her for so long. Not after losing Lilith and fumbling his chance to raise their daughter properly. This—this—was his chance to do better. To be better. To show her, he could be present. That he wanted to be in her life. Really be there. 

When he visited the hotel last week, she’d pulled him aside. There was something in her eyes—something unsure and fragile—that made the air in his lungs tighten. 

“Dad…” Charlie’s voice was small, her fingers fumbling nervously with each other. Her eyes flicked from side to side like she was searching for an exit. 

Lucifer’s stomach dropped. A cold dread curled in his chest. Had he messed up again? Said something? Done something? He'd only just begun to repair the fragile thread of their bond. The idea of fraying it again, of losing her, was unbearable. 

He forced a broad, nervous smile and leaned on his staff, the apple-shaped top catching the light. “What’s up, kiddo? You didn’t like the stuffed animal I brought?” he asked, glancing at the absurd twenty-foot-tall plush rabbit looming in the corner. Its eyes glowed faintly red, and it had twisted horns, a bat wing, and a crooked spiny tail. 

“It’s all the rage in Lu-Lu World,” he added, hoping to lighten the mood. 

Charlie winced at the doll, her lips curling in a polite but pained smile. “N-no, that’s not it. I’m not a kid anymore, Dad…” 

That stung more than he expected. 

His throat tightened, a bead of sweat slipping down his temple. She’s pulling away… again. The crushing anxiety returned like a vice around his heart—panic that she might ghost him, shut him out, vanish from his life as if this reconciliation never happened. 

“But I still like the gift!” she rushed, waving her hands in mock surrender, her laugh nervous and forced. “It’s just that… uh…” Her eyes darted to the side. Lucifer’s gaze followed—and caught Vaggie watching the scene with a thumbs-up and an encouraging nod. 

He mirrored his daughter’s tension, his voice softening. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

She sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, that’s not right…” she mumbled to herself. Then, after a pause, she straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye. 

“Dad… I love you. You know that, right?” 

Lucifer froze. 

The words wrapped around his heart and squeezed, tender and unexpected. His expression cracked into something real—unguarded. His voice trembled with sincerity as he reached for her hands. 

“Aw, Charchar… I love you too. You mean the world to me.” 

“I—I know that after Mom left, things haven’t really been the same, but—” 

Lucifer’s brows lifted as though someone had flipped a switch in his head. His mouth formed a small, perfectly round “o.” 

“Oh, Charlie,” he said slowly, a hopeful gleam flickering behind his eyes. “Do you… do you want me to find you a new mom? Is that what this is ab—?” 

Charlie flinched. Her shoulders jerked upward, and her face scrunched as if she’d bitten into the sourest lemon in existence. 

“What? No!” she burst out, scandalized. “It’s not for me, Dad.” She pulled her hands away from his, her voice carrying both frustration and care. “It’s for you.” 

She clasped her hands together tightly, grounding herself, her gaze softening with an ache that mirrored his own.  “I don’t want you to be alone anymore. I don’t want you to keep clinging to the past like it’s all you have left.” Her voice cracked, just barely. “Dad, I just want you to be happy. And maybe… maybe if you found someone again…” 

Her voice trailed off as her eyes drifted to Vaggie, who stood nearby watching quietly. Charlie looked at her with a gaze full of warmth—adoration, even. It was the kind of look that said she knew love. That she believed in it. 

“…maybe you’d be less…” She made a swirling motion with her hands, as if searching for the right word. Her nose scrunched before she finally winced and said it. 

“Lonely?” 

Lonely. 

The word hit him like a whip crack in a silent hall. 

He blinked. Coughed. And then—laughed. Wheezing, awkward laughter that felt like it belonged to someone else.  “L-Lonely?” he echoed, louder this time, as if saying it again might make it more absurd. “Me?” 

He wanted to tell her she was wrong. That he wasn’t lonely. That he had her, his brilliant, compassionate daughter, and that was enough. That he didn’t need a partner to fill a void he didn’t acknowledge. 

But the truth was quieter. 

Crueler. 

Because when he thought of his palace, the place that once rang with life and arguments and laughter, it was hollow now. Cold. Like time had congealed there, untouched. Every room seemed frozen in memory, as though merely walking through it would crack the fragile illusions he’d built to protect himself. 

And beneath all of that… there it was. 

That dull ache in his chest. The one he never spoke of. The hole Lilith had left behind when she turned away from them all to chase some misguided idea of the “greater good.” A cause that had swallowed her whole. A goodbye that had no closure. No return. 

Centuries. 

It had been centuries since he’d heard her voice. Since he’d felt truly seen by someone who understood the weight he carried. 

Lonely? 

Was he really? 

He thought about coming home after visiting the hotel—how the silence would stretch for miles. How even the crackle of firelight seemed muted. He’d even considered moving into the hotel permanently. The thought had lingered more often lately. But leaving their home behind still felt like turning his back on everything he once was. 

Turning his back…on her. 

Still… 

“Dad?” 

Charlie’s voice was gentle. Concerned. Grounding. 

He blinked back into the present, the warmth of her presence tugging him out of the depths. 

And what he said next… 

Well. 

He’d regret it. 

He’d regret it more than anything he’d said in the last three days. 

“Charlie, I… I don’t know how to tell you this, but…” 

The words hovered at the back of his throat, sticky and sharp like broken glass. His inner voice was screaming—Don’t say it. Don’t lie. Don’t dig yourself into a hole you can’t crawl out of. But then he looked at her. Really looked. 

The worry in her eyes. The gentle furrow in her brow. The way her hands fidgeted nervously, like she was holding back tears or hope or both. 

And maybe…it wasn’t fear that pushed him over the edge. 

It was pride. 

The same pride that cast him down from Heaven. The same pride that built his kingdom in fire and gold. The same pride that now whispered, Don’t let her pity you. Don’t let her see you as hollow. 

So, he smiled—tight-lipped and trembling—and said, “I’m actually… seeing someone.” 

