#my favourite ship for a long long time

[motherfuckingmaneater]

I'm curious (and a big admirer of your ship for them) so I need to know! Now deep Bellatrix and Orion's bond goes?

Its thundering outside when Bellatrix sneaks the door open, the creaking hardly audible. It’s late when she’s back, her Master away and her husband with him. She opts for the only other place she’d like to be than in a desolate manor — not that she’s ever disliked her own company. Tonight is for a warm bed and a roaring fireplace, for thick duvets and the specific type of comfort only one wizard can bring.

He doesn’t stir as she paces along the thick lush carpeted floor, bare feet silent as she approaches. His arm is strewn above him and the other along the inviting space of a perfectly made mattress, the space to his left entirely free for Bellatrix to take. She does so without hesitation, pulling back a duvet filled with phoenix feather, made specifically to be perfectly balanced in temperature come summer or winter. 

The April showers have been unrelenting for the last week and the solace of clean clothes, dry hair and a warm bed after being soaked through to the bone makes her sigh her relief. She moves in close and he hardly shifts or stirs. She takes her favourite place against his shoulder, her pillow pulled in closer against him. She’s burrowed beneath the duvet when she hears him take a long slow, calm inhale, stretching his arm out to wrap around her as he turns his head to kiss where he can — and landing a kiss perfectly on her forehead. 

“My Bella.” He hums groggily and she practically purrs as his fingers scratch gently at her scalp, taking long silken tresses into his fingers and running them through, “…nice surprise.” 

She smiles against his skin, his chest bare and rune marked. She touches the rune in the centre of his chest going down to his stomach. He’s had that the longest, she remembers it from when she was a little child and she’d fall asleep on his lap after dinners as he drank firewhiskey and talked, his deep smooth voice lulling her into blissful sleep every time. Orion Black has always been special to Bellatrix. 

She kisses the one at his collar bone above his heart — the one he trusted her to give him, a mark at his fiftieth birthday for longevity and prosperity of blood. It matches her own at the nape of her neck going down her spine, the very first rune she received from his hands. Now she is littered in them, they flow down her spine, her throat, her arms, her waist and hips and ankles and fingertips. They mark every part of her skin, a map of the stars and the purest of pure blood reflected perfectly in the Black’s one and only warrior princess. He smells divine. She remembers when she first realised exactly what it was he smelt of.

A splash of fresh water, a touch of a cigar taken between teeth, the faintest hint of a soothing rum that reminded her of the feeling of the sun on her skin. The faintest hint of a vivifying peppery bergamot… and the raw sophistication of an amber wood trail. Wild, open spaces; blue sky that covers rocky landscapes, hot under the desert sun. 

“Missed you.” She whispers and though her voice is quiet it’s the easiest thing to tell him. He hums softly, the deep warmth of his voice reverberating through her and calming the torrent of magical storm she’d had surging through her veins all day. Her muscles relax and her bones cease aching, warmth floods her veins as he runs his fingers up her arm as she lays it across him.

It was all wild and entirely something the witch didn’t recognise until months later, until her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, fingers wound in his dark hair. Only when her mouth opened willingly to his mouth, the soles of her soft feet touching the backs of his legs as he covered her body with his own did she realise. . .

“Stay a while this time.” He says lazily, a request and not a demand, he has her, he doesn't want to see her go so soon, “we’ll have breakfast in the morning.” 

She’s fast losing herself to sleep then, but she sighs her contentment as she asks, “just you and I?”

“Mmh,” he agrees quietly, easily soothed by the warmth of her to lull him back to his slumber, “just you and I.” 

Amortentia had smelt like her Uncle. 

[ethanharmonia]

Pokemon doodles but i got a bit too silly (Volo my beloved)

Man with his kids bro

Is this trainwreckshipping yall cuz i dont see them wrecking a train while kissing

(this is how i see them in my au / in general if they ever met)

[art-killed-the-superstar]

So you are dreaming of after Was it really all just for fun? I was the man still in love with you When I already knew it was done.

*hears new sufjan stevens song* l-leosagi

[how-to-humaning-401]

hmm i got a new phone and transported all my stuff over there but i kinda wanna draw a new background for it "you should draw" no im not gonna listen to the voices "you should draw them though"

ah fuck i listened to the voices

anyways theres bisexuals on my background now

(do i feel like showing what apps i have on my phone? nah, but you can have the bg if you want)

(edit: the conductors eyebrows are darker now)

[spittyfishy]

If doodle requests are still open, maybe a Soniakane date?

They’re trying to decide what to do next!

[starleska]

I am definitely here to find out more about your OC Harper if you wanna share 👀👀👀

oh my god yes yes yes thank you so much Jam i would LOVE to gush about Harper Spiel and their bizarre backstory, thank you so much 🙈💖 Doctor Who OCs are so fun to make!

