#filled by anyone! and that’s absolutely fucking devastating!

[ongreenergrasses]

living for two years in a world without him is entirely unremarkable and at the same time, the absolute worst shit ever

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Hi dear can I request Ghost x Reader where Ghost is absolutely down for her and they are secretly in love with each other and are close to confessing, but on a mission y/n and another soldier are commanded to clear the buildings while the others stay put, but it’s a trap and they blow the building up and it collapses trapping reader from the ribs down, no one can get in and no one out and she knows it’s the end for her and ghost looses his shit. Thank you in advance ❤️

Thank you for this!!! The angsttttt I'm here for it😭😭 hopefully I did what you were looking for justice🙃❤️

You Can't Leave Me

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, crying, injury, swearing

The 141 was tasked with clearing out two buildings near Al Mazra to try and find their HVT. One of the members of AQ had taken the reigns since the death of Hassan, and you and the team needed to find him and take him out.

The boys were to secure building A, the larger building, while you and a stand-in member cleared building B, the smaller one.

Everything seemed to have gone according to plan, the team had found the HVT and took him out, and was able to gather some valuable intel along the way. Price, Gaz, Johnny and Ghost were all heading toward the exfil point, waiting for you and your partner to meet them. The team had gotten word that an influx of AQ soldiers were on their way to your location, so you were trying to get out as fast as you could.

The four of them had made it to the exfil point, when a loud explosion sounded from behind them.

"The hell was that?" Soap asked, whipping his head to the source.

"Oh my God, that's Y/N's building." Gaz said, a solemn expression taking over his face. "Was it..was it a trap?"

"No, no, no." Ghost turned on his comms. "Y/N, come in."

No response came from you, and Simon was starting to panic. This could not be happening. Not to you. "Y/N, are you there?"

Silence filled the other end of the comm, and Ghost felt his breathing quicken. The two of you were unbelievably close. Ever since you'd started in the 141, he'd taken you under his wing. As time progressed, the two of you developed a bond like no other. Simon let you in, in ways he'd never let anyone in before. You were his best friend, and he was yours. Both of you harbored deep, unspoken feelings for one another, feelings that were known to everyone else but the two of you.

"Y/N, ANSWER ME!" Ghost practically screamed into his comms. He broke out in a cold sweat, and his throat was starting to run dry.

"S-Simon. I'm here." You croaked out. The building had collapsed on you and your partner. Your partner was killed instantly by the blast, while a piece of concrete had landed in just the right angle for you to be trapped from the waist down.

"Where are you? I'll come get you. Tell me where you are."

"Simon, you can't get in here, and there's no way for me to get out. I'm trapped. It's..it's okay." You tried pulling yourself up again, to no avail. You were trapped with no way out. "It's okay."

"No its not fucking okay, Y/N tell me where you are, NOW." Simon started to make his way toward the rubble, only to be pushed back by Price.

"Simon, we can't. There's no way we can get to her. The AQ fighters will be here any minute in full force. I'm sorry. I wish there was something we could do. If it were possible, you know I would do what I could. " Price put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a sorrowful look. Price was devastated himself. He pictured you as a daughter, but now was not the time to mourn. He had to get his team to safety.

"The fuck we can't! There's 4 of us, we can move the rubble, she just needs to tell us where she is!" Ghost shoved Price's arm off him. "I won't take that as an answer, John. We can not just leave her to die!"

In all the years of them working together, Simon had never talked back to Price, not once. Price knew better than to say anything, though. He knew this was tearing his lieutenant apart.

"Y/N, please. Please tell me where you are. I can't lose you. I'm begging you." Simon cried into the comms.

"I'm so sorry, Simon." You choked out a sob, not sure what to say to him. You didn't want to leave him. You didn't want to die. You could feel yourself growing weaker, as you started to inhale more and more dust from the debris. You wanted nothing more than for Simon to come and save you, but that was selfish. You couldn't bear the thought of him getting killed trying to save you. But God, what you wouldn't give to be in his arms, just one last time. "I am so thankful I had you in my life. I don't regret a second of it."

"Not like this, please. Sweetheart, there was so much I wanted to tell you." Simon pleaded. "Please don't do this to me."

"Tell me now, Si. I'm here."

Simon hesitated before speaking. Part of him didn't want you to tell you right now. He wanted to hold on to hope that you'd make it out of this, that he could tell you in person. But that small part of him that knew this was likely the last time he'd ever get to tell you this, pushed him to tell you how he felt, finally.

"I was going to tell you that I love you, dammit. You're the best fucking part of my day, and that smile of yours, that goddamned smile is the only thing that keeps me going. I was going to ask you on a date when we got back. God, I want to make you mine so bad, YN." Simon's tears were flowing down his face as he struggled to get the words out. "You're my everything, kid."

Price and the others had turned their comms off and kept some distance from Simon to respect his and yours privacy. Johnny looked to his close friend, and his heart broke into a million pieces. He was watching Simon's whole being shatter before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do to help him. There was nothing he could do to save you, either. He'd never felt so helpless.

"Oh, Simon." You sobbed. "I love you too. I always have. I wish we'd had more time. I would have loved if you had been yours. I would've shown you the love you so deserve."

"So then tell me where you are, baby girl, please. We can have that. I can give you that. I can be whatever you want me to be, just let me come get you."

"Please, Si. There's no use. They will be here any minute. I won't let you risk your life for nothing."

"You're not NOTHING, Y/N." Simon shouted, his voice breaking. "I have to save you. I couldn't save them, but I can save you, please let me."

"I love you so much Simon Riley. I- I..." Your voice faded on the comms as your end of the line started to crackle.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Simon was screaming your name, to no avail. "No, no, no. No, this isn't happening. This isn't real."

He threw his gun to the ground, and started to charge at the collapsed building before Price and Johnny pulled him back.

"Simon, Simon, we can't. I'm so sorry." Price said as he stepped in front of the lieutenant.

"No, I can't leave her. I can't leave her!" He sobbed, pushing price away from him with the full force of his body.

Gaz and Johnny went to tackle Simon before he could get any further, and brought the masked man to his knees.

"Simon, we've got to go. I'm so sorry, mate." Johnny tried to meet his friend's eyes, but Simon was beyond hysterical.

"God DAMMIT, Y/N! I'm sorry, I failed you. I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Simon threw his head into his hands and sobbed, not caring who saw him. This couldn't be the end for you. He was finally ready to open himself up to you, finally ready to be with you. It was like the world was playing a cruel joke on him. It couldn't end like this….could it?

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

[ghostaholics]

wait but the angst of a soulmate au with price and not knowing he’s your soulmate: you’ve felt phantom pain for every single injury he’s ever gotten during his military career – like this man has gotten beaten, bloodied, bruised, tortured, stabbed, shot, and jumped out of an exploding helicopter on multiple occasions so he’s experienced his fair share of bodily trauma; and after it started happening frequently, you recorded each one down in a journal that you carry everywhere with you (time/location/duration) because it can hit you literally whenever, wherever on your body, for however long, and you've sworn to yourself that if you ever meet your soulmate that they've got so much to answer for

but you’re living a normal civilian life so he’s been spared the anxiety of worrying about how his soulmate’s doing, because for all intents and purposes, he’s not sure if he even has one, never met you but can at least gather that if you do, you’ve been existing somewhere safe, far away from the stuff he gets himself into

but then he does encounter you and it's in the worst way possible during the attack on London in Piccadilly Circus; Price feels the muffled pain of a shotgun to the shoulder and Jesus fucking Christ, he knows you're here in the thick of the pandemonium, never felt the crushing fear of his soulmate being in trouble before until now and it’s a startling revelation – he’s probably put you through absolute hell with all of his near-death experiences and whatnot (why does he feel so monumentally devastated?)

