#screaming this was so fun to write

[obsidianbit]

I love this gay ass show with its literally life ending injuries that heal immediately, but only when convenient to the plot, and its ridiculous use of modern phrases, and its laughing in the face of historical accuracy, and its kissing the face of the fans instead of trying to outwit them, and the way everyone involved in the show seem to go 'I KNOW RIGHT! I'M EXCITED TOO!' instead of mocking the fans

[operationandre]

sneak peek 🤫🤫

[year2000electronics]

people whose posts where they’re bitching and complaining accidentally get into tag searches because tumblrs tag system is stupid and will drag every mention of a tag onto that tag’s search: i forgive you. and i love you. your post made me mad but that is your right to post on your blog. that is your Hater’s Sanctuary and it is just unfortunate that our paths have crossed like this.

people who bitch and complain and then put posts directly in the tag on purpose: i’m going to get you.

[toxintouch]

Yooooooo, you write fan fictions, don't you? Halloween is, like, right over there *points*. would you be willing to do one of mhin taking sparrow ghost hunting? and maybe even having a "guest appearance" of a certain shadow manipulator?

if this has already been done, could you point me in the right direction?

thank you~

I've never seen a fic like that but omg. This is such a brilliant idea, I love how all the pieces come together so perfectly–Vere being said to be responsible for his fair share of local ghost stories, mentions of Mhin and haunted houses in the Uquiz results… Premium thoughts.  I had a lot of fun writing this, ty for giving me the prompt!! :>

It took a couple of extra days but it's also longer (~2900 words) so hopefully that makes up for it.  p.s sorry if u meant it to be more gen bc I wrote romantic pining lol Volume Warning! Ambiance (~BEAUTIFUL FOX NOISES) for y'all /j

Cold Spots

You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, sheltering your remaining body heat from the howling wind.  

You ignore the shiver that creeps down your spine.

You’ve been warned that the night is chilly in Eridia at this time of year, but you haven’t quite scraped together enough coin to afford more layers.  So you huddle closer to the swaying lamplight of the Wet Wick, attempting to leech warmth from the cheery (if occasionally overwhelming) atmosphere of the bar.  You’re on edge, wary about straying too far from the Wick’s affable open doors and the balmy light spilling out of them.

You crane your neck to peer as far as you can around the corner without moving, eyeing the myriad of nearby alleyways, all full to the brim with shadows, searching for a familiar splash of moonlight and blue sweeping through the night.

 That’s when you feel eyes on your back.

You freeze, all of your senses on high alert.

“You’re where I asked you to be.”  Mhin says in lieu of a greeting.  You startle, reeling around to face them.  Even when you're expecting them, they have the uncanny ability of sneaking up on you.

“You say that like you’re surprised.”  You chide, in mock affront.  “You’ll notice that I’m also on time.”  Your giddiness shows on your face, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t act so pleased with yourself,” they snipe while rolling their eyes, “for anyone else, that’s the bare minimum.”  They frown, looking you up and down with their arms tightly crossed. “...Is that what you’re wearing?”

Any further quips you have for them die in your mouth, drowned out by nervous chuckling.  You realize they must be asking (in their own way) if you’re not going to get too cold.  You know you could just ask Leander or Kuras for some seasonally appropriate attire but you’d rather not rely on further charity if you can’t help it.  Hence: “I’m, um, warm blooded?”  You mean to inject an appropriate amount of bravado into your voice, but it comes out as more of a question.

Mhin sighs, long eyelashes brushing their cheeks as they close their eyes for one long moment.   “Sometimes I wonder…  Fine.  Let’s just get going.”

The floorboards shriek beneath your feet as you step across the threshold.  The entire shack seems to groan and sway, protesting audibly against the wind.  You stick close to Mhin’s back as they hold their gas lamp up, casting an eerie glow about the interior of the abandoned building.  Their keen eyes do a quick sweep before they nod decisively and usher you inside with a single precise motion.

The bellow of the wind sounds almost like a scream as the door shuts behind you.

“So, what are we looking for, exactly?”  Your voice comes out hushed, the haunting atmosphere insisting that you behave accordingly.

“Likely nothing.”  Mhin responds.  “Actual ghost sightings are very rare.  And of those, few recorded instances come from trustworthy sources.  People in Eridia can be quite superstitious.  Count on rats or other pests.  It’s more plausible that this is a mere infestation rather than–”

The roof above your heads gives a long, low creeaaaak.

You both pause for a beat, listening to silence.

“How would we know if it's a real ghost?”  You ask, more out of curiosity than anything.  You’re not about to waste the opportunity, if Mhin is willing to keep talking.

“Depends on the type of ghost.”  Another protest from the floorboards as Mhin wanders further into the dark.  Since you don’t have a lantern of your own, you have no choice but to follow close behind.  Unless you want to stumble around with nothing but the shatters of dusty moonlight cast through the cracked windows to guide your way.

Mhin and you make a quick round of the small building, finding it mostly empty, only a few pieces of broken furniture left behind.  You draw closer to the back wall, carefully avoiding moth-eaten curtains, heeding Mhin’s warning about a small step.  Based on the layout, you think this place might have been a bar or entertainment hall of some sort.  You imagine it had a nice, cozy parlor at one time, though now it’s fallen into squalor.  As Mhin examines the walls for signs of pests and other clues, you examine the graffiti strewn across them: crude jokes and lewd drawings, mostly.  Some scattered names, belonging to people and gangs you’ve never heard of before.  

