#thank you bbys!

[redeemingvillains]

the feedback i’ve received on veritaserum is literally making my day, week, month, year. thank you, lovelies!! it’s got me so excited to post my next fic tonight 😜😜

[gunsatthaphan]

#ready to be shaking & quaking.

[oncloudatlas]

"There was a tall man with a fair and noble face, dark-haired and grey-eyed, proud and stern of glance."

Boromir, High Warden of the White Tower ( ft. @chasseusedetoiles )

[dienamights]

If you think anything will sour my mood after seeing me and my MAN, you’re deadass WRONG!!!!

Thank you miggi @miggiisdumb you made me so ridiculously incredibly happy ilysm muah

[inhuman-rocket]

some Anakin doodles

[theoraeeken]

bucktommy / tevan prompt: drive, car/vehicle, hands

i literally cannot see the words "bucktommy" and "hands" and not instantly get weird about it so uh. sorry. if you're not into short, kinda horny oneshots. thank you for the prompt!!! <33

bucktommy / rated m / mild and implied sexual content / prompts open

-

Buck never gets out of the city, these days.

That's an over simplification, of course. Sometimes he does. Calls out of the city. Assists out of county. But it's been a long, long time since he made it out of LA for anything fun. And, this? This is fun.

The early evening has made a painting out of the North California landscape, streaming past them like so many brushstrokes. A sky in pink and lilac, trees tops in black shadow. Tommy, pretty as a picture, pretty as he always is with his hands on the wheel and his eyes forward.

Jesus, Buck has never wanted anyone so much in his life.

"You're staring."

"You're gorgeous."

Tommy huffs, but doesn't tear his eyes away from the road.

"You know I could watch you do this for hours."

"You have been watching me do this for hours," Tommy reminds him, mouth a sly smile, "Except for that powernap you took after lunch."

"You want me to take the wheel for a bit, babe?"

The same smile that always crossses Tommy's expression when Buck callshim babe appears. It's a soft little thing, but it's one of his favourite things in the world.

"Nah, there's only an hour left. Besides, I wouldn't want to deny you your favourite spectator sport."

It's true, it is. Maybe not in the way that Tommy thinks, maybe Tommy doesn't get it at all, actually. Buck likes to watch him. Watch him drive, watch him cook, watch him shave. Watch him nap on the couch after along shift, watch him comb his hair back before one. The confidence in his walk, the set of his shoulders, the surety of his hands.

His hands.

The same hands that are on the wheel that have pulled people out of burning buildings have washed Buck's hair in the shower. They've piloted helicopters, and cooked dinner for the two of them. They've patched up burns and lacerations and concussions in the field, and touched Buck the way no one else has ever quite managed.

Tommy flexes his hands, palms sure on the wheel.

Something stirs in Buck, a sense memory tucked into the joints of his wrists, the swirl of his fingerprints.

Buck stretches out in the passenger seat, a pleasant warmth settling at the base of his spine, a tingling in his gut, his fingertips, his legs.

There's a little sweat gathered in the fabric at Tommy's collar, where it's trickled down his neck. There's a drop of it tracing a faint red mark there, just under his hairline. Too faded to show any trace of what caused it, but Buck knows it was his teeth.

Buck runs a hand up his thigh absently.

"Evan," Tommy says warningly, but there's a touch of amusement in his tone, too.

"What?" he says innocently.

"You know what."

"Nope," he grins, "You look good."

"You look like a distraction."

"You can handle it."

"If I crash this car, and someone phones 911, you do realise neither one of us is ever going to live it down, right?"

He knows. He can practically see Chimney laughing his ass off already, hear Hen cackling. They gave him enough shit when a photo of Tommy appeared in his locker, a perfectly innocent picture of his boyfriend passed out cold on the couch in Buck's apartment, Jee-Yun beaming wildly into the camera after a day at a waterpark. Tommy's not wearing a shirt, because it got wet chasing Jee through a splash field. It's in Buck's locker because it's a great picture. No correlation.

"You flew a helicopter into a hurricane, I think you can manage the I5."

"You didn't have a hard on in the helicopter."

"That's what you think," Buck grins. He does now, easy and eager to go, like he's eighteen again, dick on a hairpin trigger.

"You didn't get enough this morning?" Tommy asks wryly.

This morning was slow and easy, still under the covers with the early morning light coming down on them like a blessing. Tommy's mouth on his stomach and his fingers inside of him, pulling an orgasm out of him like pulling on a loose thread - unravelling Buck into an incoherent mess.

