#angry about all the relationships i fucked up

[scimagic]

do you have any headcanon about mr puzzles dad/his and mr puzzles relationships?

BOY DO I!!!

Sit down let me take you on a sad sad journey about a sad sad man

Let me get this one right off the bat:

Puzzles is an only child of divorce

His parents took a shared custody when he was really young, leaving little Puzzles in a shaky unstable situation

The only good side to that is that he was able to go to amusement parks twice on his birthday

Hence, his love for amusement parks (practically his happiest memories)

It was a twice-a-year happening. Two whole days to have fun and ignore whatever the hell was happening with the adults!

Best of all it was all about him!! His birthday! His gifts! His big day! He loved seeing everyone in the park having fun just like him

But of course, when he told his dear old papa about his brilliant idea, he was shut down

That's when the problems began to brew a little more

His relationship with his father was always a strict one; Mr Dad was a strict man, straight to the point and harsh towards life

I imagine he was in some sort of white collar job, manager or administrator, some type of job that slowly kills your creativity and makes you a strict parent

So you can imagine the type of relationship a parent like that would have with his creatively-inclined son

I don't necessarily think he was a bad person, none of that physical abuse stuff. More like- raised his voice a lot, spoke in harsh tones and widely misunderstood his kid

Because of that, Puzzles began to dislike his father when he stayed with him, even if most of the time he was up in his room watching TV by that point

They never really saw eye to eye after that, Mr Dad kept trying to move his son away from creative fields and Puzzles just kept pushing against authority to pursue his dreams

By the time he grew up, he practically cut off all contact with his father

He's still angry and bitter that his old man never even gave him a chance to prove that he Does have creative vision and can make something truly great

And to rub it in his face and say "I told you so" and give him a big finger FHDJKSA

Even if his father doesn't see what Puzzles accomplished (for whatever reason), he would still be able to say he did it

Now that he's in prison though, now he regrets it even more because he never got to show how wrong his father was

The hate has been brewing, got spilled, and is still brewing

He's a very vengeful-driven man hfjkdsa

Sometimes the thought of his father being right crosses his mind but he tries to shut it down

However- the only thing that Puzzles wants more than to prove his father wrong, is to prove himself right

That's why he's a lil fucked up and is where he is right now <3

[lost-romantique]

Updating this post to include evidence from Ghostfuckers...

"OH THAT BIRD STEALING COCK BAG!"

One of the main contentions as to why people were into the idea of a love triangle was because they wanted to see more Jealous Blitz.

I think this had to do with people thinking that Blitz was a lot stronger than he really is. A lot of people thought that, "Well, Blitz is a strong guy, and I think he can fight for love, and fight for Stolas' affections."

But the problem is that isn't what happened...

Instead we got this...

GIF Credits to @angelshizuka

A pathetic image of a man who literally spent the entirety of one month holed up in his office, gorging himself in ice cream, watching porn, and spending all his company's assets on the stupidest shit imaginable.

Blitz is angry at Millie for calling what he and Stolas had as a breakup when they were never in a relationship, but he turns his head and his voice breaks when he says the words, "...and we never will."

The tone of his words express hopelessness and remorse, but the main conclusion I got from those words is, I give up.

How can there be a love triangle, when one man's already given up?

The one thing that Ghostfuckers makes blatantly obvious is how much Blitz is aware of his fuck ups in his relationship with Stolas, and just how deep his feelings for Stolas actually go.

Blitz regrets rejecting Stolas' reaching hand in Ozzie's

Blitz regrets accusing Stolas of only assuming that their entire relationship was based on sex.

Blitz regrets ever receiving the crystal, and considers it one of the most traumatic moments of his life, because losing the book and gaining the crystal was equivalent to losing Stolas.

Blitz regrets pushing Stolas away during their argument in Apology Tour.

Blitz regrets ever making Stolas think that he never gave a shit about him, when the opposite is true.

Blitz regrets even questioning Stolas' love for him because these are the words Blitz says to Stolas during this scene.

"This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?"

Or perhaps the reason why this memory is here is from the response Stolas gives to him instead, indicating a place of pain. "Blitz. There is a crowd full of people here, who cared so much, they'd throw an entire fucking party about hating you, every year! Do you know how much you have to care to do something as stupid as that?"

The last image of Stolas in Blitz's memory is his kiss with BTB, indicating a look of pure envy and hurt.

We the audience are aware of the fact that Stolas was lost in the throes of passion and happily engaged in that drunken kiss, both sets of his eyes are closed and he's just lost in the moment, not fully aware of his surroundings.

However, in Blitz's memory, Stolas' upper set of eyes are open and for Blitz, he didn't see that kiss as a drunk kiss. No, he saw that kiss as Stolas moving on from him. Look how happy Stolas' upper eyes are to be kissing BTB.

For Blitz, that's the only thing he needs to see to indicate that Stolas has moved on from him.

Even if Blitz was able to acknowledge his feelings for Stolas by the end of Ghostfuckers, that doesn't mean he's going to fight for Stolas' affections if he sees Stolas genuinely in love with another man.

Blitz isn't that strong, emotionally. This man does not have the heart to fight for something if he feels unwanted or unloved, he'll just count his losses and move on.

It's what Blitz did with Fizz. Blitz saw Fizz was genuinely happy and in love with Ozzie, and while he makes jokes with him, he isn't taking any active steps to actually break them apart.

Don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean he won't come for Stolas if he sees him in danger. I have no doubt that seeing Stolas in danger will push Blitz into action to save him and protect him.

But to fight for his love? Make attempts to appeal himself to Stolas while dating another guy? Actually try to break Stolas apart from someone else that he (in Blitz's eyes) is happily in love with? No. Blitz won't do that.

Me the moment Stolitz becomes a love triangle...

NOTHING YOU PEOPLE SAY WILL EVER CONVINCE ME THAT A LOVE TRIANGLE IS A GOOD IDEA!!