The last two words came out in a tumble, mumbled like a confession, as if saying them quietly might make them less real. 

Charlie blinked, her lips parting slightly before stretching wide into a smile that was radiant and unguarded. It was the kind of smile that could disarm angels and make demons question their loyalties. Her whole face lit up with joy. Pure, unfiltered joy. 

He should’ve laughed. Tweaked her nose. Called “Bazinga!” and told her it was just one of his dumb old-man jokes. 

But then he saw it—the way her eyes sparkled. The genuine excitement, the hope, the relief. 

And just like that, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take it back. 

Not without shattering that beautiful expression. 

“I’m… seeing someone,” he repeated, rubbing the side of his arm with a sheepish motion. The words tasted wrong on his tongue, bitter and false. 

And the lie began to grow. 

He spun a story. It was painfully careful and absurdly romantic about a mysterious woman he’d met, someone unlike anyone he’d ever known. He explained he’d kept it a secret because he wasn’t sure how to bring it up, how to explain that loving someone new didn’t erase what he’d had with Lilith. 

And he meant that part. God, he meant it. He would always love Lilith. Even now, with the echo of her absence lingering in every hallway of his life. 

But he told Charlie he was happy. That he’d found someone who brought him light again. 

And the more she listened, the more she believed—the brighter her features became, until her aura shimmered like rainbows in sunlight. She gasped, hands pressed to her chest, and then threw her arms around him in a tight hug. 

“Oh, Dad! That’s wonderful! You have to bring her to the party—I need to meet her!” 

He hugged her back, guilt clawing into him like a parasite. 

And now… now here he was. 

Sitting alone in his cavernous bedroom, bathed in the cold glow of his phone, the silence around him suffocating. The walls of his room felt tighter tonight.

More judgmental. 

App after app filled his screen—swipe-based hellscapes of desperation, lust, and neon-filtered selfies. He downloaded everything he could, until finally, he found it: 

Rent-a-Girlfriend. 

The name was so ridiculous it was practically divine intervention. 

It was precisely what he was looking for. 

Except… not really. 

He’d been swiping for five hours now. Five hours. And every profile blurred together—dozens of sinners in sultry poses, dressed in next to nothing, their expressions blank or predatory. The commodification of companionship. The illusion of romance. 

All looking for a quick fuck. None looking to play the part of ‘Lucifer’s True Love.’ 

His thumb paused mid-swipe. A hollow ache settled in his chest again, curling inward like a dying star. He should tell Charlie the truth. Rip the bandage off. Confess. Face the fallout. 

But he couldn’t. 

He’d already painted this woman as perfect. Ideal. A new beginning. Charlie believed in her. She believed in him. 

He couldn’t take that back. Not without breaking her heart. Or worse—breaking her trust. 

Maybe… maybe he’d find someone. Just for the night. Bring a beautiful, convincing date to the party, smile for the pictures, sell the dream. 

And afterward? 

Afterward, he’d say they broke up. Quietly. Sadly. 

A love lost too soon. 

And maybe… This whole mess would fade into the background. 

But first… 

He needed to find a woman. 

As if Heaven itself had momentarily lifted its eternal restraining order on him—which would be shocking, considering Lucifer was fairly certain God had put him on a celestial Do Not Call list centuries ago—his phone suddenly chimed. 

A soft bell tone, bright and clear, echoed through the stillness of his dark chamber. The screen lit up, casting a pale glow across his face like moonlight filtering through a stained-glass window. 

Lucifer, sprawled on his bed in a dramatic mess of silk sheets and self-loathing, flipped onto his stomach with the grace of a fallen starfish. He squinted at the screen, his eyes still adjusting to the light. 

A notification pulsed gently at the top: 

He blinked once. 

Then twice. 

And then—pure, unfiltered chaos. 

“HOT DIGGITY DOG! HALLELUJAH!” he howled, startling the infernal crows roosting outside his window. His voice echoed through the chambers like a choir of mad angels. A manic laugh burst from his throat, giddy and frenzied, tumbling out in wild waves. 

He kicked his legs back and forth like an overgrown teenager, gripping his phone like it was a holy relic. “Finally! Finally, something in this godforsaken hellscape is going right!” 

Without wasting another moment, he summoned his notepad app with a flourish, fingers tapping feverishly as he began crafting the ultimate list. Every trait, every nuance, every detail his imaginary perfect partner might possess. 

If this app could deliver what it promised, he’d have four whole days to train this lucky lady in the sacred art of not embarrassing him. Four days to teach her about Charlie, the hotel, his favourite wine, his good side, his better side, and most importantly—how to make it look like they’d been in love for years. 

This was it. 

The lie had grown too large to abandon now. But if he could just pull this off, he wouldn’t have to face that flicker of disappointment in Charlie’s eyes. Maybe she’d never know how hollow the truth really was. 

All he had to do now was find the woman of his manufactured dreams. 

And rehearse one hell of a love story. 

You leaned in gently, pressing a soft kiss to your fake boyfriend’s cheek—a delicate gesture choreographed with practiced ease. His mother stood a few feet away, clutching a rosary like a lifeline, her eyes shining with naive relief. She believed it. She really believed it. Her precious son wasn’t gay—just shy, just particular, just… reserved. 

And that’s all it took. A single kiss. A single illusion. 

It was almost absurd—funny, in that bleak, bitter kind of way that made your chest ache more than your stomach. The mother and son were both damned, both condemned to the fire and rot of Hell, and yet… to her, the only thing that seemed to matter was that her son wasn’t gay. 

Not the endless torment. 

Not the bloodstained skies or the scent of sulphur that clung to everything like guilt. 

Not the screaming, the violence, the centuries of pain. 

No. 

In her mind, the worst possible fate wasn’t damnation. 

It was deviation. 

There was something grotesquely tragic about it. This stubborn clinging to a false sense of morality, this desperate need to preserve some imagined social order even in a realm where rules were shattered and rewritten with every scream. As long as her son was “normal” in her eyes, that was enough. That was her line in the sand. 