"That was like eight hours ago-"

"It was maybe five, at an absolute push-"

"-and you just look so good sat there-"

"-I'm not doing anything!"

"-and I want you," Buck says, chest going warm at the way Tommy's mouth snaps shut and a blush starts spreading across his cheeks, "the way I always want you because you always look this good."

"We're gonna crash on the I5 and there's gonna be a pile up, and they're gonna check traffic cam footage and see that it's because I swerved into oncoming traffic, and when they ask me what happened, I'm gonna have to say it's because-"

"We're not going to crash, Tommy," Buck laughs.

"-because my boyfriend is insatiably horny," he interupts, louder, before glancing over at him. His eyes drop down to where Buck is rubbing himself through his sweats and he groans, a deep rumbling thing in his chest that makes Buck jerk helplessly in the seat, "and because he looks so good right now."

The satnav on the dash says there's still ninety minutes until they reach their destination, which is damn near an eternity. The thought of being confined in this car with Tommy, in a nice fitting t-shirt and shorts that have ridden up to expose a slither of inner thigh, for more than an hour feels impossible. Buck grinds into the heel of his palm, images of them pulled over at the side of the road, pressed together in the backseat of Tommy's old muscle car, or Buck bent over the hood, or leaning against the driver's side door with Tommy on his knees in front of him- They bomboard his imagination like firecrackers, every one of them vivid and alive like memories rather than fantasies.

Tommy's hand shoots out like a gunshot from the wheel to clasp his wrist.

He didn't realise how close he was to coming until his hand stopped moving.

"Jesus, Evan-" Tommy breaths out, his fingers like a vice, chest heaving, "You're trying to kill me."

"Whatta way to go though, huh?" Buck slurs. His hips are still twitching, even as he steps back from the precipice of orgasm. Everything is still so close, so hot, so intense. Tommy's jaw is so tight the muscle is jumping under the skin, but he lets go of Buck's wrist to lace their fingers together instead.

It's probably not the placating gesture Tommy wants it to be, not now that Buck's so worked up, not when it's Tommy's hands that have him writhing in the passenger seat of this car, Tommy's everything, really.

"Evan."

"What?"

"Quit it," he says firmly.

Buck grins, "Or what?"

"Or," Tommy says easily, "Every time I catch you, I'm adding an hour onto how long I'm making you wait when we get to the hotel."

That definitely doesn't have the desire affect, or it does. Buck can't tell over the wildfire that courses through him, caught between the desire to chase relief as soon as possible, and drag whatever game they've stumbled onto here out for as long as he can. Whatever shows on his face makes Tommy laugh, pull his hand back and put it back on the wheel.

-

(They make it to the hotel by the skin of their teeth, check in like a pair of maniacs on the run from the cops, then Tommy shows him just how serious he was about that three hour penalty by strapping his arms to the bed with his belt.)

-

(He only makes it two and a half.)

[lelelego]

true canon ending to rdr2

commission for @neonxdecay / @por-queeee!!

[uhohdad]

Konig's gloves, boots, belt... Konig's teeth? :> Maybe not totally on theme but rawr biting kink stuff

(18+)

WARNING: ABUSE & NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

König’s Teeth displayed proudly behind a carnivorous, gut-wrenching grin, drooling over the prey that knows it’s in trouble. Sniveling and trembling under his unmatched strength, restrained by a brute hand and whining desperate, useless pleas.

König’s Teeth bump against yours as he forces you into a sloppy kiss, holding your head steady with a firm glove around the back of your neck, muffling your objections with his intrusive tongue and his low hums.

König’s Teeth draw blood when they pierce through your neck, his eyes lulling at your intoxicating taste. His tongue follows en suite, lapping up his mess, soothing and slobbering over your abused flesh.

König’s Teeth pull a desperate wail from you as they sink into the flesh of your inner thigh, marking you as his own with bruises in the shape of his unique bite. Any man that undresses you in the coming weeks will know who you belong to, will know you’re used goods, will know König got to ruin you first.

König’s Teeth catch his lower lip as he bites back a moan, slipping into a cunt he hasn’t broken in yet, so tight and warm around his thick cock. He can’t hold himself back, bullying his way into you despite your cries and pleads. He likes the way you clench around him when you try and fight him off, so laughably weak. He doesn’t know why you even bother.