Framed in the center, though, there's a huge riot of colorful paint.  An abstract painting with no proper canvas.  It's beautiful, somehow, though hauntingly morose.  The artist has contained their work in a neat square, not a single streak of color escaping the precisely imposed prison.  You’re not sure what the intent of the artist was choosing somewhere like this to display it…  

“Is there a type of ghost that makes artwork?”  You wonder aloud.  You almost wish that Mhin would hand you the lantern so you can get a better look.

Mhin clicks their tongue, sparing barely a glance toward the makeshift painting.  “I wouldn't define that as art.”  Mhin follows the line of the wall to the corner, their lantern held up to the wall.  “That’s just…paint.  If you’re looking for ghosts, try looking for scratch marks.  Those are a possible indicator, though not always a reliable one.  A sudden feeling of hot, or cold–any otherwise unexplainable temperature change.  A strange odor…”

You give the air a sniff.  “...I don’t smell anything.  Do you?”

“Dust.  Rotting wood.  And you’ve stopped using Leander’s bath soaps, which I’ll commend you for.  Why anybody would want to smell that strongly of–”  Mhin stops and gives a short whiff, their mouth slightly parted.  Their brows furrow. “It is unusual…I don't see or smell any signs of rats or roaches.  No vultures either…”

“Maybe something else scared them away?”  You posit.  You shuffle closer to Mhin, not liking the way the shadows around you seem to flow and ebb the longer you look at them, your mind making up shapes.  There’s a silly part of you that wants to feel Mhin’s cloak between your bandaged fingers as reassurance that they’ll stay close.  They’d probably hate to know that you see them as something to cling to–a source of comfort, safety.

You try to take another step closer to further dampen your trepidation, but instead you trip over– something–and stumble directly into Mhin.  They catch you on impulse, strong and quick enough to steady you with one arm while holding the lantern with the other.  You breathe an apology, your lips bumping against their chin as they help you get your feet back under you.  

You both search the ground to determine what knocked you off your balance.

It's a dirty old rug, rucked up at one edge.  

A long line of what appears to be claw marks lies half uncovered below it.  Mhin kneels beside the marks, studying them intently, carefully moving the rug to reveal yet more splintered wood.  “I’m not sure what could have done this,” they admit.  “The marks are fresh, but none of the dust was disrupted…”

The floorboards groan another protest, though it bounds off the walls in strange ways, making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where the sound originated.

“Aural contortions.”  Mhin announces.  “And a feeling that you’re being watched.  Reflective surfaces will behave oddly as well.  Hold this.”  Mhin hands you the lantern (more: shoves it into your grasp, really) reaching into their satchel.  Their nimble hands pull out a handful of alchemical concoctions, one which shines like the inside of a seashell, a tiny silver locket, which they flick open to reveal a small mirror.  There’s symbols etched into it, so old and worn away you can’t make them out.

You draw the lantern closer at their behest, illuminating a small smile spread across their face.

Is Mhin …Having fun?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”  You ask, hoping they don’t notice the warmth in your voice. Getting scolded would kind of ruin the mood.

Mhin glances up, blinking at you like they almost forgot you were there.  Their tongue peeks out, wetting their lips as they consider.  “Yes,” they finally agree, “would you–”

The lamplight is smothered by an unknown force.

The cracked streams of light from the window are gone, leaving you in darkness.

Mhin swears, their voice distorting as if they are suddenly very far away.  A moment ago they were crouched beside you, but the shadows surrounding you are so inky you can’t make out their silhouette at all.  Instinctively, you reach your hands out in front of you before freezing and reluctantly forcing them back down.  If both you and Mhin end up stumbling around with hands outstretched, there’s a possibility that they might accidentally grasp onto you and disrupt your bandages.  (You wish you had given into your desire to hold onto them earlier.)  

You whisper their name, frantic, hoping they can hear you.

“I’m here,” Mhin assures you, their voice pitched low and cautious.  You feel the gentle press of a foot against yours, a light tap of reassurance against the side of your sole.  “Stay close.”  There’s a brush of fingertips against your back.  “If the entity is particularly powerful, it will be able to move objects,” Mhin cautions, “but a ghost should never be capable of causing harm to humans directly.  And there’s not much in here that it could throw.  Just stay calm.  If you don’t keep your emotions in check, it will only be more incensed.”

Light flashes through the room again in a spotlight, guiding your gaze to a particular area of the building.

The abstract mural is defaced, dripping black liquid splattered boldly across the wall like arterial spray.  You retreat a step, feeling something wet beneath your feet.  There’s a sharp, astringent tang in the air.  Musty and earthy-floral.  Old velvet and leather, parchment and fresh paint.

You realize, with a sinking feeling of cold terror, that the black ichor on the wall spells your name.

    Eyes on you.  

Touch like a gossamer spider web.  Brushing against the nape of your neck.

“Mhin,” you whisper urgently.  “Something just–”  

The cold hits you then.  Bone deep and all consuming.  Judging by the way Mhin swears, they must feel it too.  Whatever this unknown entity is, it’s close.  And it wants…

Shadow flickers, fingers reaching for you, claws grasping, white glint of teeth.

Mhin sneers audibly, reaching for you and reeling you in by your cloak just before the figure can snatch you up.  Their arm wraps around you, guiding you with them as they recede.  They sweep their stiletto in a wide arc and you hear the clang of metal on metal, though you have no idea what it was that Mhin hit.  Their night vision must be immaculate–you can hardly see more than the fresh glint of their stiletto blade.