he has a job to do, the utilitarian in him says to save as many people as he can but his eyes are still sifting through the chaos and the mayhem, past crumbling buildings and wailing ambulances, for somebody who's got a GSW weeping blood, and he doesn't let it show on his face but there's this awful, sickening lurch in his stomach as he wades through victims, both injured and casualties alike, because shite, there's a good possibility that you haven't made it out alive and he can usually keep it together pretty well, but now he's approaching a state of total collapse for this person he's never even met, this person without a name or a face, this person he didn't even know he was tethered to until just moments earlier

and he comes to find you somewhere in the wreckage, after he's gunned down all the terrorists, finally makes it to you and discovers that you had been trying to save some little kid caught in the crossfire and took a bullet to show for it – a chink in his armor, because the two of you haven't even exchanged words but that act of valor already says a lot about you

when his eyes finally meet yours, he can see the realization dawning over you, this devastated expression that's making pain shoot through his chest that hurts more than anything he's ever suffered through with the dealing blow being you reaching out to him with a trembling hand

he doesn't know what the etiquette is for meeting your soulmate for the first time, but he sure as hell doesn't give a damn

so he cradles your face, tells you that you're safe, can't believe that you're real and you're in front of him, and his heart is an open fucking chasm because his initial thought it that this absolutely can't happen and if anybody knows what you are to him, they'll use you as leverage; cue protective price and forbidden relationship where they deny themselves each other

Price is certifiably fucked in this scenario

bonus scene is you showing him the journal where you've written down your notes and he's extremely impressed by how well you've recorded it all but something in him is utterly shattered as it shows how much longer you've been in this than him, been aware of his presence, and even though he's the one who's gotten all these injuries and had a past colored in blood, he wouldn't wish that affliction on anyone else – it kills him to know you've been sharing that burden and pain with him

so he fills out the journal as best he can because you deserve answers and despite not being able to remember everything, he does jot down a majority of the injuries and how he got them, respectfully asks for permission before showing you his scars while elaborating on some of the stories because some of them are in obvious places, but he has a lot on his chest and back that are hidden underneath his shirt and you also ask if you can touch them (you're not sure if it's appropriate, because he still is technically a stranger even though fate wills it that you're supposed to be together) before you're tracing the raised skin with the tips of your fingertips and he gently grabs your wrist to stop you because it gets to be too much after a while – and as you've both agreed, this thing between the two of you won't work with the danger of his job

imagine waiting you're entire life for your soulmate and being told you can't be with him; it's almost worse than not having one

and now that you've met him and you're trying to stay away, you're actively fighting against destiny, which the universe does not approve of and is also making sure that it hurts

but the worst part is that when he gives you your journal back, you see that he made a new entry for you and here's the info (it's the exact moment he met you)

Time: October 25, 2019; London Location: heart Duration: indefinitely

[charmandabear]

No Sandra Dee

Summary:

One quick little lie to your parents, and you and your hot vampire greaser boyfriend have the entire night to yourselves.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags/Warnings: reader is in high school but age isn't specified, reckless driving, 1950s greaser au, loss of virginity/innocence, vaginal fingering, piv sex, blood drinking, degredation if you squint, rough sex if you squint, praise kink if you squint, reader is a bit of a needy slut (affectionate)

I tell you the way this idea grabbed me by the collar and shoved me up against a locker and told me to give it my lunch money... I wrote it over the course of a few hours and it refused to let me go until I finished. I saw dovah_vakarian's Greaser Astarion and with some egging on from the lovely folks in the Rabid House server (join if you want a good hang) this little ditty was born. No thoughts, just greaser Astarion. (Dovah was kind enough to let me use their render for the cover photo are you SEEING IT? Are you KIDDING ME? Go give them a follow, right fucking now.)

Read on AO3

“Alright, Ma, Pa, I’m off to Suzie’s for the night!” Your heart is pounding in your ears as you shout the lie, and you can only hope it’s not in your voice, too. 

“Alright dear, have fun! Don’t forget to remind Mr. and Mrs. Johnson about the church potluck on Sunday!” your mother calls back, and without another word you slip out the front door and into the cool night air. You adjust your poodle skirt and bound down the front steps of your home, turning down the street where he’s waiting. He looks like an absolute treat, too, leaning against his shiny black convertible, the collar of his leather jacket popped, cigarette held delicately between long slender fingers. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of those fingers. You know better than anyone what they’re capable of.

“Darling,” he greets you with that adorable foreign lilt of his. You can already feel your cheeks beginning to flush as he looks you up and down, sizing you up like a piece of meat. “Ready to leave?”

You nod vigorously. “Ma and Pa think I’m at Suzie’s, and she has strict instructions for what to say if they call.” Your mouth grows dry at the sight of his devastating smile.

“That’s my girl,” he coos, running a knuckle down your jaw and under your chin. He takes one last drag off his cigarette and drops it, grinding it into the pavement with the heel of his boot. He breathes out the cloud of smoke that obscures his features, and you inhale instinctively. The acrid smell is one that you used to absolutely hate, but now that you’re starting to associate it with him, it sends a little thrill down your spine every time. He slides into the driver’s seat and you throw your overnight bag in the back. 

“So, Astarion, where are we going?” You try to keep your tone light, but the quaver in your voice gives away your nervous excitement. He slides his red eyes over to you and a mischievous smile plays on his lips as he revs up the t-bird’s loud engine.

“Can’t some things remain a surprise?” he says slyly, and the sultry tone of his voice makes you unconsciously lick your lips. You keep your hands in your lap as he fiddles with the radio, and soon the dulcet tones of Nat King Cole fill the car. 

It’s not long before he’s speeding down the highway, and you haven’t the faintest clue where he could possibly be taking you. He pulls out the cigarette from behind his ear and pops it into his mouth.

“Sweetheart, can you grab my lighter? It’s in the pocket of my jeans,” he mumbles around the cigarette, and you glance nervously at the tight denim on his hips.

“Um, sure, just keep your eyes on the road,” you say automatically, feeling like you could kick yourself for sounding like such a square. But he just chuckles as you lean over and wiggle your fingers into his pocket. You can smell his cologne from here, a heady spiced smell that makes your chest ache. After a bit of struggling, you pull the zippo out from his pocket and flip it open for him to light his cigarette. You assume he’s going to let you bring the flame to him, but instead he fully turns his head toward you, red eyes boring into yours as you light it. 

“Astarion, careful,” you hiss nervously, your fingers shaking as you try to light the cigarette as quickly as possible. There isn’t another car in sight, but you’ve heard too many stories of reckless joyrides turning fatal.

He takes a puff and laughs, a cool, velvety sound. Your eyes trace his profile, his perfect nose and jawline, and the two small puncture wounds on his neck. You’ve fooled around with him a bit before, but you’ve never gone all the way. And you’ve always been morbidly curious about what it would be like for him to bite you. His eyes flick towards you and you flush, feeling like you’ve been caught. 

“Someone is having naughty thoughts,” he sings, and a timid giggle bubbles out of your lips. 

“What?” you squeak, and then clear your throat to try to sound more cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that so?” He takes a hand off the steering wheel and gently runs his fingers down the side of your neck, and you can’t suppress the moan his touch elicits. “So you’re not thinking about…” His hand continues its journey downward and stops right at your breast, fondling lightly over your sweater. You bite your lip as he squeezes the flesh, and even through the two layers of wool and satin, your nipples grow stiff with arousal. He pinches it between his fingers and you need to press your thighs together. You can already feel the cotton gusset of your panties growing wet, and with his heightened sense of smell, he knows it, too. 

“A-Astarion, eyes on the r-road,” you stammer, but he just grins wickedly before pressing his foot down on the gas, inching up dangerously over the speed limit. 

“Darling, I promise I won’t take my eyes off the road for a second,” he says with a wicked grin, lit cigarette bouncing with every word. He keeps his promise, but his hand continues to wander southward, brushing against your thigh. You squirm and whimper, simultaneously desperate for his touch and wanting him to stop. You wrestle with your conflicting desires for a moment, before temptation wins and you let your knees fall open for him. “Such a good girl for me,” he purrs as he pulls up the hem of your skirt, and even you can smell the debauchery wafting from between your legs. 