✧₊⁺ König’s Belt ✧₊⁺ König’s Gloves ✧₊⁺ König’s Boots

[ssweetleaf]

hi i’m sophie! would i be able to request anything about riding gator for the first time? maybe he’s real big and you need some encouragement 🫣

SMUT 18+ below

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Your thighs were flush against his, knees digging into the mattress, aching already from your constant hovering— not yet breaching the distance between you two because of how nervous you were. 

Gator’s cock was heavy against his stomach, twitching every so often, impossibly hard and ready, already leaking pearlescent little droplets of pre-cum that had you mindlessly salivating when you caught sight of it.

And it wasn’t that you weren’t turned on, you absolutely were— your slick arousal slipped down your thighs as proof, soaking his skin and your poor clit was throbbing, just begging for attention, like the mere touch of the rough pad of his thumb.

He was just so big.

“What is it, hon?” he hummed, a big hand reached out for you, smoothing against the supple skin of your ass as a sort of comfort. “Can see ya thinkin’ too hard.”

You bit the skin of your lip, casting your gaze downward, trying hard to keep the sight of Gator’s too big cock out of your vision.

“You’re just—” you hiccuped, hands slipping from his shoulders and making their way to your sides before he grabbed your wrists, keeping you there, wanting you to stay flush with him, to feel your skin on his and to quench his thirst for your touch. “Just so big.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, cocking a brow at you, trying hard and miserably failing to keep his smirk at bay.

“S’not funny, Gator— you might split me in half!” You pouted, smacking at his pec, huffing at the now constant pull at the corner of his lips.

“Baby, I’ve fucked you before, remember?” He mocked, hand still smoothing over your skin, your back this time.

“That’s different,” you whined, pout still prominent and you nuzzled your face into his neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his cheap cologne before sighing out. “M’scared I won’t be able to take you this way, daddy.”

Gator tried to ignore the jump of his cock from your little nickname for him, carding his fingers through your hair and shushing your silly thoughts of getting split in two.

“Of course you’ll be able to take me, honey,” he cooed, “you’re my best girl, remember? Ya always take me so well, even when I rough ya up a little.”

Your hips shifted at his words, cheeks searing in a flush, and the tip of his cock bumped at your clit from your movements, a soft whine escaping the confines of your throat at the act.

His voice was low, heavy on the shell of your ear.

“Daddy’ll guide ya, hon— no need to worry.”

send me asks/my inbox is open

[3-aem]

:')

[moghedien]

HOW WE DOING TONIGHT MY FELLOW FORSAKEN APOLOGISTS

[seijorhi]

RHIIII!!!! First off, kisses. Hi love, i've missed you. Second, more kisses because hello?

I will never get over how you can write something so doomed, so tragic, so terrifying -- so beautifully. I love how the reader is... just totally wrong? Reading everything incorrectly, and kind of just spiraling and feeling hopeless because she will always be second. Truly amazing scene-setting rhi because we know something she doesn't. it's just a matter of waiting for everything to kind of unravel.

My questions for you are: How did Aya react to Ushi coming out of that bathroom with unconscious reader? Do you think she sees it for how it is? Their obsession with her beta? What about when the reader's mates separate her and Aya? Would that inevitably happen since Aya will prob not agree to be in a pack with them after that incident and it's not like those alphas will be willing to give reader up either. Which leads me to my next question --> reader wanted someone who wanted her for her. now she has 3 of them. Does she soften up to the idea that she is so desired or will she always remain hostile towards her mates.

Anyway. I love you. Miss you. (i have my first ever set of law school exams tomorrow and here I am writing more in your ask box than I am in my study guides.

mwah mwah

birdie 🐦

ghfjdkhgfjdks pls do not abandon ur studying for the fics they will be there when ur done but ily and good luck with ur exam bby!!!

tbh it wasn't so much ushijima carrying the reader out, more like someone else stumbling in (the door was closed – not locked) to find a still knotted ushijima hunched over his unconscious, bleeding mate and snarling at anyone who came close.

in any case, aya's horrified – and for what it's worth, semi and tendou are pretty fucking stunned too.

for all her faults, aya's loyal. there's no part of her that would ever entertain the idea of mating with the pack of alphas who hurt her best friend, even if she can acknowledge he wasn't in control at the time.

which ofc puts her in the very precarious position of being 'in the way' and 'a problem'. doesn't usually end well for those types of characters 👀 poor aya

as far as your last question goes, it was kinda fun to make this whole thing into a twisted wish fulfilment. i think the biggest thing is that the bonds with her alphas aren't permanent. she has to go through it over and over and over again, and every time it's a reminder that she doesn't want this, didn't ask for it (not like that). they'll hurt her over and over again to reassert that claim, and they'll call it love.