“Turns out it is a vermin infestation.”

A bark of laughter.  

Very familiar laughter.

The door starts to rattle on its hinges, moving to the rhythm of Vere's glee.  Mhin walks over to it, dragging your shaking body with them.  With a definitive kick from Mhin and a final cackle from Vere, the door bursts open.

Mhin tugs you out into the open air and slams it behind them.

“Awful fur-bag.”  Mhin spits the words out like the mere thought of Vere leaves a bad taste in their mouth.

You’re far enough away that the black paint clinging to both of your shoes is no longer leaving footprints, but you can’t say the same about the bone deep cold.

You’re shivering so hard your teeth start to chatter, adrenaline magnifying the chill in your bones.  How did Vere even do that?  You rub your arms and nearly stumble into Mhin in the process.  Their features twist into a half-formed scowl, eyes sweeping you before softening into something more delicate.

You find yourself staring into eyes that seem to catch the moonlight, words caught in your throat.

“You’re freezing.” Mhin murmurs, resting a hand against the curve of your cheek, testing your temperature.

You’re surprised at the contact.  Mhin is always so careful about touching you–it’s something you appreciate, usually, this unspoken agreement between the two of you; Mhin doesn’t ask intrusive questions, just makes silent hypotheses and treats your personal space with care.  You appreciate it–usually–but sometimes, (constantly), you wish…

Mhin’s thumb pets against your jaw.  They glace away from you as they do, unable to hold your gaze, but they don’t remove their hand, even as the moment hangs heavy in the air.  Their hand is soft, you think, fingertips like silk, though you can feel the thick calluses built up at the meat of their palm.  Likely hard won and harder lost, trophies from their time as a freelancer and whatever secret misfortune befell them what led them to Eridia.  Unthinking, you nuzzle into their touch, luxuriating in the coveted feeling of skin on skin.  You have half a mind to turn your head, press your lips against their calluses, kiss them like you’re drawing poison from a wound.

Mhin catches your chin between their thumb and pointer finger.  Their grip is assertive, certain.  You’d worry that you’ve angered them somehow, but the intensity of their gaze, the subtle tilt of their head, the flush of their cheeks, the featherlight caress of their breath on your lips…

–You think they might–

They back away abruptly in one smooth stride.  Their hands work quickly at the intricate clasp on their cloak.  Oh, now they’re really looking away.

“Wear this while we head back.  You didn’t come to this city to die of cold.”

They look at their bracers pointedly as you hesitate, as if itching to adjust them.  You slowly reach out and put the garment on.

The trek back to the Wick is uneventful.  The occasional star glances out from the pall of clouds constantly lingering in the Eridian sky.  You look for the waning moon, finding its reticent light and following it home.  You return Mhin’s cloak at the door, careful to hold it in a way that allows them to take it without having to touch you – touch your bandages.  

Mhin looks, oddly, a little reluctant to see it returned.  You’re not sure how else you can possibly read their body language.  Their hunched shoulders, the downturn of their mouth, their uncharacteristic lingering.  Holding the cloak in their hands like they can’t quite decide what to think of it.

They let out a sharp breath.

Mhin levels you with a pointed glare as they settle their mantle across their shoulders, affixing the clasp without need to look down.  “Buy some warmer clothes.” they order, “Tell Leander that the contract is complete and the buyer’s ‘ghost problem’ is solved.  The building should be fine for renovations, just tell them to start their renewal project on a day when the Senobium is actually holding Vere’s leash.”

  “You’ll come back for your cut tomorrow…?”  Confusion rolls off your lips.

“No.”  Mhin crosses their arms again.  “I just told you to buy some warmer clothes, didn’t I?  Consider it hazard pay.”  Again, that disgusted tone Mhin reserves for Vere.  “Even with that taken into consideration, you’ll still owe me, though.  Don’t forget.  I’ll collect some day; everyone does in this city.”

You’re not sure what to say.  Mhin is insisting that this is just a loan, and you believe that wholeheartedly.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t charity.  Mhin’s also offering you transparency–an open disclosure of the deal you’re agreeing to.  You take their cut, buy what you need, and resolve to pay it back when you can.  And if Mhin needs something similar in the future, you’ll return them in kind.  

You think you stumble over your words a little, but you agree to their offer.

“I’ll be back to collect another contract.  Hopefully something that’s not a waste of my time.”

And a promise to come back is a promise to see you again, isn’t it?  To include you in their life?  Is that what you’re supposed to take from this?  That Mhin cares for you, even if they won’t–

  Or is it your foolish heart, showing you a path that isn’t really there?  

“Goodnight, Mhin.”  You say the words, but their back is already turned, steps already taken.

   ✦ EXTENDED ENDING...? ✦

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.   It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort.  You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

✦Heat Signature (Vere Continuation) ->

[thebirdsareafterme]

maxiel, galex, scaniel, brocedes!

OOOH OK I am ready.