“Just please,” you whine as his fingers skate across your inner thigh, teasing you mercilessly.

“Please what, darling?” His voice is infuriatingly innocent while he’s making the dirtiest thoughts run through your mind.

“Please be careful,” you plead, your hips bucking forward to chase his touch. He steps on the gas again, increasing the speed even more. Your heart begins to pound loudly, and you can’t tell if it’s from hurtling down the highway or his fingers dancing just outside your panties.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I can do both,” he pouts as the pad of his thumb runs up the length of your slit, and you grip the bar on the door as a moan escapes your lips. He begins to retract his hand and slows the car down slightly, causing you to whine instinctually in protest. “So love, which will it be?”

You stare in horror at your beautiful vampire boyfriend’s face. He doesn’t have the same stakes as you, he’d be able to walk away from a car wreck just fine, but you, not so much. But your cunt is aching from his relentless teasing, and your judgment is clouded with lust.

“Just… quickly, please,” you whine, and his lips stretch wide into a satisfied grin. He slams his foot down on the gas pedal as his fingers return to your soaked panties, tearing an unseemly groan from your throat. He pushes the gusset aside and slides his fingers along your slick folds as you grip the seat. You have no idea if your primary emotion is fear or arousal, but either way it's exhilarating.

“So wet, you dirty girl,” he tuts, and you can only cant your hips into his hand in response. “If only Ma and Pa could see their darling daughter now.” He inserts a slender digit and you push a saddle shoe against the dashboard to brace yourself.

“Ah- ‘starion,” you moan, your knuckles beginning to turn white from how hard you're clutching the leather seat. He pumps his finger lazily, still looking at the dark road ahead as it flies by. 

“What would Pastor Tom say if he knew you were getting fingered by your greaser boyfriend in the front seat of his t-bird.” He punctuates the filthy statement by inserting another digit, and you squirm into his hand needily. “Such a perfect little slut for me.” He curls his fingers and palms your clit, and you rock back and forth in the seat trying to push yourself down on him deeper.

“Please, ‘starion, I need more,” you pant and you catch the speedometer breaching 100 mph as he increases the pace of his fingers. He uses the heel of his hand to rub against your clit and you can feel your orgasm building deep in your core. “Yes, please, just like that.”

“My filthy girl, so good for me,” he praises you as you whimper and moan, and you grip his wrist to control his touch. You buck desperately against him, and your hand not holding his begins to pinch and fondle your breast, chasing your pleasure. “You hungry little slut, you can’t get enough, can you?”

You’re so close, and through your half-lidded eyes you see Astarion take his other hand off the steering wheel to take a drag on his cigarette. You cry out in both horror and pleasure as you crash over the edge, fucking yourself on his hand and gripping the back of the seat. Ripples of pleasure reverberate through your body offset by your heart pounding in fear. As the waves subside, Astarion pulls his fingers out and you can feel the car slowing. You’re still breathing heavily as he pulls off at an exit, driving deeper into the woods. 

As soon as the car rolls to a stop, he growls, “Get out,” as he crushes his cigarette in the ashtray. You scramble out of the car and before you can get your bearings he’s got you pushed up against the trunk of the car, kissing you forcefully. You paw wantonly at his neck, just barely keeping up.

“Please, defile me,” you groan as he pushes his bulge into your mound. You slide your fingers into his curls and guide his mouth towards your neck. “Bite me, Astarion.”

“What a disappointment you are to your parents,” he grunts into your ear before sinking his fangs into your jugular. The pain is exactly as exquisite as you had imagined, like icy shards that melt into a warm serenity. He takes deep gulps of your blood, and with each swig his erection grows harder against you. You grind into him, desperate to know what it’s like to feel him inside you.

He pulls away from your neck all too soon, but it’s worth it to see him panting, hair disheveled, and a monstrous bloody grin on his face. “Turn around,” he snarls, but before you can comply he’s grabbed you roughly by the waist and done it for you. He bends you over the trunk and rucks your poodle skirt up to your waist. It doesn’t take him long to pull himself out of his jeans, his cock hard and glistening. You try to turn around to see it but he grabs a hold of your ponytail, keeping your head firmly forward. 

“P-please, Astarion, I need it,” you beg, standing on your toes as you present your throbbing cunt to him. He pushes your panties to the side and aligns himself with your entrance, teasing it lightly with the head of his cock.

“Their perfect little cheerleader with the perfect grades,” he growls and you can only mewl helplessly in response. He pushes into you and you both groan, the sound mixing amongst the ambience of the forest. “You’re all mine, now,” he hisses as he bottoms out, and you claw at the shiny surface of his car. He shoves your face against the cold metal and begins to thrust into you. You cry out with every stretch, the mixture of pain and pleasure becoming quickly overwhelming. 

“Harder, Astarion,” you grunt and he yanks your ponytail back further, stretching out your neck and forcing you to look at him above and behind you. He obliges your request, pounding you into the car forcefully. His face contorts with pleasure as he slides in and out of your tight cunt, and you can already feel yourself building up to a second orgasm. You push yourself back into him, desperate to feel more, when suddenly he pulls out and you whimper from sudden emptiness. But before you can protest, he forcefully turns you around again and shoves himself back into you.

“I want to see your face when I make you cum,” he growls, and you wrap your legs around him to pull him in closer. You grab onto the back of his leather jacket as he fucks you mercilessly against the back of his car. 

“Please, Astarion,” you whimper, each thrust of his cock pushing your breath out of you. “Please don’t stop.” His rutting hips begin to grow uneven, he pounds into you a few more times before you feel the pulsing of his cock against your walls. His face in the throws of passion, his mouth still slightly bloody and his hair falling into his eyes are enough to set off your second climax. You don’t hold anything back, your cries mixed with swears and his name repeated over and over echoing off the trees.

You cling to the back of his neck as you both slow, taking your time to regain control over your breathing. Eventually he pulls out and sets you back down onto your feet. Your legs quake and he laughs as you need to grab his arms to stay steady.

“You said you wanted to be defiled,” he concedes, and you pull him into a comparatively chaste kiss.

“My parents don’t expect me home until morning,” you hum against his lips, “and I can think of a few more ways to defile me until then.”

[inchidentally]

https://www.tumblr.com/gxtzeizm/730214598851067904?source=share THAT LAST GIF! :O

(link)

ok but the way oscar eats in these and the other rare moments we've seen him eat is so fucking sexy??? weirdly enough gremlin Lando eats fairly demure bc while he may shovel it in like a victorian street urchin begging for crusts of bread he does keeps his mouth closed and he's good about chewing. but Oscar is all teeth, curled up nose and throws back BIG bites to gnaw on, jaw working away. he's also super nonchalant about it and doesn't care if Lando or anyone else watches. he's going to eat his fill regardless.

that's also what I was thinking of when he did the wordless 'put your hands out and I'll give you a portion' rather than just handing the bag over to Lando after opening it. he's going to keep Lando in that dependent position because Lando actually likes it.

it made me think of this absolutely devastating ex-dando landoscar fic where Oscar casually asserts dominance over Daniel by eating from a chicken carcass with his bare hands and then kissing Lando possessively. I could literally see him hunched over ripping pieces of dark meat from the bone knowing that he can reel Lando in from Daniel with just a word. look at Lando's face in that gif above and that's the perfect imagery for fic Lando who's used to being at the mercy of an uncaring master because he wants so badly to be cared for - and now he's finally found someone who will wield the upper hand but always look out for Lando's welfare first. he's hanging on Oscar's every word and reaction and won't budge or speak until Oscar does because Oscar will always do what's right for Lando. sorrryyyy that fic is just - sometimes it dominates my mind.

but also the fact that Oscar's face always resets into that serious, determined expression with the unnerving steady gaze under those straight eyebrows idk. just all kinds of casual dominance and confidence. the fact that he'll absolutely have seen fans joke about how much he stares at Lando but he's never bothered to try and stop ??? like 'go ahead and watch me eat' 'go ahead and watch me stare at Lando' 'go ahead and try to publicly pressure me into signing that contract' 'go ahead and assume a rookie can't beat Max in a sprint race'. like he's saying 'this will be amusing for me'. 'first thing to say is… I would never back out of a race'. and how all of Lando's moods - even when he's in bad ones - are all easily accepted by Oscar because he's decided Lando is Always Worth His Time. but does he go out of his way to try and make new buddies with the rest of the grid? nope, mostly sticks to Logan or Zhou. Worth His Time.