my dear Harper's story begins right after the events of The Giggle! Harper Spiel is a 26-year-old ludologist, or games specialist: a former world champion in several board games who turned their fascination with games into a lucrative career. previously they worked with the British government investigating high-profile gambling rings and other criminal operations which involved gameplay mechanics! 👀

following The Giggle, UNIT wanted to find out all they could about the Toymaker, and so they hired Harper to create a full report on him...against The Doctor's wishes, and without his knowledge. during their research, Harper discovers that the Toymaker is not an isolated incident: he has cropped up in gaming lore and texts throughout history as a godlike entity no one can win against. most people would steer well clear...but Harper takes this as a challenge 🔥 so, they begin a series of experiments with the Toymaker's Toybox. Harper spends weeks trying to engage the Toymaker without opening the box, attempting to coax him into a game, but comes up short. until they have a mad idea! on their birthday, Harper brings a sand timer to the Toybox, and challenges the Toymaker to emerge before the sand runs out. they have no way of knowing if the game is accepted... until a bang!! then, a flash of light...and the vague image of a grin with far too many teeth, beaming through the fog. when Harper awakes, they are no longer in their own timeline. they are in 1984, in an empty lot where the UNIT building hasn't even been constructed yet! 😱 it takes a few days for the Doctor - specifically the Sixth Doctor - to find Harper, and it's because the TARDIS has become absolutely fixated on London in 1984 and he can't work out why. this leads him to Harper, who the Doctor recognises as a temporal anomaly: a living entity displaced in time who should not be able to exist in this reality, but has been rejected by their own. according to the Doctor, Harper's birthday - originally March 22nd, 1998 - is now March 22nd, 1956...which would make them 65 years old according to their original reality!! if not...that means they're minus 40 💀 the Doctor, horrified by this mess, takes Harper into the TARDIS and tries to bring them back to 2024...but the TARDIS nearly implodes! he then tries every workaround he knows, but something about the game Harper opened up with the Toymaker has caused their own timeline to shun them. like it or not, the only safe place for Harper to exist (at least without increasing timey-wimey shenanigans) is within the TARDIS 😉 so!! Harper gets stuck with the Sixth Doctor, to his chagrin and their delight. Harper is familiar with the Doctor, but only his most recent regenerations, and they take delight in playing off his bombastic, arrogant personality. they're always getting stuck into some part of the TARDIS they shouldn't be, or wandering off and nearly causing a category 5 space-time event. they're a magnet for disaster and time distortion, and it drives the Doctor mad! 🙈 but as funny as their relationship is, there is real grief here. the Doctor soon recognises Harper to be somewhat like him: a scientist whose fascination often overrides their emotions, so the process of understanding that they will never see their friends again (as they have no family to speak of) is tough. it doesn't take long for the Doctor to soften towards Harper...after all, Harper is something which the universe itself is trying to reject. who can relate more to that than the Sixth Doctor, whose regeneration was characterised by fear, anger and feeling like an alien in his own body? aaaand that's Harper Spiel!! unwitting companion to the Sixth Doctor and challenger of the Toymaker 🥰 their adventures would be characterised by them attempting to find some way back to Harper's original timeline safely, with Harper insisting they need to find the Toymaker to make it happen...😭

[hotwaterandmilk]

Discotek Media announced today that their blu-ray release of Kodocha series two is now available to pre-order from RightStuf ahead of its May 30th 2023 release date.

If you're into Kodocha you'll probably know that only the first part of the anime series has previously received a US release. For countless English-speaking Kodocha fans the only access they've had to the rest of the anime adaptation has been through raws or extremely messy bootleg subs. Discotek Media will change that with their release of the remaining TV anime episodes on SD blu-ray this year!

There's been a lot of anticipation for this Discotek release as it has been quite some time coming subsequent to their licensing announcement, but anyone familiar with the source material will appreciate the absolutely MAMMOTH job that translating & subbing these episodes would have required on Discotek's part. I know I'm just happy they were able to complete it and put together this release at all.

Unlike the first series, which received an English dub, the second Kodocha anime series blu-ray will only feature English subtitles -- but don't let the absence of a dub put you off too much, the original cast are incredible and if you want to see the characters a little older and in even more challenging situations, you'll definitely get your money's worth out of this release.

As usual, I think an Amazon pre-order link will come in time but Right Stuf offers a solid discount on their pre-orders so if you want to get your hands on this BD set at a decent price then they're probably your best bet.

Edit: For those interested, the first Kodocha blu-ray set from Discotek is still available via Right Stuf and Amazon.

[woundlingus]

Kinktober Day Six - Flogging/Fire Play/Foursomes

Rating: Explicit ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Fandom: Supernatural ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ Relationship: Alastair/Dean Winchester ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Tags: Fireplay, Fire, Torture, Hell, Pre-Season 4, Rape/Noncon

Say ‘Yes’, It’s Not That Hard

Down in the bowls of Hell hangs Dean, every day he’s offered the same deal. Alastair will put down his instruments of torture, so long as Dean picks them up. Every day is a fresh hell, Dean wants to scream ‘Yes’ until he’s blue in the face but he can’t. No matter how much fun Alastair is having with him.

Live on AO3 :)

List maker @masoena

[boatemboys]

i forgot how much i like ahasbands/redwood?? whatever. theyre so domestic they make me sick

[missmouse43]

6 weeks of breathing clean air, I still miss the smoke…..

🏝️🤙🏄🏾‍♀️🏄🏼‍♂️💔

[deus-ex-mona]

l e t m e i n ! ! !

[longagoitwastuesday]

Going through the Utahim.e tag had me checking several times if at some point I had clicked on the G.ojo/Utahim.e one instead

[thecosmicapple]

feed me jack vinyls from choke artist arrived today i’m so fucking excited they can eat earlier than i expected 😁

right ones are the chumpfrey prints, left is anatolia/ultra ego, i got one of each print bc i ordered for my friend aswell

grraaahhhghh so happy right now

[sskk-manifesto]

What a good episode. Maaaaaan

[spicyicymeloncat]

Maybe… maybe fandom needs more romance adjacent content. Like… I’m tired of couples. I want unrequited crush but it’s just normal and not throwing up flowers. I want exes to besties or even worsties. I want “we kissed once and decided never to do that again and moved on with it”. I want break ups and unrequited love that isn’t treated like failure. I need more of this.

[drgnflyteabox]

can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day. 

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb. 

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved. 

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk. 

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

<3