#and what she deserves and she's gonna stand by that!!!!!!

[astralnymphh]

loser!ellie: who goes completely dumb when you kiss her. not a regular kiss—but one that clothes her skin in clandestine crevices. eating her neck, licking the skin fresh, pulling the hems loose on her. it all drives her pupils up inside her head and tends her to a state of scattermindedness, one where she minds the things standing outside of her head. “joel's gonna be wonderin' where i am if you don't stop..” mumbling against your ear, her eyes going as far as searching the room for spectators. that is, until you begin pricking the reddened skin too breathtakingly; with kisses that form deeper colors, and surface the most quiet-soft, long and delighted noises to the corners of her almond-shaped lips. it begins a requiem for her thoughts.

she is oblivious to how lost she gets. you nip her, and all the definition fades from her features; dope-faced. in fact, she doesn't grasp what you're really doing to that precious spot on her neck, and the sudden pressure there, until your lips have already left. hurried fingers flee and feel for her neck. “did you—you did not just do what i think you—” there is a smile playing on her face. however, it is hard-pressed. she rummages for her phone in the pillow cradling her head, and paints her neck with the illumination of the camera screen. “fuck, babe, really?” she drags, prods and palms at the scarlet-red blotch, wincing with her teeth bare. you watch her throat bob as it clears. “that high on my neck, too?”

you had no head for remorse; tonguing for the treat again. “you deserve it,” you whisper, the ends of it warming her skin. it flinches under your lips. “for being so cute all evening, huh? holding, and squeezing my hand under the table where your friends won't see?” a gulp plummets through her throat, and you taste it. some reproaching tension is building in there, too strung inside her feelings and sensations to let it become words, and furthermore too bashful to let them glance along your mouth, and potentially stutter. she imagines she will, and it restricts her. but the tight, skin-hot knuckles curling in your shirt are a clear representation of what she keeps in her throat. “got so red when i let them see, yeah?” something delicate along the lines of: “such an asshole.” perching there in phantom response, but she scratches the words into your back instead. your lips make her want to be obedient.

she is so distracted—from your questions, from your lips— that when her throat does loosen up, a roll of your hips on hers is all it requires to descend her opinion and forget about the movie she wanted to watch with joel. the warmth in her pants made mush of her mind. “fuck— more,” she shivers with a gaping breath. begs with her waist arching into you, inciting you to do what you just did again. the voice in ellie cracks. “i mean, joel can wait a second longer, right?”

a/n: apologies for the lack of blurbs writers block is hitting everyone atm i think..

[mynameismckenziemae]

🕸mm’s kinktober 2024🕷

Cockwarming // Collaring

Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader x Jake Seresin

(This is the throuple from I Love You Two but can be read as a stand-alone).

Warnings: Smut. 18+ only! MDNI!

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

“Keep going,” Bradley murmurs as you slowly sink down on his cock, gasping again at the fullness with the plug in your ass, “I know you can take it.”

Bradley’s patience is endless. It’s something you normally appreciate, but not when he’s punishing you. It’s been close to an hour that he’s been making you warm his cock; keeping you on edge the whole time by making you lift up before guiding you back down to repeat the torture.

Body trembling, you pause to look back at Bradley, waiting for his reaction when Jake whines from his place in the corner.

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

Bradley had texted earlier that he would be a little late coming home and that you and Jake needed to wait for him. It only took one look when he saw Jake’s head between your thighs when he walked in the door to know you were both in trouble.

“I told you to wait,” Bradley punctuates his words with quick, harsh slaps to Jake’s ass.

Arousal coats your thighs from your place in the corner. It doesn’t matter that you’re not able to watch, just the sound of Jake getting spanked is turning you on. Knowing you’re next isn’t helping either…

“I had plans,” Bradley sighs as he pauses the assault, and when Jake moans, you know he’s rubbing the sting out, “I got you both a little something but I don’t know if either of you deserves it.”

Though Bradley was deliciously mean when he wanted to be, he couldn’t resist slipping the braided leather collar around Jake’s neck while he sucked him off before it was your turn over his lap.

“There’s 3 strands,” Bradley sighed as Jake pushed him quickly to the edge with his mouth, “tied together; like we are.”

Later, he clasped the choker around your neck after pulling you up, your trembling back to his chest while the tears still fell from your eyes.

“There’s one for me too,” he said loud enough for Jake to hear, “maybe I’ll wear it sometime if the two of you can ever behave.”

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he nips your bottom lip as his hands guide your hips down further before he says to Jake, “and I told you to be quiet. Were you lying when I asked if you learned your lesson?”

“No sir,” you answer quickly, wincing and sucking in a shaky breath when the tender skin of your ass meets Bradley’s hips again.

“What about you?” Bradley asks Jake while his hands find your waist, keeping you still, “Do you need another trip across my lap, princess?”

“No sir,” Jake moans, ass clenching around the blue-jeweled plug Bradley pushed inside before turning it as red as yours feels.

“That’s what I thought,” Bradley chuckles, “Alright, c’mere. No,” he shakes his head when Jake begins to rise, “crawl.”