*cough* This is to address the concerns that people have been messaging me on reddit and tumblr.

~~~

Oh Stolas needs to experience a healthy romantic relationship...

The man needs friends. For fucks sakes, stop trying to get in his pants and get this man to join a fucking book club or something. He's lonely.

Don't you think it would be romantic if Stolas actually chose to be with Blitz in the end?

Why does Stolas choosing Blitz always have to involve Stolas breaking the heart of another guy in the process?

I want Stolas to experience that fairy tale romance.

They don't exist.

We can get more jealous Blitz.

No, we are getting more "Depressed Blitz that thinks he's gonna die alone because this man has a major inferiority complex the size of fucking Jupiter."

Blitz already had his chance...

The man didn't even know he was taking a test?

Blitz needs to fix himself first before he gets in a relationship with Stolas...

Blitz needs to deal with the root of his intimacy issues, yes. However, the idea that someone has to fix themselves in order to be in a relationship is a rather ableist viewpoint I do not condone.

Stolas also has problems that prevent him from getting in a normal relationship, but that's a whole other can of worms I don't want to open.

Blitz made Stolas cry!

STOP. IGNORING. HIS. FEELINGS.

This man has been in the verge of sobbing his eyes out in Full Moon and Apology Tour, and y'all didn't notice because Stolas didn't notice.

A love triangle will save their relationship.

Oh yes, who needs proper communication when the true answer all along was introducing a new person to the trash fire that is their problems. /j

Blitz and Stolas should just remain friends, and go find other partners.

Blitz has a body count of people he could have ended up with, but he didn't give a shit about any of them because that damn bird changed his brain chemistry so hard he went to a Party dedicated to hating his sorry ass.

And Stolas...

couldn't even forget about the motherfucker after going 25 years no contact. Do you honestly think he's going to get over him now after falling in love with the guy?

I'll be blunt, these guys also have way too much history together to remain "just friends" and stay "just friends".

Do I think they need to know each other as friends first before they start a serious relationship? Of course! But I also think these guys are gonna suck at being "just friends" and remaining "just friends".

Blitz and Stolas aren't endgame.

If these idiots were not endgame, than Brandon and Viv wasted four years of ours and their time on a relationship that was never going to come into fruition.

Also, the show is about Blitz and has always been about Blitz. The reason why Stolas is such an important character is because their building him up to be this red lizard's main love interest.

I am so tired. 😫

[halfbloodfics]

hi I’m not sure if anyone has asked for something like this but how about a dark and possessive snape, he walks into the great hall for dinner and sees reader all happy and talking to Remus lupin so he gets jealous and angry fucks reader 😭(sorry I get if this is weird)

YYYYEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW

Title: R U mine?

pairing: snape x female prof!reader, established relationship

18+ minors dni for the love of god.

cw: harddom!snape, rough sex, face fucking, choking, hair pulling, degrading, spanking, finger sucking, angry sex, threats of voyerism but no voyerism, begging, threats orgasm denial, ownership kink, slight breeding kink, fluffy ending, lil bit of aftercare described/rest of it implied

disclaimer: this is certainly a more rough smut than the other ones i've written. in ALL my writing, i always write with the intent that the actions of both characters are fully consensual, informed and desired. in this smut in particular, consent is explicitly given, but it is also provided before hand. i always write with the idea that characters boundaries, desires, safe words etc have been previously discussed. while smut is fun to read, extra care needs to be taken irl with hardcore sex and more rough kinks. consent, boundaries, and safewords are important xox

~

Severus had had a day, to say the least. He'd spent the previous 6 hours dealing with students and staff who seemed to be more interested in causing disturbances than their academic pursuits. Needy colleagues, roudy students and a quite literal physical fight between two first year Gryffindors.... Not to mention the never ending pile of papers on his desk that he had barely put a dent in, or the looming reminders of Dumbledore's plan creeping into the back of his tired mind. Severus had had, a day.

He found a quiet relief in the idea of spending the evening, alone, with his partner, you. Even if the past six hours had been excruciating, even if he still had more work to do today and the next day, and even the day, hell weeks, after that, at least tonight he could be by her side.

His gaze softened at the mere thought of it, walking down the long, stone corridors of Hogwarts down to the Great Hall.

A dinner. That's it. He thought. A simple meal, eat a few bites, take a few sips of wine, pretend to be at least somewhat listening to the small talk around. And then peace, finally p-

His thoughts trailed off as he entered the Great Hall to see you there. His brows furrowing once again, not at the sight of you, looking as gorgeous as ever, your hair down, dress hanging perfectly off your body. Not at the stunning smile on your face, the scrunch of your nose as you grinned or he rise of your chest as you laughed; not even at the fact that it wasn't him eliciting such a response.

No. It was the fact that the man who was, was none other than Remus Lupin.

His jaw clenched as he approached, waiting for the moment you so graciously would decide to pay attention to your own partner instead of the bloody werewolf beside you.

When he was steps away from his seat, you turned, face lighting up even more at the sight of him. His own expression was stoic, unmoving as he his gaze remained almost harshly on Lupin as you kissed his cheek in greeting.

With the food appearing before you, the three of you took your seats. Severus to your right, Lupin to your left, you in the middle. You began to cut into your food, continuing the conversation you had been having with Lupin before Severus had entered; blissfully "unaware" of your partners clenched jaw, his hardening grip on the fork as he began to cut a little harder into his food.

Your head tossed back in laughter once more, Severus could feel his frustration mounting. He picked at his food as you continued with giggling, counting down the minutes until you'd be excused.

~

It was late at night when you finally knocked on the door to Severus's chamber. The short grunt of acknowledgement on the other side prompted you to enter. You closed the door quietly behind you, taking off your coat and hanging it on the hanger.

"Hi, love." You spoke softly. When you didn't hear a response, you turned to look at him, really, look at him; and that's when you noticed the look in his eyes.

Leaning back in his chair, Severus sat with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His black hair hung slightly in front of his darkened eyes, the look in them akin to something you had rarely seen in him before.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the quick snap of his fingers shut you up.

"Now," He spoke, his voice low, "Now you come to me. Now you decide to grace me with your presence."

Your lips still parted, your brows furrowed in confusion, you spoke: "Sev? What-"

"How was your dinner?" He asked through gritted teeth, leaning further back in his chair as he fingers drug into the tight dark fabric of his sleeves. "Or, should I say how was the conversation? I wouldn't know, considering I was hardly a part of it."

You open your mouth to speak again but he cut you off.

"Do you want to know, the day I've had?" He murmered, his voice low, "Do you want to know, the shit... I've put up with?"

You let your lips close again, feeling the heat in your abdomen grow with the dangerously low sound of his voice. You both knew how much you liked when got like this... The possessive, darker side that you'd pull from deep within him if you wanted to. And you knew, that you certainly had wanted to. Why else would you laugh so loudly, at Lupins jokes, right beside Severus? Why else would you choose to ignore the clench of his jaw as he sat still beside you? You both had had countless conversations on the nature of this jealousy. On the boundaries of it, on the dangers, on the pleasures... And Severus knew exactly what pleasures you liked.

You stared at him from across the room, feet planted firmly in place. His gaze hardened as he watched your blank expression remain unmoving.

His chin tilted down only a little more, just enough for the dim candle light to cast dark shadows under his eyes. His anger dancing clearly upon his face now, he spoke, his voice a dangerously low hiss:

"Do you want to know, how I had been waiting, yearning, a single ounce of relief from the burdens thrust upon me? The promise of sitting beside my girl? Seeing her smile for me?"

You stayed frozen, completely transfixed by the look of barely restrained rage on his face. Unbeknownst to you, the pace of your breathing had quicked, air entering your lungs in quick trembling gasps.

The beginning of an apology threatened to spill out from your quivering lips, but it died before its escape with the raise of his finger.

"Do you know, " he hisses, his voice dripping in rage, "how it feels, to see my girl, giggling like a little slut with one of the men I depise the most?"