Maxiel: makes sense, compels the FUCK out of me

I genuinely don’t think there’s been a ship that has compelled me like Maxiel. They make me so insane and I’ve spent the last 8 months of my life going up and down all 200ish AO3 pages in the tag like some kind of deranged possum, searching for more Maxiel content. They just make so much sense in my mind. You have Max, who has been taught his entire life that his only purpose in life is to win races, who is this angry, strung up little kid when he first joins F1…and then he meets Daniel, who is so kind and charismatic and has always been taught to enjoy the moment and the process of it all and just treats him with so much love even when he’s not winning or when he’s getting criticized by the media…and Max finally learns how to enjoy life outside of racing for the first time. Even outside of the general RPF scene of it all, the absolute pivotal Maxiel moments are so important and have so much significance in the grand scheme of the sport. Daniel leaving Red Bull because of Max (to an extent) which then caused a ripple effect on a whole bunch of people’s careers and ultimately led to the Horrors that we are currently living through, but at the end of the day, it’s about “If it can’t be me, I’m glad it’s him” and that fastest lap into “Thank you, Daniel.” Yeah, I could talk about them for DAYS if given the chance.

Galex: makes sense, compels me

They’re everythingggg to me. I love the childhood friends to lovers thing they have going on. The Galex lore is so interesting, like the throat infection incident, the collarbone biking accident, the whole thing about George being Alex’s hype man/personal photographer as a kid… underrated ship fr. They have the best chemistry and their sense of humour actually work so well together, and I NEED more content from them. I also CANNOT ship either of them with anyone else because it just does! Not! Work! In my head. They are each other’s ride or die and I love that for them.

Scaniel: makes sense, does not compel me

I love their friendship a lot and I think they have so much weird gay energy between them, but unfortunately my day one Daniel ship is still Maxiel. I think Scaniel has potential for growth, but unfortunately they do kinda give off besties to me. I will admit they have had some good, shippable moments, but Scotty just feels like a straight man in my mind. I think it’s just the DR effect (every man within a 5 mile radius falls in love with him) that drives this ship forward tbh.

Brocedes: makes sense, compels me A LOT

THIS is THE SHIP of all ships. The lore goes so hard and it’s so devastating to me. I’m a sucker for a good childhood friends to lovers to enemies storyline, so they are right up my alley. It’s just the most insane story that when I tried explaining it to my casual F1 fan friend, they asked me if it was from a movie and I was like NO! This is irl!!! The way that they have a 6 hour, 3 part YouTube docuseries about their relationship is crazy. No other ship has as much angst as them, and no one will ever come close to being them. It’s the way that they fundamentally are a part of each other’s careers and that you cannot mention one without the other, it’s the way that Nico talks about that era of his life and how he could only stomach their childhood favourite cereal on the weekend before cinching the championship, how he ruined his body and soul to beat Lewis and how his retirement changed Lewis’ whole outlook on the sport!!! And through it all, there is an awkward third-wheel in the form of either Daniel Ricciardo or Sebastian Vettel just smiling through the most disgusting vibes a room could ever have, which, in my opinion, adds to the whole drama of the ship. This ship has so much narrative and character and it is so so devastating to think about, I need to see or make a Brocedes movie before I die.

[interstellarlyinlove]

Almost kiss (May 13th)

word count: 707

@wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius is so angry he’s going to explode. He wants to break something but he’s sitting on his bed and there’s nothing to break. “What do you mean?”

Sirius can tell that Remus is also angry. His skin is blotchy and he’s pacing around their dorm room. “I mean, there is so way in hell I’m going to risk any of you getting hurt.”

“But there is no risk!” Sirius wants to hold Remus by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. “Why won’t you let us help you?”

“Because you don’t know that there is no risk!” Remus screams. “Who decided that an animagus is werewolf bite immune, again?”

“Mcgonagall said–”

“Everything McGonagall said is theoretical. And I’m sure she'd agree with me if she knew why you were asking her in the first place. There is no real-life proof or evidence or–”

“Remus, listen to me,” Sirius says, trying to keep his voice level. He stands up and crowds Remus’ personal space because he wants Remus to listen to him. He puts his hand on Remus’ shoulder, and Remus holds his gaze. “Animals can’t be werewolves. It’s safe. Lycanthropy only affects humans and how lucky are we? That’s–”

“Don’t patronize me!” 

“I’m not,” Sirius says. He tries again, “I’m sorry. Remus, we want to do this for you.”

Remus lets out a shaky breath. “Sirius, I truly appreciate it. I know I’m being harsh but this is the nicest thing someone’s ever done to me, and I love you all so much. It’s incredible. I can’t even express how grateful I am that you thought of something like this.”

Sirius shakes his head. He thinks it’s because they’re standing so close but he can’t scream anymore no matter how much he wants to. Instead, he whispers, “Don’t talk like that. This isn’t a favor.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You could never hurt us.”

“I would never forgive myself if–”

“We’d be safe, Re. We’d be helping you.”

“Sirius, you’re not hearing what I’m saying.”

Except Sirius is hearing what Remus is saying, he just doesn’t like it. Sirius wants to enter Remus’ brain and poke around until he makes him see sense. More than anything, Sirius wants to make the most horrible thing Remus has to go through incredibly too often suck less, because no one in the world deserves to endure horrible transformations on full moons, but especially not Remus.

Sirius wants to say all of this, and he looks Remus in the eye and opens his mouth to do just that, but nothing comes out. Because Remus is looking at him all heartbroken and somehow hopeful at the same time and Sirius has never seen anything more breathtaking in his life. He doesn’t know what’s come over him and he swears he’s still angry and furious but Sirius feels like he’d implode if he doesn’t kiss Remus this fucking instant. And, oh, that is a thought. 