You watched her, the way she came over to him and held his hand a little too tightly, the way he forced a smile that barely masked his fatigue. You saw the flinches, the tension in his shoulders, the quiet sadness behind his eyes—because even here, even after everything, he still wasn’t allowed to be himself. 

And it wasn’t your place to say anything. This wasn’t your story to rewrite. You were just a performer in their little play—an actress brought in to deliver a convincing scene and exit stage left. 

Still… 

You couldn’t help but feel the sting in your chest as you showered in her compliments of how her son finally found himself a lovely girlfriend. 

You knew that some prisons weren’t made of bars. 

Some were built from expectations—and love twisted into chains. 

When the charade ended, the two of you parted like actors after a curtain call. The shrimp-like sinner, small, dainty, and practically humming with nervous energy, pulled out his phone and, with trembling fingers, transferred the agreed-upon sum to your account. 

“Thank you so much,” he said, voice fluttering like a hummingbird, delicate and sweet. “She completely fell for it!” 

You smiled warmly, the same customer-service grin you’d mastered over dozens of gigs. “It’s no problem at all! If you're happy with the service, please remember to leave a five-star review!” 

You turned to leave, already mentally checking this job off your list, but something in your chest gave a soft tug. 

A pang. 

A whisper. 

You hesitated. 

“Uhm… Carl?” you called, voice quiet, almost hesitant, as if the words themselves tiptoed past your lips. You weren’t sure if this was the right thing to say, or even your place to say it—but sometimes, when something weighed on your heart, it had to be let out. 

Carl tilted his head, those shiny black eyes wide and curious. “Hm?” 

You placed a hand gently over your chest. “I hope you and Jack can be happy one day.” 

The words hung between you, tender and sincere. 

Then, quickly, you added, “I’m sorry if I overstepped,” wincing slightly, your feet already turning to walk away, retreating before the awkwardness could bloom. 

But just as you stepped out of earshot, you caught a soft whisper carried on the wind like a secret blessing: “Thank you.” 

Your chest tightened—just a little—and you smiled to yourself. 

Another job finished. 

You pulled out your phone, ready to check out, when you noticed several missed messages buzzing in the Rent-A-Girlfriend app. At the top of your screen glowed a tiny pink envelope, sealed with a heart-shaped sticker. It shimmered faintly with golden light as you tapped it open. 

Premium Client. 

The aura of the message alone was enough to tell you one thing: whoever this was, they weren’t just rich—they were seriously desperate. 

You read the request slowly, eyebrows raising with every line. The client was looking for someone… specific. A girlfriend not for a day, not for a date—but for a long-term illusion. Someone who could fake a deep, meaningful relationship with him. Years of fake memories. Shared laughs. Old habits. The kind of familiarity you only get with time. 

He wanted a trial run first. Thirty minutes. One-on-one. 

You blinked. That wasn’t exactly standard. 

Your phone pinged again—this time a new chat invite. A private group with the other Rent-a-Girlfriend workers. You opened it curiously. 

The messages were blowing up: 

You stared at the chat in amused disbelief. Thirty girls, all saying the same thing. This Luci guy? Apparently, unbearable. 

You tilted your head, thinking. 

“Interesting,” you murmured aloud. Only thirty minutes, huh? 

Part of you knew better. The warning signs were right there. 

But then again… you’d always had a hard time turning down someone in need. 

So, you pressed the “Accept” button. 

Just thirty minutes. 

What could go wrong? 

NEXT ->

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[shiyorin]

Halloween Sandwich 

#Modern au

#Trick or treat with Ferrus and Fulgrim

#NSFW, 3p, noncon, reader is female...

#Happy Halloween with @roroco316

You had been so proud of your Halloween costume idea this year. Nothing too flashy or elaborate - just a classic ghost get-up that you could easily throw together from some old fabric layer. The pale, diaphanous draping perfectly complimented your lithe figure while offering an air of eerie mystery that you thought was deliciously spooky.

At least, that's what you assumed until the first trick-or-treaters showed up. 

An insistent rapping at your front door drew your grinning steps, already clutching at an overflowing basket with all the sugary loot. Surely these kiddies would get a thrill at seeing your haunting visage lurking behind the threshold! Tossing the sheet's tattered hem up to better obscure your face, you creaked the door open with an ominous groan.

"Oooooh, which tiny monsters come calling at my house?"

With a dramatic flourish, you flung aside the covering only to freeze in utter stupefaction. Because the sight that greeted you on the other side was anything but childish innocence.

Framed in the flickering glow of your porch lights stood two towering, impossibly statuesque figures grinning down at you. Both were clad in... well, outfits that could barely be considered proper costumes—leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

The first was some sort of bejeweled, leather get-up that looked like it belonged in a particularly porno. Amethyst silken scarves swirling around his chiseled physique scarcely concealed perky nipples and an absolutely thunderous package bisecting his leather thong with obscene definition. His angular features had even been meticulously highlighted with eyeliner and artfully feathered bangs that framed his smoldering gaze with practiced allure.  

And keeping him casual company was a positively rippling monolith of a man, dressed in...strategically wrapped bandages? His array of taut linen strips allowed tantalizing glimpses of sheened musculature and a deeply corrugated pelvis.

"What—?" Your voice came out in a strangled rasp, your diminutive form utterly dwarfed between these men You instinctively clutched your voluminous ghost sheet tight around your frame in self-consciousness, swallowing audibly. "Uh… hey… guys?" 

"Why hellooo there, sexy little ghost," purred the first one, presumably Fulgrim by the voice with a serpentine undulation, his eyes practically smoldering like lava flows. "And just what brings you out haunting the streets on a night like this, hmm?"

They were hitting on you. You went completely rigid, your jaw doing its best impression of a gasping halibut as you processed the situation.