Jake’s flush spans over his chest, neck, and face as he swallows thickly before crawling across the room. His humiliation is obvious but his cock hangs hard and heavy between his thighs, dripping precum on the floor.

“Isn’t he pretty?” Bradley breathes against your neck, reaching out to slide his fingers under the collar when he gets close enough.

“He is,” you agree, wanting to reach for him too but not knowing if it’s allowed and not wanting to find out the hard way if it isn’t.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Bradley says, tugging a little, “she’s gonna suck your cock while she rides me. Neither of you can cum before me.”

Jake’s eyes flick to yours and he gulps when he sees the mischievous look reflecting back at him.

🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸•🕷•🕸

A/N: I just adore mean!dom!bradley 😮‍💨

Tagging:

@writtingrose

@blindedbythelightt

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@dizzybee03

@shanimallina87

@lexixstewart

@hookslove1592

@jessicab1991

@livzblogg

@carolina-on-my-mind03

@racerchix21

@that-one-fangirl69

@mrsbradshaw-seresin01

@sydneejean

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@midnightmagpiemama

@its-the-pilot

@kmc1989

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@seitmai

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@alwayshave-faith

@lunatygerqueen

@ahotmesswithprivilege

[average-hyperfixator]

This is probably the weirdest way to show that I'm in the Mouthwashing fandom, and like nobody is going to see this BUT

If I see ONE MORE person compare Ted to Jimmy I'm going to LOSE MY FUCKING MIND. Is this another testament to people not understanding Ted's overall role in the story and his character arc? YES, YES IT IS. RE READ THE BOOK. RE LISTEN TO THE RADIO DRAMA. GAME IS IT'S OWN CONVERSATION THAT WILL TAKE TOO LONG FOR ME TO DISECT + IT HAS IT'S OWN STORY AND THUS WILL NOT BE INCLUDED HERE.

Jimmy is a jealous man, who assaults (and unfortunately impregnates) Anya, and then tries to crash the ship so he doesn't have to deal with the consequences, and when everyone lives, they live in misery BECAUSE OF HIM. He is the co-pilot, he has more power and authority over the others, and he ACTIVELY makes things worse, and is at fault for the crash and the subsequent fallout. (this section is shorter, simply because I've been in the IHNMAIMS fandom much longer and have way more thoughts on Ted) Ted, on the other hand, is not at fault for the world ending. He is just as trapped as the other five, he's more prone to mental manipulation and THINKING he's better off, but he really isn't. He doesn't have more power of the others because he's also a victim. He is by no means a great guy, or even a good guy; They key difference is that at the end of his story, the book, he actually fucking HELPS. Rather than make his friends continue to live in misery, he puts them out of it, and rather than end his own suffering, he spends those precious few seconds he could be ramming an icicle into himself, comforting Ellen as she dies. It doesn't make up for what he's thought and said, BUT, it's something at least. It's remorse, it's letting her finally be content, it's trying to give her the empathy she showed him time and time again. And he gets turned into a horrid slug creature after, he actively suffers more than everyone else for the rest of time- he self sacrifices so his friends could be at peace. TLDR: Jimmy is objectively selfish and doesn't change much throughout the game, save for MAYBE the very end (ig putting Curly in the pod is one brownie point for him) however Ted actually shows growth by the end of the story, and makes a point to end the suffering of his friends, while ultimately sacrificing himself in the process. If I catch another person equating these two I'm just gonna start throwing hammers at them I DON'T CARE. I am THE Ted defender, and I WILL stand my ground that, while he is no where near perfect, he DOES become a better person by the end of the story and deserves to have that acknowledged. anyway this has been sick rants with me, feel free to add on in reblogs or perchance spark a FRIENDLY debate. I apologize if I come off rude here, Ted and IHNMAIMS have been a hyperfixation of mine for months and I am very easily riled up about the story and characters. adding new tag ; Jace rants 🗯️ ! For all my ranting escapades from now on.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Reunited 4

Part 4

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x reader with a side story of modern!Sigtryggr x reader

Authors note: it's probably a bad idea to post it today, but fuck it ... I'm having too much fun writing this. And don't tell me I didn't warn you - it's gonna be a ride 😅.

Warnings: heartbreak, use of alcohol, very suggestive (lowkey smut)

Summary: It was supposed to be a short two week trip that turned into five long years apart, just because your best friend couldn't keep her mouth shut. Will the reader and Sihtric manage to repair their broken relationship and find their way back to each other? Or will the reader decide to stay with the handsome and talented Sigtryggr?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word Count: 4,1 K

The whispers started small—a passing comment from a mutual acquaintance here, a vague mention in the industry gossip there. Gisela had done her best to shield you, brushing off any mention of Sihtric with a casual dismissal, redirecting your attention to new projects, exciting events, or people who would, in her words, "help you look forward, not back."

But eventually, the whispers grew louder, impossible to ignore.