Sirius is too angry to care, and he’ll scream some more after the fact, so he leans the tiniest bit closer and it may be his mind fucking him over but he swears Remus does the same, and they’re breathing in the same air and–

“This took us forever to find but– oh.”

Sirius jumps. He turns around and sees James and Peter standing in front of him. James is grinning and Peter is holding an enormous ancient-looking book.

“If I knew that making out with Remus was all that it took to make him change his mind I would’ve done it myself.”

“That’s not–”

“James! You–”

“It’s safe!” Peter says, cutting Remus and Sirius off and hitting Sirius’ chest with the book. Sirius yanks the book from Peter’s grip. “Look at the bookmarked pages.”

Remus is blushing when he takes the book from Sirius the very next second. Sirius thinks he’s blushing as well. “You shouldn’t dog ear library books, Peter, ”Remus mumbles as he starts flipping through.

Sirius chances a look at James and he immediately looks away because he can’t handle that much self-satisfaction right now. Only then does Sirius realize that it’s safe. He looks at James again and grins. 

This is Sirius’ most favorite day, for more reason than one.

[mrsaltieri-real]

Like a Virgin pt2 (Virgin!Ethan Landry x Fem!AFAB!Reader)

Length: 1.5k

Warning/s: langauge, smut, blowjob, handjob, teasing, Ethan being needy, sub!ethan, dom!reader, teasing, spitting, implied fucking, clit grinding, cum licking (Ethan licks his cum off of readers tits) etc (18+ ONLY)

So here’s part 2! I’m loving writing this and I really liked writing this part. He’s so fucking needy I’m obsessed with him. Hope you enjoy!

Read part 1 HERE

Read part 3 HERE

“I’m assuming no one’s ever done this to you, hmm?” You asked, tugging Ethan’s pants and boxers down eagerly, licking your lips at the sight of what may very well be the prettiest cock you’d ever seen. Pretty, pink, slightly thicker than average and a little longer too. Absolutely perfect.

It sprang free against his stomach, already hard and awaiting your mouth as he shook his head, cheeks flushing a deep pink as he watched you sink to your knees in front of him.

“Words, please.” You said with gentle authority and he swallowed a little, wetting his lips nervously before replying with, “no, never.”

You felt him shiver as you lightly ran your fingernails down his torso until your hand was just hovering above the pretty flush pink tip of his cock. He couldn’t help but gaze down at you with desperate anticipation whilst you watched as his tip leaked with precum. His breathing was fast and almost raspy as he desperately moved his hips upward toward your hand, a small whimper escaping his lips as you moved it away just in time.

“Oh, honey I haven’t even touched you yet and look at you. Already so fucking needy.”

He let out another small whine as your hand moved to grip his shaft gently, swiping your thumb over his leaking tip. An almost pathetic buck of his hips into your hand made you release him, eyes looking up at him disapprovingly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He gasped out. “Please can you…”

“Please can I what, hmm?” You asked lightly, tilting your head up at him.

“Please can you suck me? I need to feel it. I need to feel your mouth on me so bad, please?” His eyes were wild and desperate as he begged you. The poor boy was practically shaking with desire.

“So needy,” you laughed a little bit but decided to oblige him. You’d been wanting to do this for far too long and you didn’t want to waste another moment. You gently gripped the base of his shaft in your hand again before taking him eagerly and hungrily into your mouth.

“Oh!” He let out a surprised gasp at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapping around his leaking mess of a dick, his fingers automatically gripping your sheets for dear life.

This was nothing like he’d ever felt before, nothing like his fantasies had suggested it would be like either. He let out a small, beautiful whimper, hips twitching a little as he felt your tongue lightly flick over his leaking tip before taking him further down your throat as if you were starving for him, repeating this action over and over.

Hearing him whimper and gasp urged you on, looking up at him through your lashes with an almost curious amusement. His head fell forward the same time you looked up at him and another whine fell from between his lips as he made eye contact with you. Seeing you looking at him in this way, almost entirely lustful was already threatening to tip him over the edge. He never knew someone could look so beautiful with their mouth wrapped around his cock. He wanted to take a picture or shoot a video of you doing this to him so he could touch himself to it later. Who knew if he’d ever feel this again before…

You couldn’t help but smile around his throbbing shaft as you felt him twitch and writhe, gently moving one of your hands to press against his lower stomach to keep him still.

You pulled him out of your mouth for a moment, a string of saliva connecting you and his cock to ask him sweetly, “doing okay up there, baby?”

“Y-yeah.” He managed to stutter out between breaths, the pupils in his brown eyes completely blown. “P-please don’t stop. Please.” He looked down at you with desperate eyes and you tilted your head up at him, smiling a little. You held him in your hand, feeling him throb and twitch as you gently caressed him.

“I won’t.” You said, gently running your thumb over his tip again as you rubbed him. “Do you wanna cum in my mouth or…” you glanced down at your chest and he nodded softly, dropping his gaze to your breasts. “Okay tell me when, alright?“

You didn’t wait for him to respond before eagerly taking him back in your mouth, moaning a little at his taste. The sound sent vibrations through his pulsating cock and he let out an almost pornograhic groan, unconsciously bucking his hips so his cock made you let out a soft gag.

“Oh! I’m.. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” He gasped out, halting his hips.

You rolled your eyes affectionately, sliding him further down your throat. Bless his heart, he thought that hurt you? The impact had the exact opposite effect on you, only making you more eager to tip him over the edge.