"You… gotta be kidding me...! How old are you two supposed to be exactly? Because I'm certainly not—"

"This old, dear” Fulgrim cooed in a lilting baritone, lifting a single finger to trace the curve of your chin.  

Thankfully, the other man, Ferrus, elected to save his buddy from a well-deserved throat-punting by clearing his throat.

"Ah, don't mind my friend's poor manners, my little lady. The question still stands though..." His gaze lasered between your parted thighs like twin X rays, hefting a plastic pumpkin full of treats. "We've been… very good boys going door to door. So… are we due for some rewards… or does this evening demand a few tricks instead...?"

It took you a few seconds to process his insinuations before you physically recoiled, spine snapping rigid with incredulity.  

"Wha—You... you've gotta be joking right now, you perverts! That's it, I'm not in the mood to deal with demented horndogs on Halloween!"

Your threat was sharply cut off as Fulgrim abruptly stepped in closer, effectively caging you against the doorframe with one palm slammed against the surface. You swallowed thickly at his proximity, the former's musky sandalwood cologne flooding your senses with intoxicating potency as he loomed overhead like an avalanche.

"Now, now...surely my stunning treat isn't asking for any...unpleasantries?" Fulgrim purred, tilting his head. "After all, I simply must insist on having my cake... and eating it too..."

His free hand brazenly snaked through the tattered concealing drape of your costume, fingers nimbly finding and tweaking your cloth-obscured nipple. You jolted with a yelping gasp at the sudden violation, only for Ferrus' tree-trunk-thick arms to wrap around you from behind and pin your flailing against his.

"Easy there, my little lady… ee can do this the easy way..." he growled against the back of your ear, the delicious heat of his breath already leaving you in a dizzy spiral. 

Between their twin enormities compressing against your front and back, your head spun dizzily, fingers scrabbling for any leverage as you thrashed in weak protest. But every struggle only served to grind your vulnerable form against the solid bulwarks of their rippling muscles and swelling codpieces...

With a frustrated mewl, you finally wilted between your captors like a rag doll, eyelids fluttering as you stared up helplessly at Fulgrim's razor-carved jawline and gleaming smirk.

"F-Fine… you giant… freaks..." you rasped in meek capitulation. "I-I'll...give you your stupid Halloween treat this year..."  

Because let's be honest here. Some tricks simply don't require costumes to be properly appreciated…

*****

Tyranid eat this part

*****

Somehow managing a shaky smirk through your dazed panting, you mustered a glare up at them both. Your voice was raspy but defiant.

"F..fuck you..." The words earned matching barks of lewd laughter from them both as they leaned in closer.

"Yeah..." Ferrus grinned. "Fuck me. All night long, little lady…”

[starlos-art-stuff-lol]

I need a 12-minute episodic Sonic-Boom-esque cartoon set in a stylized Gotham. The setpieces would be a lot brighter than most Batman content because this Gotham takes place under an extremely starry purple night sky.

Batman and Robin are a duo, like the classic shows Batman moves the plot forwards, Robin provides the comic relief.

It would be a variety show. Yeah, the formula would be Batman encounters problem, Problem is annoying, Batman solves problem, but the problem in question could be literally anything.

Also a lot of the episodes focus entirely on the rogues gallery, with Batman maybe showing up once or twice just to prove he's still there.

Some ideas for episodes:

Batman's suit is electrocuted, so for tonight he has to borrow one of Robin's suits much to the delight of every villain with a plot that might

The Riddler tries to reach the Joker how to craft a good riddle, but the Joker can't tell the difference between a riddle and a pun-based joke.

Batman forgot to set his alarm and sleeps in so Robin has to stop the evil plot all by himself this time. He's fighting one of Joker's low-level goons because the Joker also forgot to set his alarm.

Some random nobody civilian figures out that Bruce Wayne is Batman based solely on how expensive Batman's tech is and blackmails him into doing all their chores until he can erase the civilian's memories

The Joker gets into health insurance or some other politically corrupt capitalist system and starts scamming people. But Batman can't do anything about it because the Joker seems to be doing everything perfectly legally. The conflict is resolved when Joker throws a bomb at someone particularly annoying and gets charged with assault

The Joker, the Riddler, Scarecrow, and the Penguin steal the Batmobile and go out for a joyride. They inadvertently become heroes as they test out all it's high-tech features on other crooks.

1 day a year, every year, all the villains and crooks of Gotham celebrate a single "Truce Day", where literally everyone tries to take out the Batman at the same time, all in one night.

Robin's outfit is criticized for being childish and silly, so he tries to find a new gimmick. However, every time he fights with a different identity, it goes horribly wrong. Only when he embraces his true self does he save the night. There could be a Nightwing reference in this one.

Oh btw this version of Gotham is functionally nocturnal so there's special slang in this hypothetical series. All "day" and "night" terms are swapped.

"Good morning!" -> "Good evening!"

"Oh we got that notice like 3 days ago." -> "Like 3 nights ago."

"Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday," -> "Sunnight, Tuesnight, Wednesnight,"

DC, make this happen

[awriterinthenight]

Anthony Lockwood x Reader date night?? (Ur fics r super cool btw)

The Perfect Date

requests: open

words: 700

warnings: George

summary: Your perfect date night with Lockwood, featuring George at the end

Everything had been perfect so far, the perfect outfit set for a perfect night, and of course your perfect boyfriend who was taking you out on a date tonight. Work had slowly started taking over your life the past month, as the agency was getting more jobs everyday. This led to you and Lockwood not being able to take nights off to go out. Tonight though there was no job and no research to be done, so it was the perfect night for a date.

Lockwood booked a reservation at a rather fancy restaurant for tonight, one that you'd wanted to try for a while now. You put on your favorite dress and shoes, as it felt like the perfect time to wear them. When you walked down the stairs Lockwood was there waiting for you, with his coat in his hands.

"Ready to go?" he asked, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against, before admiring you, "You look gorgeous, darling," he complimented.

"You look good too," you said, feeling flustered, even after dating for a while Lockwood could still fluster you with the simplest compliments.