Something fluttered in your chest, the heat growing in your abdomen with his degrading words. You parted your lips again to apologize, or maybe to protest but-

"You don't." He hissed, a loud, seething whisper.

His darkened gaze lowered, tracing a dangerous path down your trembling body.

His gaze flicked back up to your eyes and your breath died in your throat at the wild, primal rage that seemed to swim within his eyes.

"No." He murmered, his voice nearly dropping an octave. "But you will."

Your stomach dropped, his eyebrow twitched: "Come here. Now."

You didn't even think to disobey. You closed the distance between where you stood and his desk, making your way around the stack of scattered parchment to stand in front of his chair.

Severus, however, had other plans.

With one swift movement, he rose from his chair, his firm hand tangling itself roughly in your hair, forcing you to your knees.

You gasped as he gave your hair a firm tug, forcing your gaze up at him. His hair was a mess, chest rising and falling drastically wiith each breath, as if it was taking every ounce of physical strength in his battered form not to absolutely pounce on you. His pupils blown, brows furrowed as he gritted out through clenched teeth: "You want this?"

You nodded, the heat pooling between your legs, thighs subconciously rubbing together as you looked up at him, seeking friction.

He grunted, gripped your hair tighter and you let an audible gasp splip from your lips. "What's our safe word?" He hissed.

"Asphodel." You whispered. Your voice came out a breathless, shaky sound.

His right hand slipped from your hair, fingers now roughly gripping your chin, forcing your lips to part further. In an instant they were slipped inside, roughly caressing your tongue.

You gasped, gagged for a moment on the unexpected penetration.

"Little slut." He spat. "Choking on that already?"

You whimpered, lips closing around his thick fingers as you began to lightly suck, coatiing his digits in your saliva.

Severus's jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring slightly at the sight of you on your knees, looking up at him with those wide eyes. He roughly yanked his fingers from your mouth, gripping your chin and forcing that helpless gaze up higher.

When the beginning of another apology formed itself on your tongue, his voice silenced it imediately.

"Silence. I do not want to hear a single thing from your filthy lips except for you gagging and choking on me."

You swallowed, nodded.

Fuck.

Your panties were absolutely soaked now. You were sure it was enough to soak the floor beneath you. You could certainly feel it wetting your thighs, the dull ache of your clit throbbing as you looked up at him.

His right hand went back to gripping the back of your hair tightly, his other hand roughly tugging at the buttons of his trousers, unzipping, reaching into his black boxers.

He pulled out his long, hard cock, your breath quickening at the sight of it as you mentally prepared yourself.

His grip on your hair tightened. "How do you tell me to stop?" He practically growled.

Your answer came out a shaky gasp: "Three taps."

He yanked on your hair, your lips parting to gasp and immediately being stuffed by the entirety of his thick cock. Gagging, you choked, hands instinctively coming up to hold hips and regain some sense of control. Graciously, he allowed it, too focused on roughly thrusting himself into your mouth to bother with your pointless grip on his hips.

Both hands now held your head as he roughly began to thrust into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size. Gagging, tears filled your eyes, obscuring your vision as you tried to look up at him. Giving up, you squeezed them shut, focusing on breathing through your nose as he took what he wanted.

"Open... Your eyes." He hissed, giving a series of particularly rough thrusts to your throat. "You're going to watch me fuck your face. See it's me, not your little friend."

Your eyes flew open with as you gagged to find his harsh gaze looking down on you. He continued to fuck your face mercilessly as your hands trembled on his hips. You could hardly make out the sharp features of his face as tears filled your eyes, your mascara spilling down your cheeks as he continued to use you.

He grunted, his breath coming in quick sharp gasps as both hands roughly held your head in place with each harsh, quick thrust of his hips.

"Not so talkative now, are we?" He grunted, continuing his brutal pace.

You whimpered, gagging, trying desperetely to breathe through your nose.

Focus. Inhale. Exhale. Relax.

"No." He hissed, his breathing rapid. "Finally using that slut mouth for what it's meant for."

You whined, panting through your nose, feeling his cock roughly hit the back of your throat with each painful thrust.

A low moan escaped his lips. "Not mouthing off to that fucking wolf. Not laughing at his jokes."

His pace quickened, if it was even possible. His breathing was becoming more ragged, desperate, his release coming on quick.

A low moan left Severus's lips. With this encouragment, you sucked harder, bobbing your head in time with his rough thrusts. A ragged gasp tore up from his chest, filling the air with the lewd sounds of his panting and the lewd, wet slapping of your face against his pelvis.

Both of his strong hand thrusted your head firmly against his hips, his cock now painfully pushed against the base of your throat as he held you still, firmly in place.

With a grunt, he came, his hot, salty release painting your throat. Gagging, you screwed your eyes shut as he held you in place, coaxing every last drop it down your throat.

"Swallow." He panted. "Swallow it. You pathetic slut."

When you had, he used his right hand again to grip the back of your hair and yank you off him and released you.

Air filled your lungs instantly. As if you had been drowning, you stumbled back on your knees, collapsing, panting against the floor.

For less than a minute, you stared at Severus's black shoes, painting as you tried desperately to catch your breath. When you were sure you would not pass out, you looked up at him, aware that you probably looked a mess.

He was panting as well, looking down on you with that same, seething expression. You knew it had not been enough. To fuck your face was not enough. You had really pissed him off this time. He needed more.

His voice came out through gritted teeth: "Bend over."

You tried to stand, but his hand shoved your head back down before it could rise past his hips. Looking up at him confused, you felt the realisation dawn upon you with a flutter in your chest.

"Here, on the floor?" You whispered. Your voice was softer than you expected, as if he had managed to somehow fuck your vocal chords.

His jaw twitched and you didn't dare to question him again. On weak hands, you shifted so that you were on your hands and knees on the wooden floor.

In an instant he was on top of you. His one hand pressed between your shoulder blades, pushing you down so that your face was flush against the floor. His other hand ripped off your skirt, the fabric tearing loudly.

A silencing charm was cast.

"You're lucky I have an ounce of mercy left for you after the stunt you pulled today. Otherwise I'd have let everyone hear all your pathetic little cries." He spat, hooking his right arm under your stomach and hoisting you up so that you were on your knees in your panties, your face still pinned to the floor.

Severus was often a slow lover. It wasn't pace, per say, but rather the amount of time he dedicated to sex. Majority of the time, your love making, whether on the gentler or the rougher side, lasted up to an hour, sometimes more.

That patience was lost on Severus now though, who, without even stretching you, pushed the entirity of his cock into you.

A sound that was akin to a yelp left your lips as you clawed at the floor, panting at the feeling of him stretching you out.

Severus hissed, gripped your hips with his right hand, his left still pinning you to the floor. "Dirty slut." He murmered. "Soaked just from sucking my cock?"

You whimpered, nodded, any shame having long abandoned you.

Barely having given you time to adjust, Severus began to thrust into you at a brutal pace. His hips slapped against your ass, the skin actually starting to sting with the force of his thrusts. He had never fucked you so feverishly, so desperately, like a man who was clinging every part inside him urging him to claim. As if your flirting with Lupin really was an act of slipping away from him, and this was his remedy.

Lewd moans flew from your mouth, whining, desperate sounds. Babbling curses, his name, repeated half stuttered words you knew he liked to hear. A chorus of whimpers ringing out across the luckily, silenced room.

Severus left hand weaved itself through your hair, grabbing it at the base and roughly yanking your head back. Only then did you feel the drool slipping down your chin and realised how absolutely lost you were.

His speed steady, he kept a firm grip on your waist, leaning in to hiss in your ear: "Fucking pathetic. Getting fucked on the floor like a whore." He delivered a hard slap to your ass, causing your body to jerk back against him. "And you like it. Don't you, dirty girl?"

The "yes" that came from your mouth was ragged and broken, a mix of a whimper and a cry that struggled to make its way past your quivering lips.

His hand shifted from your hair to your chin, gripping it tightly, pulling you back higher as he continued to pound into you.

"I said." Thrust.

"You like it." Thrust.

"Don't you?" Thrust.