You hadn’t been looking for updates on Sihtric, but it was almost as though the universe itself had decided that you wouldn’t be able to escape his shadow. It started with a model at a shoot, casually mentioning that she’d seen him out one night, barely able to stand, clinging to the arm of someone you didn’t know. The words "worse than I’ve ever seen him" lingered, simmering in your mind.

At first, you ignored it. Sihtric wasn’t your concern anymore, you reminded yourself. He had made his choices, just as you had made yours. But more stories came—different people, different places, each one painting the same picture of a man who was unravelling, barely holding himself together. The Sihtric they described was a stranger to you, and yet those stories struck a painful chord deep in your chest.

One evening, as you sat across from Gisela at your favourite café, her attempts to distract you from the topic finally fell short. You’d reached your limit.

"Gisela," you said, interrupting her as she rambled on about an upcoming exhibition. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

Her eyes widened, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. "Tell you what?" she asked, feigning innocence, though you both knew exactly what you meant.

"About Sihtric." Your voice was steady, but there was an underlying tension. "About what’s happening to him."

She sighed, placing her cup down with a slight clunk. “I didn’t think it was something you needed to hear. He’s not your responsibility anymore. You deserve to live your life without his shadow looming over you.”

"But he wasn’t always like this," you replied, voice barely more than a whisper. "I know him, Gisela. Or I thought I did."

Gisela reached across the table, her hand finding yours. "You did know him. But that’s not who he is now. Whatever he’s become, it’s because of his own choices."

“Gisela,” you said, setting down your coffee and looking her in the eye. “Do you think… Maybe my refusal to speak with him made things worse?”

Her brow furrowed, concern and frustration blending in her gaze. “What do you mean?”

“All these stories about him… spiralling,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “He just wanted to talk, you know. And I just showed him away in the worst way possible. I can’t help but feel that maybe, if I’d just been willing to listen to him, he wouldn’t have ended up this way.”

Gisela shook her head, her expression firm. “You can’t think like that. You have every right to protect yourself. Talking to him wouldn’t have changed anything. He’s responsible for his actions, not you.”

You glanced away. “But our last conversation, Gisela. I can’t stop thinking about it. The way I turned him away, how angry and cold I was. Maybe I was… too harsh.”

“You weren’t harsh,” she replied, squeezing your hand. “You were clear about your boundaries. You have every right to those, especially after what he put you through. Don’t start blaming yourself.”

Despite her reassurance, the memory of that day lingered in your mind like a shadow. That look in his eyes, the desperation just beneath the surface, how he had struggled to find the words. And how you had shut him down, leaving him standing alone on that set, without a chance to explain himself. It had felt empowering then, taking control of the situation, reclaiming your peace. But now… now, you weren’t so sure.

“Maybe,” you whispered, almost to yourself, “I should’ve just listened, if only to give us both some closure.”

Gisela’s gaze softened, but her voice remained steady. “Closure doesn’t come from reopening wounds, and that’s all he’d do. He’s gone too far down this path—he’s not the person you knew.” 

Gisela squeezed your hand. “You have every right to protect yourself. You don’t owe him anything—not after what he put you through. He’s doing this to himself, and I don’t want to see you dragged down because of him again.”

You didn’t answer. Wrapping your hands around the warm coffee cup, you stared into the swirling steam rising from the dark liquid. Why does everything have to be so damn complicated? 

That night, alone in your apartment, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Every time you closed your eyes, fragments of that last encounter on set replayed in your mind: Sihtric’s hesitant steps, the way his voice had cracked when he’d asked to talk, the look of devastation as you’d turned your back on him. You’d told yourself it was for the best, but was it really?

You picked up your phone, fingers hovering over the screen.

Before you could think it through, you sent a message to Gisela.

"Do you think I should try talking to him? Just once?"

The three dots indicating her reply popped up immediately, and then her response followed, firm and direct.

"No. That chapter is over. Don’t reopen old wounds."

You put the phone down, staring at the empty space in your living room as her words echoed in your mind. Gisela was right, of course. She had been there through it all, had seen you at your lowest, helped you pick up the pieces of your life, reminding you of who you were outside of him. But this wasn’t about reopening wounds. This was about understanding. For your sake, and for his.

With a steadying breath, you made a quiet decision. Tomorrow, you would reach out, you would go to the set and talk to him—not to rekindle what was lost but to speak out, to lay the ghosts of your past to rest. Maybe it would bring peace to both of you, to let you finally close the chapter for good. 

You arrived at the set the next morning with that quiet resolve still fresh on your mind, the familiar hum of voices and equipment doing little to settle your nerves. Today, you would finally speak to Sihtric. 

Maybe it wouldn’t change anything, and maybe it would leave you feeling just as hollow as before, but at the very least, it might ease the nagging feeling that had taken root since your last conversation. There was no script in your mind, no clear sense of what you would say. Just a need for… something. Resolution, maybe. Closure. Or perhaps, deep down, a glimmer of hope. What? No, shut up! You almost slapped yourself in anger. What hope?

As you waited, you glanced at the door every few minutes, each time your heart skipping a beat, only to settle back down when he didn’t appear. The seconds stretched into minutes, each one adding another layer to the knot forming in your stomach. 