Just then the cab honked to let you know it had arrived, "Shall we?" Lockwood asked, holding out his arm to you. You linked your arm with his, walking out the house, and into the cab.

The drive there wasn't too long and you were quickly seated at your table in no time. You and Lockwood talked about many things from work, to the random things George had done that week, to flirtatious comments that left your cheeks red.

"That is not how that went," you protested, defending yourself from what happened on the last case you took.

"That definitely was what happened," Lockwood countered, "I distinctly remember you nearly falling through the floor if I hadn't caught you."

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide the smile on your face, "I would've been fine," you argued.

"Well I still saved you, nothing changed that," he retorted, leaning closer to you from across the table.

"Thank you, my knight in shining armor," you quipped, your voice full of sarcasm.

"Anytime, Princess," Lockwood remarked, a smirk on his face.

Just the waiter came by giving you your food. You always swore waiters come at the worst times. It was as if they knew when to not interrupt the conversation, just so they could interrupt it.

After the waiter left you and Lockwood still continued to banter, and discuss what went through George's mind when it came to half of the things he did. When you both were done with your dinner, Lockwood paid, as he always did, since he would never let you pay. Instead of taking a cab you and Lockwood decided to take a walk, even though it was a bit dangerous at night, but not for two agents.

Your walk was calm and quiet, the only sound being the crickets, and subtle conversation occasionally between you two. London was always cold, but tonight was particularly chilly. Lockwood saw how cold you were and placed his coat over your shoulders, with a small "thank you" from you. After you stroll through London, which included a few stolen kisses from under the moonlight, you eventually made it back home.

Lockwood opened the door for you, as you shrugged off his jacket that he then hung up on the coat rack. He then walked up the stairs, you trailing close behind. You stopped at your bedroom door, as Lockwood asked.

"Did you have a good night?" his hands on your waist pulling you close.

You let out a light chuckle at how close he pulled you towards him, "Yes, I did," you said, before leaning in to him. The kiss was soft and light, but more passionate than the ones on your walk back home. Everything was perfect that night, from the date, to your walk under the moonlight, to now.

To make the night even more perfect, as nothing could happen at 35 Portland Row without someone yelling, George, from down the hall, yelled, "Get a room," before throwing something in your general direction, causing you to burst out into laughter.

Taglist (ask to added or removed, or added to a certain character)

@almost-gabrielle @scarlett-8 @atashiboba @that1deerpersondownstairs @herondale-lightworm @purplerose291 @mitskiswift99 @crumby-child @rafslytherin @shanksvskidd @yerrmar @oceangirl15 @livia7137

[n3ptoonz]

When you added Kenshi to the “wall kiss” post and you even inputted Sento’s spirit… it gave me an idea. I don’t know if this counts as monster fucking lol

I was wondering if it would be possible for you to write a threesome featuring Ghost Sento and Kenshi. Sento seems to have some sentience, though I'm not sure how exactly it operates. In the cutscenes, for example, it did save Kenshi. Thus, given that Sento and Kenshi have a telepathic link and Kenshi has feelings for the reader, it's possible that Sento feels a "pull" towards the reader. Im just trying to justify why it would be possible 😭 When I play them and I see how in sync they are, it makes me want to be between them lol, like sirs I have 2 holes. This is assuming Sento's spirit possesses genitalia, but for the sake of fiction why not. I’m sorry if this is long or weird!🙏

not weird at all i am HAPPY to do this. it reminds me of the starjota x reader fic i wrote a while back lmaooo

whenever characters have abilities like that it always gets me thinking. i just CANT help myself 😝

inappropriate use of sento/spirits blurb with kenshi takahashi

cck-warming and face fcking mentioned, sento referred to by name as its own entity instead of saying spirit a bunch of times, i can't take myself seriously for the life of me like why do i get so giddy and nervous when i write LMAOO

DEFINITELY in for double penetration territory. i mean, the kinds of internal signals kenshi gets whenever he's around you are pretty intense. his thoughts go from normal to turbo horny in a split second. although with the way his was feeling he wanted to get a lil creative

there you were in sento's lap and warming the fantom feeling of what would be a dick, caged in its hold so strong you didn't even need to be tied up. your fingers ran cold from the lack of use while kenshi did what he pleased with your mouth; all of your senses came to life with every thrust. sento released you for a second, pulling your arms behind you to hold them in place with one hand and the other just caressed different parts of your bare body.

if he was busy but at home, and you were particularly in need of some satisfaction, look no further. sento's got your back, literally. in a sense sento was like his inner thoughts. so if it had you pinned down in prone and going to town on you, you can safely assume kenshi would be doing exactly that if he didn't have shit to do.

one more thing...since sento is an entity, it can shapeshift as well. bigger, smaller, taller, shorter, and you can ask for just about anything for fun. sento's love for you is only as strong as kenshi, so when you find yourself getting tossed around by some giant spirit with a giant cawk, everybody say thank you kenshi!

side note i think it would be funny if he had x-ray vision with sento so it just randomly makes you appear as butt ass naked in front of kenshi meanwhile you have a full outfit on LMAOO

a/n edit: feel free to send in asks like this y'all! they're quick and easy, very fun to write too <3

[theyanderebin]

Yantober Day 2! Fate!

I had a bit of fun with this one! I like making creatures :)

A dress and some stockings are mentioned like once but other than that the reader gender is pretty ambiguous, i think-

(Prompt from @Ozzgin's Yantober list, it's a very good one, if you haven't looked you should go check it out!)

it's about 1.5K words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How many? How many times!? How many times did it have to find you like this! Your body cold, lifeless. Blood pooling beneath your soft body. Your pretty eyes glazed over. It's blood boiled as it gently scooped up your corpse in it's large arms, silently carrying you away.