Your nails desperately scratched at the floor, seeking something to cling onto. The combination of his words, his pace, his dominance... Everything you liked, desired, all at once.. It was going to send you over the edge shamelessly quick if you didn't get it together.

"Ugh yes!" You sobbed. "L-love it..."

The hand gripping your chin offered a light, gentle slap before his fingers forced themselves into your mouth.

"Suck." He ordered, continuing his rough pace.

You obeyed, eyes closing as you tried to focus on sucking his fingers despite the growing heat in your abdomen as he continued to hit your G spot.

You could tell by his ragged breaths, the way his grunts were becoming more frequent, a little louder, that he was approaching his climax as well. He moved, like he needed it. Like he'd die without it.

Severus bit down hard on your neck, with his fingers still in your mouth, hand still gripping your waist as he moved.

The cry that came from you was muffled with his fingers, which began to thrust, fucking your mouth in time with his thrusts.

"You think I want you strutting around this castle acting like a greedy slut?" He delivered a hard slap on your ass. "Like I can't control you? Like my cock isn't enough for you?"

You whimpered around his fingers, shaking your head, eyes shut in pleasure as your legs began to shake.

"Walking around like I don't own this fucking pussy?" He hissed. "Like I don't fill it up with my cum every night?"

You whined at his lewd remarks. Never had you heard Severus speak so crudely or curse so much. You'd discussed it, sure, expressed your interest in it. It wasn't a foreign, and certainly not an unwanted concept... But it had never... Been as intense as this.

The way he slammed into you, fucking you on the floor as he nearly hissed into your ear, hands clawing at every part of your body. You could tell he was trying his best to fuck some sense into you, while also convincing himself that you were his.

And certainly, you wanted him to know.

When his fingers withdrew from your mouth to wrap themselves tightly around your neck, you let out a loud moan.

"Y-yours.. I'm.. I'm sorry.."

He growled, spanked you again. "Are you, now? Sorry for making my shit day worse or being a pathetic slut?"

You cried out, the sound muffled by the squeeze of his fingers around your throat. "B-both.. Sorry.. Sev.. S-sorry.." You said shakily.

Severus bit down on your ear, his lips moving down your jaw, your neck, leaving harsh, stinging bites on the skin there.

He began to grunt, his black hair fell on your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck, holding you up against his chest while he fucked you roughly.

His breath hot and rapid, you could feel the faltering of his hips, the hitching of his breaths. He was close.

"You don't even deserve to come" He practically growled against your neck as he delivered yet another harsh slap to your ass.

Now this was an outcome you hand't considered. You had teased him at dinner, with a goal in mind. But being denied your orgasm? When it was so strongly building inside you?

"Please." You whimpered, "Pl-please.."

Another stinging bite on your neck. "You don't deserve it."

Your legs threatened to give out underneath you with the sheer force of how much your body had begun to shake.

Your heart nearly dropped as the possibility that he really would deny you your orgasm grew more likely. Desperation clogged your mind, shown through quick, harsh pants and whines that flew from your quivering lips.

"Please." You nearly cried. "I'm sorry.. I-"

Your apology was cut short by your desperate whine as he hips completely stilled. For what seemed like the first time in years, he was now completely still inside you, panting against your neck.

This was it. You thought. He won't let me. He-

Severus's fingers loosened their grip on your throat, that hand moving now to completely cover your mouth, muffling your surprised moan. He lifted his head from your neck, murmering in a low firm voice in your ear: "You'll come. But only because I need to that slut pussy clench as you milk me dry. You understand?"

Your stomach fluttered as you nodded quickly.

His large hand remained firm on your mouth as he began to slam into you again, somehow even harsher, faster, than before. You cried out against his palm, moaning shamelessly as tears of pleasure and pain began to prick your eyes.

Your legs shaking rapidly, you were practically limp in his arms as he held you up and panted against your ear.

"Mine." He growled.

"Mine." Thrust.

"To use." Thrust.

"To fuck." Thrust.

"To fill." Thrust.

Now completely shaking, you could feel the knot in your stomach coiling tighter, beginning to clench around him as he fucked you brutally.

Severus released his hand from your mouth, the room instantly filling up with the sound of your cries.

He yanked your hair back again.

"Look... at... me..." He panted, and you obeyed.

In his eyes you saw the pure, released lust and possession swimming within them. The furrow of his brow, the slight gleam of sweat, his parted lips...

It was enough to send you over the edge, You came, hard. The tsunami wave of pleasure wracking itself over your body. You nearly screamed his name, a breathless, torn sound as you convulsed in his arms

Something shifted, changed in those eyes before he closed them, burying his face into the grove of your neck.

"i... love... you.." He whispered, so low you could barely even hear it, barely even able to focus on it as your orgasm wracked your body.

With the clenching of your walls around him, his hips stuttered as he came. A near whimper was muffled by the marked up flesh of your neck as he thrust his hips into you a final time, coating your insides in his release.

For a moment, all the two of you could do was pant. He continued to hold you up against his chest for several moments until both your breathing had slowly gone back to normal.

Once he had regained some control, Severus picked you up, sitting down on the chair at his desk with you in his lap. With your head nuzzled into his chest, you allowed your lungs to fill with the familiar scent of his robes.

The same fingers that had penetrated and grasped at you moments ago tangeled gently in your hair, coaxing out the knots that had formed as he brushed it away from your face.

As your eyelids fluttered open, you saw him looking down at you, a soft, almost invisible smile on his lips, his black eyes gentle once more.

"Was that alright, my love?" He murmered as his fingers moved down to trace over the marks he had left on your neck and collarbone.

Nodding, you let out a soft hum.

"Did I hurt you, was I to-"

You cut him off before his fear of actually hurting you could weave its way into his mind any further.

"Perfect." You whispered, weakly. "You were perfect."

His brow relaxed slightly at this. The corner of his lip twitching up in a small, half smile as he gazed down at you in his arms. With a soft hum, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Come," He said, picking you up, "Lets get you cleaned up."

-

this was the filthiest thing i've ever written. wowzers.

hope it was decent.

cheerio

xx

taglist:

@graciesbow @niftysnazzy @plecosylvia @dark-st  @3hrysfiction-blog @ilovegrapes-world @darkvoidz @lexiitaylorrrr @theheartwants-what-itwants

this is my first time using a taglist, which will be used for all my fics (smut and not) so you must be 18+ to join. i mean my blog clearly states minors do not interact. if you want to join, shoot me message or comment on my post where i ask if anyone wants to join. if you want to be removed, message me as well xo

[a1ecmcdowell]

coincidence — rafe cameron x pogue!reader!

part of the short n' sweet x obx collection, found here!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, pogue!reader. cheating. sad!rafe :(. i promise i love sofia.

❛ what a surprise - your phone died, and your car drove itself from l.a. to between her thighs! ❜

you and rafe were a bit tumultuous. he loved you in private, and he loved you so much that it sometimes ached, like the sweetest form of violence. 

but in public, he could never manage to switch off the part of his brain that rejected every pogue he came across like he did when you two were alone. it was like he was more concerned about what his friends thought of him and his relationship than he did about your feelings. 

he was pulling back. you could see the signs of it in the ways he started having excuses to keep you from coming over, how his hand would subtly slip from yours when you were out together. 

and you couldn’t just pick apart his brain and fix whatever the problem was, because he didn’t talk to you enough anymore to let you in. 

you didn’t know if you were even still together, but he wouldn’t just ghost you a year into your relationship. he couldn’t. 

you’d decided the night before that you were just going to show up and demand an answer from him. it would probably be a fight, you knew; but what could hurt more than being with someone that didn’t want you any longer? 

that next morning was cloudy gray and speckled with misty raindrops. it didn’t feel like a very good omen about what was coming, but it didn’t slow your footsteps up his porch.

your hand raises to knock on the door at the same moment that it pulls open, and out stumbles — a girl. short brown hair, pretty glossed lips, wearing nothing but a pink bikini top and denim shorts. 

and behind the open door, strong hand wrapped around the edge of it, is rafe. smiling at her like he hadn’t smiled at you in weeks. 

the smile falls the moment his eyes lift to you, and the girl apologizes as she dodges running into you, and it all feels like a big fucking slap in the face. 