You had run through a dozen different ways to start the conversation in your mind, but none of them felt right. How do you confront someone you’d once loved but had shut out entirely? What could you even say that would bridge the distance between you after everything that had happened?

You clenched and unclenched your hands, feeling more foolish with each passing minute. A part of you cursed yourself for not following Gisela’s advice, for not simply letting it go. “Leave it in the past,” she’d said, her voice filled with quiet insistence. And yet, here you were, waiting for a man who’d hurt you, hoping he’d arrive so you could dig into the buried pain between you both.

What was it you expected to hear? A confession, an apology, an explanation? The truth was, you didn’t know. You just felt as though you couldn’t move on with this weight still hanging over you, with the sense that you had played some part in his downward spiral. Was it really closure you were looking for, or did some part of you, a part you’d never admit aloud, still care for him, still believe there was something worth salvaging?

The chatter of the crew buzzed around you, but you barely registered it. Occasionally, you caught snippets of conversation—small whispers about Sihtric, talk of his “new habits” and frequent no-shows. The makeup artist mumbled something under her breath about his inconsistency, a sigh of exasperation barely audible. 

You stayed, doing your best to keep a composed front, pretending to focus on the tasks in front of you. But beneath the calm façade, a familiar ache simmered—a sinking disappointment, perhaps even a touch of anger, that he hadn’t shown up. You tried to tell yourself it was about professionalism, about the wasted time, the disrupted shoot, but deep down, you knew it actually wasn’t. You’d finally been ready to talk, to face the unresolved tension between you, and Sihtric had left you waiting, his absence a silent answer in itself.

As the hours stretched on and the last hopes of his arrival slipped away, the emptiness grew. The loss felt oddly profound, a quiet ache that lingered, as though something vital had slipped through your fingers, even if you couldn’t name what it was.

���--------------------------------------------

Just as you finished slipping on your heels and checking your reflection one last time, a soft knock echoed from the door. You opened it to find Sigtryggr standing there, a calm, admiring smile spreading across his face as he took in your appearance. His suit was impeccably tailored, the dark fabric accentuating his tall, lean frame, and his long hair was pulled back in a way that softened his strong features.

“Wow,” he said, his voice warm as his eyes lingered on you. “You look… incredible. Absolutely stunning.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you glanced down, a little flustered by the way he looked at you. “Thank you,” you murmured. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He chuckled, reaching out to take your hand, and his fingers were warm and steady around yours. As you turned to grab your purse, he tilted his head slightly, studying you with gentle curiosity.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. “You seem a bit… distracted.”

You took a breath, glancing at him before looking away, feeling the weight of the day’s thoughts pressing down on you. “I’m fine,” you said, though the words felt weak even to your own ears. “It’s just… been a long day.”

Sigtryggr’s expression softened, his gaze unwavering as he searched your face. “If there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m here. No pressure—just… if you want.”

You felt a warm reassurance in his words, his genuine concern like a balm to your lingering unease. You managed a small smile, grateful for his presence. “Thank you. Really. I… I appreciate it.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “No need to thank me,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “Tonight’s about enjoying ourselves. Let’s make it a good one.”

You slipped your arm through his and offered him a small smile, feeling a comforting sense of calm settle over you. Sigtryggr’s quiet confidence grounded you, his warm presence lifting your spirits just enough to face the fashion show you’d agreed to attend with him.

The venue buzzed with energy, lights flashing as photographers captured the evening’s best-dressed attendees. You and Sigtryggr moved through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with designers, editors, and models. 

The night felt almost surreal, as if you were floating through it, your worries temporarily forgotten as you lost yourself in the glamorous whirlwind of conversation and clinking champagne glasses. But then you spotted him.

Across the room, Sihtric was leaning against the bar, a glass dangling from his hand, his face flushed and his eyes somewhat unfocused. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair dishevelled, and his grip on the camera strap on his shoulder was loose, like he had already forgotten that he even had it. 

You froze as he caught sight of you, his gaze narrowing before flickering over to Sigtryggr. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, but then he began making his way toward you, his movements slightly unsteady.

“Is that him?” Sigtryggr asked, catching your tension. His tone was gentle but alert.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away as Sihtric approached, his expression dark and unreadable. The familiar ache twisted in your chest, but you straightened, bracing yourself for whatever he was about to say or do.

“So,” Sihtric sneered as he stopped before you, eyes flicking dismissively between you and Sigtryggr. “You didn’t waste any time, did you?” His voice was laced with bitterness, words slurring slightly as he swayed on his feet.

“Sihtric, don’t do this,” you said softly, hoping to defuse the situation, but he ignored you, his focus shifting fully to Sigtryggr.

“And you…” He tilted his head, eyeing Sigtryggr with disdain. “Think you’re so much better than me, huh? Perfect little prince, sweeping in and saving the day.”

Sigtryggr’s face remained calm, though you could feel the tension in him. “I think it’s best if we all take a step back,” he replied evenly, his hand settling on your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “This isn’t the time or place.”