It buried you. Carefully and lovingly, in a delicately carved coffin. As it does every time. It stared out over the plot of land, grass a lively green. Unlike the stones laid in it. Each and every one, a grave of it's lover. A reminder of every time it was too late to save you. A low growl left it's snarled lips, thick tail whipped in frustration. It vowed not to fail next time. No matter what it had to do…

There's a prophecy passed through many generations. A cruel one, some might say. A prophecy of a powerful monster and it's lover. That if they were ever to reunite the world would crumble into an end, or so it says.

You're family, knew this prophecy well. Being that they were one of those to be tasked to destroy every reincarnation of it's lover and they did. Along with many other families, many times over. Despite your family heritage, your own training, you couldn't help but feel sour about the whole thing. "It kind of sucks, doesn't it?" You'd say to your siblings. They'd both only shrug, "That's just how it is." And you could only sigh in reply.

Your apparent sympathies for the monster had always drawn concern across your mother's face, her brows furrowed, lip pursed into a thin line. "We have to." She'd start, but by the second time you'd stopped her. "I know we have to, doesn't mean it sucks any less though…" Now only she could sigh "You're too good, for your own good."

It always took forever for the families to find each reincarnation. Even despite how wide spread they were, how many people were dedicated to staving of the crumbling end. Even so they managed. Your family having kept notes on small things about each and every version they'd slaughtered, did make it easier?

Well judging by the frantic energy, the answer would be. No. If anything you were beginning to think they were too obsessed with the little details. They found patterns in traits, likes, features, wherever they could. Kept drilling it all into each and every one of their heads. You'd found yourself staring into your grandmother's notes on few occasions, never particularly seeing whatever it is that they raved about. None of it ever really lined up for you. Clearly there was something though, right? They hadn't failed yet.

One thing that you'd noticed on your most recent perusal of the notes, flipping through old thin pages. The dates they had written, when they'd found and slaughtered the right person. They were becoming further and further apart. They were getting harder to find. "Maybe, we're a little too focused on the details?" You thought, "It's like they're all forgetting there's a picture at all…" You kept reading, noting briefly that man that's a lot of child murder- flicking the page to the most recently dated. A few weeks off 25 years ago. You huffed a laugh, "Wow, it's taking a real long time. At this rate I'll be dead before they figure out who it is." Closing the book, leaving on the table you meandered out of the archive room.

Weeks went by and before you knew it it was your 25th birthday. You looked yourself over in the mirror, outfit? Check. Personally you think you did an excellent job styling yourself. A cute dress and stockings that hugged your plump thighs. Picking up your bag off of the end of your bed. Phone, wallet and keys? Check, check and check! Phone pinging, you could hear the car outside.

Sat underneath an umbrella with your friends, at the outdoor table of your favourite lunch spot. The cafe wasn't exactly the busiest but the fact it was nice and kind of quaint was always what drew the lot of you to it. The outside of the cafe had a selection of garden bed with multitudes of flowers in a range of colours. You always made sure to put them in every photo you all took together. Even while you giggled and chatted away with the group. No matter what you did, something was off. An odd feeling in your stomach, it made the hair on your neck stand up. It was like something was watching. No matter what you tried, using your phone camera to look behind you. Nothing. Going inside to get a napkin. You could still feel eyes on you. No matter where you went. As long as you had people around you were good, right? It'll be fine. So you stayed with your friends all day, like you'd all been planning to. Listening to their shenanigans and ignoring the pit in your stomach. One of them lamented the time last week that they had to take their dog to the vet.

"I got in the car, started driving," She pushed her hair behind her ear, was that a shadow behind her? "And i drove myself all the way there. Like the full 45 minute drive. Without realising," Her roommate snickered and they shushed them. You could of sworn you just saw a pair of eyes around the corner of that building down the street. "The worst part. I'd parked and everything! Look back? Oh!" She throws up her hands, "No dog!" Their roommate giggling maniacally at her misery. "I'd just fully forgotten the dog! How do you even do that?" She huffed and you let out a small exhale.

The feeling never did go away. Instead it began to stay longer, like it was waiting for something. Out of the corner of you eye some days, there was something. You never managed to catch it. It never mattered how fast you whipped around. Your mother had seen you do it once or twice one day. "Are you okay?" She asked, her brows furrowed in worry. Never one to want to worry your mother "Uh! Yah! Yeah. I'm.. I'm good. just flies." You grinned awkwardly. Whatever it was you were pretty sure you could deal with it. "Flies?" Blinked your mother. "Yep." "Right… Well if something IS wrong you can tell me" She said, placing her hand on your shoulder "You do know that right?" "Yeah. Yeah um, thanks…" You breathed.

You never did end up mentioning it.

Breathing heavily you hauled yourself around the corner of a brick building, you weren't even sure where you were going. Everything was starting to blur into colours. Your lungs burned and your legs were going numb. Well if you survived this you'd have news for your family! It's resurfaced! The path changed around you. Unable to stop your momentum to put your hands out to cushion yourself and push off of the newly placed brick wall in front of you. Only you turned and collided with the fuzzy chest of the creature that was hunting you. "Shit." You thought. Fur coated reptilian tail wrapping around your waist, it's big arms enclosed around your shoulders, hand on the back off your head and pressing you closer to it.

You were the one. It could smell it. It could feel it. It could feel it in how perfect you felt in it's arms. You could only blink in confusion as a rumble emanated from it's warm body. It was kind of nice, almost comforting, familiar even… "Oh." You belatedly realised as it purred into you hair "Oh no." Your thoughts were very interrupted by it lifting you carefully off of the ground. "Finally…" It mumbled, "You are safe. I will protect you this time. I swear it" You tried to wriggle your way out of it's arms, this only resulted in it holding your soft round body that little bit tighter. Bordering on uncomfortable, it wasn't letting you go. It purred practically the whole time as it took you away, claws gently running over your scalp.