I think it's why I love my vamposcar au so much bc sometimes it's like this old soul is having to pretend to be a nervous, awkward boy to not give the game away and sometimes he just forgets lol

[starlightiing]

Landoscar 🖤 for the kissing thing 🙏😘 absolutely adore ur writing

-rubywings

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation - Landoscar

@rubywingsracing

Sorry this took so long, I have been actively fighting my brain in a 1v1 WWE smackdown or something like that. I hope this is okay <3 And thank you so much, I'm so glad you like my fics!! <333 I decided since I probably won't ever write this fic as a whole, I'd at least get a snippet out of the 'Young Forever' idea. Based on THIS SONG by the ready set. specifically the lines 'the beat of the drums keeps us alive' / 'tonight will last forever 'till our bodies drop' Basic info: music keeps them alive. If the music stops for one of them, it's tied into their heartbeat and so their heart will stop in tandem. They need to be around speakers playing music or have headphones in playing music at all times or they die.

"It stopped. It - It stopped." Lando's voice is so desperate and tiny, his breaths following in short, staccato bursts that sound almost deafening to Oscar's ears. The fear written into Lando's features would be enough to break anyone's heart.

It completely shatters Oscar's.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Oscar soothes, reaching out to place a gentle hand against Lando's cheek. Lando's skin is warm and buzzing, an electricity that Oscar can feel tingling in the tips of his fingers, running along highways of veins and capillaries until it reaches his heart. "It was only for a second. Nothing bad happened to me."

Lando shakes his head feverishly, curls bouncing every which way. Oscar watches as Lando's throat constricts, the flutter of his carotid pulse all too obvious in the hollow space between his collarbones. His heartbeat is fast, almost too fast, and it makes something unpleasant stir in Oscar's own chest. Seeing Lando like this is far more devastating than he ever could have imagined.

"It stopped. The music stopped." Lando says again, more incessantly, as his wide eyes come to rest in a deadlock with Oscar's gaze. "Your heart-"

"Didn't stop." Oscar finishes helpfully, unwilling to let the vicious storm of 'what ifs' and 'could haves' take Lando away from him. "It's still going. See?"

Oscar slides his hand down from Lando's cheek and uses it to instead grab one of Lando's trembling wrists. Delicately, he brings Lando's hand up to rest on his own chest, pressing the palm in against the curve of his sternum where his heart is beating at a steady, strong pace.

He knows the moment Lando feels his heartbeat, because those beautiful eyes, those goddamn eyes he loves so much, fill to the brim with tears.

"Oh, fuck." Lando gasps out, his voice trembling far worse than his hands. Oscar swallows thickly, watching the series of complex emotions that flicker across Lando's face. "Oscar. Fuck."

"It's okay," Oscar whispers, leaning in to press their foreheads together. Lando's fingers have curled up protectively in the space above Oscar's heart, almost as if he's trying to claw into Oscar's chest. "I'm here."

The hitch in Lando's breath makes Oscar's stomach churn. Tears begin to slip down Lando's cheeks - slowly, not in abundance, and Oscar wishes he could snap his fingers and take Lando's pain and fear away. He knows if the roles could reverse, he would be just as scared to have nearly lost Lando like that. To be milliseconds away from losing his sunlight, his moonlight, his starlight? Perhaps he would be even less composed. Perhaps he would not be composed at all.

"I love you." Lando says, before leaning and pressing his lips desperately against Oscar's. Oscar sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, tiling his head as he kisses Lando back just as desperately, like this is his lifeline and not the godforsaken music that forces his heart to keep on beating.

"I love you too." Oscar utters softly against Lando's lips as they break apart. "So much. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

"Okay."

If Lando turns the music up in his headphones later that night, Oscar doesn't say a word.

[analoceits]

do you have any more complicated polycule headcanons for sanders sides? seeing your post filled me with a sense of This Person Is Correct and now I want to pick your brain for more

oh fuck YEAH

post asker is talking abt here

prinxiety used to have a LOT of tension between them. everyone else thought they were OBVIOUSLY crushing and eventually convinced them to date. this lasted a week and went So Horribly it is never spoken of. virgil and roman have resolved to just make out when they feel like it and that deals with the tension.

logan tried to graph out the individual relationships in the polycule exactly Once, because they wanted to explain things to remy. the project kept logan awake for three days and she had to be physically dragged to bed.

moceit are the only two in the polycule to have ever actually been married. mind you, this was all an elaborate scheme by janus to get them married bc he was SO PISSED at patton from their last argument he NEEDED to divorce him. they have tried to get remarried, but logan ABSOLUTELY REFUSES to do all that fucking paperwork again.

logince is the only relationship in the polycule to have never broken up, to everyones BAFFLEMENT bc they get into explosive arguments on the regular. turns out, when they got together, they both agreed that whoever initiates a break-up "loses the relationship" and after everyone found that out it makes Complete Sense.

logan ALSO has their own boyfriend leaderboard, BUT hers is private and she never tells anyone the rankings. they only announce if she has changed the rankings. (janus has figured out that virgil is at the top permanently bc logan NEVER announces a change in rankings after virgil has done something.)

analogical broke up exactly One time. no one remembers why BUT everyone remembers that virgil and logan were both so fully DEVASTATED that everyone worked together to get them to start dating again. janus stopped trying to break up analogical after this.

anxceit dated pre-polycule but took a While to get back together once the polycule started. everyone predicted this would happen, to virgil and janus's annoyance. whenever anxceit did start dating again they both immediately agreed they could NEVER tell anyone else bc they would NEVER hear the end of it. this lasted a week, before they threatened to break up which each other in a public argument.

loceit is not dating, despite the fact they are obviously in love with each other and actively flirting. this is because logan is waiting for janus to confess, and virgil has promised janus he will Literally Kill Him if he gets with logan BEFORE managing to stay with patton for six months straight without a break up to prove that he can be a Mildly Functional Partner. this will never happen.

every single time moceit breaks up, no matter WHAT the reason, no matter HOW AMICABLE, virgil and janus get into a physical fight. after a while everyone realized they both just like the adrenaline rush of fighting and they use the break up as an excuse, so they just leave them to it.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Keep me comin', keep me goin'

Part of my Birthday Bash! Request: “tell me what you want, baby.” Prompt with Roy Kent

Roy Kent x Reader 0.9k words Warnings: Language, Dom!Roy returns, fingering and oral (f receiving), dirty talk, overstimulation

Author's Note: Decided to end my birthday blurbs with a bang (literally 🤭)! Thank you to everyone who sent in requests and birthday wishes! I absolutely love y'all ❤️ Please enjoy the filth from my Roy Kent-filled imagination!

Tears streamed down your face as you squirmed. Not that your wiggling would do you any good; Roy had made sure the handcuffs he’d locked to your wrists were secured to the headboard, preventing you from moving away from his mean mouth and hands.

How long had you been lying in bed like this? Half an hour? An hour? Two? You’d lost track of time just like you’d lost count of how many orgasms Roy had drawn from your shaking body. He’d come home from training with a dark look in his eye, the look you knew all too well, and had coaxed you into the bedroom, out of your clothes, and onto your back. In a flash, he had you restrained and coming on his fingers. And coming again. And again.