But Sihtric’s eyes flashed, his face twisting into a sneer. “You think you can just step in like I never meant anything?” His voice grew louder, heads turning as people began to notice the unfolding scene. “She was mine, you know. You’re just a cheap replacement.”

You felt Sigtryggr’s hand tense, but he kept his composure. “You’re drunk, Sihtric,” he said quietly. “Go home. Let’s not make this uglier than it needs to be.”

But Sihtric’s face hardened, his expression an unsettling mix of pain and fury. Before either of you could react, he lunged forward, his fist aimed clumsily at Sigtryggr’s face. His movements were sluggish, heavy with the effects of alcohol, and Sigtryggr sidestepped effortlessly, catching Sihtric’s arm and stopping him in his tracks.

“Enough.” Sigtryggr’s voice was firm, his grip on Sihtric’s arm steady as he pushed him back, keeping his own emotions in check. “Go home. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

The words struck Sihtric like a slap. He staggered, his face flushing with humiliation as he looked between the two of you. For a fleeting moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath his anger—the brokenness and regret lurking behind his bloodshot eyes.

“Fine,” he muttered bitterly, wrenching his arm out of Sigtryggr’s grip. His gaze lingered on you, the weight of everything unsaid filling the space between you. “Enjoy your perfect life,” he spat, his voice cracking slightly as he turned and stumbled away, nearly knocking into a nearby table on his way out.

The crowd, still buzzing with curiosity, watched him go, a hush settling over the room as people exchanged whispers and glances. You stood there, heart pounding, torn between anger, pity, and an ache you couldn’t quite shake.

“Are you alright?” Sigtryggr asked, his voice steady, his hand gentle on your shoulder as he guided you toward a quieter corner, away from the prying eyes.

You shook your head, you were far from being alright. Sihtric’s words, his reckless behaviour, the way he’d looked at you—it was like seeing a stranger in the shell of someone you once knew. The man who had stood beside you tonight was unrecognisable, and yet, the guilt still clawed at you, lingering in the pit of your stomach.

Sigtryggr’s arm slipped around you, as he led you toward the exit. “Let’s get you out of here,” he murmured, his tone soft and protective. 

You nodded, grateful for his presence  and the two of you walked out into the cool night air, Sigtryggr’s hand lingering at the small of your back, guiding you with an ease that felt natural. 

He turned to you with a soft smile. “It’s still early,” he murmured, his gaze drifting over your face. “Would you like to come to my place for a nightcap?”

As Sigtryggr's question hung in the air, a shiver coursed through you, both from the chill of the night and the deeper question his invitation held. His face, framed by the soft glow of nearby streetlights, showed only openness, yet your mind raced. 

Your heart quickened, battling with the silent questions tumbling in your mind. What did you want this to be? Sigtryggr was unlike anyone you’d ever met—a quiet intensity wrapped in kindness, the kind of person who saw straight through you, not as if judging, but as if he truly understood. A part of you had been starving for this kind of connection, so different from what you’d known before, but was it too soon? Could you let yourself open up to someone again, let him see the parts of you you’d worked so hard to piece back together?

And then, a thought cut through the haze, sharper, clearer: What would Sihtric think if he saw you now? A pang of anger flared beneath your skin, surprising you. Why should it matter? Even more so—why would he care? But the questions lingered, twisting like thorns in your mind. Why did he keep finding his way into your thoughts, haunting you with his absence, even though he was gone from your life for good?

Admitting it hurt more than you wanted to acknowledge. He was gone. The reality pressed down like a weight you’d been struggling to lift. This was the perfect moment to close that door, to step into something new, to let someone else in… Or, you could keep waiting, letting the ghost of him drift around you, keeping everyone else at arm’s length, forever just out of reach.

With a soft, steadying breath, you looked back at Sigtryggr and found him still there, watching with a quiet patience, not pressing or urging, but simply waiting. His expression held nothing but warmth, a silent invitation in his eyes that felt as gentle as it was genuine. His presence was calming, without expectation, without judgement. In that instant, the idea of stepping forward didn’t seem so daunting.

Your heart lifted, and you found yourself nodding, a smile tugging at your lips as you met his gaze. “I’d like that.”

—--------------------------------------

Sigtryggr’s apartment was just as you’d expected—filled with art and an understated elegance that spoke to his style. Soft lights cast a warm glow over the room, and as he poured two glasses of wine, you took in the paintings lining the walls, the sketches scattered across his workspace, small glimpses into his creative world.

He handed you a glass, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a shiver up your spine. You took a sip, the wine rich and velvety, warming you from the inside. You could feel his gaze on you, intense yet tender, and when you looked up, the air between you grew charged, a subtle current building with each passing second.

“You know,” he began softly, stepping closer, “I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you looked tonight. Or… how beautiful you look now.”

His hand reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering, fingers grazing your cheek. You felt your breath hitch, the gentle way he was looking at you sparking something within. Without overthinking, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a soft, hesitant kiss.

Sigtryggr responded instantly, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss, his mouth warm and inviting. The wine glass slipped from your hand onto the table as his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. You melted into him, the heat between you building, his kisses growing hungrier, more insistent.