he’d been the best part of your life for so long. this hope that you could be more than the cut. and all of this time, he was waiting for the moment that he could dump you back off on your side of outer banks.

“why didn’t you call?” he asks, like that’s the first thing anyone should say when they’re caught cheating. 

you can’t tell if you’re more angry or hurt. both emotions feel like a hot, heavy weight sat right on your sternum. “you don’t answer anymore.” 

“because i’m busy.” 

there’s no remorse in his eyes. actually, you can’t even tell if there is, because he’s looking away from you like he’s already cut you from the picture of his life. 

“what, screwing other girls?” you snap, your voice biting and raw. 

his jaw flexes, tongue pressing into his cheek. “it’s complicated.” 

“i don’t think it is, rafe.” you shake your head, your lips pressed into a tight line. “you were cheating, and you’re mad you’re caught.” 

“oh, you think it’s that simple, huh?” he takes a step closer, his frame taking up the entirety of the doorway. “y’think overnight i just started thinking about wanting to fuck someone else?” 

you falter. no, he’s not going to get away with flipping this on its head and blaming you. making you apologize. 

“you can’t just blame me because you don’t want to take responsibility—” 

his fist slams against the wooden doorframe, and you flinch, because this really was going to be as volatile as you thought. you’d hoped that you were wrong, but you were right, and he was angry that you weren’t just some stupid little pogue he could manipulate. 

“i am taking responsibility. yeah, i fucked sofia,” he seethes through his clenched teeth, “yeah, i’ve been sneakin’ around, what the fuck else do you want to hear?” 

your arms wrap around your chest, and you have to resist the urge to stumble backwards. sofia, sofia, sofia. it plays in your head on a loop, the girl he deemed worth ruining what you had for. 

“why?” is all that you can manage to say. 

his eyes finally drop down to look at you. they’re so blue in the dawning sunrise that you wish, wish, things were different right now, so you could smooth the creases in the corners of his eyes. “m’not good for you.” 

“bullshit.” you spit it out before he’d even finished speaking. “if i thought that, i wouldn’t have stuck around as long as i have. i wouldn’t be sticking around now.” 

“you shouldn’t,” he says just as violently serious as the last, “i’m— i’m trying to push you away, sweetheart—” 

sweetheart. 

it shouldn’t affect you like it does, after how he’d just hurt you like this. but it does, of course it does, because you loved him like the sun loved the moon, and even when he was trying to break this, you’d always be in his orbit. 

“you can’t,” your voice is small as it leaves your lips, but your words aren’t, “i’m not goin’ anywhere. this is one good thing you can’t ruin. not on my watch.” 

he stares at you with that intense blue gaze of his for a long minute. the seconds tick by like hours while you wait for him to say anything. 

and he doesn’t — not with his words, anyway. his arms move from the doorway and encircle your waist, tugging you into a tight embrace. 

you’d known about how much he struggled with wanting acceptance, craving validation that he never got. you’d never expected him to be so used to rejection that he tried to cause it himself, just to be in that familiar place again. 

“m’sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the crown of your head and leaving them there. “don’t deserve you. i don’t.” 

“you will, and you do,” you push, your fingers curling tightly against his spine. “when you go wash her perfume off of you.” 

his laugh cracks, but it’s a laugh, so you feel better about this. about him. about where he’s at in his head. “of course.” 

“and delete her number.” 

his hands raise to your face, framing it between his large palms. “already did it, baby. but you’re real cute when you’re jealous.”

[cherryblossombankai]

Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: angst, seriously it's just angst, alcohol, mentions of anxiety and trauma, sort of implied toxic relationship, breakup, sad, depression, jealousy A/N: I'm so sorry for this :) Tag List: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @helloiamadrawer, @satorustar, @sweet-chocolate-sweet

You knew deep down that breaking up had been for the best, or at least you’d believed Aizawa when he said it was for the best. Aizawa was still trying to overcome his trauma, and you're no walk in the park to live with either. Stubborn and moody on the best of days, paralyzed with anxiety on the worst of days. You knew it took him some patience at times to navigate life with you, but he wasn’t a walk in the park either. You thought you were each other’s person until he asked for space. You gave it in hopes he would eventually realize that he needs you.

It had helped you along the healing process when you believed he was as miserable as you. You took comfort in the image of him curled up in bed, mourning the scent of your perfume fading from the pillow. At the very least, it made you feel less pathetic for still sleeping in his shirt every night and refusing to wash it because he'd no longer be lingering in the stitches. 

You were fine, truly. Most days you only cried a couple of times, and you hardly ever typed up a text you'd never send anymore. At least not when you're sober. The things you’d never sent while knee-deep in a bottle of wine, well that’s a different story. It ranged from “I miss you so bad” to “Why don’t you love me anymore?” but you never sent them, and that’s what matters. 

 "I'm on the path to healing. thank you very much,” you'd bragged to your friends over dinner. You meant it! Things were really starting to fall into place. 

Until it wasn’t anymore. 

All it took was one event to have your healing facade crashing down faster than you built it up. He didn't even like selfies, that's what he told you over and over. He would scoff and cover his face every time you tried to lean in to catch a snap of the two OF you together. More than once he went on a half-hearted rant about ‘living in the moment’ instead of stopping to photograph everything. You only have a handful of photos to prove that you didn't hallucinate a five-year relationship. 

Yet there he is on your timeline, snuggled up to a pretty girl who called him ‘baby' in the caption. His arm is wrapped around her. He's leaning in...He's smiling. 

Fuck, you love his smile. It was such a rare sight when he belonged to you. You wonder what this girl has that you didn’t.

Later that night, you and your roommate split a bottle of wine. 

"I hope he thinks of me when he fucks her," you ranted to your roommate. 

You were pacing the living room like a caged tiger. A caged, drunk tiger anyway. You were angry. How could he? What right does he have to be happy when you still whisper his name when you make yourself cum?

"I'm going to call him!" 

Your roommate thankfully finds your phone before you do. She swipes it OFF the coffee table while you're digging around in your pockets.

"Nope, that is a horrible idea," she says.

"Why? Don't I deserve answers? Closure?" you sit beside her on the couch. Your puppy eyes were almost enough for her to change her mind, but she didn't. 

"Of course you do, but not like this."

After your ranting and raving becomes sleepy, your roommate — No...your hero — tucks you into bed. She covers you up with a soft blanket and pushes your hair off your face. 

"Do you think he misses me?" you whine. "I want him to miss me.”  

"He'd be stupid not to miss you,” she says, too kind to break your delusions for now, “Get some sleep."

~

It felt like your heart was ripped out. Seeing a stupid selfie was one thing. Being face-to-face with the happy couple in the produce section of your favorite grocery store is another rotten thing entirely. Aizawa doesn't even live in this neighborhood. You can’t fathom why he’d decide to date someone from the same neighborhood as you. 

You're frozen to the spot. Your nails dug into the fragile flesh of the peach you were testing for ripeness moments before your worst nightmare came true. Aizawa doesn't notice you but, to your surprise, she does. Her smile falters and she quickly looks away as if making eye contact with you was painful for her. It was odd to see. You want to look away too, but seeing them is like watching a car crash. No matter how badly you want to look away, you just can’t.

"Oh, hello," Aizawa says when you finally shift into his line of sight.

"Hi," you fake a smile. You were hoping maybe you’d be able to seem genuinely unphased. 

It’s hard to be unphased when he doesn't have to fake a smile. His smile is real and you know she’s the reason for it. 

You clear your throat, "How are you?" 

"I'm good. Uh, this is my girlfriend, Ami."

"Nice to meet you." you lie for the sake of friendliness but refuse to shake hands. 

"I've heard so much about you." Ami says. "About your hero work, of course!"

“Right, of course. Thanks."

“We should get going, babe," he says and places his hand on her back. 

Babe? When did he become a guy who said something like 'babe'. It makes your stomach turn as you walk away. You used to make fun of people who said ‘babe’ together. 

"Why was I not enough for you?" you text him that night. Your eyes are so blurry with tears that you don't even think you could read his response. Not that he will ever respond, you figure. 

You roll onto you side, letting the tears flow from your eyes into the pillow. You clutch on tightly to the fluffy teddy bear he’d bought you for the last birthday you’d spent together.