Roy, still fully clothed, smirked down at you as he watched tears fall from your eyes. “What’s wrong, darling?” he purred mockingly, sending yet another shiver down your spine as he wiped away a tear. “Tell Roy why you’re crying so much.”

All you could do was pout at him, hoping your wet eyes would convince him to take his pants off and give you what you really wanted: his cock. He knew. Of course Roy knew; he knew your body better than anyone you’d ever met, even better than you knew it.

He reached down and rubbed your soaking pussylips gently; even his soft touch was enough to have you jerking in response. “Aw, does she hurt?” he cooed. When you nodded desperately, his eyes gleamed with lust. “Does she need a kiss?”

“No,” you whimpered, your spreading legs betraying you. “Too much.”

“Shh.” Roy crawled back down your sweating figure to position himself between your shaking thighs. “I bet a little kiss will make her feel all better.”

His lips had barely brushed against your sopping folds, but the contact immediately brought a strangled moan from your mouth. Even with your thighs attempting to close around his face, Roy stayed where he was, lazily kissing your cunt and letting your slick spread over his beard. He grunted contentedly as he flicked his tongue against your slit; you could feel the vibration though your entire body.

He removed himself only a breath away from your core, looking up at your pathetically limp figure with mock sympathy. “Do we like that?” The little cry you let out had him chuckling darkly. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

If only you could. You’d be asking for his cock, the way you had earlier, when you could still form words. You’d be begging for him to fill you up, spilling into you until his cum was leaking out of your now devastated pussy. But, after what felt like days of Roy’s mouth brutally attacking your cunt, and his fingers roughly fucking you, you forgot how to speak. At this point, you couldn’t remember what you’d had for breakfast or who you’d spoken to at work. All you could think of was Roy and his mouth and his hands and how fucking badly you needed to feel his length throb and spill inside you. Yes, you thought. That would make everything better: Roy’s hard cock.

You tried to speak, to ask him to fuck you, but all that came out was a pathetic little sob.

How did Roy’s smirk become more devilish? “Need my girl to use her words,” he tutted. “If not, I’m just going to have to guess what she wants.” He pinched the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, chuckling at your pitiful whimper. “No? Alright, guess we’ll just keep going until you remember your manners, darling.”

You cried out when you felt two of Roy’s fingers begin sinking into you. The mix of pleasure and pain set your skin on fire as your hips bucked up; despite the agony, your body still wanted more of Roy, whatever he was willing to give you. Roy attached his mouth to your pulsing clit and began flicking the tasty little bud with his tongue. When his teeth grazed against your little sweet spot, your vision began to go fuzzy. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

“Roy,” you managed to moan, tugging on the handcuffs that prevented you from touching him. It was just as well, because you weren’t sure what you’d do if you could use your hands: push his face away from your aching cunt or pull him further into the soaking mess he’d made between your legs.

“Come on, baby,” he grunted, adding a third finger inside your fluttering walls. “I said, tell me what you want.”

As he moved away from your clit to bite your thigh, you finally found the ability to hazily utter two syllables: “Fuck me.”

His fingers continued their mean assault as Roy’s tongue returned to your clit. “There’s my girl,” he praised. He pressed a harsh kiss to your clit, cherishing the way your body spasmed. “Alright, darling, I’ll fuck you,” he conceded.

Finally, you thought. The one thing you wanted, the thing that would surely make your tender cunt all better, would finally be yours.

But the mean smirk on Roy’s face told you it wasn’t going to be that easy. “One more,” he urged with a dark wink. “Gimme one more, babe. And then I’ll give you my cock, alright?

Fuck. Could you manage another orgasm? Your entire body was shaking, coated in sweat. But Roy’s brown eyes were full of desire, and you could feel his clothed cock against your leg. And oh, fuck, his fingers were dragging expertly against your walls, hitting that spot that had your fuzzy vision going white.

“One more,” you echoed dizzily as pleasure and pain mixed between your legs. “One more.”

Roy moaned as he felt your arousal begin to drip down his wrist. “That’s right, darling,” he cooed. “One more, and I’ll fuck you stupid. That’s a fucking promise.”

[manwrre]

It’s bordering on two weeks since Hargrove’s arrival at Hawkins High, when Steve realizes he’s crushing on the guy. Like—‘doodling hearts in the margins of his books and racking up a list of things he likes about him’ type crushing.

They’ve barely interacted after that night at the party. Outside of social gatherings, they just run in different circles; Steve, filling his time with Robin and occasionally third-wheeling Nancy and Jonathan, while Billy hangs out with the more popular crowd.

Their schedules also don’t overlap despite the blonde taking a number of senior-level classes, with the exception of gym and lunch.

The list though, is still so painstakingly long. Ego-stroking-ly lengthy. Embarrassingly indulgent, all on his behalf.

Steve would much rather nosedive into the quarry, than divulge too deeply into it with anyone.

Especially around or to the guy’s actual face, at the risk of Billy’s head becoming too big for his body (even though Steve thinks he’d make an adorable bobble head). Or you know, worse— like him, getting absolutely brained in front of everyone.

Which must say a lot about him as a person because apparently, this is his type. Beautiful, angry, conceited boys.

Regardless, there are some objective mentions on his list though.

Things that the general public would agree on, like Billy’s Michelle-Pfeiffer curls; loose and wavy but so, so golden.

His eyes are a close second, of course because Steve’s seen a lot of bright blues but Billy’s remind him of the vacation he’d spent in Aruba, as a kid. Remind him of a horizon-kissed vastness and warm water lapping at his ankles on a private beach.

The public also agrees that Billy’s got a banging body. He’s thicker than most because he actually gives a shit and ‘works out religiously’ but it’s not all muscle. His abdomen and thighs are firm but his pecs and ass have the right amount of give. A perfect amount of softness.

Steve would know because he’s had to will away many boners at the sight of them.

And Billy’s funny in a witty, sarcastic way. He grins toosharptooprettytoobright and dangerous. He’s smart too, like taking mostly AP classes smart and he’s smug about it all because he knows he’s hot shit. Of course, the bastard is self aware. Cocky. Steve likes him so much. Wants him so bad that it’s dizzying, sickening.

So yeah, there’s stuff that everyone can agree on but then….then, there’s whatever this is.

This being the two penny-sized indents at the base of Billy’s spine. Symmetrical and just defined enough for average eye to discern.

When Steve sees them for the first time though, he promptly drops the basketball in his hands. In front of everyone. During fucking gym class. Purely out of shock.

He catches himself within the same breath and quickly looks away.

Swallows.

Ignores the pointed look that Patrick sends him for flaking out, mid-pass, like some kind of freak and looks around cooly.

Because Billy Hargrove has dimples of venus.

Affectionately dubbed a sign of beauty by Michelangelo. Famed after the Greek goddess’ simulacrum. Called dimples of Apollo on men, which suits Billy all the more, in Steve’s opinion.

The sun child.

Flushed with life. Deserving of avid worshippers. A being deserving of wax poetic. Glittering, dazzling, vibrant and the Camaro, his chariot.

And he knows this because dimples are like, his freckles. His glasses. His braces. They’re a niche, little thing that he finds just devastating. Achingly cute. Nancy has a pair of them near her laugh lines that he would kiss everyday and prod at, endeared.

So he ambles on through practise a little out of breath and red in the face with his newfound knowledge.

Watches Billy jog over to the locker room with everyone else at the end; skin slick and sweat pooling at the divots of his waistband. Tempting.

He stands back and feigns trying to catch his breath, his hands on his knees. Eyes the younger boy’s retreating form from up through his hair. Imagines hooking his thumbs into the depressions of his flesh.

Relishes in the thought of splaying his hands across the width of his waist.

Feels his mouth go dry and a rush of white heat surging south.

Licks his lips absentmindedly as his cock aches to life and makes the decision to skip the locker room schtick, save anyone realizing he’s sporting a half chub.