Another flick of your tongue and a twist of your finger’s around him and you felt his hands suddenly weave into your hair. His whimpers and small moans began to crack around the edges as he twitched in your mouth, hot and pulsing.

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna-“ you looked up at him again as he spoke, seeing sweat fall down the column of his throat as his head fell back. You quickly took him out of your mouth and angled him toward your chest, ensuring to continue moving your hand.

He lifted his head to look at you again just as you spat on his cock, adding more lubricant to his hand job and in result, tipping him over the edge.

A series of loud, gorgeous, broken groans spilled from his pretty lips as he tensed a little and the ribbons of white spilled out of him, splattering across your chest and dribbling down your nipples. Perfect aim.

You aren’t done with him though, you smiled up at his satisfied face, twisting your hand once more, making him jump a little, wincing and looking down at you in confusion, his body still jolting and twitching from the affects of what he has absolutely no doubt of being the best orgasm he ever had.

“Sweetheart,” you said softly, sliding your hand up and down his cock gently. “We’re not done yet. We’ve got to get you hard again and you’ve got to clean up your mess.”

“M-my mess?” His speech slurred a little as he watched his cum sliding down your body.

“Yeah, your mess.” You released his cock, standing back up and stepping in front of him, gently running a hand through his hand and down to his face rubbing his cheek bone with your finger.

His confused face lit up a little when you glanced down at your chest and looked back at him with a knowing expression.

“Go ahead. Clean me up.”

God, he didn’t need much prompting. He ducked his head down a little and you sighed softly as you felt his tongue lick you from your navel to just under your left breast, stopping just before he got to your nipple.

You nodded down at him to continue, your fingers threading through his soft curls and let out a soft moan when you felt his tongue glide over your hardened buds, lightly licking his own cum off of them.

“Such a good boy.” You said gently, head falling back a little as he repeated the action. “You follow instructions so fucking well.”

You felt him smile proudly against your skin before moving to your other breast and doing the same thing, eagerly tasting himself mixed with the salty taste of your sweat and moaning in content at the combination.

“You really did make a mess, didn’t you honey?”

He nodded a little, moving his head back to make sure he’d cleaned every last drop of himself from your body before looking up at your face. “I did, I’m sorry.” He said apologetically, his expression sweet and almost bashful as he spoke.

“Don’t apologise, E. It’s not an issue at all.”

You pushed his chest so he fell back on the bed with a soft huff, crawling on top of him and straddling him, your heated pussy resting on the length of his softening cock.

“You got enough energy left in you for me to teach you how to fuck, honey?” You asked with a soft, teasing roll of your hips, rubbing your clit on his velvety shaft with a small sigh.

As you spoke, you felt his dick slowly twitch against you and begin to swell again from under your desperate cunt.

Part 3

[fiveredlights]

old habits die screaming - chapter 1

(alternatively known as the daniel team principal au)

Visa Cash App RB @/VisaCashAppRB • 1 Nov 2027 Ricciardo Returns! Visa Cash App RB is excited to announce that former Red Bull & RB driver Daniel Ricciardo will be taking up the helm as team boss from 2028, following current team boss Laurent Mekies reduction into a part time role. Read more at the 🔗 in bio.

When Daniel’s Zandvoort injury turns out to be much worse than it first seems he officially retires at the end of the 2023 season. Five years later, he’s announced as the new team boss of RB and many people in and out of the paddock have lots of thoughts.

Told through social media integrated through work skins.

(read here)

[kitswag]

A little art about a headcanon of mine for Dragon and Sabo, and a little fanfic about it under the cut

"Dragon-san," a familiar voice, Sabo's voice came knocking from the door of the cluttered office. Dragon perked up, putting down the pen he's writing with- just a follow up rough plan for the revolutionary's next strike.

The door was opened and there was Sabo with a bleeding arm. Instinctively, Dragon reached for the cabinet on his desk, pulling it open to grab for a roll of bandages and a bottle of antiseptic.

Sabo sat in front of Dragon, reaching out his roughed-up arm, his face not showing a trace of pain. (Dragon always knew the surges beneath his mask anyways.)

Dragon sighed as he saw the gnarly wound on Sabo's arm. The boy had a knack on being risky, sometimes even too keen on self sacrifice. Even though being a revolutionary always costed a price, Dragon couldn't help but worry about Sabo's knacks.

"I got a little reckless with my plans, " Sabo offered a little charming smile to Dragon (cut out the reprimands just this time?)

"I always told you to be careful. You're too good to lose, " Dragon said (again, Sabo?).

Sabo offered another cheeky smile, "Next time," he said, as if Dragon never feared for his name written on the list of fallen revolutionaries in a mission report.

When Sabo first arrived in Baltigo, still wrapped with bandages all over, not even able to move his wounded limbs freely, he would only turn to Dragon to replace his bandages, any nurses who tried to replace it would only make him flinch violently.

Dragon tapped a cotton smeared with antiseptic liquid on his arm, following it up with the roll of bandages. Soon, after falling into the familiar act of wrapping Sabo's wounds, Dragon couldn't resist the nostalgia that went flying right to his head.

But of course, they understood (despite being concerned) , that Sabo was a child, a child that had no one familiar except for Dragon in an unfamiliar, new building far far away from his home island.

When his burns healed, and when he finally got to trust the nurses, it still became a habit. He would knock on Dragon's door or tug at his coat, show his wounds, and Dragon would pull out his cabinet and fish out a bottle of antiseptic liquid and some bandages. And there it was, a repeating pattern of tapping a cotton smeared with the antiseptic against Sabo's wounds and wrapping it up with soft bandages.