He led you toward the bedroom, his hands never leaving you, each touch filled with gentle urgency. When you reached the bed, he paused, his eyes searching yours, as if asking for permission, making sure this was what you wanted.

You answered by pulling him down to you, and he responded with a low, pleased hum, his mouth trailing down your neck as his hands found the zipper of your dress, sliding it down slowly, his fingers grazing your bare skin, igniting every nerve.

Clothes were shed, piece by piece, until you were both exposed, bodies pressed together, skin to skin. His touch was tender yet commanding, guiding you with an instinctive rhythm that left you breathless, each kiss and caress drawing you further into the heat of the moment.

Every brush of his fingers felt like fire, igniting sparks across your skin. His hands traced a path over you with a careful, reverent touch, as though he was discovering you piece by piece, memorising every curve and every reaction. His breath mingled with yours, soft and warm, as his lips explored places you hadn’t even known craved attention, gentle but unyielding.

You arched your back against the mattress and moaned loudly as he thrusted into you. Your fingers wove into his hair, pulling him closer, and he responded, his mouth tracing a path along your jaw, down your neck, igniting a trail that left you gasping, clutching him as though he were an anchor in a sea of sensation that you thought almost forgotten.

Sigtryggr moved within you with a steady, skillful rhythm, each thrust deliberate yet intense, his gaze locked on yours, simmering with a passion that left you utterly breathless. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, a loud moan escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you, erasing any lingering hesitation or self-consciousness. Whatever doubt or embarrassment you’d felt about revealing how touch-starved you were melted away, replaced by a powerful wave of heat and sensation that overwhelmed every thought, leaving you lost in the intoxicating bliss he brought with each movement.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, his hands roaming over your body, igniting every nerve he touched. His touch was confident, demanding mixed with softness and careful attentiveness, his focus solely on you, on every little reaction he coaxed from you.

The pleasure inside you coiled tightly, building with each movement, each shared breath, and the way breathless moans spilled from your lips only seemed to spur him on. He responded with a low groan, his pace quickening as he drove you both toward the edge, his presence grounding you even as he unravelled you entirely.

When the two of you finally lay together in the quiet aftermath, limbs entwined, Sigtryggr pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, his hand tracing soothing patterns along your skin. The silence between you was comfortable, his warmth enveloping you as you nestled into him, feeling safe and content in his embrace. Your breathing slowed, each gentle stroke of his hand pulling you closer to sleep. 

But as your eyes grew heavy, a familiar image intruded—a vision of Sihtric, broken and desperate, his face etched with the same raw pain and bitterness you'd seen at the event. His haunted eyes, full of anger and longing, stared back at you, and his words echoed in your mind, refusing to fade: “She was mine.”

—-----------------------------------------

Morning light filtered softly through the blinds, and you blinked awake, stretching slightly before noticing Sigtryggr’s arm still draped around you, his peaceful face turned toward yours. A small smile tugged at your lips as you remembered the night before, and you let yourself relax, sinking back into the moment. But just then, the sound of a key turning in the lock jolted you both out of the haze.

The door swung open, and a woman’s voice called out, her tone full of urgency and familiarity, sending a chill through you. “Sigtryggr?”

You froze, exchanging a startled look with Sigtryggr, who looked just as caught off guard. She called his name again, her footsteps growing closer as she moved through the apartment and toward the bedroom. Your gaze flew to Sigtryggr, wide-eyed with surprise, but before either of you could speak, a young woman appeared in the doorway, her eyes landing on you in bed with him.

With a yelp, you instinctively wrapped the blanket around yourself, heart racing as the reality of the situation hit you.

“Stiorra,” Sigtryggr started, his tone a mix of apology and guardedness as he sat up, tugging at the blanket to cover himself too.

[hausofanya]

“wasn’t she sweet? she really set the tone for the night.”

cléo’s smile is easygoing as she talks to the camera, essentially making small talk with the viewers before someone catches her eyes off camera. she immediately breaks into a wide grin, turning back to the camera. “you guys are gonna love this one.”

it’s not long before another figure appears in view, cléo unable to contain her happiness any longer as she’s quick to extend her arms towards her. before she greets the camera, she lets out an excited squeal at the sight of cléo. she wraps her arms around the girl tightly, beaming as she pulls away, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder.

“hiii~” baebi waves to the camera with a beaming smile, “i’m venus’ leader and main dancer, baebi!”

“you look so good, what the f—oop. edit that out. hi! it’s good to see you after so long!” cléo’s excitement is infectious, practically spilling over. “you need no introduction to me, though. we need to hang out soon. maybe you can dress me up, too? you seriously look amazing. what are you wearing?”

“i am proudly wearing archive bob mackie from 2001,” baebi tells cléo as she puts her hands on her exposed waist, “it's cher inspired. i love cher. beautiful gowns, you know what i mean. i like how it makes me stand out. it's very baebi, if you know what i mean.”

“beautiful gowns is an definitely understatement. what are three things you absolutely cannot live without?”

baebi looks up in thought, her whispy lashes nearly touching her eyebrows as she does so. she hums, glossy lips quirking to the side before she nods slowly, coming up with her answer in her head.