"Don't do this," he texts back

.You drop your phone onto the bed, and you bury your face against your teddy bear. The muffled scream you let out is full of pain. You still love him. You know you shouldn't, but you want him back. You can taste him on your lips still. 

“Why? Because it's not on your time? Because you're not in control?" you text back.

"No! Because you're being emotional again.” 

“Again? God forbid I have feelings.” 

Aizawa was always so controlled. It was infuriating to know that no matter what you say you will never get under his skin the way you want to. He doesn’t respond for the longest time, and you decide to try once again to get to him. 

“Of course I'm emotional. I fucking love you."

When he doesn't respond, you get the message. There's nothing else to say. He's over you, or he wants to be. All you can do is pick up the pieces.

[callsign-bunnie]

I don't have an opinion on ALL of the ships. There's just not enough for many of the characters for me to really have a sin in mind for many of his ships, and I'm not touching non-story operators with a ten foot pole. Furthermore, I'm applying these in a directly romantic sense.

Sadly, I think I've become a lot less fun in the last year that I haven't been making headcanons

PriceGhost is wrath - I am so deeply confused as to why Wrath has been watered down to like... extreme anger or anything. Soap NEVER shows a tendency towards wrath, even if he can be very angry. He makes snide remarks, maybe small threats, but to say he's ever committing an action out of his own anger is just... wrong.

If you go by old Price, it's pretty well implied in Ghost's backstory that Price picked him up because of what he did in Coahuila. Speaking of, that entire thing was wrath.

And for new Price, he kills Shepherd in cold blood, even though it's established that it was unnecessary. Just Price delivering on the "John Price guarantee" that if you cross him, you'll regret it.

To say that they'd be anything other than wrathful with each other and others while in a relationship would be honestly insane. I just can't see either as being willing to let small issues go. Maybe they won't confront each other so much, but they will fester, and they will lash out.

One person makes a snide comment at Ghost's expense. Ghost forgot about it, it wasn't even that clever, but Price remembers and now Ghost is going to be forced to remember that someone insulted him once. Price got the asshole discharged and Ghost doesn't care about that, but could he shut the fuck up about it? Ghost doesn't need Price mentioning that "asshole who thought he had something clever to say" every other fucking barracks dinner. It's embarrassing, he doesn't want people to know, but that person dared to cross Price- (he didn't even cross Price, HE CROSSED GHOST) and lived to regret it.

But Ghost is just as angry and he's even more willing to act on it. Price drills into him that Ghost doesn't have to completely eradicate every threat, but he doesn't care and he feels like he shouldn't have to. They piss Ghost off, shouldn't that be enough reason to kill anyone who wants to take a shot at the John Price? Why does he have to keep pointing out that they're threats. Sure, maybe that one didn't actually explicitly say he was going to kill Price, maybe he just joked about it...

They should know better.

Aleghost is pride - I had to debate someone that Ghost shows a lot of pride so I'm starting to wonder if you guys know what Pride means, either. Pride as a sin is about self-devotion, self-justification, or self-glorying in a way that is against God. I'll uh... take it more in the sense of morality.

Ghost's whole character is that he believes he's above the rules. Fuck, he makes them. That's self-justification. His constant on and on about how dark he is and how he's a lone wolf and he's so dangerous and evil and on and on, that's self-glorying. And the way y'all have him petulantly dedicated to his own woes? That's self-devotion.

I don't think I really have to explain Alejandro's pride but I will. Beyond the whole "nothing can kill Alejandro but Alejandro" thing, where is the Mexican government? No, seriously. Where the hell is it? At no point does any Vaquero voice concerns about the Mexican military or Mexican government cracking down on them. Now I know that it's common American propaganda to portray Mexico as this completely lawless, orderless place but it's pretty unrealistic to assume an active government would completely ignore the entire thing with Graves.

But nope, they're never mentioned. They're never even a threat. Alejandro and Rodolfo have no issue just killing narcos and AQ soldiers in their mission together. Granted, I did notice that the majority of times when Rodolfo seemed to be free to open fire tended to be when Alejandro wasn't there which is... interesting, but Alejandro still has his fair share of picking off enemies.

And at no point does Alejandro feel the need to justify a single action of his. Blowing up his own base just to get it back? Nope. He never justifies why he's never put in the effort to take down Valeria before, even though it was clearly fairly easy since she had to FLEE TO AL MAZRAH AFTER ESCAPING PRISON, and then he has NO justification for saying "fuck it" and up and leaving the city he's still actively rebuilding to chase her ass around.

Rodolfo doesn't question him and granted, we don't have much story surrounding this actual moment, it still is really fucking strange.

Soapghost is Sloth - No justification besides just that Ghost would never actually have to put the effort in to be better because Soap seems to just sort understand Ghost as Ghost. I could get into this from even a fandom perspective if I really wanted to, but from the perspective of canon, Soap never really gives Ghost any pushback on his more negative behaviors.

Ghost wouldn't have to go to therapy, he'd simply say he was uncomfortable with the idea and Soap would understand because look what happened to his first therapist.

Ghost would state that he barely communicates because it's scary and Soap would trip over himself to somehow make it less scary that would ultimately end up with less communication, somehow.

GhostGaz is Lust but I think I've rambled enough

Ghost ships but they’re themed as the seven deadly sins (PriceGhost is pride)

[hel1nn]

Oh my good looking boy

︵⠀satoru gojo x fem reader ⠀◌Ⳋ𝅄

ꉂ`🍥 ⋮ fluff | smut nd 18+ content | cursed words | bf!toru to hubby toru:( |

Inspired by : good looking by suki waterhouse

His hair

After a long day at your school your finally able to cuddle your baby..oh satoru. His face is buried in your chest, you holding him as close as you can. Satoru and you have been dating almost a year. Both of you had never talked so much about some personal topics but. Whenever you see satoru coming back from one of his missions, not all the time but when you notice the tiredness in him your heart somehow sinks. He's still just a boy. A teen. Today is one of those days. Your usually the small spoon when it comes to cuddling but seeing him like this, you decided to hold him today, Whispering sweet nothings and few quiet i love you's. Your hand buried in his white locks. You press a kiss on top of his head, massaging his scalp. His six eyes were the reason of his almost unbearable headaches. But your alway there for him to make it bearable. His strawberry flavoured shampoo's smell fills your nose. Satoru softly groans, burying his face further in your chest. You smile before placing another kiss on top of his head, resting your chin on top of his head. Hus fluffy locks tickling your chin slightly but you don't care. All that matters right now is satoru. Your beloved.

His hands

Your sitting on satorus lap as satoru focuses on his paper work, his free hand interwind with yours. You had nothing to do for now but satoru had so many things to do. Yet all satoru wants is you. So here you are. Sitting on his lap as he fills uo the paper works. It kinda felt ridiculous yet your happy. Happy to be close to him. You snuggle closer to him. Tracing his veins on his hands, trailing up to his forearm then to his long fingers. Bringing his fingers up to your lips you press a small kiss on his pretty knuckles. You hear satoru chuckle slightly,he shifted his attention to you. Cupping your cute face in his free hand as he tilts your face,your eyes landing on his beautiful face

"you could ask for a kiss you know" satoru teases and you roll your eyes playfully, failing to stop the sweer smile appeared on your lips.

"then... just give me one already" you boop his nose with yours. Satoru grins, tenderly caressing your cheek before he leans down to kiss you.

His lips.

The room was filled with the heavy breathing of you and him sharing the first kiss of your relationship. Satoru looked like virgin fucking for the first time. (He is a virgin.) The little peck turned into making out. His tongue dancing with yours as he presses his lips to yours,you moaned in his mouth. His arm wrapped around you and you tenderly holding his face, pulling him closer. Both of your bodies pressed against eachother. You nibble on his lower lip gently and the pathetic whimper comes out of satorus mouth. God. You loved his lips. His lips were soft,sweet. Just testing like the candies you sneakily give him during classes. Your first lovely doubly make out session was going okay until the room's door slams open. A angry sugur standing there. The horror on both of your face was enough to make suguru laugh but he didn't. You and satoru now sitting beside eachother.