Instead, he grabs his backpack and heads out to his car. The parking lot is mostly empty by the time he gets there and devoid of anyone interested in him enough to wave him over. He tosses his stuff into the backseat of the Beemer and speeds off before anyone can catch up to him.

It’s a short drive to his house but he spends it envisioning Billy in all sorts of compromising positions. Thinks about the flush on his skin when he plays and the heat in his eyes— wonders how easily he gives in; loud-mouth turned soft and pliant at the faintest hint of pleasure.

He barely makes it inside before shucking his bag off and stripping himself bare of sweat-sticky clothes. In the same breath, he’s fisting a too damp hand around his cock and hissing at the near painful throb. His only relief comes from the coldness of the door against his back as he slumps against it.

Precum beads at the flushed head and he gathers it all on the upstroke to ease the glide. Squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that honeyed galaxies explode behind the lids and he can’t think.

Can’t think about the consequences of jerking off to someone he sees damn near everyday. Doesn’t care enough to avoid the impending embarrassment.

Why would he? Instead, he thinks of Billy laid out beneath him, all pretty and flushed and glittering; his eyes wet with unshed tears and ruddy lower lip between his teeth as he looks over his shoulder at him. Imagines the roughness of his voice and his muscles all pulled taut as Steve knocks the air out of his lungs with each slam of his cock.

He fucks into the tight ‘o’ of his hand, already so goddamn close and conjures up the image of twin dips. Wants to paint pearlescent white across the bronze expanse of Billy’s back; let it pool where he is favored by the Gods.

The thought has him biting back a moan as he grinds into the slickness of his hold. The heat in his gut expands so greatly, so suddenly, that his hips flex with the intensity of it. Until finally,

it snaps.

Like a star beneath the pressures of gravity; with all the strength and ferocity of a supernova. And he’s spilling all over his hand in a few stiff, jerky thrusts and breathing out a low, garbled “Fuck, Billy— shitshitshit.”

And God, he’s so screwed.

[hungharrington]

how would our husband be if we were upset cause we failed a class (…bio…), and we’ve never failed anything in our life and we are DISTRESSED!!!

babe! your husband, your stevie is initially as devastated if not more devastated than you because he knows, more than anyone, just how damn hard you work!!! there would be a series of him pacing and tugging on his hair, with some strongly worded mutterings about the absolute unfairness of your professor because his baby is smart!!! how could they do this to you!?!?!

and then the moment he realises he isn't helping at all bcos you're curled in on yourself on the couch not saying a word, steve rushes over, crouched before you on his knees and trying to coax your face out with a little, "hey, hey, hey, woah, everything's alright," and his big hands cradle your face and his heart droops when he sees your eyes are all shiny and you're clearly distressed over this -- "all those things are still true honey, you're still so so clever," and he kisses the tip of your nose and catches the first tear the streaks down your cheek and his heart just aches.

"you're still my smart girl, you know?" he murmurs with a soft smile, trying anything to get you to look a little less miserable, to get the tears to stop. "i-- fuck, i couldn't have done half of those things you did for that course. you'll get it next time round, okay?" and he nods along, his brows all scrunched in the middle in his concern -- only relaxing a bit when you nod along faintly, your face rocking in his hands. the tears seem to have slowed.

"okay," you sniffle a bit. "okay, yeah. i know you're right," and then you sniffle again and poke him in the chest with a hard jab- "and you could do all those things, if you wanted to, by the way." cos damn if you'll let your boyfriend talk down on himself, even if he's doing it to make you feel better!! and steve smiles, wipes his thumbs across your cheeks so gently to soothe you and goes, "alright, i'll believe you if you promise not to be too harsh on yourself for this."

and okay, he's got you there! so when you give a little nod, the furrow between his brow finally relaxes and he kisses you so sweet and tender and soft that you feel a little bit of your stress melt away because of it. when he pulls back and scans over your face again, his chocolate eyes filled with adoration, he's finally satisfied with what he sees and he nudges your nose with his own, "and try not to dwell on it too much, yeah?" he hums, then a cheeky smile tugs on his mouth. "i'll be happy to provide a distraction if you'd like." and well, when steve says that you know exactly what he means....

[starlightshadowsworld]

My thoughts on Bsd chapter 117

Spoilers below

I knew it!

Well not really but I knew Bram being here had something to do with Akutugawa. That's his godamn coat.

... Wait nooo.. Nooo! Fuck you don't make me watch Bram die again.

Aya trying to mean to lessen the blow. Bram feeling like he failed her. The flashbacks to his daughter...

"One day I'll carry you on my back"

Devastating how dare you.

Honestly considering how seriously Akutugawa keeps his promises, this seems like a good idea.

Ayyy Kunikida!

I do love how we're leaning into making Fukuchi some eldritch horror. Because fundamentally he should not exist.

Because it goes against everything. He is not of this world, of course his very existence fills you with dread.

I didn't think one look would take out Junichiro tho.

Kunikida filled with absolute terror and still having the strength to say what are you, fuck he's so cool.

Oh... Fukuchi can talk. Kinda ruins the vibe a little tbh but okay that's a choice.

"I am all. I am none." I am justice. I am the night. I am Batman.

I agree Kunikida what is going on at this airport? Everyone in Bsd talks about shit going on in the Train station but that is nothing compared to whatever this is.

Public transport man don't use it in this universe. Or any transport to be honest.

I love that Fyodor's just standing here not saying a word like okay fine you can have this one.

Ohhh ohh why did he sneak up on him ahhh nooo. Also you can't see one of Kunikida's hands and I am concerned.

Oh yeah this is the first time anyone in the Agency but Atsushi and Fukuzawa have dealt with Amenogozen.

Someone really should've told the others this fucker lives up to his name as the space time sword.

Atsushi you might wanna go the other way, whatevers going on there isn't looking so good.

Thank you Kunikida, see why don't we all just pack up our shit and leave.

"Tanizaki when I give the signal use your ability to escape"

You know this means whatever comes next is going to have everyone be like erm actually it could just be Junichiro's special ability.

Asagiri knows this fandom to well.

... AHHH!!!??!????? WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

KUUNNNIIIKIIIIIDAAAAA!!!

That better have been Junichiro's ability I swear to God nooooo! OHH AND ATSUSHI GOT THERE TOO LATE

Whyyyy why would you do this?!

Ohhh his hands are melting I'm like actually crying.

I feel like this itself is a sign that those killed by Amenogozen can come back because no one dies in this series. Because there's no way Asagiri would just kill Kunikida off... I hope.

Atsushi grabbing Junichiro out of harms way like that must've been the hardest decision to make to go.

"Fantastic move"

He's so proud of them.

Very confusing statement from Fukuchi that this blade shouldn't be able to harm Kunikida(?) as it stabs him. I don't know what this line means, if it's meant to mean anything.

Literally paralleling lines to when we thought Kunikida died in the helicopter soo... I dunno what to think anymore.

Also during the helicopter thing, Kunikida essentially told Junichiro that he was in charge... And now Junichiro's had to watch him maybe die again.

The shot of his notebook on the ground is just foul.

Atsushi no it's not you're fault!

I share the sentiment Junichiro I really do.

... THE SWORDS ABOVE HIS HEAD WHATF THE HELL?!

And it ends.

I don't think they'll get Junichiro too but Atsushi was alone in the epilogue.... Oh no.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Expanding on this a little bit because jealous Eddie is fun to write 😋

Summary; Eddie is the only one allowed to call the reader princess, it's like an unspoken rule in Hellfire. Luke comes along and breaks that rule and Eddie is not happy 👀😳

Warnings; Jealous Eddie, slightly possessive Eddie, not canon compliant.

If you enjoyed this then pls consider giving this a like or reblog or maybe both :) 💕😘 I don't give anyone permission to copy my work.

Eddie loved when new people expressed interest in Hellfire Club, not many did but a rare few came along.

Luke was the latest new recruit. He had asked Eddie at lunchtime if he could join in on a game of dnd and Eddie had agreed.