[number-onekidqueen]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝

Part Two Part One

Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader

warnings: character death, depression, lots of crying.

Summary: you’re still feeling awkward about what happened that night with Luke. And then you get the news that changes everything.

Days passed, days since your ki- hang out with Luke. 

Hang out? Who were you kidding? It was clear it wasn’t him. 

But you’d laid yourself bare to him, been about to confess all your feelings and he had just shut you down and run away. 

Of course you didn’t wanna talk about it in the morning. 

The tragedy was he did. 

And just when you were feeling better, and your conversations weren’t so awkward, fate tossed you to the ground again, as it often did. You still didn’t really believe it. 

Cecilia, your cabin counsellor, your beloved older sister had died on the road to college. It seemed impossible. 

Of course, they’d had a brief ceremony, a burning of a golden yellow shroud weaved with her own fingers. And then they’d appointed you as cabin counsellor, announced a bunch of new kids had arrived and everyone forgot. 

It made you sick to think people would forget Cecilia. That the three Apollo kids your cabin had greeted would grow up without her and never know of her presence.

Obviously, your cabin was upset, but they didn’t make it so as Aphrodite always did. The sun keeps shining, and Apollo kids kept going, laughing, training, even if muffled sobs could be heard the first few nights. They never talked of her, and after the first week, she was a sad little scar that had scabbed. 

It still hurt a little, but the memory was what hurt the most. 

Except for you. She was still a mortal, lethal wound for you. And it was getting harder and harder to keep your composure and pretend everything was okay. 

Shortly, it all cracked and spilled out from you. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault really. Chiron was just trying to be supportive to little Will, but when he praised enthusiastically that he was the best archer he’d scene for 300 years, tears seemed to burst from you. 

Because that had been Cecilia’s title. She had been the best archer, training all the little ones supportively and making people gasp with the precision of her shots. 

It seemed Chiron had already forgotten. Everyone had. 

It was like losing her all over again. 

No one saw the little sun cracking on the archery field. They just noticed you disappearing behind some clouds. 

You didn’t pay attention to the stares and whiplash glances of some, as you ran back to your cabin with tears streaming, and your heart in your throat. 

Didn’t notice as a tall brunette boy on the sword plains spotted you, dropped his sword immediately and with a shouted apology behind him began to sprint after you. 

Your bed was warm and comforting, the covers swaddled around your shoulders in a safe cocoon as you sobbed your heart and soul onto your pillow. 

Cecelia was dead. Dead. This is what you would deal with every day for the rest of your life, she was dead and she would be replaced and forgotten and no one would even know her and-

The door creaked open and immediately you stilled, pretending to be asleep. 

“Y/N?” It was Luke. 

Not the timing, you thought to yourself miserably. 

“Y-yeah,” you tried for a sleepy yawn, but it came out cracked and pained. Ugh. 

“You ok?” He asked quietly, and you heard his footsteps approach. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just woke up.” But your voice was hollow and very much awake. 

He sat softly at the edge of your bed, and for a while you were both still. Only your breath was audible. Then, tentatively and slowly, you began to feel his warm fingers slide through your hair. It was so comforting and lovely that you had to swallow down the wave of tears that surfaced. 

“It’s okay, you know,” he murmured, your hair in glorious tangles around his knuckles, “to cry. You don’t have to pretend. Especially for me.”

“Yeah, I know,” you whispered back, “it’s just-“ you hesitated. 

I love you. 

I don’t want to burden you with all my stupid problems. 

“You probably don’t want to talk about this to anyone, right? Me included.” He guessed, and he began to retract his fingers and you felt like screaming at how utterly wrong he was. “I’m sorry, I should give you space.”

“No, you don’t have to. You can stay here.” You tried not to beg, but you were inches from clinging onto him to stop his departure. He understood. 

“Would you like me to stay?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Then here I’m staying. In your bed.” He reassured comfortingly, “I mean, on.” 

His flustered stuttering made you smile weakly and turn to face him. 

His whole face softened, lost all his fluster and stress when your eyes met, but you were too busy setting your head into his lap so you faced up at him to notice. 

He traced your tear tracks, brushing any remaining ones away with his thumbs. 

“I know the pain feels awful,” he said suddenly, “but if you ever feel bad, like you can’t breathe or you’re about to burst, don’t keep it in y/n, come find me. I’m always here for you, always.”

“Thank you.” You said near inaudibly. 