It kept you safe and tucked away in it's home, far into the woods. A simple home. You stayed there, far away from everything. The bed it gave you was far softer than anything you'd ever had in your life. Staying with you every night and curling it big fur covered body around you to ensure you're safe and warm. You weren't even sure of the actual state the world was in, you couldn't tell if anything had gone wrong. So you stayed and let it play with your hair and press kisses to you round face and chubby belly. You stayed and let it rest it's head on your thigh in the lounge room while you petted it behind it's ears that were somewhere between a fox and a cat's. All you felt like you could do was stay inside that house in the woods and let it love you almost reverently. Like the world was one big cat in a box that you didn't want to open.

[barbielore]

Being such an iconic piece of 80s and 90s media targeted at a predominately young, female audience, naturally The Babysitters Club series spawned a number of fashion doll releases.

None of these were with Mattel, much less officially a part of the Barbie lineup - but I wanted to share these anyway, first of all because I think Barbie would approve of a group of girls banding together to start a small business, and second of all because any fashion doll of around that size is going to get colloquially called "a Barbie" by some number of people.

The first Babysitters Club fashion doll release was in 1991, by Remco.

The original 1991 run contained a doll for each main member of the BSC at the time - Kristy, Mary Anne, Claudia, Stacey, Dawn, Mallory and Jessi, each paired with a babysitting charge - Karen, Jenny, Jamie, Charlotte, Jackie, Claire and Becca respectively.

There seems to have been some effort to pair the sitters and charges logically - Kristy, Mallory and Jessi are paired with younger siblings (technically step-sibling in Kristy's case), while Claudia and Stacey are paired with their canonical favourite charge. I don't believe Jenny is ever described as Mary Anne's favourite, but I know there are references to them getting along better than Jenny does with any other sitter; and of course, Jenny features prominently in Mary Anne's first story, Mary Anne Saves the Day. The only one that I don't think of as being a particularly close match is Dawn and Jackie; I think of Dawn as being more associated with the Barretts than the Rodowskys.

There was a second wave of Remco dolls in 1992, but this time featuring only four of the sitters: Kristy, Claudia, Stacey and Jessi, though I have no idea why these four in particular. Three of the four were still paired with the same charge, but this time Claudia was paired with Jenny.

There was also a deluxe gift set with all four sitters and charges from the second run, but I can't in good conscience recommend it. Why the heck is Kristy Thomas in a dress? Why is Claudia dressed so boring? It's like they didn't even understand the girls.

In 1993, Kenner released a set of 18 inch dolls (which I will not go into detail on, as that's stretching the connection to the theme beyond breaking point), and then in 1998, a set of 11.5 inch or "Barbie-sized" dolls.

Only four were released in this set, though: Kristy, Claudia, Stacey and Mallory. Again, I have absolutely no idea why those four. I mean, if you're going to go with four, why not sub Mallory out for Mary Anne and go with the original line-up?

I like the character design and outfit choices for these ones, though. I think they have a certain charm to them.

I would absolutely love to see Mattel take on the babysitters and do a Barbie line-up. I think they could really do something with the concept. Maybe next year for the 40th anniversary of the Babysitters Club?

For now, we only have Skipper.

[angie-words]

12345 Writer Tag Game

Rules: Give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words (feel free to interpret however you would like; if not on AO3, can be on Tumblr or FFNET, etc)!

Thanks @27dragons for the tag! I think I've interpreted how to do this correctly, but apologies if I haven't!

Most Hits: Write A Way (Explicit, 73K)

Azira Fell and AJ Crowley are both successful authors in their own right, invited to speak at the same national book festival. Despite a falling out a couple of years ago, they've never actually met in person - so this event is going to be excruciatingly awkward for both of them.

Right?

As it happens, and unbeknownst to them, it seems they share a love of a certain TV show... and being very active parts of its fandom (yep, it's neurodivergent Fanfic Writer Crowley and Fanfic Reader Aziraphale time!)

Second Most Kudos: Let Me See You (Explicit, 4K)

Crowley accidentally sees rather more of Aziraphale than he was meant to, yet doesn't seem able to leave. Staying will change everything. Set post season 3 and featuring a healthy dollop of accidental voyeurism, Aziraphale and Crowley finally work out what being an Us means.

Third Most Comments: I've Got a Wand and (Maybe) a Rabbit (Explicit, 8.7K)

Dr Anthony Crowe has found fellow lecturer Dr Ezra Fell incredibly enticing from the first moment they met. However, Anthony's last relationship with a colleague crashed and burned, so this time he's keeping his emotions and desire locked down to avoid a repeat of that disaster. It's going to take an academic conference, some criminally-thin walls, and a rather magic wand to bring things to a satisfying conclusion for everyone...

Fourth Most Bookmarks: Talking is for Tomorrow (Explicit, 4.5K)

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Fic with Least Words: Where We Belong (Teen, 1.5K)

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I'm going to tag a few folks but please feel free to join in if you see this post on your dash! @rofell @rhosmeinir @sakascal @eybefioro @hazel-sage

[steelfyre]

࣪ᰋ𓈒 ֶָ 𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝         melisa asli pamuk,  33,  cis woman,  she / her.    announcing  the  arrival  of  alara  of  house  dayne,  the  heiress of starfall.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  fierce  and  vindictive  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  archery.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  the  light  of  the  full  moon  illuminating  an  oasis  where  huntress  waits  with  a  silver  bow  held  in  steady  hands  ,  its  arrow  ready  to  strike  ;  a  change  in  the  winds  carrying  the  promise  of  divine  reckoning.  she  does  not  tremble  but  smiles  ;  galloping  across  the  desert  on  a  white  stallion  ,  you  were  never  made  for  ivory  towers  and  needed  no  knight  to  save  you  ;  a  beauty  more  wild  than  serene  ,  more  sharp  than  gentle  -  something  mythical  lingered  within  mortal  flesh  ,  waiting  ,  raging.  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  thoughts  have  lingered  close  to  treasonous  of  late.

basic information.