"you thought hiding in y/n's dorm would save you from me after leaving my clean room into a mess!!" suguru shouts, pulling satorus ear as if its a stretching toy or something, totally ignoring the seen he saw after coming in your room. You sigh,not knowing what to say. Satoru cries out in pain dramatically.

"suguru...dont be this much harsh.." you mumble out, trying to save satoru. Just then satoru pulls away pouting like a puppy who got scolded for eating food from dustbin. Hiding behind you. You slightly smiled just holding his hand.

"suguru, forgive him for now!" You simply said,suguru still thinks how do tou deal with a man like satoru..*pheww*

His eyes

"Your sure about this? I don't want to if you're uncomfortable.."

Satoru asks for the who knows how many time. You sigh, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Your hand rests on his bare chest. "Iam,toru. Or else i wouldn't have want this in the first place."

And here you two are.

His hips are gently thrusting into yours, his cologne filling up your nose strils. You gasp as he's long cock slides in and out from your tight hole. Your clinging onto him for dear life. Satoru's breaths are coming out shallow. Whimpering as your pretty hole clenches around him. Your eyes are clench shut as you feel him lean down to kiss you. Just then you hear a sniffle,yiur eys shots open,seeing a tear running down satoru's cheek as he his blue irises looks at you. You perk up on your elbow and cup his face in your hand, worry all over your face

"toru why are you cry-"

"your so pretty" satoru sobs out, leaning down to press soft kisses in your neck. His arms wraps around you, holding your bare body in against his warm chest. Your eyes wide in surprise,your face against rests,as a soft smile appears on your face. You again lay down on the bed, now holding in against you as he's sobs slowed downs slowly.

"your pretty too toru..* you coo looking at him,he pulls away to see your face. His blue eyes in the dark room looking like the brightest stars in the night sky. Oh..just like an angel. You don't know how but it starts to make sense slowly..satoru looks at you the same way, but with all these happening right he felt way too much lucky. "No your prettier" satoru pouts,you laugh softly caressing his cheek

"for you i am anything..toru" and then both of you continue your love making. His cock that was resting inside starts to thrust like before again. With so much love.

Him.

You stare at the white haired man in Infront of you. The veli on your face slightly making it difficult to see satoru. Your finally going to be his properly,satoru thinks is that how beautiful you were all the time? He always thought your soo much beautiful to him but today it kinda felt different. You looked like and angel who came from the sky to take hik away from thus cruel world. The white wedding dress on you looking perfect,the one satoru choosed it for you. The bouquet of blue roses in your hand,the shy look and blush on your face. The way you hair was styled. Everything felt like a dream. A dream he always had. Getting married to the woman he loves. His vision slightly gets blurred,the tears peaking out of hus eyes. He sees the cute smile on your face turns into worry

"s-satoru-"

"god your so beautiful.." satoru says before breaking into tears finally, cupping your face. He wants to kiss you,so bad. Kiss away the worry on your face. Somehow the worry on your face turns into a small smile, you giggle before speaking. Little tear peaking in the corner of your eyes

"maybe i wil cry soon because i am finally going to be yours."

A/N : sorry if i made mistakes and English isn't my first language:) posting drabbles since i am still working on the next chapter of my this series

[turtle-paced]

Do you think Jaime believes Tyrion poisoned Joffrey after he told Jaime he did during the breakout, I don't think he ever thinks about that part since he is so focused on whether Cersei had sex with Lancel and Osmund?

So here's the context:

"I never knew he would do that. You must believe me." "Oh, must I?" Tyrion snarled. "Why should I believe you about anything, ever? She was my wife!" "Tyrion—" He hit him. It was a slap, backhanded, but he put all his strength into it, all his fear, all his rage, all his pain. Jaime was squatting, unbalanced. The blow sent him tumbling backward to the floor. "I . . . I suppose I earned that." "Oh, you've earned more than that, Jaime. You and my sweet sister and our loving father, yes, I can't begin to tell you what you've earned. But you'll have it, that I swear to you. A Lannister always pays his debts." [...] Jaime handed him the ring of keys. "I gave you the truth. You owe me the same. Did you do it? Did you kill him?" The question was another knife, twisting in his guts. "Are you sure you want to know?" asked Tyrion.

Just after that, that's when we get the lines:

"You poor stupid blind crippled fool. Must I spell every little thing out for you? Very well. Cersei is a lying whore, she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know. And I am the monster they all say I am. Yes, I killed your vile son."

Basically, Tyrion's screwing with Jaime like Jaime screwed with him (under Tywin's instructions initially, but still, Jaime had choices in the years that followed). If Jaime made Tyrion believe a lie, Tyrion can make Jaime believe a lie. Which is all the easier to feed him when it comes with the truth of Cersei's infidelity. As Jaime realises over AFFC, that part definitely has the ring of truth to it.

I think there's a part of Jaime that knows Tyrion was lashing out - the relevant truth, more than anything about who killed Joffrey, is that Tyrion was that angry with Jaime. The lies Jaime told blew up the relationship that much, and that's what's made Tyrion tell both that truth and that lie, in a way that they both knew would get under Jaime's skin like nothing else. Jaime's not just struggling with his father's murder and the realisation that his sister-girlfriend has been cheating on him, he's dealing with the realisation that his brother might really hate him now too.

[shutupineedtothink]

I need people to know that Rio's behavior in ep 8 was NOT out of character.

That was her finally hitting her breaking point.

Agatha hurt her So Bad with their deal on the Road. She looked at Rio with nothing but hate and venom and said I never want to see you again. When you ferry my soul to the afterlife, I don't even want to see your face. You gave me nothing.

Except she HAS. (hence her reaction in that moment) She's given Agatha so much. She gave Agatha six years with Nicky that he never should have had. She gave Nicky six years with Agatha. She took him peacefully in his sleep and depending on your interpretation, told him ahead of time so that he could have a peaceful night with his mama instead of killing witches.

Then when she tried to kill Billy the first time (throwing him through the glass window), she let him live when Agatha begged her to stop. Billy's soul is within her rights to claim, just like Nicky's was. And she stayed her hand, for Agatha, AGAIN. No one in history has had special treatment like you.

Even besides that, she's given Agatha so many chances to let go of her anger. She helped her break out of Wanda's spell. She's tried to come clean with her, to reason with her, to be there for her on the Road. She defends her against her evil ghost mom. She defends her to the coven. And except for one hug and almost kiss, one slip into old habits, Agatha gives her nothing but her rage.

Sad is better than angry and Agatha has never moved past angry when it comes to Rio, nevermind understanding or acceptance. Because Agatha sucks at feelings and refuses to look at them.

So when Agatha steps off the Road, Rio's finally decided to be pissed about it. Rightfully so, imo.

She said ok baby, you wanna fight? Let's fight. You wanna make me the villain? (When we both know you're the villain, you hypocrite. That's usually your move right.) I'll be the villain. Let's go. Now you're gonna know MY pain. We'll do it your way.

Death by a thousand cuts is what Agatha's been doing to her for centuries so she finally turned it back on her.

And yet even as she's attacking Agatha, she's trying to break through to her. I'm the natural order of all things baby. And you love me. Why don't you want me? There's an awful lot of hurt mixed into this backlash.

Which begs the question, if Billy hadn't interrupted, what would she have really done to Agatha? At the end of the day, probably nothing. She can't outright kill her, it's not allowed. She had Agatha tied up, maybe she would have finally made her fucking talk about what happened to them. Maybe not. But all in all, she wouldn't have killed her. She couldn't. On a metaphysical level or an emotional level. It's the same in episode 1. She makes a big show of fighting Agatha, and then she backs off. She can't do shit.

That's what makes Agatha's death all the more tragic. Rio couldn't and wouldn't have killed her. Agatha could have called her bluff, but she's too blinded by her anger still to see that Rio loves her too much to kill her. Agatha seals her own fate by stealing Rio's power. With the kiss, Rio doesn't even know what's happening until Agatha pulls away. (Some A++ microexpression work from Aubrey there if you look closely). Agatha dies, and she never meant for that to happen. Not really.

She just wanted to fuck her up a little bit. Give her a little taste of her own medicine. Would that fly in any normal relationship? No. In this relationship? I think it was totally justified.

[valvedimension]

I know we have been talking about Prime! Optimus having baby fever, but what about… Earthspark Optimus with baby fever?