“so, i can’t live without my lipgloss. i don’t care what lip gloss it is, i just need my lips glossed at all times, like, i’m pretty sure that’s how they retain their moisture at this point so...lipgloss, one. two, probably finn lee–i’m just kidding, oh my god–” baebi laughs as cléo instigates silently with raised brows, covering her mouth her hands before playfully hitting cléo’s arm and resting her hand on the other girl's arm as she continues.

“but, seriously, two, would totally be a weighted blanket. my ex-boyfriend got me one and i will say that was the most beneficial thing he’s ever done for me. life changing shit. and three, probably...music! i can't live without music, obviously!”

“what would the world be without music? a soulless chunk of rock, i’ll tell you that.” cléo sends a pointed look to the camera before continuing. “let’s hear about the most insane thing that happened to you this year, hm? was it good? did it make you miserable?”

“well, you know, we did lose a member,” baebi says bluntly with a nod, looking into the camera before making a 'yikes!' face, turning her gaze back to cléo with an awkward laugh. cléo’s gaze turns sympathetic. “that was honestly very crazy. it was a very... dramatic thing...” she puts her hands on her hips taking a deep breath trying to find the right words to describe what it was like for venus to suddenly become four.

“it was a good thing but it wasn’t a bad thing. it was just how things were supposed to go and... they went. hell, and so did bliss!” baebi jokes with another awkward laugh, throwing her hands up and shrugging. “but, we’re trucking along and doing great. hopefully she is too. we haven't spoken since she decided to stay with angelico. so—” baebi shrugs again, looking a bit sadder in her gaze even if her smile never falters.

“all of you deserve a vacation, truly…” cléo narrows her eyes at the camera, seemingly in jest—then turns back to her friend with a smile. “the next vacation i have, you’re coming with me. let someone try me. i dare them.”

shaking her head is disbelief, she moves along to her next question. “here’s something a bit more fun to talk about—what are you thoughts on any of the nominees?”

baebi blinks at the question, thinking for a moment before leaning in to cléo like she's going to tell her a secret, the camera zooming in as well. “i don’t know a lot of people here. i gotta be honest...” the two of them laugh, baebi covering her mouth before regaining her professional demeanor, shrugging her shoulders cutely.

“um! i don't know! you deserve everything you get tonight,” cléo winks at the camera, “and, umm, i think deepdive is pretty deserving. sourcandy kills it every time... um...”

baebi looks up as she tries to remember the other nominees, is stupid cupid nominated? truly, guys, i only know what my girls are nominated for. i’m sorry,” she says truthfully, giving an unapologetic look to the camera with another laugh.

“what about the weirdest thing a fan has done to get your attention? i’m sure you definitely have to have a story for this one.”

“one time, a man got my face tattooed on his chest and he—” cléo’s eyes widen before she snorts, her hand moving to cover her mouth. “okay, honestly, he was pretty ripped so this wasn't that bad for me–he was at a venus fansign and he stands up, takes his shirt off, and shows me my face tattooed in the center of his chest and i was like woah!” baebi puts her hands up with a suprised look on her face as cléo laughs, giggling as she retells the story. she lets out a dramatic sigh, looking at cléo with a raise of her brows.

“men.” baebi shrugs again, chuckling dryly, clearly fighting off the urge to laugh again. cléo raises an imaginary glass to that.

“what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever googled? even in secret!” cléo raises her brows, interested in her answer. baebi looks to the side as she thinks the question over, shaking her head slowly.

“i don’t google weird things...” she starts, staring at her friend’s face for a moment before laughing at herself. she hits cléo's arms playfully. “i've actually googled bang chan happy trail before, i won't even lie to you.” baebi covers her mouth as cléo short circuits, laughing at herself as the tips of her ears turn pink from embarrassment.

“girl—?!”

“he's so dreamy! i’m sorry!”

cléo pretends to gag, shuddering for dramatic effect as she immediately changes the subject. “maybe i shouldn’t have asked that. moving on! what’s your dream role?”

“i want to be angelina ballerina one day,” baebi says with a fond smile and nod, the atmosphere soon softening. “she's a mouse that does ballet... i deeply resonate with her and have since i was little.”

“that’s so cute…” cléo pouts at the camera, placing a hand over her chest to show how touched she was. “hopefully they don’t consider your search history if a film or series comes about about.”

cléo laughs as baebi halfheartedly swats at her arm. “cléo—”

“one last question!” the taller grins in good nature. “kind of horrible timing considering two questions ago i got an answer i didn’t expect—hi chris, if you’re watching!—but to be honest, i’m nosy and i don’t care if fans lose their heads over this. anyone special you want to let the public know about?”

baebi laughs nervously at the question, raising her brows at cléo as if to silently ask her, ‘why would you do this to me?’ before tucking her long hair behind her ear. cléo offers what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

“everyone would hate the answer, so let's say no!” baebi answers cheekily, giving the camera a finger heart to distract the viewers from the question she just dodged.

cléo boos the non-answer and sighs, shaking her head. “well, i tried. thanks for hanging out~!” she waves as her friend says her goodbyes and walks off, blinking a few times before she makes a face upon remembering her shocking answer.