official name: alara dayne. nickname: none. noble title: heiress of starfall , lady of starfall. date of birth: march 24. age: thirty-three. birthplace: starfall , dorne. home: starfall. nationality: westerosi. gender: cis woman. pronouns: she / her. orientation: bisexual , biromantic. monikers: starmaiden , lady starfire / starfyre , the star of dorne. languages: the common tongue , fluent. familiar with some essosi dialects. accent: a traditionally dornish accent spoken in a steady , confident tone infused with the sun's warmth.

physical information.

faceclaim: melisa asli pamuk. ethnicity: rhoynar. hair: brown with soft gold highlights. eyes: golden brown. height: five feet , ten inches. build: taller than most women of westeros with a hunter's build, lean, not bulky, muscles visible, particularly in her arms, but not detracting from the lady's elegance. dominant hand: ambidextrous. allergies: none. scars: none. distinguishing features: her height and the birthmark above her lips. clothing style: traditional dornish style regardless of where she currently resides. favors loose and light dresses in warm shades on normal days but oft chooses more revealing outfits when attending events. can also be spotted in pants and shirts when training, horseback riding, or hunting. the jewelry she wears is not excessive, normally limited to a necklace and bracelets. she also has a pair of favorite hairpins that double at daggers in case danger unexpectedly arises.

personality.

positive: fierce ,  resilient ,  dauntless , charming ,  protective , forthright. negative: vindictive ,  prideful ,  headstrong , mistrustful , obstinate , temperamental. label: the huntress , the tempest. mbti: entj - the commander. enneagram: 8w7 , the maverick. element: fire. star sign: aries. temperament: choleric. moral alignment: chaotic good. deadly sin: pride , wrath. heavenly virtue : diligence. godly parent: artemis.

drives.

hobbies: archery , horseback riding , hunting , stargazing. religion: very loosely follows the faith of the seven. alliance: house dayne , dorne. personal goals: to protect her son, particularly from the targaryens and anyone who might try using him as a pawn, and free dorne from the targaryen reign. would they choose family or power?: family.

family ties.

father: ruling lord alvar dayne. relationship: tba. mother: ruling lady thalina dayne. relationship: tba. sibling: lord/lady/liege utp dayne. relationship: tba. sister: lady laina dayne. relationship: tba. son: davios sand.

history.

the darling heiress was never the image of the perfect lady, headstrong and adventurous from a young age, but those of starfall never minded. her parents encouraged her to pursue her interests, teaching her how to ride horses the same time she learned to walk and gifting her a bow and arrow when alara gravitated toward that skill. the responsibilities of heir wasn't nonexistent - she was still expected to attend more traditional lessons, but a balance between freedom and expectations was found. a relief for the lady alara's temper was also observed from a young age after a particularly loud squabble with the septa, who was then quickly replaced, trying to instruct her.

lady thalina adored her daughter, and alara admired her mother in turn. in her youth, wherever the ruling lady went, the heiress often followed. her mother's shadow. her mother's apprentice. though alara wasn't a silent shadow; there were many times that she would voice her opinion during meetings or if she felt her mother was being disrespected, wouldn't hesitate to say so. as alara grew older and was able to travel more, her presence at her mother's side decreased but all it would take was a raven to call the heiress back home, which her mother occasionally did when she wished for her daughter's assistance or perspective and letters wouldn't do.

while she loved starfall, alara felt the pull to see the world beyond. first it was dorne that she explored from the red mountains in the west until she reached sunspear on the eastern coast. but the world stretched beyond her beloved desert so alara continued on, venturing north into westeros. her travels were splintered across the years. she could never be away from home for too long and did not wish to be either.

places where the dragons frequented were often avoided whenever possible. living under targaryen rule had forever been distasteful, and she hoped that within her lifetime, dorne would be free of their beastly overlords. however, a chance encounter with the crown prince and a night shared left alara pregnant. alara did not expect marriage ( could think of no worse fate ) but she hadn't expected that the prince would refuse to acknowledge his son's existence. rage, empowered by motherhood, burned hotter. she remained in dorne since learning she was pregnant, which caused some whispers as she'd become a commonly seen figure in society, and after giving birth to her son, a boy with lilac eyes but, thankfully, medium brown hair. her appearance at the royal wedding was the first time she attended court since she fell pregnant. and whispers now spread like wildfire.

important: while muses can, and likely do, suspect that davios is the prince of dragonstone's son, the only muses who know of his parentage for certain are the dayne family ( and possibly some royal targaryens / council members if they're in the know ) as alara has kept it a secret from everyone else.

headcanons

an excellent horsewoman. alara has pretty much taken over the stables at starfall where she raises her horses. she often goes riding at least once and can grow very restless when her duties or court prevent her from venturing outside a keep's walls. her prized horse is a white mare named dune.

while she does know how to fight with a sword, she does greatly prefer a bow and arrow. she's an extremely skilled archer, both in a fight and when hunting, and can maintain her accuracy when shooting from horseback.

always carries at least one dagger with her, normally strapped to her thigh and hidden from sight.

so, so prideful. she will not forget a slight and is very hesitant to forgive. forgive and forget? no, resent and remember.

is capable of adapting to court and being extremely charming when she wants to be. but her patience for courtly etiquette is limited, though it has grown as she has gotten older. holding her tongue is difficult but she knows she must do it for her family's and dorne's sake. however, she has had a few incidents over the years where a noble has pushed her past her limits and she has snapped at them.

well known for her beauty, which has resulted in her having a handful of flings over the years.

she's still very close to her mother and will go to her when she needs advice. they often discuss matters together, ruling starfall as a team in preparation for the day that alara will be ruling lady.

alara has no desire to put her son on the throne. in fact, she doesn't want the targaryens anywhere near her son. had they actually acknowledged davios when he was born, she might feel differently but now she is steadfast in keeping them away from davios. he is only a dayne in her eyes and once dorne gains there independence, she would want to legitimize him as a dayne.

that being said, alara does believe her son has every right to a dragon egg and does want to see him have a dragon of his own - one that would protect dorne.

wanted connections.