Turns out Luke was an excellent player and the game was fantastic. The only thing that needled at Eddie was the way Luke kept looking at you.

Eddie knew you were beautiful, funny, kind and welcomed new recruits with open arms but this shit? Luke gazing at you with a love sick look on his face?

Him making you laugh with shitty ass jokes? Enticing that sweet laugh out of you that Eddie loved so much? That was pissing him off.

Nothing ever distracted him from his DM duties but he felt a twist in his stomach, his heart racing when Luke leaned in too close to you, a visceral punch of jealousy.

The worst thing of all was the unspoken rule of Hellfire. Eddie called you princess and you were his princess.

All of Hellfire knew never to call you that but the minute that Eddie tenderly touched your shoulder and said ''It's your turn princess" that's when things went downhill.

"Hey, princess? Wanna kiss my dice for good luck?" Luke asked you with a smug smile on his face and the whole room went silent.

You cringe and lock eyes with Eddie who is seething and Dustin leans into Luke and explains the rule to him.

"Dude, you can't call her that. Only Eddie" and Like scoffed causing Eddie's jaw to tense.

"It's just a fucking nickname" Eddie glare at him.

"Yeah, it is but it's my nickname for my girl, you get that or are we going to have problems here?" Luke grimaces then quietens and Eddie assumes that's the end of it.

Until the next time, he calls you princess and Eddies patience snaps because the douchebag carries on doing it and looks at Eddie with a huge smirk on his face.

He was goading Eddie now.

That was it Luke was going to die.

💕

Not literally of course but at the next session of dnd Luke's character met a death with no come back, absolutely none.

"Ahh well, bad luck dude" Eddie shrugs while pretending to be devasted for Luke.

That's what you get for not listening dude he says to himself because he would have given Luke another chance if he didn't follow you around like a lost puppy, getting up in your personal space.

The fact you looked uncomfortable didn't seem to register to look and that pissed Eddie even more.

He flirted during class, called you Princess in front of Eddie, and tried to put his arm around you even when you moved closer to Eddie and stuck closer to him.

"Do you want me to say anything?" Eddie asks you concerned and you shake your head.

"He will grow bored when he sees I'm not interested" Eddie doesn't think so, he thinks that this asshole will still keep trying to get with you.

Like hell that will happen.

✨✨

Eddie sighs as you wrap your arms around him and kiss his neck. He's completely content having you in his arms and letting all the things that stress him just fade away.

When he was with you he was at peace. He was happier than ever. Just you two. He strokes your hair and kisses your forehead.

One of his hands tangles in your hair and the other rests on the small of your back pulling you close to him.

Your soft moans fill the air and he loves it, loves that little breathy groan you make when his hands caress your body.

"I love your sweet moans baby. All for me hmm?" you giggle and gaze at him, the same utter reverence that's in his gaze is mirrored in yours.

He doesn't notice Luke gawking at them, he's too entranced by you to notice.

"Get up on the table baby, I wanna taste you" he's craving it, craving you and the feel of you writhing around and coming undone with pleasure.

Then he hears the sound of something crashing and a panicked shit. He whips around and zeroes in on Luke looking sheepish and he glares.

Was this fucker watching you and him the whole time? Fierce protectiveness fills him, though he shouldn't be worried as you could hold your own, Jason Carver found that out.

Even still you were his girl and he was sick of this horny douchebag making eyes at you. Fuck off, she's mine.

Something in Eddie's gaze must register with Luke as he finally seems to get it through his thick skull that you were off limits and scarpered.

Dickhead he snorts and turns back to you waiting for him. Your fingers hook around the waistband of his jeans and you pull him closer.

Suddenly Luke is the farthest thing from his mind.

✨

[stabbyfoxandrew]

For wip wednesday arsonist neil/ firefighter andrew pls🙏

WIP Wednesday (2/28) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 101)

Well, that’s true. Neil has four phones, no permanent address, and a couple gas cans in his trunk. He’s a fucking criminal. But at least he’s never killed anyone. 

At least… No one who wasn’t also trying to kill him.

10 Thank you. Have you finished your form yet? Andrew Yes. Finally. Then I remembered I had to fill out a second one since there wasn’t really a fire. 10 Do you have to fill out special arson forms?  Andrew Yes.

Neil grins.

10 Sorry. Andrew Don’t lie to me. You think it’s funny.

The smile falls off Neil’s face. Just when had Andrew had a chance to read him? They’ve spent a combined five minutes together, outside of texting.

10 You’re wrong. I am absolutely devastated that I inconvenience you. Andrew Shut up. 10 I didn’t say anything.

[succulentlesbians]

Nat dying in endgame isn't canon? Her and Yelena are out living their sex in the city fantasy and bonding and making up for all the time that was stolen away from them :) I'm also rereading your fic again :D I'm deeply curious to know what it looks like from Yelena's pov, I've just gotten to the part where they've gotten on the plane but god just. The conversation about Hive. Tfw the one bright spot in your life is most equipped to understand you. But god it hurts they went through that too. </3

nat dying in endgame is absolutely so not canon To Me. her and yelena are out having the time of their lives, don't know how anyone could think differently.

saw you say curious about yelena pov and was like hmm what small tidbit could i give you that would be fun?

umm. rewrite of hive conversation, yelena pov:

Yelena turns to look at Daisy. Her arms are horribly discolored above her wraps and she's holding them precariously against her body as she lies on the bed, trying to prevent more pain.

Yelena hates it. This was avoidable, absolutely. Yelena could've taken out every person in that warehouse herself and they should both know that. Daisy is a spy now, she has to know that she needs to stay healthy. Doesn't she want to be healthy?

Yelena reaches out near unconsciously to Daisy's arm, as if she can make everything better though magic. She wishes she could.

"You don't have to tell me why," she says, "but I don't like seeing you hurt." She's not going to force Daisy into anything, but she needs to make her opinion clear that seeing Daisy in pain makes her hurt too.

She wraps her arm around Daisy's torso, hoping to offer comfort.

Daisy lets the silence go a for minute. "When I got my powers," she says finally, "I thought I was cursed."

She must have had to learn to control them. Now, Yelena can clearly see that she knows what she's doing. She hopes Daisy didn't kill anyone she didn't want to in her practice. She's not got much confidence in SHIELD, but they have to have better training practices than the Red Room.

“But I was convinced they were a gift by the other Inhumans.  And even when my mom died, I believed that I could do something good with the gift I’d been given."

Her mom had died? Another thing they have in common. Another unfortunate thing to have in common.

The rest of her words, that's the Daisy that Yelena knows. That's the girl she met who convinced her of good people in the world. Daisy is always looking for ways to help.

"So I kept working with SHIELD.  And—”

Daisy's voice cracks.

What happened to her? What made her hurt like this? If it's not already gone, Yelena is going to hunt it down and slaughter it. With delight. Great delight. And with excruciating pain.

"There was a thing with this bitch-ass octopus-looking fucker.  Hive.  He could do this thing to Inhumans—" he could do this thing to me, Yelena fills in with a sense of dawning horror— "where he made you feel like obeying him was the only thing you ever wanted to do in life.  Like there was something missing from your life and he could provide it.  Something to do with our brain chemicals, I don’t know the details.”

Yelena can't stop herself from a sharp inhale. It's obvious what happened.

Fucking mind control.

It sounds even worse than her own. Yelena, at least, hadn't been infatuated with Dreykov. She didn't know what her own feelings were all the time, if they were even real, but she knows it wasn't like that. She'd had uncharitable thoughts about Dreykov, even if she knew she'd never be able to hurt him. She'd at least had that choice. That Daisy hadn't is horrific. Absolutely horrific. Forced excitement to be enslaved is quite frankly, the worst thing Yelena can think of.

Daisy continues in a hushed voice. "I almost killed everyone. I hurt them.  Badly.  I threatened them.  Everyone in his path, I cleared."