Dragon always thought of it as a comforting habit.

It was not rare that he would receive reports about his fallen men, people that had died for his own cause. And being here, bandaging Sabo, feeling the warmth of his skin, reminded Dragon that his Chief of Staff, his son, was still here, still alive. Still able to go knock on Dragon's office and offer a smile and a wound.

Sabo's small hiss of pain suddenly brought Dragon abruptly out of his daze. He softened his pace and grip, finishing wrapping Sabo's arm with tying the end, cutting the excess bandage with a small pair of scissors.

"Thank you, Dragon-san, " Sabo smiled, softly.

Dragon couldn't resist reaching his hand out and ruffling Sabo's hair, "Be careful next time," he warned.

Sabo's smile turned into a grin, "This time is just a slip up. "

Dragon couldn't help but smile back. Thin, but soft with fondness for his son sitting in front of him. He pulled his hand out of Sabo's locks of blonde and hope that tomorrow, his name wouldn't be written on the list of the fallen.

[c0smicdaisy]

i love this scene so much. you can see the murder in fadel's eyes because style is so annoying. he already knows exactly where he'd bury the body and then at the last moment he goes "ugh, it's not worth it" and leaves. oh their story will be so fun to watch. i can't wait for fadel to fall so hard he breaks something.

(the gifs are horrible i am so sorry, I'm still working my way through episode 1 😅)

[akai-anna]

Round 1

Round: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

[murdrdocs]

ethan landry is perfect for romcoms.

ethan landry in a meet cute romcom. he spills coffee on your shirt when you have an interview for a job that would make your college experience tolerable. your shirt is white, pristine, perfect for the interview, and now it has a damp brown spot over your chest that you don't have time to fix. he apologizes profusely, and you let out a clenched "its fine" because you have to run back to your place and change. you're late for the interview, but it goes well, and you see ethan in a dining hall that afternoon and he looks like a deer in headlights when he sees you. he offers to buy you dinner, you accept, and the entire thing spirals from there.

ethan landry in a friends to lovers romcom. he's been your neighbor, and close friend, for years. you've always been closer to his sister, quinn, but the summer between your years of college when you're both home, a little more mature and willing to explore, changes things. through beach days, pool days, lake days, country club days, and movie nights, you grow closer and closer, emotionally and physically. and there's one night where you go to a party, and you're disrespected by some douche, leaving ethan to defend your honor, and suddenly you're kissing him in his car as a thank you before he drops you off next door. you're a little tipsy, he can taste it on your tongue, which brews a misunderstanding that isn't completely cleared up until the week before you're both due for move in. but there's always next summer. you both promise.

ethan landry in a hallmark romcom. your old friend from high school, the guy you hooked up with on the night of senior prom, and the guy you tried to forget as you went to college. now graduated and heading into the Real-Real World, you're back in your hometown for christmas after your december graduation and you just so happen to run into him at the place you both bonded over at 16. you share a coffee and a bite to eat, and can't help but notice how much he's filled out over the years. he helps you buy a tree, and helps you decorate. he goes gift shopping with you, and vents about how horrible he is at wrapping. he watches you as you teach him, and you start to notice just how he's looking at you. and it all comes to a head on new years eve when he finally kisses you just as the fireworks go off.

ethan in a "the bet" romcom. he went from the gapped tooth kid on the playground who used to do treasure hunts with you, to the jock who's best friends with the schools alpha, chad meeks-martin. you've stayed mostly the same, finding comfort with mindy meeks-martin, chad's twin sister. you're still in the same orbit, but far enough from each other to barely even give small smiles and waves. but suddenly he's really into you, asking you to homecoming, giving you his varsity jacket, taking you to sonic late at night to share oreo blasts with you. it's everything 8 year old you wanted, until you find out the truth after hanging out with his friends. they're laughing, 'ooo'ing, taunting you about being so dumb, and the only boys who look a little upset are chad and ethan. ethan's trying to apologize or explain, but you don't let him, reluctantly getting in the car with chad –– who you're also upset with because he knew –– who takes you to mindy, a shoulder you finally let yourself cry on.

ethan (and chad) in a love triangle romcom, the summer i turned pretty style. spending a summer on the island that your best friends have permanent homes on. you're torn between catching up with chad and ethan. your feelings are torn between chad and ethan. one a jock, everything young you ever dreamed of as you stared at posters of channing tatum during his modeling days. chad is suave, charming, experienced. and the other a little more nerdy. ethan is adorably awkward, a little timid, but he clearly cares about you so much. he's gotten so buff since the last time you visited, and his hair has gotten so curly and you just admire how pretty his teeth are without the braces you used to make fun of. late nights stargazing with ethan where he holds your cold hand up to point out constellations. nights at the local diner with chad where he tells you to order whatever you want and he gives you quarters to put into the jukebox. early mornings with ethan where he takes you with his dad to go fishing. early mornings with chad where he takes you surfing, giggling (and shirtless) as he teaches you the ins and outs. going to a kegger on the beach with both of their sisters, running into each boy separately, then together, all of the tension colliding in the moment where you stand far enough from the fire to not hear the chatter of teenagers. it's cold, the wind blows against you, they both offer their jackets, and you're left standing in the middle, trying to decide where to reach your hand.