“of all things to google…”

you can find baebi @venusvity ! thanks so much for joining the event !

[lagaans]

i love when women in bollywood movies call out their shit husbands and then get the deserved apology

[meepcartier-blog]

Is it really the craziest thing in the world if Gwen was/is dating Hobie? (And get your minds out the gutter for a second y’all 🙄)

I know Miles and Gwen have their lil boop boop or whatever but Gwen was literally gushing over Hobie to Miles. Pav knows something

I think the jealousy thing with Miles and Gwen is just because they’ve both been in limerence for 2 years. Yearning for what could’ve been or in love with the idea.

That’s dead now since Gwen betrayed him. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Hobie obviously don’t fuck with Miguel but he clearly stays around for Gwen and friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a crush on him and would constantly go over his place and feel comfortable enough to leave her things. Two years is a long time and a couple dozen missions is ALOT of missions.

Why do people insist on big-broing Hobie? That’s her man and they go together real bad. He’s clearly attractive in looks and personality. They said it in the art book: “ he’s pretty deep-cut and fascinating—older boy who is pretty easy for most girls to have a crush on”.

Gwen is a sag woman with a roster🔐 don’t be a hater 🤨

My girls know. We don’t just leave things with stinky dopey jupiter niggas for no reason unless we LIKE THEM.

#ellomerants

[books4evermorr]

I genuinely think this is an anagram that she might have seen somewhere near her and took it as her name (don’t talk to me I am sobbing)

Cause like it’s Project Apple yk? So it could be : Apple N___ 1-A , like successful experiment 1-A but she mistook it as IA

[zazikels]

welp since some of those shitty leaks turned out to be true, those rook's rest leaks are going to end up being true and from the very bottom of my heart i wish c*ndal a very never get work adapting anything again i hope by the end of this your reputation is worse than benioff's and weiss's because it's all you deserve.

[koicrimes]

so, i work with my grandma right? and she's apart of the senior team of ladies who've been there no less than 25 years. when i tell you, i went in with one grandma and wound up getting adopted by like 3 more....

[carefulfears]

what do you consider the heart of californication? like really carries through the series & makes it compelling

thank you for this question, i really love it. to me, it's a number of things, starting with that the show cares deeply about hank and takes him seriously in a way that the culture doesn't. in a way, yes, he's their dog and pony show with the funny one-liners and the salacious pull. but the arc of the series is unequivocally aligned with him and his desires and his needs and his values.

hank wants to be with his family, wants to be better for them, wants to not let them down- and the show needs him to fail at all of those things. for the dog and pony of it all, for their viewership and for their thesis and for the food in their mouths, but it simultaneously feels bad that he is failing. simultaneously knows that this isn't what he wants, and that it's sad. and it can be as simple as a dream sequence or a look or a quiet final scene, but every single episode is ultimately going to remind you that everything you're laughing at is a loss.

which, like i said at the top, speaks to a level of respect that the show had for the character that is just gone in discussions of the series. they take the time to recognize that he is missing something. he is losing something and he is without everything that means anything to him, this is the cost. equally important, duchovny respects that character and understands the same.

i was listening to an interview last night (trish you heard this) where he was speaking with some podcast dudebros and one of the hosts said that he always wanted to be just like hank moody, and then he made some "bad decisions" and got there, and he doesn't like it. and duchovny said that every time people come up to him saying "i'm just like hank moody," he says "i'm sorry."

men watch and they want to be just like hank moody and women watch and they want to fuck hank moody so bad, and all of you miss what the source comprehends: that it's an irreparable deficit.

other than that, i feel like what roots that show is that it really isn't all that cynical. not in the way that it could be. and the show believes in hank.

there is a lot of kindness and hope (often false hope) that runs underneath most every relationship and interaction and dynamic in the series and i really really appreciate that about it. it's like in the pilot when hank is being mean and he wants marcy to yell at him and she just says "go home, honey. sleep it off. tomorrow's another day."

there's always a little bit of understanding and grace amongst the crazies and i think there's something really special about that

[xhanisai]

.

[cheekblush]

lmaoooo found out today that my 2 “colleagues” (that’s honestly a too nice of a word for them) complained about me to our boss that apparently i don’t work hard enough and often just sit around doing nothing :)

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

I will never forget that article from a woman who compared looking after her child to being straight up being r*ped. What is wrong with some people?

[tvrningout-a]

new pinned post image hehe <3 now everything feels cohesive and my brain feels much more at ease looking at my blog :' ) i've also!! edited my muse pages, so the current primary muses are chiyo, rin, cyrillo, bronwyn, and yuzu. my other muses have been distributed to the secondary and tertiary lists. and i've added a note to my primary list that specifies chiyo as my main muse as she's the loudest out of everyone these days!

[deadmegumi]

Smeagles is like if not that kind of girl and bury me in black had a beatuiful baby girl And she was transgender