“I hate seeing you cry,” he confessed, his forehead crinkling, “or being sad. It just hurts me. But I love making you feel better, I’d do anything in the world to make you happy, I promise.”

“Thank you.” You said louder this time, your cheeks beginning to heat up. 

It was a peaceful few seconds you gazed at each other, smiling. Then you closed your eyes, comforted. 

You felt warm hands lift your body, and your eyes fluttered open. But it was just Luke lying down beside you and repositioning yourself on his chest. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, “just figured we might be here for a while.”

His arms encircled you, and even in your drunken state of misery, your heart rate sped up. You turned your head slightly, so you could hide your bashful grin in the orange folds of his shirt. His chest was warm, comforting, and you could feel every deep breath he took. 

“Sorry,” you murmured, facing up once more, “your shirt’s probably going to be all soggy after this.”

“I don’t mind a soggy shirt if it makes you happy.” He breathed, and your heart was bursting from the love that statement invoked when you saw his eyes flicker. Your eyes. Your mouth. 

Could he really-

Surely not-

Eyes. Mouth. 

The air was electric, as if Zeus himself was in the cabin. The space was getting tighter and smaller and everything was so close and dizzy and what in the gods before you knew it you were nose to nose and you could feel his warm breath and he was leaning down to kiss you against the pillow. 

It might’ve been the best kiss you ever had. With salt on your tongue, and sweetness from his lips, the tastes of all your emotions were combined, giving way to the most passionate and fantastic kiss you’d ever had. Your head was pressed to the pillow, and he was moving above you, warm, soft and pouring his heart out to you, the gateway his lips. It seemed every single ‘I love you’ either of you had ever been too afraid to say was expressed strongly now, each drop of attraction and love and feeling was encapsulated between the movement of your lips. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay,” he breathed, against your lips, when you finally pulled apart, both of you panting, “I didn’t want to do anything while you were drunk. But of course I wanted to. I wanted you. I have for so long.”

“It’s okay. I have too,” and you laughed, all those emotions and secrets finally free. You were so giddy with joy! But Luke remained tense, nervous for a reason you couldn’t determine. You calmed down, scared it was all about to come crashing down. 

“It’s- it’s not just that, y/n,” he paused, sitting up further away, eyes still looking profoundly into yours, “I love you. I love you, all of you, and you should know that to me you’ve never been a burden, only a miracle to have been with.” 

Your breath was caught in your throat, blown away by his confession. You were expecting he might’ve been crushing on you? But loving you? You’d never dared to consider that as an option. And you were beyond thrilled. 

“Now would be a great time to say anything,” he laughed nervously, fingers brushing over your shoulders restlessly. You immediately felt awful for keeping him waiting. 

“I love you too.” You blurted, letting silence ensue. “You make me so happy every time you make a joke or take care of the new unclaimed kids. I’m just in shock.”

And then the pair of you were laughing together, foreheads pressed together before you were tangled in an embrace, that led to another heated kiss on your bed.

You knew soon other campers would arrive to see two head counselors kissing, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. In fact, while Luke’s like we’re on yours, you couldn’t seem to form any coherent thoughts at all. 

In the back of your mind, you were still sobbing over Cecilia. Deeply, you knew you always would. Your heart would always be chipped in that way, the missing fragment forever in her fist as she wandered Elysium. 

But you also knew how happy she would be to see you thriving, dating and loving Luke, a boy she had always suggested and approved of. She imagined her now, giggling in delight and grinning at what had transpired. And slowly, the pain began to lift. 

Maybe a scar would be okay, as long as you loved and remembered it. 

Most of all, you knew that for as long as you required a shoulder to make soggy, Luke would always be there to be your comfort person. 

taglist:

@lifeonawhim

@sflame15-blog

@star611

I think this was all, if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just comment or message me :)

[hickeygender]

sorry, he's allergic to SOUP? no wonder he thinks he's destined for infinite sadness, i'd believe that too if my immune system thwarted me from slurpin down a nice hearty bowl of soup 😭

[lara-cairncross]

OH MY GOODNESS DID MIKEY KILL THEIR DAD WITH FIRE??? Is that why his powers get locked away and stuff???? That woukd make sense, but the timeline doesn't align!! He's too baby right now, he gets locked up later!!! AAAAAA I DONT KNOW!!!

/pos/pos/pos/pos I love ur art and au!!!!! They're beautiful!

can confirm that the timeline doesn't work out like that 🤭

this event *does* set a precedent, though. teehee.