[momo-t-daye]

Revising Their Stars (8306 words) by Momo_T_Day Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sirius Black & Severus Snape, Sirius Black/Severus Snape, Sirius Black & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter Characters: Sirius Black, Severus Snape, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew Summary: Sirius is horribly terribly dreadfully bored now that dear cousin Narcissa has prohibited him from tormenting Severus Snape (despite every tantalizing opportunity Snape goes out of his way to provide!). Maybe helping Snape prepare for the upcoming Astronomy O.W.L. will be more fun than Sirius could have expected, Snape certainly seems to be learning something interesting during their tour of the stars. Or Sirius Black is not impressed with Severus Snape’s “#genius lifehacks” for a “#frugal life”

Or

This is the longest fic I've written and I probably spent too much time looking up old star charts and moon phases and comet visibility records but I love stargazing so the research stays in!

Follows "A most wretched raccoon" and takes place before "Bad taste in men"

Should I post the text here as well as on Ao3? I find reading easier on Ao3 for myself, but I do know I'm not very tech savvy...

[tennessoui]

pour one out for padme the only emotionally mature character in this fic

He isn’t in love with Obi-Wan. He would know if he were in love with Obi-Wan.

But the thought of obeying Padmé’s wishes, of removing Obi-Wan from his life, of letting go of his master…it makes his chest feel tight. It makes the air feel too heavy on his shoulders. He needs Obi-Wan.

He cannot picture a life without him, nor does he want to. Is that love or just burning, crippling need? 

What is the difference?

Padmé shakes her head once, pressing her fingers against her eyes for a moment. “Anakin,” she whispers, swallowing. “You’re breaking my heart.”

“Angel,” Anakin says. Pleads. “Don’t make me choose. Can’t I have both?”

His wife is quiet. When she blinks open her eyes to look at him, they’re wet once more, emptied of anger. “If I thought you’d choose me,” she says, “it would not have taken me four years to ask.”

“Padmé—”

“I didn’t realize,” she admits, wiping her cheek with the heel of her palm and sniffing slightly. “I don’t think I realized until tonight actually. Your favorite drink—it’s his. He was surprised I had it on hand. Your favorite meal, the only thing you have ever requested I order for you—it’s his favorite as well, isn’t it? I don’t think I realized…that I love you and I know you, but you are the man I love because you love him."

[littlepissbabee]

John dory and guy diamond would be sooo interesting together because like their first interactions would probably be something like guy diamond yelling things like "YOU LET MY BABY DRIVE YOUR VEHICLE" at JD and hes just like "um her name is rhonda" and guy diamonds like "YOU LET MY B A B Y DRIVE YOUR R H O N D A" and its very wild and guy diamonds questioning why he ever liked brozone and then TINY DIAMOND pops uh like "daddeh stop yelling at uncle JD, i had my learners permit!!" And guy diamonds turns to look at his son so gosh darn quick and he yells out "W H O??!!??!!??!!" And its a whole mess

[fishyvamp]

I was browsing Pinterest when I stumbled across this screenshot:

Warning mind the tags and before you click see more there is a really really bad joke in this drabble.

All I could think of was Ghostface and reader teasing Trapper. All three of them done with their trials for the day lounging in the workshop on the Macmillan estate. Trapper is repairing the traps that were damaged during his trials. He can here the two of you in the back cuddling, on the beat up old couch you two had scavenged from the fog, exchanging jokes back and forth. Some cheesy others just dark. Doesn't help that you both are competing for worst dirty joke. "What did the prince say to Cinderella?" Danny mused face resting on your chest as he listened to your gentle breathing. "Want to see if it fits?" His voice light as he fights back a giggle.

You roll your eyes, "okay I'll give you that's bad." You hum thinking for a moment, "a vampire walks into a bar asks the bartender for a boiling cup of water. The bartender looks at him confused. 'thought vampires only drank blood?' the vampire smiles pulling out a tampon, 'they do I just wanted tea.'" you hear a trap snap shut trapper cursing loudly in Scottish Gaelic. A blush painting the skin along his shoulders as he turned around too look you dead in the eye. "No more," he said curtly.

You Ghostface turned to each other for as if silently plotting against the now flustered Evan. "What it's a natural thing?" Danny mused rising to his feet fingers grazing the larger man's arm. In sync you move to the other side match Danny's movement stroke for stroke. "I thought you could handle the thought of blood." You tease, his body tensing with each movement.

You can hear a strain in his voice, "I can, but that blood is indecent. You don't talk about it." The two of you now sitting on the work bench arms crossed as you stay in sync with movements. "Why?" You hear Danny chuckle. Trapper can't even look at the two of you as you talk. "It just is." His tone sharp, arms folded against his chest as he leans back trying to distance himself. He shouldn't have to be defending himself you two should just know.

A smirk on your face leaning forward resting your face in the palm of your hands. "With everything we've done, with everything we've said to each other, a tampon soaked in blood as a joke is too far?"

The Trapper sighs looking at you both with softer eyes, "it's not something that one should discuss. Diamond." Danny and you both pause realizing that Evan is politely drawing the line. The safe word spoken loud and clear. The two of you sighing almost in sync, choosing to sit in his lap kissing him on both his cheeks. You can feel the large man relaxing hands resting on a thigh each. "Reckon it's time for me to stop and give you both some needed attention instead?" His grip possessive moving to your inner thighs. The tense fading as you both nod in agreement. "Good," He purrs.