The Matrix wants someone in particular though, that big, strong silver mech who just so happens to have been more friendly with Optimus lately… he'd make such a good sire, filling the Prime with big strong cybertronians, like Primus intended

Hell yeah! I love me some earthspark megop :3

Optimus has been feeling strange lately: craving touch, feverish, and his forge aches. He knows he's charged up and in need of a good frag, but it's never felt like this. The Matrix is messing with him, it's the only explanation - its been begging him to frag and getting angry with him when he attempts to stave it by self-servicing. He knows what it's calling for - a sparkling, and not just anyone's.

Megatron's sparkling.

It's not like the two haven't interfaced before, or even been romantic together, but it's never been made official since after the war. Optimus suspects Megatron feels inadequate, and that if something bad were to happen in a potential relationship, any progress towards peace would be lost. It makes Optimus sad to see his dear friend like this, and offers him comfort and support, but the road to recovery is long and bumpy.

So he deals with it himself. He's a big bot, he can take it! Even if it infuriates the Matrix, he'll wait it out. Even when he feels achingly empty. Even when all he wants is to curl up next to Megatron and fall into recharge with him. Even when he weeps in his room at night because he's so frustrated and horny, and he loves Megatron so much but can't have him.

He didn’t realize that the Matrix was affecting Megatron too, though, because that big, strong mech he’s been dying to clang the bolts off of pins him against a wall one day, panting heavily, optics wild with lust and he’s growling - oooh sweet Primus he’s acting like a wild animal and Optimus melts in his arms. The Matrix is singing with joy, flooding Optimus’s processor with “strong mate”, “safe, protected”, “sparklings will be healthy” and Megatron’s thoughts swim with “protect mate”, “perfect, submissive, sweet” and “good carrier”. Megatron smells of training - fuck, isn’t he so strong? And Optimus smells delightfully sweet.

Megatron practically drags Optimus into his room and pins him on his berth, roughly inserting himself into his valve - somehow he just knew that Optimus wanted it rough. He holds Optimus’s shapely hips and begins pounding into him like his life depends on it. Optimus is wailing and moaning, so overwhelmed by how good it feels - so good to give in and finally get what he wants, he doesn’t know how he possibly made it by with just self-servicing. It’s both so much and just right at the same time, and before he knows it warmth blooms in his abdomen as he’s filled with transfluid. He begs for more, he needs to completely filled, he turns to look Megatron in the optics and pleads, low and desperate, to be bred. As if he couldn’t get more charged up, Megatron fucks him with wild abandon, making his mate cry out. After several rounds, Orion’s valve catches on Megatron’s swelling spike and fuck - he has a knot, he has a knot and the Matrix couldn’t be happier! There’s no way he won’t kindle now.

When Megatron’s knot deflates and he pulls out, he cleans Optimus up with his mouth. Poor Optimus has no energy left, softly moaning and trembling slightly as his sore valve is gently swiped over by Megatron’s mouth. He closes Optimus’s panel manually and whisper to him, “Sleep, dear. You’ll need it.” and Optimus allows himself to slip into recharge. Megatron cleans himself up and deals with some responsibilities, making sure to come back when Optimus wakes up. He kisses his forehelm and treats him like a delicate flower, as if he wasn’t just rearranging the Prime’s internals just half a solar cycle earlier. He presses a servo to his mate’s middle, feeling the warmth he was looking for - Optimus’s forge has kicked online.

A few weeks later they still haven’t looked into Optimus’s spark chamber, too worried that they’ll jinx it. But when his abdominal plating distends outwards ever so slightly that’s when they know for sure.

Megatron’s the best sire a bot could ask for - he’s powerful and strong but so considerate and gentle. He finds the whole situation quite poetic.

And if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go think about this FOREVERRRR

[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.

[dogearedheart]

god, sometimes I'm so fucking angry at myself

[starry-bi-sky]

"Stillborn? No, still born" Danyal au -- VLAD MASTERS THE BITCH HIMSELF

*Points at Vlad* THIS MFER GOT SOME TEEFS TO HIM. !! Okay okay, Vlad Masters in the stillborn au is different compared to most of my other aus in the fact that I am far more heavily leaning into his original ambitions of wanting a family and being desperately lonely. Because you know what wanting a family implies? Wanting to be a parent.

Fucked up father figure that could've been Vlad. Complicated love-hate relationship between the only two halfas in existence.

Danny hates Vlad, but he hates even more that he's genuinely considered his offers of mentorship. Vlad is the only halfa around, and they both have fire cores. Danny has these powers he doesn't understand, can barely comprehend some days, and can't control. But Vlad does. Vlad can. And Vlad wants to help him. He's the only other person who can get close whenever Danny runs too hot. Whenever his igneous hair cracks, splits, and spits back out into magma and his friends can't get close, Vlad can.

His hair is made of magma, which runs so hot that people need specialized suits in order to get near it. He physically cannot get close to the living as a ghost unless he's calm enough for his hair to cool into igneous rock. Which isn't as often as he would like. And sometimes he's too hot for other ghosts to get near unless they have fire cores -- which Vlad has.

There have been many times when Danny's having a meltdown (literally) and gone somewhere to be alone, to let his anger and hurt and loneliness overflow and spill out, that when he's come back to, Vlad's right there with him as an anchor. It's desperately frustrating, it's the only time they can get along. They don't say anything, Danny just turns and clings onto the only person he can touch as a ghost.

Its not fair. Vlad wants to kill his foster dad, and Danny can't let him do that. But he wants to be trained by the man, he wants his help and wants what he can offer. But Vlad can't step away from his revenge long enough to let him. It's just not fair. He thinks for a moment that maybe it could work, and then Vlad does something to remind him that no, it can't.

Vlad Masters sees too much of himself in Daniel Brown -- from the way he holds himself, to the defenses he puts up, his quiet anger that builds and builds and builds until it explodes. That simmers beneath his skin. All the way down to the fact that they have matching cores. This boy is cut from the same cloth as him, and by god does he want to help him. He's always wanted to be a father, and Daniel Brown is too much like him for him to ignore. He genuinely, truly cares about Danny and his wellbeing.

He wants to help him, child just let him help you. Let him kill your foster dad so he can adopt you himself and help with these powers that terrify and intrigue you -- he knows what that's like to have something that you can't control, to have a heat that you can't cool down from. "We're in the same boat you and I, let him help you please."

But his methods are all wrong, and Danny is too much like him -- stubbornness and all -- for him to agree when they oppose each other so greatly. But again, Danny is much like him -- which means that Vlad is equally stubborn, and in every single one of their fights he's parental. He's annoyingly parental. He drops his interest in Maddie to focus his efforts in trying to coax Danny onto his side. It's like trying to get a traumatized cat to trust you, and on some levels it works. It's like he makes some progress, and then moves too quickly and the cat immediately runs off and you have to start back from square one.

TL:DR; Vlad and Danny both want to find family in each other but they're too different to get along and ultimately they are doomed by the narrative to be at constant odds with one another unless one of them is changes, and it doesn't matter who.

[shima-draws]

Grips my shirt and tears it apart so that all the buttons go flying and SCREAMS I love Law and Cora so much what the FUCK!!!!

[six-of-cringe]

"haha wylan walks in on jesper kissing the wrong guy" yes funny but moving on, have you ever wondered why Wylan was up there in the first place. Because the last he'd seen of Jesper was him being yelled at by Colm to explain what was going on or Colm would "tan your hide so bad you won't be able to sit down for two weeks". Everyone else finds Jesper getting full government-named very funny, but to Wylan this threat would not seem empty - that is just what happens when sons make mistakes. Consider that he wanted to check on Jesper, to see if he was alright, because though it's not really addressed directly, the story gives us several moments of Wylan not trusting Colm and trying to "protect" Jesper from him. Wylan had been isolated to the point where he only knew one father-son relationship, or even one relationship at all, which was between him and Van Eck. Why would he trust Colm? Maybe he just wandered into the room for a silly plot convenience, but I think he was there to assess the damage and be there for Jesper in case the thing that happens between fathers and their sons happened to him.

[hayaku14]

kuroba toichi you need to stay dead or im going to fucking kill you myself