It’s all the more devastating for someone like Daisy who cares so much about people. Someone who built up relationships with everyone she met, who did her absolute best to connect with them. It’s brutal.

Yelena grew up with killing. For better or for worse, she's generally unfazed by it. But Daisy? She may have changed from when she was Skye, but there's no way that death doesn't drag on her mind.

"When we finally took him down, good people died." Her voice wobbles dangerously. Her eyes begin to glisten as she fights tears. "So now I’m out here, trying to make up for everything I’ve done.  For all of the hurt I gave out.  The suffering I’ve caused.  And if it hurts?  It’s worth it.  And… maybe I deserve it.”

The worst part is, she sounds convinced of her words. Daisy genuinely believes she deserves it. The pain she's feeling right now, she thinks she deserves it.

It's complete bullshit.

Yelena could understand if there was no other option, that Daisy would need to use her powers. But she doesn't. So the only reason she's doing it is a misguided sense that she was somehow in charge of her actions while being mind controlled and therefore needs to suffer. Again, complete bullshit.

For someone as good as Daisy, just the fact that her body committed the action is enough to incriminate herself in her mind.

She reaches out to grab Daisy's hand, needing the comfort. Wanting to give comfort.

If there's one thing she's locked onto after getting free, it's that she was not in control of her body. Maybe she can extend that to Daisy.

"It's not your fault," she says as firmly as she can. "It wasn't us. It wasn't our choice. It wasn't your choice, Daisy."

A solitary tear begins to roll down Daisy's face. "But I did it. And I felt happy about it."

Hive, Yelena knows, is dead. She was able to find out that much. In the back of her mind, she's been stabbing him again and again. How could anyone do something like that to Daisy?

She recalls the emotionless state when she killed Oksana and the sudden onset of feeling afterward. She had gone from being glad to have completed her mission to abject horror as Oksana died in her arms.

She brushes the tears off of Daisy's cheek. "Even our emotions, they didn't belong to us." She won't ever forget the whiplash of that moment. But it reminds her— "But now they do. Now we can decide. We have our own thoughts and feelings."

Daisy tilts her head, ever so slightly. Indecision rolls across her face, crinkling her eyebrows. For a brief second, Yelena is reminded of her mother, comforting her just as she is comforting Daisy now. She would knit her eyebrows together like that too as she thought of what to do.

"You've been so brave. You’ve held onto this pain for so long.  It’s made you strong."

Pain only makes you stronger, Mama had told her the day she died. Yelena has held onto those words. She's been through so much and it's made her stronger. She's come out the other side of everything.

“Those things happened and they can’t be taken back."

There's a lot that Yelena's done that she could regret now and Oksana's death is at the top of the list. There's plenty of other deaths that cross her mind. She has to put that behind her. Oksana... she'll complete her dying request. She'll free the Widows. But she's going to experience being free too.

"But it’s okay to let it go.  It’s okay to want good things for yourself.  It’s okay to live your life.” 

It has to be okay. It wasn't her fault. She didn't choose any of her past. She can choose her future. She's going to choose her future. She's figured out contacting Daisy, she can figure out the rest of it too.

“We’re our own people now.”

Daisy's face crumples and she bursts into tears, turning to bury her face in Yelena's shoulder. Yelena strokes gently at her back.

"It was supposed to be me," Daisy mutters quietly. "Why wasn't it me?"

Yelena has no idea what she's talking about. It sounds like something she should disagree with on principle based on the other thoughts Daisy has been having about herself, but she's not going to act without knowing more. And she's pushed Daisy enough tonight. Getting the seeds in there is as far as she'll go.

So she doesn't say anything else that might bring up bad memories for Daisy. Instead, she starts to sing an old Russian lullaby, one that Mama had sang to her as a child. She waits as Daisy sinks into sleep, dried tears tracks on her face, before she dares to drift off herself, carefully holding Daisy. She's not going to let her do this alone. Not anymore.

[tinyozlion]

I'm continuing on my journey through the broader Gundam franchise, and I think War in the Pocket might be the best and most complete Gundam/MS/ real-robots genre movie one could make. It's feels like a perfect summation of the themes of the series, the world building, the atmosphere, the moral ambiguity, the horror, melancholy, and bittersweet hopefulness born out of grief and human perseverance. It uses the audience's awareness of danger and concern for the characters to passively build up tension the same way the best horror stories and classic tragedies do; it makes the stakes feel SO real and it delivers such an absolute gut punch with each fully-earned consequence. It's one of those perfect stories that fills in the all important empty space between major events and main characters that reaches its maximum poignancy because it takes place in the background of larger events that are already familiar. It answers the question "what was happening all the time, everywhere else, to everyone else."

I think if there's anyone watching gundam shows who finds themselves taken out of the story because they're hung up thinking like, "yeah but what would MS combat really look like if you didn't pull any punches?" (exactly as horrific and gruesome as most mechanized violence is, combined with the unique awfulness of space physics), or "what would it really be like to live on a space colony where mobile suit battles were a constant threat to your way of life?" (you'd become worryingly desensitized and resigned very quickly), or "what if the various scifi militaries operated with the same bottom-line utilitarianism that you'd expect them to?" (they'd make decisions that are uncomfortable to watch), then this will answer all those questions-- and offer a pretty clear demonstration why that level of graphic violence is generally hidden behind the fig leaf of clean, circular explosions. But War in the Pocket let's you know exactly what's being omitted, in a way that makes one uncomfortably conscious of human fragility in reality as well as in the fiction, as I think any anti-war story properly must. It is incredibly beautiful, brilliantly and subtly told, and fucking devastating.

Man. It genuinely shook me. What an incredible entry into the franchise and what an incredible film/OVA all on its own.

[wildpeachfarm]

i feel like dream and george have both hit this cycle where they want things to be perfect because of the lack of content like they think that since they haven’t posted in forever, it better blow all of our minds when they do post. and i get it like i really do because i probably would also have that mindset in their shoes but i hope they are aware all of us would watch them just sit in an empty room on their phones and occasionally speaking to the other

idk if these both are the same anon but I'm gonna answer them both here with just my general thoughts under the cut (also keep in mind this is MY personal opinion and I am happy for anyone to come in here and share theirs! as long as they are being respectful to everyone here and obviously dteam)

I definitely agree with this for the most part and I think it's pretty obvious that Dream and George are both perfectionists but in different ways and I think that certainly affects their ability to make content in any form. I know George used to not stream certain things because he thought it would be too boring and Dream doesn't want to publish a video until it is perfect. And yes I agree I think they just need to listen to us when we say that ANY content at this point is better than no content and constant silence.

I would agree however I think the lack of communication started way before that. The first round of grooming allegations was absolutely insane and definitely was a huge tipping point in terms of Dream putting his fans at a more "arm's length" distance and it just became more and more extreme of a distance as each new controversy happened. I know even in The Truth he said he pulled back from his fans a lot after the face reveal because meeting them in person made things way more real for him (which is kind of devastating to hear, but not the point here). And generally, it makes sense that if he is constantly being thrown allegations of interacting weirdly with fans, it wouldn't make him want to interact with fans anymore to be extra safe.

I'm sure George has been battling those same feelings of distancing himself from his fans in the aftermath of his own allegations after so many people in the community left. I think it's just a byproduct of these types of situations especially when they are left to sit and fester because there is no content to make the fans happy/distracted and fill that void.

And I think that's the predicament that the community is finding itself in these days: there is no communication with Dream about this project, and he doesn't interact with the community in a way that people feel heard in the ways that they used to years ago. Mix that with overpromising a project that's been taking over half a year to create with no accurate deadline in sight (and another wave of controversy that was fucking awful), and you have a pretty unsatisfied fanbase (I'm being very general when I say this). Which is why I think people are using reddit as a platform to voice their exhaustion and criticisms- because at this point it's the only chance that maybe dream will see it or they will be able to converse with other fans about their feelings on the situation as well